Originally published in Playguy magazine - July, 2001

— Take The Prisoner Home & Fuck His Lights Out! —

The first time I saw the young guy, he was squatting, clutching the bars of the cell. He'd already been forcibly stripped to his briefs, socks and "shit-stomper" boots. The rest of his clothing was scattered about the cell. His cock and one of his almost-hairless balls dangled from the leg of his underwear. Three of my deputies were lounging about the hallway, enjoying the entertainment. The eighteen-year-old was asking for help, but it must have been obvious to him that there was no hope. The four men in the cell with him intended to fuck him—and my deputies were going to stand by and watch.

A gruff clearing of my throat, a glare, and all the deputies scurried shame-faced around me, through the door, and returned to their work. No one inside the cell noticed as I stepped forward, my angry eyes now locked with the young guy's frightened ones. The four older men locked in with the younger one were too excited to notice me. One, filthy and grizzled, trousers and underwear flapping about his ankles, jumped forward, grasped the back of the young guy's flimsy briefs and snapped them downward, exposing the white, rounded mounds of his ass. A callused hand explored; the young guy winced. The hand continued its meandering. "Whooo-eeee! You got yo'self quite a butt-pussy there. Bet you a virgin."

The young guy mouthed one soundless syllable, "Please." His head hung in shame and fear as he tried to crawl through the bars confining him, preventing his escape. Considering the behavior of my deputies, he had no reason to expect that I would come to his aid.

Slowly, deliberately, I drew the baton from my belt and twirled it above my head. In one arching swing, I smashed the heavy piece of wood across the metal bars, a stupendous thud as wood met metal. Splinters flew. There was total silence in the cell. The young guy flinched as though feeling the baton on his flesh. The four would-be fuckers jumped, stepped backward and began to protest when they saw me standing outside the bars. Excuses were varied. They were "... just having a bit of fun ... meant no harm ... wouldn'ta hurt the dude—he reminds me of my younger brother."

I wondered if the fool had tried this with his younger brother. All the men in the cell backed further into the corner of the cell as they watched me draw my keys from my belt and saw the look on my face. I stepped into the cell and tapped the young guy on the shoulder with the baton. When he looked up, I said nothing, simply gestured for him to gather what was left of his clothing. He scrambled about the floor, grabbing the remnants of his khaki trousers, T-shirt, a denim jacket. At my direction, he slid past me into the hallway. As the shivering guy inched through the door, his bare ass grazed my hand. It was soft and smooth as velvet, round and desirable. I shuddered. My cock twitched. I slammed the barred door and locked it, turned, took hold of the waistband of his underwear, pulled it up to cover his exposed ass, and led him down the hall, through the lobby (where my silent officers diligently avoided looking up as we passed) and into my office. As the young guy followed, he held his shredded clothes in front of him, as though for protection. I left the sniffling guy standing in the middle of the room. Nearly naked and frightened, he wouldn't (I was sure) run off.

In the bathroom, I moistened a washcloth, walked back into the office and offered it to the young guy. He was shaking. I ran the cloth over his reddened face, wiping away tears and snot, made a half-hearted swipe at the marks on his chest where he had pressed too hard against the bars of the cell. I wanted to put my arms around him and reassure him. Instead, I stood with my hand on his bare shoulder, rubbing gently, relishing the smoothness, absorbing his body heat.

Gradually, the young guy stopped shivering. Reluctantly, I removed my hand. I pulled the wadded clothing from his hands. He at first held on, but loosened his grip. Each piece was shredded beyond wearing, would hardly cover his smooth, nearly hairless, young body. I threw the useless items of clothing onto the floor in the corner and looked him over.

There were no obvious bruises on his satiny body. His flaccid cock and one beautiful ball still hung exposed from his underwear. Sweat ran down my cheek. My skin felt clammy. I pulled the flimsy briefs so they covered his genitals. He looked up for the first time. I smiled at him and opened the door.

