Originally published in Honcho magazine - April, 1995

Crooked Cocksucker Gets Dicked.

_____

It was always the same for Harvey; the incredible high that came from burglarizing a bar, snooping and prowling, never knowing what might be in the place, but always hoping Lady Luck was right around the corner. Man, it was enough to give a guy a hard-on. In fact, he did have a hard-on; the giant, extra-large, hotly throbbing, super astronomical size, if it was anyone's business.

He filched a bottle of beer out of the beer box, popped the top, took a long, slow pull, and glanced around. It was a dimly lit tavern, but he could see well enough: the potato chip racks, the cash register he had not yet jimmied open, the office door next to the stock room. Surely there would be a checkbook in the office, and possibly some cash. Maybe a pistol, if he was lucky.

He pulled his hard-on out of his pants, touched it lightly with the cold beer, and grunted with pleasure as his seven-inch cock jerked and twitched. He wrapped his right hand around the veiny shaft and stroked himself several times. When he was almost ready to cum, he stopped. But he left his erection sticking out of his pants as he strolled into the office and quietly shut the door behind him.

Suddenly he was all business; working quickly, methodically rifling the place; a few bucks out of a cigar box in a file cabinet, a pocket watch out of the desk, and a fancy ballpoint pen lying by the telephone. He was about to leave when he decided to check out the TV and the video cabinet. That's where he found the ten-thousand dollars.

"Jesus Christ!" he whispered under his breath, his fingers leafing through an envelope of hundred-dollar bills. His heart thumped crazily. His hard-on twitched and throbbed. He covered his knob with his right hand and, in spite of all he could do to try and stop himself, he started cumming in his palm, his left hand still fingering the thick sheaf of money. His legs trembled with his orgasm. Warm spunk dribbled from his fingers and fell to the floor in long, slow strands. He found a small rag in the video cabinet and wiped himself clean. Then, paranoia set in.

Jesus, what kind of money was this? Mob stuff? Gangster money? Bookie loot? Still in a panic, he peeled off a large portion of the hundreds, folded them in half, and stuck the money in one of his socks. He shoved the rest of the wad into his left front pants pocket.

Ready to go now, he popped open the rear door and slipped quickly outside. The night was quiet, the alley dark and silent. All he could hear was the pounding in his chest.

He made it to the end of the alley and turned left before the unmarked car cruised up beside him. It was a dark green Plymouth with a silver rear antenna. A big burly guy was driving, a huge, granite-faced dude in a dark brown suit, the John Wayne type, with sandy red hair, cold flinty eyes, and a brick for a jaw line. Definitely a fucking cop.

"C'mere, asshole," a deep, gravelly voice commanded.

Crestfallen, Harvey walked up to the passenger side of the car and peered inside. "Y-yes, sir?" he stammered.

The cop opened the door and grunted. Meekly, Harvey got in the car and sat down. The cop pulled away, one beefy hand on the steering wheel, the other down by his hip, probably near his gun. They drove silently for about twenty minutes before the cop pulled up behind a deserted gas station on the outskirts of town and turned off his lights. Harvey's asshole tightened up. He'd heard stories; stories he didn't even want to think about.

"You done good," the cop said. "I'da blown your ass to hell and Georgia if you'd made one wrong move back there. You savvy to that?"

Harvey nodded. "Y-yes, sir."

"Blown you plumb into another century, bub."

"Y-yes, sir."

"You got a name?"

"H-Harvey. Harvey Trent."

"You got a sheet?"

Harvey nodded that he did indeed have a criminal rap sheet.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Some burglary and stuff. I did a couple of years in Louisiana and a couple in Oklahoma."

The cop grunted. "So, now you're gonna try Texas? Hmnft, you didn't learn much in them other joints, did ya? Fucking amateur burglar tripping over his own ass in a two-bit beer joint. Cripes, I thought I was gonna have to go in and get ya, maybe blow your ass to Georgia. What was you doing in there, playing with yourself?"

Harvey didn't know what to say. This was certainly the strangest bust he'd ever encountered. Of course, he'd heard about cops on the vigilante rag, kicking ass and holding court in the streets, just doing whatever the hell they felt like doing to a suspect.

He'd heard other stuff, too. He even knew a guy that knew a guy that said a cop in St. Louis caught him burglarizing a house late last summer, took him out into the country, stripped him down naked, and had his way with him. As the story went, the cop was one of those overly muscled weightlifter types who could easily double as a Marine drill sergeant. Anyway, the cop sucked the guy's cock a couple of times, then licked his asshole for about an hour. Finally, he put the burglar on his hands and knees and butt-fucked him twice, driving a hot load of cum up his ass both times, before finally giving him back his clothes and a twenty-dollar bill, and advising him to catch a bus out of town.

