Friday, October 18, 2013

I'm a Real Bottom Now

So, at the grand old age of 58, I've become a bonerfide [sic] bottom. Many men have tried in the past, and it's not as though I haven't derived a great deal of pleasure on occasion, but no one's ever been able to make me beg for more until now. (Well, there was that Latino whom I spurned when he was a fem only to come back incognito as a butch and fuck me good then reveal himself to me.)

So now a butch -- a big tough cop, as a matter of fact -- 10 years my junior spent two years patiently breaking me in, and now it's paying off. For me especially. 

He was tired this week and wanted a massage. No lights. I said I wanted to see his beautiful face and body. He was adamant. He had to fuck me first, of course, that frenzied gotta-get-off fucking doggie-style he always starts with. Confident, I thrust my ass against him, and felt it by my prostate. Yum. And every day since I want it again. Just like the last couple weeks. I'm addicted to it. Even though I didn't get to ride him again, I'm wanting it so bad in my ass. Wanting him. Wanting his cop cock deep inside, pleasuring me.

I'm a real bottom now. Mike's bottom. :-)

Wednesday, October 9, 2013


Last night my cop made love to me. More than usual. In his way. What I mean by that is he showed his love. In between the slaps on the face, the lip biting and the squeezing and headlocks, he kept asking if I was okay, and looking into my eyes as he caressed my face. I get it now why he likes to hurt me.

Ever have a good, passionate tumble with someone and you play rough, wanting to feel their body in any one you can? You press your body against his hard. You kiss him hard, you fuck him hard. Rough, man-to-man sex, where you feel glad you’re a man and you’re having sex with another man. I think now that getting rough with me has become – or maybe it always was – a way of making love. Sure, he admitted to having fantasies about overpowering  the powerful businessman, and that’s still an important part of the game.

All this anal-y-sis when I really want to say my cop FUCKING LOVES ME!!!! So much! I hope he know that I love him too. He asked me again why I do this, service him. I told him all the reasons. I don’t think I’m convincing. Maybe I’m still skeptical about love, afraid of letting him know I love him because past patterns always seemed to end in heartache. But it’s been two years now, two years of great sex, passion, him talking me into getting back with him, me begging to take me back (at a different time), separation, even two evenings of lacklustre trysts. He’s so kind, sincere, loving, lovingly rough, masterful, and beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. I don’t know if there’ll be anything to say anymore. I never know what will be next. Always a mystery. I’m his humble slave, and I’m richly rewarded.

Oh, and last night, immediately after coming in my throat, he had me sit on his cock and ride him. For the first time, it felt fucking good! Real good. He loved it to, coaxing me to ride it up and down: "Fuck me!" he ordered. I was really feeling it where I'm supposed to! Yahoo!

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Birthday Presents!

I texted him the weekend before his birthday, asking if he needed a good birthday present from me. 10:30 pm, was his reply. He called me from a store later to know what size shirt I wore. He wanted to give me my birthday present from last spring because we hadn't seen each other. I wasn't to give him anything. Nevertheless, I snipped the last yellow rose from my garden for him. He said he would give it to his wife. I balked! But this way he could enjoy it at home instead of leaving it in his mancave, which he now sublet to a friend.

When I got there I saw laid out on the table a white Oxford weave Arrow shirt and a bold red tie. I had asked for a red tie because I wanted a power tie. A power tie on the older businessman he wants to overpower. I put it on right away.

We had a wonderful birthday evening. He came three times, too: twice in my ass and once in my throat. The second time he fucked my ass he had my legs in the air, doing it from the front. It didn't hurt, but I felt no pleasure, either. Until he came. I opened my eyes as he exploded inside me, his face concentrated and contorted, changing shape and him grunting then almost shouting. I laughed in joy, then he laughed too. I exclaimed how much I loved that, seeing and feeling him come.

There was a lot more to the birthday evening, but I don't remember much now. Just that it was very fulfilling for both of us. 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Rough Reunion

It was a long summer, not seeing him. I tried a few times. A couple of Mondays he said to text him the next evening, but he didn't reply. I only got hysterical once, calling him (no answer) then immediately texting him to say that if he didn't want to see me just let me know. Then the police-siren ringtone went off. It had been so long since it had last rung that it took me a minute to realize it was him calling. He was cross and masterful. All I could say was yes sir, and no sir, sheepishly. I don't remember what he said, but I knew he still loved me and wanted me. I was content for awhile after. 

That was around the second week of August. By the third, I asked him if he needed his slave to service him good, like he needed. He said he wanted me to massage him and gave me commands: Tu vas me licher comme il faut (you're gonna lick me like I like it [licher being a Québécois slang word for lécher]). He gave me the time.

It was the usual routine.  Rentre, he texted. I entered. He was lying on his back on the bed, naked, playing idly with himself. Big, big smile as I lay down on top of him,  kissing, his blond cop moustache, blue eyes, my own Burt Lancaster. Lots of warmth to make me and him happy.

Once I got into my duties, he was pushing my limits harder and harder. And I was pushing myself. I'd had a lot of time to miss him over the summer, and was glad I still had my cop to service. I was grateful, and needed to show it.

I pushed myself hard to get over my trepidation about licking his cop feet and sucking his toes. I discovered that if I didn't suck in all the saliva as I did it, if I created lots of lubrication, I didn't feel as though I was cleaning his feet! Salty like the last time, but later I acknowledged I didn't get sick either time, so they were obviously clean, right? He was always clean, all over. And he really loves getting his toes sucked. He has perfect, medium-sized nipples that I'd love to suckle, but that does nothing for him: toes, balls, cock, mouth. Those are his favourite parts. Luckily, I really enjoy massaging his massive balls with my tongue and (eventually) wet face, sucking one ball at a time -- can't seem to cram them both in my mouth, and licking them the way he loves. He's very responsive, too, which is very rewarding. Ah, c'est bon, and so on. 