"Someone bring me the paperwork on this young man! Now!" Several jumped, startled by the anger in my voice. One of the idiots, Deputy Collins, braver or stupider than the rest, jumped to his feet, scurried to the counter, grabbed some papers and brought them to me. I snatched the three sheets and slammed the door. I would deal with the staff later. By now, they knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

As I turned and headed for my desk, I slammed into the back of the prisoner. Reflexively, I grabbed him to keep from knocking him flat. The odor of his fear invaded my nostrils, but so did an even stronger scent, that of a young man's sex. His flesh beneath my palm was warm; he was trembling like an unbroken foal. My hardened cock pressed against the mounds of his ass. I wanted him. Without thought, my hand ran down his muscular young arm. Was I wrong when I thought I felt him return the pressure?

I broke the contact, walked around the desk and sat in my chair. Still, the poor guy stood in the middle of the room, nearly naked, hands clasped at his crotch like he was trying to protect it. Then, I saw the surreptitious movements as he rubbed himself through the soft material. He continued to stare downward, as though afraid to make eye contact with me again.

I forced myself to concentrate on the details of his arrest. A call had come in to 9-1-1 around 10:45 p.m. that an armed robbery had just occurred at the Deli Delite on Somerset Street. The night manager had been badly beaten by a young male described as approximately five feet, eight inches tall, blond, blue, wearing khaki trousers, white T-shirt, denim jacket and a baseball cap. Officers had issued an all-points bulletin, and this young guy, identified on the papers as Kurt Marshall, had been picked up within a mile of the robbery. The officers had stopped and attempted to place the suspect under arrest.

They say the guy had resisted and been cuffed. I couldn't picture the frightened young man standing before me resisting anything. Had the episode in the cell totally unnerved him? The descriptions matched exactly—except in two aspects. The robber had been described as having long blond hair. The hair on the dude they arrested was sheared very short on the sides and only slightly longer on top. And this guy Kurt was at least six feet tall. I wondered if my officers needed to have their eyesight checked.

As I read further I suspected my deputies' intelligence. This young man had just celebrated his eighteenth birthday two weeks before—and looked it. The robber was described as being in his mid-to-late twenties. This pup looked as though he wasn't yet shaving. The robber was described as having a stubbly beard. This guy had muscles, lots of them. The robber was described as being whipcord thin. Some of my deputies were going to be in deep shit!

I dropped the report onto my desk and looked up. The young guy was a sight. Even with the puffiness from crying he had the face of an angel. And the body would have made Michelangelo blanch in envy—or given him a hard-on. I knew nothing about this dude—whether he was straight, bi or gay. But I wanted him. I wanted him with every fiber of my body.

My cock was beyond control. I inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly. When he looked up, the bright blue of his eyes pierced. All that he'd been through was due to my subordinates' stupidity. I stood and walked around the desk. His eyes were again lowered, riveted (I now realized) to the front of my police-issue trousers. My gun belt rested heavily on the bulge my distended cock made in the fabric.

"Kurt?" His blue eyes nailed me. Another bead of sweat ran down my cheek. "Kurt, there's no way I can ever erase everything that's happened tonight. But, if there's anything I can do besides get you some decent clothes and turn you loose, let me know."

I expected the dude to rant and rage, demand that I fire the deputies who'd arrested him, threaten a lawsuit, but what happened totally stunned me. He continued to stare into my eyes as he leaned closer and closer. I felt the increasing heat of his body, the pressure of his hands as they closed around my enraged cock. Then, his head moved toward me and he kissed me.

He released my cock. His arms wrapped around my slim waist. His head came to rest on my broad shoulder. I held him as he pressed against me. Gradually, he'd stopped trembling. Each time he exhaled, his breath tickled the hair above my shirt collar. My hands slid down his smooth back, under the elastic of his flimsy underwear, cupped his sexy round ass, felt the muscles beneath my hands contract as I pulled him tighter to me. Our hard cocks met and mashed. I shuddered as I unloaded into my tight briefs like an eighteen-year-old having a wet dream. I felt his muscles contract. He quivered in my arms. I ran my hands around his smooth waist and felt his cock. In his briefs, he'd shot, too.

