DAVID 188
David the Cop — Chapter nine
He pulled off his sunglasses in one quick movement and tossed them on top of my clothes. Somehow I felt as though I’d been touched, mocked, even violated. I looked up at his face and I whimpered.
I whimpered because my cock swelled at the sight of that handsome face in its entirety. Shockingly bright blue eyes nailed me to the ground where I lay. I wanted to caress that face, to love it, to make it moan in pleasure, but it was looking down at me with hatred and contempt. I had fantasized about kissing him, about long, wet, probing, intimate, breathless, hungry, desperate, wanton kisses. And he was sneering at me.
He bent over and grabbed my ankle. Without even waiting to see what he was going to do, I said, “No!” and tried to back away. He dropped to his knees and grabbed both of my legs behind the knees with a grip so vise-like he was able to lift my hips off the ground. And then he pulled me towards him. “NO!” I yelled. His fingers dug in. I was in no position to attempt escape. My legs were spread forcefully. “OW!!!” I whimpered. “No!!! Nooooo please!!!” I felt my buttocks come down on his thighs, and then I felt the tip of the wet, hot battering ram between his legs press against my hole. I said, “NO!” over and over again. I tried to bring my legs together and with a sneer he spread them further, just to show what he could do. I felt stupid. My arms were free, flailing but absolutely useless, alternating between desperate reaches toward him to free my legs and wild scrapings against the grounds to back up, to put distance between me and the pole poised at my quivering tunnel.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he said quietly. Somehow that handsome face was frightening.
“No!”
“You dreamt about getting fucked.”
“No! No! I –I-I wanted, I wanted—”
“To get fucked by it. To feel it churning in and out, all the way in, reaming you out. Huh?”
“No! Please! Don’t! I’ll make you feel good. I wanna make you feel good. I know how. I—”
He laughed, and then with one quick movement he leaned forward and bent my thighs all the way toward my chest. I thought my hips were going to dislocate. I screamed. I clutched his forearms and begged him to stop. I felt him shift his weight, tilting his hips back, and then he shoved his hips forward and his cock head buried itself halfway into my hole. I wailed. I kicked my feet. I clenched my buttocks, and he just held himself there, watching me. I wondered what he was waiting for, and after a few seconds I realized that he was just waiting for me to get tired. I couldn’t hold that clench for more than a few seconds. I sobbed. He smiled. I cried. He pushed. I begged, and then I felt myself open helplessly and the head of his cock slipped in, my ass lips gripping the top of his shaft. With a grunt, he stabbed me with it, burying it to the hilt. I gasped and held my breath and looked up at him wide-eyed, shocked yet again at the fullness in me, and at the realization of what had invaded me. Having held it, having swallowed it, having bathed it with my tongue, having gripped it with both hands, my mind reeled at the fact that I was now fucked by it.
He pumped his hips back and forth and I felt it stroke my insides. I begged him to stop. He ignored me completely. I told him he was hurting me. He looked me right in the eye, paused for a second, and then slammed his fuck meat all the way in and ground his hips against my trembling buttocks.
“You want me to stop?” he asked.
“YES!” I sobbed.
“Then make me feel good, you little punk.”
I looked up at him, desperate and confused.
“Come on,” he mocked. “Do something. Make me cum. MAKE me cum, so you can go home to your mommy.”
I sobbed. I reached toward his cock with the intention of making him withdraw so that I could stroke him off or lick his balls. I knew he liked that. I would have done anything to make him cum. But he just continued pounding my ass. I could feel his heavy balls slapping against my butt with every thrust. I tried to twist away, but it was useless.
“Come on! COME ON, FUCKER! MAKE me come!”
I reached toward him, not knowing what to do. I could grip his forearms. I tried pulling them off my legs. It was useless. I sobbed. I couldn’t reach him. I couldn’t touch him anywhere else. Except maybe…
“You little spying piece of shit! You want me to play with your cock? Huh? You want me to make you feel good?”
“Yes!” I sobbed, hoping he meant it, hoping that would make him stop fucking me.
He laughed. “I bet you do!” He was sweaty. His muscles glistened. I wanted to lick it all off. “Come on, punk! Make me feel good.”
“I can’t get up! I don’t know how,” I sobbed.
“I said, MAKE ME FEEL GOOD!”
I sobbed and reached toward him. I had to hold my breath to bend as far as possible. My stomach muscles clenched in a prolonged sit-up. And them my fingers touched his sweaty pecs, and I held his nipples gently between my thumbs and forefingers.
He gasped. And he whimpered. He did not pull away.
I pumped them tenderly between my fingers.
“Oh shit,” he murmured.
I twisted them gently.
“Oh g-god!” and instantly our roles had been reversed, although he continued to screw me.
I thought about pinching them hard, but just to see what kind of reaction I’d get, I stroked them softly with my thumb.
He gasped. I felt his hands dig into my legs. His fucking faltered. He fought to breathe.
I stroked his nipples again with a feather touch, and then I could hold my sit-up no longer. I fell back, panting for breath. I heard him moan, and it was the sound of a man who had been set on fire, whose orgasm was at the ready. I squeezed my eyes shut as his hips fucked me mercilessly. I had to make him cum. If I could make him cum, then it would all be over. I took a deep breath, clenched my stomach and rose up to hold his nipples. Instantly, the look on his face changed to desperation. I saw his whole body go rigid. His fingers again buried themselves into the flesh of my knees. I held his nipples for a moment and then this time I pulled on them ever so gently.
“Oh g-god damn y-…y-you’re gonna make me c-cum!”
I twisted them.
“OH!”
I stroked them.
“Oh FUCK!”
I tickled them.
He whimpered. His fucking devolved into short, erratic jabs.
My thumb made lazy circles around the points.
His whole body jolted. He sobbed.
I stroked them with the backs of my fingers….
2005
STORY CONTINUES AT DAVID 189