Gay

Keywords: New, Dick, Sucks, Cop, A, York,

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On the plane ride to my "unique vacation"—at least that's what the brochure had promised--I thought of what had brought me here. Job stress is something we all face, but I was feeling it ran deeper. Life stress, pushing 35, seeing dreams passing me by, it all seemed to conspire to compel me to this impulsive, two week vacation that I wasn't even sure I would like or afford. I wasn't even sure what I'd be doing these two weeks, but I figured an outdoor adventure away from everything sounded right for me.


The flight to Oregon had given me plenty of time to think about the upcoming days and about my life thus far.

Mid-Town North Precinct in New York City has been my world for the past 16 years, ever since completing the police academy and graduating with 400 other athletic, short-haired, hard-bodied, optimistic law lackeys of the 5 boroughs of New York.

I felt so proud that day, and knew my family was proud too. Vinny, my older brother, my dad and my Uncle Bobby are or have been cops in New York. It's in my blood, I guess. I just figured this was something I was supposed to do with my life.

When I was 19 and hiking through Europe, backpacking and scouting cock, my buddies were off at college, joining frats and going down on women. I, on the other hand, wanted my space to explore the world without the scorn, derision—or in some cases, hatred—that seemed to encompass the gay man's life. I'm not an obvious gay guy, so I escaped most of the abuse that gays endure. But being a masculine man in a macho home and work environment can be just as inwardly stressful and oppressive.

I was stressed out in high school, always fearing that being outed and taunted was just around the corner. The locker room banter usually hailed pussy, tits and ass—while denouncing gay people as "faggots." I wanted a respite from this stress, and I figured those Europeans are good-looking, open-minded, sexually daring. I was sure to have a blast. I told my parents that Europeans routinely forgo college or work the first year out of high school.

"A gap year? What the heck is that?" my dad grunted one night when I brought the subject up at the dinner table.

"A year of exploration, of finding myself, growing, dad. Europeans are big on that. And it's only one year. I've saved enough from working at the shop." I had worked Saturdays and 3 nights per week at my Uncle Charles' car shop.

"Okay, Richie. Whatever you want is alright by me, you know that."

"You're the best, dad."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" My mom's gentle admonishment spoke of genuine approval of my upcoming trip and felt great. It was nice to get this support.

I figured that when the year was up, I'd be going into the police academy, which would be like high school sports. I could survive, and if it were like basketball I'd do more than survive; I'd be a decorated officer. But until then, I wanted to let loose and not just survive. I was going to live! I was going to SUCK COCK.

It was easier than I thought. I think I sucked dick and swallowed semen in just about every city I encountered. Coming from a family of cops you learn how to size people up. Usually it's just a millisecond longer that a guy will ordinarily make eye contact, or I'll catch a dude's eyes below my waist for a second. Straight guys just don't do that, generally. And spying these clues usually scored me a nice mouthful from an eager, hung and masculine stud.

I was in the Netherlands, in Amsterdam's red light district, just having left a coffee shop where I tried hash for the first time. What a laugh, to be able to smoke hash, legally, in a coffee shop! My buddies at home would be envious. None of us were real dopers; in fact, we're all fairly aggressive jocks, but we like to party too. And I wasn't passing this up, an opportunity to toke up without trouble.

After smoking a bit, I decided to explore the city further when I spotted a handsome, masculine cop standing at a lamppost. This guy got my cock stirring immediately. He wasn't a pretty boy but he was undeniably handsome. I'm in to the man's man, regular look. I don't want the guy who the girls dream about or the gay guys swoon for. I want a regular guy, kind of handsome face, who is in reasonable not exaggerated shape, athletic. This guy fit that bill and my cock enthusiastically agreed. 5ft 11 about 180lbs of athletic physique. I liked his short-cropped military type hair cut, his small round brown eyes and his crisp uniform.

I doubted he was gay, but I figured a little chit-chat with him would not hurt anybody. Our eyes met, my heart kinda skipped a beat and I said, "Hey mate." (Do they say mate over here or is that just Australia?) Whatever, he nodded back and said Hi. Before I knew it we were talking about the police force in Amsterdam vs. New York, American football vs. European, and cars too.

It was a voluble conversation and I wondered if he ever had a gay thought. I couldn't see much of any evidence. He did seem to like my manly company, but maybe he was just friendly to all. And lots of straight guys enjoyed and admired my company. I didn't notice any of the true signs of gaydom I was trained to spot.

"Don't be a cop," he offered.