I pulled away, grasped his smooth chin with my cum-sticky glove. I lifted it so he had to look me in the eyes. His were clear, trusting and blue.

"I'll get you something to wear. But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about this." I grasped the front of his soggy shorts and squeezed gently. "We can take care of this later. Okay?" I wanted to hear his voice. So far he'd said nothing.

"Okay. Then I'd like something to eat." The huge blue eyes ran unmistakably downward again to my crotch. The voice was soft and smooth, not quite that of a man yet. His insinuating tone and sly smile told me that he wasn't suggesting pizza. I grinned, moved around him and opened the door.

"Somebody bring this young man something to wear. Now!"

I heard the sound of feet scurrying.

"Sorry, Sheriff. This is all I could find." The freckled young deputy was cute but looked scared witless as he held out one of the all-purpose, one-piece suits generally worn by our long-term residents. His eyes dropped to my crotch, widened as he took in the wet spot. He licked his lips, and I made a silent vow to ride with him on patrol some night.

I thanked the young lecher, took the suit from his limp hands, closed the door in his face, and turned to hand the orange suit to Kurt. "You'll have to wear this for now. We'll think of something else, later."

When he was dressed he simply stood and looked at me. I grasped his smooth chin in my hand. This time I kissed him. His sly tongue entered my mouth, dueled with my teeth and tongue. His firm body pressed tightly against mine. I grabbed his firm ass and pulled him to me hard. His cock ground into my groin. This young guy had promise. I intended to find out before morning if the promise would pay off.

I raised my hands and pushed against his chest. He moaned and resisted as I forced him to step back. I chucked him under the chin with my gloved hand and stepped once more to the door, opened it. "Tomorrow! Noon! All officers! My office!" The buzz of conversation immediately stopped. I heard someone swear and the sound of glass hitting the floor. I slammed the door and turned to the now-bemused young man standing in the center of my cramped office.

I pulled off my polarized shades and smiled. Kurt's eyes widened. He stepped forward, greedily licking his lips. I caught his shoulder with my hand and turned him toward the rear door to the parking lot. Twenty minutes later, I led him into my home. And he was all over me.

He grabbed my shades, cap and coat and tore them off me. He hesitated, eyed the gun strapped about my waist—and the bulge of my cock below it. Slowly, deliberately, I removed the belt and hung it in the closet, locked the door and turned to face him. He wrestled with my tie, tore it over my head, mussing my hair; he ripped the buttons on my uniform shirt and yanked it off. I now stood in only my T-shirt, uniform pants, boots and socks.

Kurt dropped to his knees, tore the boots and socks from my feet, then reached up, yanked open the snap and jerked down the zipper on my trousers. His eyes widened as he drew the clinging fabric from my lean hips and down my legs. My cock bulged obscenely in my skimpy navy-blue briefs. A huge drying patch of cum stained the material a darker hue. Without hesitation, the dude lunged forward, grabbed my lean hips and clamped his mouth to the damp fabric. He sucked ravenously, licking, running his mouth over the damp spot. This pup had a taste for a grown man's cum.

I grasped his head and gently pushed him away. He resisted. I grabbed him under the arms and lifted him to his feet. I yanked down on the zipper of the one-piece suit he wore, yanked it down and made him step out of it. He had to bend to pull them over his shit-stompers. He yanked them off. His socks flew across the room. We now both stood in only our underwear, eyeing each other. He was quivering, but this time in lust, not fear. His eyes roamed up and down my body, lingering on my distended cock. The huge head now peeked above the band of my shorts.

Barely contained by the flimsy briefs, his cock was every bit as hard—and showed promise of considerable size. I grasped the thin material and, with one swift yank, ripped it to shreds and off his glowing body. I wasn't disappointed. His cock was beautiful, a work of art, surrounded by a sparse patch of dirty-blond pubic hair. It jumped! Then, it visibly throbbed as I gazed at it. A small drop of cum leaked, dangled from the tip. A faint line of hair ran upward to his navel. Except for some sparse hair on his thighs, his body was smooth.

