reader stories
A Lawyer and a Cop
Submitted by Brett, 42, Minnesota
Newly divorced, I’d moved to a different city after landing a job with a large law firm. I thought things had finally gotten back on track. Until I met Mike, I’d never realized just how derailed my life had been for many years. As a litigator, I’m continually in preparation mode; depositions, interrogatories, legal research, the filing of writs, motions and more motions, and countless other tasks in preparation for a trial.
Walking out of my office on the twentieth floor of a downtown St. Paul high-rise, I had my eyes on the open file I was reading. Turning at a corner, I walked straight into the biggest alpha male cop I’d ever encountered. The file went airborne. The officer caught me before I landed flat on my ass. Regaining my wits, I noticed He had to be six feet four or five inches tall and was well-muscled; his six-pack abs showed clearly through his light blue uniform shirt. Moving my eyes upward, I saw broad shoulders, a handsome face with chiseled features, dark-brown hair, and the most incredible sapphire-blue eyes I’d ever looked into. One of his large hands was wrapped around my right upper arm.
“I’m sorry officer; entirely my fault,” I offered. It was. He let go of my arm, and placed the same hand on my shoulder. “Didn’t hurt,” he said in true swaggering butch cop fashion, and then asked, “Are you alright?” His deep voice was tinged with genuine concern.
I assured him I was fine, and thought that would be the end of our brief conversation. We would become the proverbial “two ships passing in the night.”
“Look, my name is Mike Swanson. Since I almost flattened you, let me at least buy you lunch.”
“Brett Davis,” I said extending a hand. We shook holding hands a few seconds longer than is customary.
One part of my brain was telling me to decline his invitation. But I found myself utterly attracted to this handsome man. And yes, I couldn’t help but take a look at his package -- sure looked like swingin’ death to me. Those thoughts almost knocked me on my ass as surely as Officer Swanson had nearly done. What in the hell, I asked myself, are you doing eyeballing this cop’s crotch? To be sure, I’d glanced at other men’s genitalia while in the gym locker room.
And yes, a time or two I’d found myself wondering what it would feel like to have sex with another man. But the cliché, “You ever try it the other way, you’ll never want to go back,” had perhaps unconsciously squelched my same-sex fantasies. That, or I had some old-fashioned, fucked-up notions about what constituted socially acceptable love and sex.
I glanced at my watch and said, “I have to eat anyhow. Where would you like to go?” We agreed to meet at a restaurant within walking distance of my office in thirty minutes. Mike had been off shift since eight, and wanted to get out of uniform. He had come to the firm to be deposed for a wrongful death action filed on behalf of one of our clients. Mike Swanson had been the responding officer at the scene of the deadly accident.
Mike arrived at the restaurant two minutes after I’d been seated. He’d changed into designer shorts and sport shirt. His legs were tightly muscled, and the man had to have nineteen inch biceps. He smiled as he neared the table. Ad perfect white teeth to that list, I silently said to myself. Over lunch, I learned that Mike held a four-year degree in criminal justice, and had been married for five years before getting divorced just a month ago.
We shared the same married and divorced timetables. We were both thirty years old and had no children.
“Law enforcement and marriage frequently don’t go hand-in-hand,” Mike shrugged. His eyes met mine and he smiled. “Mind if I ask a personal question?”
I smiled back. “Go ahead.”
“Excuse my candor,” Mike began his dark eyes fixed on mine, “but I’d like to get you into bed. Would you at least consider it?”
Admittedly, I would have done him right on top of the table here in the crowded restaurant. I smiled and offered, “How about tonight? Hell, I’ll even fix dinner.”
I gave him my address, but didn’t mention that I’d be picking up dinner for two from a gourmet caterer. “Eight o’clock work for you?” Mike told me it was his
night off, and he’d be at my place at eight.
Good thing I didn’t have to be in court that afternoon. Every time I tried to focus on work, my mind wandered. In brief, I was at once scared shitless and eagerly anticipating whatever tonight brought. Around four, I told my law clerk I was leaving for the day before I accidentally burned the building down.
On the way home, I picked up two trout almandine dinners and dessert. I can fight the hostile takeover of a corporation, but I haven’t mastered cooking. The caterer, whom I knew only by first name and suspected was gay, gave me strict instructions on how to warm the dinners. I considered asking him for instructions regarding man-on-man sex, but thought better of it.
