Jump to content

Recommended Posts

Closeted County

I knew better than to speed, but it was late at night and I was tired. My father always warned me that sheriff’s department of Closet County loved catching “big city” speeders blasting down their two-lane roads. Now, as I turned off onto the gravel side-road in order to pull over, I got that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was going to be a huge ticket, and I wasn’t sure I’d get by with simply going to traffic school yet again.

“Driver’s window down. Turn off the car. Drop they keys onto the road out the driver’s window,” said a gruff voice over a peaking speaker.

“Well that’s unexpected,” I mumbled while turning off my aging, rust-bucket of a car that I had inherited from my older sister. As my hand went out the window, I looked up into the rear-view mirror. The blinding white light of the cruiser’s spotlight obscured everything but the faint alternating pattern of his pulsating red and blues.

I dropped the keys placed my hands back onto the steering wheel.

“Driver. Step out of the vehicle, close the door and place your hands on the roof of the car.” That seemed a bit excessive. In the handful of times I had been pulled over prior, I had never been treated like any sort of threat. Then again, it was 2am and I was doing 45mph over the posted limit. It’s not like I really had a choice at this point anyway.

With my hands on the roof of the car, I kept my face pointed forwards. The light from the cop’s spotlight made it impossible to look in his direction. I could hear his footsteps approaching on the gravel below—heavy and almost deafening like marching to the gallows.

“Do you know how fast you were going, son?”

“Far too fast, Sir,” I replied as respectfully as I could.

“Uh huh. Yup. Far too fast indeed,” he said with his voice trailing off. I suddenly felt his hands on my hips. They began to roughly frisk me. “Got anything that may poke, prod or stick me?”

I felt him reach around and firmly grab my crotch. “Nuh-nuh-no, Sir,” I said startled.

The officer moved his hands to my ass and it felt as though he was massing my cheeks. “Uh huh. Just a model of a citizen are we? Out driving nearly 50mph over my speed limit at 2 o’clock in the morning.”

I felt his hands reach into my rear pockets. His left hand withdrew my wallet. “Benjamin Stoltz...tell me...Benjamin...exactly what types of criminal shenanigans are you up to?” He tossed my open wallet onto the hood of my car.

“Nothing, Sir. Just anxious to get home and I was tired.”

“Tired he says. That seems like an awfully dumb reason to be speeding along with limited visibility on a night like tonight. Hell, you can’t even see the moon it’s so cloudy. Are you drunk, boy?”

“No, Sir,” I clamored.

I felt the officer press up against my backside and lean his head over my left shoulder before deeply inhaling. It made my entire body tingle as much as it cringed. “Hmmm you don’t smell like a boozer. Maybe you’re just in a hurry to transport some drugs through my county? Are you a doper, boy?”

I was actually caught even more off-guard by the insinuation. “God no, Sir. I don’t even smoke cigarettes.”

“Then you won’t mind me having a little looksie around your vehicle?” he asked as he had already moved to open the back door and rummage around. “Now don’t you move!” he warned.

“Hmmmm...uh huh,” I could hear him mumbling as he went through the contents strewn about in the back of my car. I could hear him unzip my backpack and dump everything out onto the road.

“Welp,” he said with a click of his tongue, “I’m going to need you to strip.”

“Sir?” I said in utter disbelief.

“I’m not seeing any drugs here. So, that really only leaves one other place for you to hide them.”

“Sir, I don’t…”

There was a sudden bang as the cop slammed his baton down on the roof of my car. I jumped onto the balls of my feet. My heart felt like it had skipped several beats. “Don’t make me tell you twice! Strip!!”

I began to slide my hand backwards off the roof. “Don’t you fucking dare. Hands on top of the roof at all times. How do I know you aren’t about to pull a weapon?”

“Didn’t you just frisk me?” I blurted out somewhat incredulous.

The response was swift and immediate. I felt the baton against the back of neck driving my face against the roof of the car. “Don’t you get fucking smart with me.”

“I-I-I don’t know know how to comply if I can’t use my hands, Sir.”

“Ohhhhh is that the problem?” he half-asked with seething sarcasm. “Well then...all you have to do is ask for help.”

“Sir?”