But this wasn't St. Louis. This was the Texas Gulf Coast, where the law sometimes blew your ass away just because a corpse was a little easier to convict than a live body.

"You hear me?" the big cop rumbled. "I said how'd you like being blown all over Georgia?"

Harvey shook his head. "N-no, sir." God, this guy was scary, mostly muscles and meat and shoulders. He was fierce looking, too; with hard, piercing eyes that dared you to fuck with him, and tight angry lips, and a giant meaty hand resting in his lap, probably down there playing with a humongous hard-on and a bodacious hairy nut sack that was puffed and bloated with....

Christ, what was the matter with him all of a sudden?

"Where ya from, butt-face?"

"D-Dallas," Harvey told him.

"Yeah? They got lots of hairballs in Dallas, don't they?"

Harvey nodded.

"'Course, they got one less now, what with you being down here. Right?"

Harvey nodded again.

The cop fumbled with his fly, then, his hard-on was sticking out of his pants, incredibly stupendous in its size. Harvey stared at it, mesmerized by what was happening. His lips quivered uncontrollably.

"Whatcha think?" the cop asked. "Think they got a lot of dicksuckers in Dallas?"

Harvey couldn't speak. He simply nodded yes.

"Punks, too, I betcha."

Silently, Harvey agreed that was probably as good a bet as any.

The big cop wrapped his beefy paw around his ten-inch dark and jacked the monstrous shaft with long, slow strokes.

"Dicksuckers and punks," the detective said. "The way I hear it, Dallas is full of 'em. 'Course, a whiz-kid like yourself, you already know that, don't-cha, you being one of their outstanding citizens and all. Say, didja ever meet one of 'em? One of them dick-suckers? The cop lifted his right arm and draped it across the back of the seat. Harvey now had an unobstructed view of the man's gigantic erection, the massive bullet-headed knob, the thick rigid stalk, and the coarse, dark pubic patch surrounding the base of the pulsing shaft.

"No, sir," Harvey replied.

"Now that's a damn shame," the cop said. "Ya mighta learned a thing or two. Mighta learned how to use your head once in a while."

The cop's hard-on twitched and jerked between his legs. Harvey could see it pulsing and throbbing with life. He knew it would be tart and salty between his lips, electrifying on his tongue. His asshole quivering, he slid cautiously across the seat and stared down at the oversized erection.

"'Course, some people don't know how to use their heads," the cop told him. "They spend their time robbing and stealing, pissing, off the cops, turning their butts into pussies in the felony tank. Stuff like that. But they don't use their heads. Don't know how, I reckon."

Harvey lowered his head and kissed the big cock's hard, meaty knob. His tongue flicked around the warm, velvety head. He could smell the cop's masculinity, the harsh, pungent aroma of his manhood. Harvey closed his eyes and lowered his head an inch or two. The gigantic knob filled his mouth and stretched his lips. His right hand groped the meaty shaft. Seconds later, he was jacking the beefy stalk, his lips smacking noisily on the bulbous knob. Without any warning, the cop started cumming.

"Hmnft," he grunted softly.

Hot, salty semen flooded Harvey's mouth. He swallowed quickly, his right hand jacking the rigid pole. More jism filled his mouth and swamped his tongue. Streams of silver liquid spilled onto his fingers and dribbled into the cop's crotch. Harvey kept sucking and swallowing, his right hand slick and slippery on the climaxing shaft. His heart was beating wildly. His own cock was twitching and throbbing in his pants. Then, the big climax was over. Harvey slipped the spicy knob out of his mouth and raised his head.

"Need to catch your breath or something?" the cop asked.

Harvey's heartbeat jumped into another gear. "H-huh? W-well, uh... I... N-no, sir. I guess not."

Silently, Harvey lowered his head and slipped the cockhead back into his mouth. His hand groped the slick shaft as he licked the taut, fleshy crown. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His tongue circled the swollen rim and swabbed out the piss-slit.

Suddenly, the cop's hand was on the back of his head, forcing several inches of hard meat into Harvey's mouth. Harvey resisted for a moment, then, he was down on the floorboard of the car, down on his knees between the big cop's legs, his lips working the gigantic hard-on, his hands fondling the detective's thick, steely thighs.

The huge erection pulsed and throbbed between Harvey's lips. The hand on the back of his head applied pressure. More cock filled his mouth. Soon, he had all he could handle. The hand seemed to sense the situation. The pressure relented. But Harvey stayed on the rigid shaft, his lips pulling and drawing, his own cock vibrating hotly inside his pants.

His hands fondled the detective's thighs and legs. His body squirmed with pleasure. Then, his right hand discovered something hard and foreign near the cop's left ankle. It was an ankle gun in a small leather holster. Harvey's mouth opened in surprise. Another inch of cock filled his face. His heart went crazy, hammering insanely at his ribcage. His fingers trembling, he stroked the little metal gun. At that moment, the cop shot his wad again, his body tensing slightly as hot spunk exploded from his fiery knob.