I fell to my knees and ran my tongue over the head of the silken cock, licking the drop of cum. I drew the head into my mouth, using my tongue to coax more juice from the ivory column. The young guy spasmed as I ran my hands up and down his smooth, muscular thighs. If the dude was ready to blow another load, I was more than willing to take it.

Kurt reached down and pulled me to my feet. "Where's the bedroom? Or we can do it right here on the floor." He was panting, staring at my big hard sheriff's cock with visible hunger.

I bent, scooped him from the floor, paraded down the hall with his heavy weight nestled against me, arm around my neck. I pushed the door open with my foot, and threw Kurt onto the king-sized bed. He landed with a thump and looked up at me with lust. I stood by the bed and looked down at him. "What do you want, dude? What do you want to do?"

He grinned and studied my cock as he wriggled on the bed. "I want everything. I want to suck your cock. I want you to fuck me, fuck me hard. Suck my cock. Let me fuck you. I want it all." He rolled suddenly, raised his ass in the air, reached back with his hands and spread his ass wide. "It's all yours. It's my first time, but I trust you. You won't hurt me the way those jerks in the cell would have."

His words and the sight of his round smooth ass had me crazy. I dove onto the bed and buried my mouth between his ass cheeks. He yelped, pushed back, tried to drive my face up his ass. I relished the sweet aroma and flavor of this barely eighteen-year-old virgin. He was marvelous. The longer I feasted in his ass, the louder he yelped and moaned and tried to bury me deeper up his butt.

We had both completely lost control. I reached for the tube of lube on the nightstand and slathered some on my pounding cock. I wanted to be gentle with Kurt but had no thought of holding back. I positioned my cock at his entry and thrust forward. He yelped and tensed. I placed my hands on his shoulders and gently applied pressure, then softly stroked the straining muscles. As he visibly relaxed beneath me, I pushed farther into his asshole. Kurt pressed back, proof enough that he was capable of taking the entirety of my straining rod. I heaved and drove into him as far as I could. My pubic hair rested now against the creamy flesh of his round ass.

Kurt sighed. I felt additional pressure around my cock. Quickly, I rocked back. He sighed again. Then I thrust forward. Like a piston, I began pumping in and out of his ass. He reached back with one hand and fingered my cock as it plundered his hole, his beautiful face turned on the pillow. I could see the contented smile. Kurt was finding out what it felt like to be fucked by a man—and he was loving every second of it.

I pumped faster and harder. The faster and harder I plowed into his virgin asshole the broader the smile on Kurt's face. His tongue hung from his parted lips. A stream of drool dripped from his mouth and fell to the pillow. I bent forward and licked the saliva as it poured from his mouth. He kissed me. It was an awkward position. I drew back and renewed my efforts to drive his asshole through the mattress. Suddenly I shot, gushed into Kurt. I filled him. Cum overflowed and poured down his thighs. Again he sighed. The smile on his face was practically beatific. The river slowed to a trickle and, with a final shudder, I stilled myself. My cock began to shrivel. I gently pulled from Kurt, grasped his shoulders, turned him onto his back and stretched out beside him on the bed, my arm across his chest. Lazily, he turned his head for a kiss. I complied. We lay in the comfort of my bed and enjoyed the closeness of the moment.

My hand strayed downward, grasped his cock. He'd shot while I was fucking him but in my grasp his cock twitched back to life. I planned to find out how inexhaustible this young guy was. Quickly, I had his long fat cock at full attention. What a sight! I intended to make full use of it. The way that sucker was leaking, I wouldn't need lube.

I rose and straddled Kurt. He watched, eyes wide, as I slowly sank down, down, down and his cock entered me. I continued downward, and his entire cock disappeared. His mouth gaped as I tightened my butthole around him. Next time, I'd let him plow me to his heart's content; this time I was in control.