He pushed my face down even harder against the metal roof. I felt his breath against my right ear. “I said, ‘All you have to do is ask’ for me to help you strip.”

I swallowed the massive frog in my throat that had appeared. “Sir, I need help stripping for you.”

“Awww. See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?” He removed the baton from my neck, and I felt both of his hands reach around to the front of my jeans. He deftly unbuttoned and unzipped them before placing his thumbs inside the band of my underwear at each hip. An instant later, he had pulled down everything to my ankles. I now stood there half-naked against my own car bathed in the eerie light of his cruiser’s spotlight.

The cop grabbed my shoulders and awkwardly manhandled me until I was in front of the driver’s front tire. “Bend over and feet apart,” he gruffly commanded. When I didn’t immediately comply, he forcefully bent me forward over the hood of my car and had begun to kick my feet apart as far as they could go. He grabbed my arms and folded my wrists atop one another and cuffed me.

My mind raced a million different thoughts as I laid there helplessly bent over my car in the middle of nowhere. His hands were almost immediately on my ass—roughly squeezing and pulling on my cheeks. I did my best to remain silent for fear of what he might do to me if I resisted.

I felt that familiar hardness of his baton against the inside of my right thigh. He slowly slid it up until the tip pressed against my sack. He withdrew it and repeated the same motion up my left, inner thigh. Before I even realized what was about to happen, I felt the rounded tip pressing against my asshole. “Let’s just see what you might be smuggling up that prison pocket of yours,” he teased as he began to drive the baton into my ass. I unexpectedly moaned out and clenched my fists behind me. I could feel my cock harden as he drove the wooden weapon deeper inside me.

“Fuuuck,” I moaned.

The sheriff began to pump the length of the baton back and forth in long, powerful thrusts without saying anything. Like the inexperienced virgin I was, I quickly climaxed and sprayed my seed onto the dusty rubber of my tire. With the baton implanted firmly inside me, I could hear him unzip his pants. It was a near-instant swap; the unforgiving wood of his baton for the warmth and girth of his hard cock. There was no romance. There was no flirty words exchanged. Instead, he grabbed the short bit of chain between my cuffs and used that as leverage to slam-fuck me as hard as he could.

I moaned and grunted in a perverse mix of pleasure and pain. Up until that night, my ass had remained sacrosanct even against my own curious fingers. It didn’t take him long before his thrusts went from rhythmic to disjointed and staccato. As I stared into my empty driver’s seat, I could tell he was flooding my insides with its first load of fertilizer. All of my own thoughts and questions about the subject matter were answered. I was definitely a horny, cum-hungry, faggot. There was no point in me pretending otherwise from now own.

As the officer’s fat cock slipped from my aching hole, I could feel some of his cum dribble down my right thigh as it leaked out. I expected to be uncuffed at any moment. I didn’t expect to swap phone numbers. I didn’t expect for him to say anything really. This was just a horny cop taking advantage of me on a deserted road in the middle of the night. What I also didn’t expect was for him to grab me and pull me towards his cruiser.

He opened the rear door and pushed me onto the backseat. With my feet dangling out, he pulled off my shoes and then my jeans and underwear that were still around my ankles. Without a word, he pushed my feet inside the car and shut the door. A few moments later we were driving back down the main country road.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked laid out. He remained silent.

We pulled into the tiny police station and he pulled me out of the car and marched me half-naked into the back door. As we rounded a corner, I could see the holding cell that had half-a-dozen men locked inside.

“Wait...wait...you can’t put me in there like this,” I stammered trying to resist forward momentum.

The men seemed largely oblivious to my presence until the sheriff spoke. “Merry Christmas, fellas! Who says I never do anything nice for the worst of our populace?!” The men immediately turned to look at us and began cat-calling.

The sheriff pressed me up against the outside of the cell. Twelves hands were suddenly pawing at me through the bars. With his head once again over my left shoulder he whispered, “It’s the Christmas holiday. You can spend the next three days in here thinking about what happens to speeders in my county. Maybe...if the fellas feel like you earned it, you can stay another day or two and help rehabilitate them.”

All of the men began cheering as he opened the cell door and pushed me into it with my hands still bound together with his handcuffs.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use, Privacy Policy, and Guidelines. We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue.