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edited by Shane Allison
[Cleis Press, 07.2011]

The text was originally published on OutsiderInk.com [09.1999] and VelvetMafia.com [07.2004]

A Stolen Quickie

The man came around to face me and sat on the edge of his desk. His blue jacket had the word “Security” stitched to the front pocket. He was built like a fullback, huge muscles and a lean waist. He had a sexy goatee which telegraphed and urgent message to my groin. “Let’s have it,” he said.

I claimed I didn’t understand and he told me to stand up. When I stalled he lifted me out of my seat and dipped his hand down the front of my pants. His fingers searched my briefs. Rough fingers grabbed and dismissed my dick, then produced the wallet. He pulled it out, sniffed it. “Well, what do we have here?” The cop told me to sit down, while his crotch hovered in front of my face. His thick muscle was barely concealed by the layer of cloth stretched over it. He adjusted his cock, massaged the lengthening shaft, then sat down on the edge of the desk, legs parted.

“What are we going to do about this?”

“Make pretend it never happened.” I opened up my own legs for him to get a nice view of my boner. I dropped my hand in my lap to outline the bribe for him. He smiled. “You kids don’t have anything I want.” He told me to get up and ordered me to take off my pants so he could make sure I hadn’t stolen anything else. I did as I was told, lowering my jeans and briefs, my hard-on bouncing out against my tee-shirt.

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