I flexed the muscles in my ass and pressed on his straining cock. His eyes grew so wide I thought they'd pop from the sockets. I smiled—actually I smirked—and began the lessons that would turn this ripe young man into a seasoned pro.

He strained upward, trying to force more of his body into me; he'd have crawled into me had that been possible. But I was in control and was going to teach him what his cock and my ass could accomplish together. Slowly, I flexed my legs and rose until only the head of his cock still penetrated me. For a few long and torturous moments I paused there. He gazed up at me, begging with his eyes for more. Then, I just as slowly lowered again, sitting, full weight on his groin. Again and again, up and down, faster and faster, I continued my pumping motion.

Kurt's eyes rolled back in his head so that only the whites showed. He was gone, lost in a place where only sensual response was possible. I slowed to give him time to recover, then sped up, driving him once more to the brink. Over and over I led him to the edge and backed off. I wanted this to be an experience he would never forget.

I heard but didn't register the ticking of the clock. My asshole began to burn, but I didn't care. All I could think of was the pleasure I was giving this exquisite creature. On and on I drove him. He began to whimper, to plead, mumbling incoherently his need to shoot, to stop the terrible, erotic torture of his cock. Finally, I decided to give the guy a break. I used my muscles, drove harder and faster until he unloaded into me.

His cum poured into me as mine had poured into him. And as it ran from me, it dripped back down and puddled onto his pubic hair. He keened. I hadn't heard a sound like that since I'd heard a wounded rabbit scream. With my full weight on him, he arched his back; shuddered and gasped for breath. I bent and folded my arms around him. He dug his nails into the flesh of my back. I held him as he came down from the heights.

I kissed his face. When I bit his ear, Kurt moaned and his arms tightened around me. I drew back and licked his bottom lip. He began to grin, a good sign that he was returning to normal—or as near to normal as possible.

"Hot damn, Sheriff. I didn't know I could feel that good." His young tenor was not much more than a husky whisper. "That was wild! " He hugged me again, then drew back and looked up at me quizzically. "But I can't keep calling you 'Sheriff.' You must have a first name." He paused, giving me the opportunity to answer him.

"I'm Michael Andio. Mike to my friends." I stretched on the bed beside him. He rolled an arm and a leg across mine.

"Mike. I like that." He snuggled closer, ran his smooth thigh rubbing upward over my limp cock. He giggled when it twitched. The little devil was ready for more. "Mike, my mom and dad are gone for the week. I'm sort of an orphan. Think I could stay here?"

I rolled off the side of the bed, grabbed one of his arms and pulled him to his knees against me. "If you're gonna stay here, we have to get a few rules straight." I tried to look stern but couldn't. He was tickling me. I barely got the next words out.

"No ... No ... Dammit! Stop that! No ... clothes ... heee! ... here in the ... ow! ... house." I collapsed on top of him. He continued to tickle me even after I retaliated. He giggled hysterically and I loved it.

I kissed him to stop the torture. I could taste my cum on his lips. He grabbed my hair and tried to burrow his tongue into my mouth. I mashed his mouth against mine until I was sure we'd both be bleeding. I'd never before kissed a guy who was as needy—or as good at it.

But I made him come up for air, grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. He wanted to play more. So did I, but I had definite ideas about where and how. I maneuvered him toward the bathroom and the shower stall I'd had installed, big enough for four or five guys. Kurt grinned as I opened the door and led him inside, but stopped grinning when I turned on the cold water and it hit him in the back. He yelped and jumped into my arms, teeth chattering.

As the water slowly warmed he loosened his grip, stepped back and grabbed the soap. He lathered his hands as his eyes roamed over my long, muscular body, pausing to check my hard cock. His pink tongue ran slowly around his lips. I knew what he wanted. And he was going to get it—all night! No way was this guy getting away from me. And maybe tomorrow I'd find the time to ride with the cute, redheaded deputy. Maybe I'd bring him back here—to play with Kurt and me.

THE  END