Harvey's own hard dick started spewing and sputtering. Joy-juice trickled down his chin. His fingers shaking, he pulled his seven-inch rod out of his pants and jerked himself off with quick, spastic strokes, all the while whimpering and moaning as his lips serviced the climaxing cock in his mouth. Finally, the big detective pulled Harvey's head off his spent erection. Numbly, Harvey climbed up on the car seat and stuffed his cock back in his jeans. The cop's cock was still hard. Its angry bullet-head glistening faintly with saliva.

The cop stared at him. "How much you think that's worth, butt-face?"

Harvey was quick. "Wha-what?"

"That ain't no 'Get Out Of Jail' card, asshole. How much you hit that tavern for?"

"Huh? Well... uh... I mean, I found some..."

The cop held out his hand. "Let's have it," he said. "All of it."

Defeated, Harvey emptied his pockets as the cop watched. He couldn't help noticing the husky detective's hard-on was still pulsing and twitching aggressively. The cop's eyes were hard and aggressive, too. But they softened a little when they saw the roll of hundred-dollar bills.

"Well, well," the hefty lawman drawled. "I heard old Jimmy Clyde hit some kinda lottery combination. Guess you was gonna help him spend it, huh?"

Harvey nodded with relief. At least, he now knew where the ten thousand had come from.

"What's this?" the cop asked. "A good citizen's award from the President?" He was holding up the gold-plated pocket watch Harvey had stolen from the tavern.

"N-no, sir. I got it back there. Everything I've got came from back there, even the s-seventy-nine dollars. It was in a cigar box in the file cabinet."

"Hmnft. Shouldn't be stealing from old Jimmy Clyde like that. Guess I'll have to see he gets it all back." He dropped most of the stuff into his right-hand coat pocket and glared coldly at Harvey. "In the meantime," the cop said, "you might find it beneficial to grab some highway over there and hitch yourself out of town. Wouldn't dally too much about it, either, if I was you. We clear on that?" The cop handed Harvey his empty wallet and the ballpoint pen he'd stolen from the tavern.

"Y-yes, sir," Harvey agreed. Harvey opened the car door and started to step out, but the cop's voice stopped him.

"If I had time, bub, you'd be out in the country somewhere, down on your knees licking my asshole. That's an out-of-this-world experience, you know, getting your asshole licked. Makes me cum sometimes just thinking about it: some guy biting my ass, licking my crack, jabbing his tongue around in all my sensitive material. Gets to be a habit after a while. Know what I mean? Anyway, don't be hob-knobbing around down here no more, you savvy?"

"Yes, sir," Harvey said.

"And since you ain't coming back, why'n-cha give Old Boomer here a great, big, goodbye kiss?"

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who Old Boomer was. Obediently, Harvey slid across the seat and kissed the big cop's hard-on, gently letting his tongue flip across the wet, musky, mushroom head. He could feel the rugged detective's awesome muscle throbbing between his lips, could easily sense the vibrant emotion, the explosive pent-up energy bubbling volcanically in the large, naked knob. Quite suddenly, Harvey wanted the whole cock in his mouth. He wanted it spewing and sputtering with excitement, splashing tangy jism down his throat. He wanted a finger in his ass, digging and probing, plundering his depths. He wanted this broad-shouldered savage lying on top of him, thrashing and squashing and mauling him. His hand slid down to the cop's ankle holster. His fingers fondled the gun barrel, then the metal cylinder that held the small deadly bullets. And once again, the monstrous cock exploded in his mouth.

When he finally raised his head, his asshole was sweating and twitching. His lips and chin were splotched with cum. Silently, the cop handed him a handkerchief. Harvey wiped his face and returned the handkerchief. The cop folded the small piece of cloth several times and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

"You ain't a bad kisser," the cop said. "Kind of a shame you won't be returning to our tranquil little community. You savvy?"

Harvey nodded and eased himself out of the car.

Across the highway, walking along with the traffic, he found himself incredibly amazed by his good fortune. He did not know why he had stuck most of the ten thousand dollars in his sock, but he was immeasurably glad he had. Maybe it had been paranoia. Maybe he'd been afraid a bigger crook might come along and try to take it away from him — which is exactly what happened. That beefy-chested, oversexed policeman was as big a crook as he was. Bigger, Harvey smiled to himself.

But everything had worked out in Harvey's favor. He had beaten a penitentiary rap. He had a fat roll of money. And he had just sucked one of the largest and raunchiest cocks he'd ever seen, except maybe in a porno movie. In fact, he'd sucked it three times in less than an hour.

Of course, no one was ever going to believe him. But that didn't matter. It had still happened, and he knew it. He'd even learned a valuable lesson from it.

It really did pay to use your head.

THE  END