"Why not?"

"It's not like television. It's boring and very frustrating."

"Yeah, well I can't be any more bored or frustrated than I am generally," I countered.

"What are you frustrated about?" he asked as he offered me a cigarette and I watched his eyes quickly walk all over me. Was this a sign? Not sure.

I took the cigarette (although I rarely smoked) and clasped his hand to hijack the light from his cigarette. "I don't know. Life, I guess," I said as I inhaled.

"Life?" he scoffed, incredulously. "What are you, 19, 20?"

"19."

"Okay, so at 19 I can tell you, you got nothing to be frustrated about. Nothing except sex."

"Oh yeah?" I chuckled and warmly looked at him. Not a come-on or intrusive by any means. I just let him know in a masculine way I was amused by him.

I teased: "And what do you know about the sex life of a 19 year old, you old man."

"Aye, show some respect or I'll arrest your American arse."

I deferred with a mischievous laugh. "Okay, man. Hey, what's your name, anyway, mine's Rich." I extended my hand.

He grasped it firmly, "Matt," and his eyes pierced mine. "I know plenty about sex. I was 19 you know. Oh, I know all about you, buddy. I know." He glanced at my belt for a second. "Your balls are blue and you're jerking off four times a day, right?" He laughed. "You know I'm right. That's your problem, Mr. 19. That's your major problem."

I just kept taking his masculine vision into my senses. I was hoping he didn't notice, but I was getting hard. My pants were dark though. Maybe he didn't notice my hard-on when he glanced down at me. I don't need to be called a faggot by an out of the country cop.

"Well, how old are you? You're not much older than me I bet."

"30," he answered proudly, commandingly.

"So, that ain't old, my Netherlands friend." I playfully punched his arm.

"Hey, you know you just assaulted an officer of the law?"

"I am the law. I come from a family of cops. I get to do what I want." I laughed and his eyes did as well.

He then turned and walked towards his car, motioning me. His ass was so hot and strong as its muscles bulged his slacks. I liked his firm walk. I followed eagerly.

When he got to his car, I started: "Nice car, man."

"Gets me around. Want to see for yourself?"

"Yeah, sure," I said as I enthusiastically climbed into the passenger seat. Matt got in the driver's seat and showed me the equipment, the radio, ammunition, explaining every last detail about the engine too. I listened to him with a raging, purple-headed monster swelling in my Levi's dark-blue, faded jeans.

It reminded me of being in basketball practice and listening to our coach. I would get seriously off on Coach Leeds' ("The Stud" the girls would call him) instruction, his gestures with his veinous forearms and compact masculine hands. The bulge in his shorts, the firm, built calves and thighs. The lean and defined chest with the slight hair peering over the opened Polo shirt. The pencil behind the masculine ear where the slightest of gray hair mixed with his military-cut. I would drip with excitement as I'd sneak a peak at his crotch. I'd pretend to be listening but all I really was doing was visualizing getting plowed on the shower floor, sucking the coach, fucking him up the ass. Matt was no different. I didn't want to be obvious, but this magnetic pull towards him was overpowering.

"I'll bet this gets a lot of speed, eh?" I guess I was hoping he'd offer to take me for a ride.

He obliged and I and my cock were thrilled.

Within 10 minutes we were in the countryside and Matt parked atop a stone bridge along a stream, surrounded by rolling hills of farmland. It was funny how quickly we got out of the city. The view was spectacular of the distant, city lights and the moonless, evening sky. "Let's check out the view, man," he said as he opened his door and exited into the night.

I followed him out at my door, "Hey, aren't you on duty?" I asked with some incredulity.

"Nope, I've been off-duty for 3 hours."

"I thought you were patrolling that whore street."

Matt just looked at me with those piercing eyes and after a beat or two his voice lowered somewhat. "I was patrolling..." He was leaning against the bridge's stone parapet, facing me. His weight was on his left boot, bringing his bulging prick hanging to the right, a most likely 7 inch package to be envied and respected. I glanced at it for a millisecond. I think he saw me, too. I think I knew he would. I think I wanted him to and that's why I looked at it when I knew his eyes were on mine. He paused a moment and his voice lowered further, "I was patrolling, but not for cop duty."

"Whatdya mean?" My heart pounded with excitement.

"I was looking for America." His eyes stayed with mine.

"What???" I exclaimed as if I hadn't heard correctly and started to breathe heavily.

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Keywords: New, Dick, Sucks, Cop, A, York,