Mike was punctual. It was one of the hottest days of the summer. Standing at my door, he looked cool, calm and crisp. He stepped inside. I closed the door. He kissed me, and I found myself instantly and painfully erect.
“Glad to see I have that effect on you,” Mike said his lips brushing mine. We kissed deeply until I thought the feel of our erect cocks pressing against each other through our slacks was going to have me shooting off my navel. I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. Screw dinner. Mike undressed me stopping to admire my body with every piece of clothing he removed. I then undressed him. Nude, Mike looked like a Greek statue.
I placed my hand around his penis, and became alarmed at the size as he became fully erect. Has to be, I thought, ten inches long and about five inches in girth.
“Mike,” I began, “I don’t know if I can take . . .” Mike laughed softly. “We’ll take it slow Brett. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He kissed me and added, “I want you to have the best, most enjoyable sex you’ve ever had.”
Having never done anything like this before, Mike suggested we try oral sex first. Lying on our sides, I managed to get the head of his penis in my mouth. I have a little over seven inches, and Mike had me in all the way. With his tongue working my shaft and head, it was the best blow job I’d ever gotten. I worked hard at getting half of his huge cock in my mouth. I found that I not only loved the taste of his cock, but his manly scent was driving me crazy.
Before I could get my mouth emptied to warn him, I came in long squirts. Thinking nothing of it, Mike swallowed my semen wad after wad. Mike began to push into my mouth, and warned me that he too was going to cum. With his large balls, I new he’d probably be coming in quarts. He released a load alright, and I found that it was a turn-on having a man cum in my mouth. The taste was salty, sweet and decidedly male.
I’m six feet two inches tall and weigh 190 pounds. Mike slid his feet onto the carpet, stood and lifted me as if I were a baby. He set me back on the bed in a kneeling position. He picked up his khakis and pulled a tube of lubricant and condoms from one of the pockets. Mike rolled on a condom. Squirting a handful of the lubricant and spreading it over his erection, he straddled my legs.
“Bend forward,” Mike coached. He gently slid a lubricated index finger into my anus, and asked, “Is that painful?” It wasn’t; in fact, I felt myself becoming erect again. “Feels great,” I answered.
He slipped a middle finger in with the index finger. I moaned in pleasure. Mike removed his fingers, placed his hands on my hips, and gently pushed the head of his penis inside me. I moaned again; not in pain, but in pure sexual pleasure. He sensed as much and slowly slid himself all the way in. I began to move with him; his every thrust pure pleasure. He grabbed my hard dick and began to slide his hand down my shaft and then pull all the way to the head. He began to pump faster until I thought I would soon shoot a wad to the moon.
We came together; I felt his ejaculation and heard it as he continued to pump. I grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and began to wipe my semen off my chest and the bedspread. As Mike lay on his back, I pulled a few more tissues, rolled off his condom, and wiped his penis.
“Man, that was fine,” Mike said softly. I kissed him. “No Michael, it was in-fucking-credible,” I said.
Mike stayed the night. We made love again and again. I knew I’d have difficulty walking in the morning, but could not have cared less. I had never experienced such sexual gratification. We edged toward sleep entwined in each other on the top of the bedspread. I buried my nose in his thick chest hair taking in his masculine scent. He wrapped his arms around me protectively.
“Know what,” I asked softly of an almost asleep Mike. “No, what?” “I think they’re right,” I answered. “Right about what?” Mike asked more alert. “The one about trying it the other way. You don’t mind if I keep you for awhile do you?”
That was a dozen years ago. We’ve lived together as life partners ever since. Mike made detective III over the past dozen years, and I became a partner in the firm. We’ve gone through the great times, good times, and over the rough spots together. Besides ourselves, we both have that other person on whom we can rely.
We never worry about being unable or unwilling to “go back.” Life is fantastic; no, make that phenomenal.
Comment On This Story
Postings to date: 3. Page 1 of 1. Avg Rating: 
Randy Rajala Baton Rouge |
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Beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it. I'd love to see photos of both of you! | |
Bryan Portland |
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Fucking hot; can just imagine how hard and wet I'd be thinking about getting home to a cock like Mike's every night! | |
Jim Lewiston |
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Doesn't fucking get any hotter then that, congratulations you guys! | |
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