Two weeks later, he had me cramming that thick cop cock down my throat for such a long time. It was really rough. I have a hard time getting it past what feels like a hard part of my throat without gagging, but I persevere, know my master likes so much, hearing his groans and obeying his commands of "Suck it, c'mon suck it!" That means take it deep down his throat.

He knew it was difficult, and I think he sensed that I was soldiering on. He commanded me to come up and face him. 

"Why do you do this?" He demanded, in English, very stern faced. "Tell me why you do this for me?"

I had given this a lot of thought before. "Because I love to service you. Because I love you. Because you're kind. And masterful. And yes, because you're a cop. 

"In my own little world, I tend to be the alpha male. But with you, you're the alpha male, and I get to serve you, humble myself. It's a privilege to service a cop. All gays want to have sex with a cop. Plus I'm ten years older than you. All my life I've had lots of sex. Then it got boring. But this isn't, because it's not the same. I must completely subject my ego to yours. It makes it all so simple.

"And I love you."

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

As good a master as any slave could have

My cop was very rough last night. In fact, that's all he was. Until after he came. The second time.

He had me on my knees to suck him and rub my head in his balls the moment I walked in the door. Before long he ordered my to turn around. He slapped me around a bit then forced my suit trousers down -- slowly enough not to rip them. I tried to open them but he wouldn't let me. He slid them down to my knees, whipped my coattails up and banged the shit out of me until he came. After, I went for some water while he lay back on the bed. He ordered me to come back and suck him. I obeyed, forcing his thick cock deep down into my throat, forcing the tough walls to give. He moaned. I knew I was pleasing him. In between he jerked himself, eventually coming with a great orgasm and just a drop of sperm.

"I fucked my wife before coming here," he explained after, as we lay down on the bed together. "Were you as rough with her as you are with me?" I asked. He once said he was rougher with her than was with me. I don't know. I don't know much about what women can take.

He admitted he was afraid he was too rough for me. I said no, I loved it. The truth is, I felt despondent, kind of low. It was anticlimactic to The Perfect Night last Thursday, and it had to be. Perfect nights don't last forever. It was okay. He went on to say that sometimes he's afraid of being too rough because of the way he feels about me. I told him not to. That I am his slave and he is to do what he wants with me. The best part is that, after all the rough stuff, I could still feel his love and affection for me. He fell for me a long time ago, even before I fell for him, and despite my withdrawals from him of last summer and the fall before, his feelings have endured. I trust him.

After he came the first time, in my ass, I joked that that was what he did to punks on the job. He said he never wanted to take the chance and lose his job. I wondered aloud if other cops, did. "Oh oui," he replied. "Mais pas moi." (But not me.) 

He admitted that that's what he fantasizes about when he jerks off. And that's had me thinking ever since: I'm the partner he can enact his fantasies on. Sure, it was obvious all along that he was letting out a need in him on me. But now I see the impersonal part of it. The naked truth. But the truth is also that he is very fond of me and very appreciative of what I let him do and do for him. He always thanks me at least a few times as we part and then again in a text once I'm home. It's okay. I needed and wanted the descendo to last week's crescendo. Now I don't crave him quite as badly, which is healthy for me.

It's okay. He's a good man, very much in control -- even of himself. He's as good a master as any slave could have.

Friday, March 8, 2013

A perfect night

Last night was one of the absolute best times with my cop. After wondering if our Thursday eve. tryst was going to happen or not, and after sending a couple of unanswered emails, including a :-(, I finally got an answer at 20:12: 
This represents me. Maybe
 if I lost some fat off my face...

Mike -- Je suis libre après 22 h seulement oui ou non? ou un autre jour ? (Not free  until after 10 pm yes or no? or another day?)

Me -- Oui
Me -- :-)

He loves it when I send him cochon (pig) emails. So earlier this week I wrote this:

Me -- Does your big cop cock need to be sucked long and hard this evening? Your huge balls need an expert tongue massage, like only our horny slave can do? Do you need a tight, hungry hole to ram your horny cock into?
Just give the order, master, and your adoring slave will gladly do all those things -- and more.

Mike -- Mmmmmmmm oui mon beau. [Still in French] I'm free Thursday evening if all goes well. I'm at work now. Bonne soirée

I like the simple text he sends when I'm waiting outside his fuckpad:

Me -- Je suis là. (I'm here)
Mike -- Rentre (Enter)

It's always Rentre. A command. :-) I live for his orders: Lick me. Suck me. Suck me hard! Lick me all over. And my favourite, Kiss me.

Then I feel nervous. Not sure why. Combination of excitement at seeing the man I love so much, and nervousness about what he's going to do to me, maybe. For awhile now I must enter wearing my blue suit with the white shirt he gave me. And my fedora. He loves the way I look in that.

He was tired. Just got of his last shift of a few hard days. He just wanted to relax and have me service him. My pleasure! Your pleasure is my pleasure, Master!

He lay on his back. He told be to lay on top of him. In my suit, without the jacket. He was grinning all over. I guess he's really an ordinary-looking guy, but to me he's the most beautiful man, especially when he's happy like that. ''You look like a boy,'' I said. He replied that he felt like that because of all the things I was going to do to him. ''My Burt Lancaster,'' I added. We talked a bit about different things. in between hard, tonguey kisses. 
Mike's blue eyes are warmer,
full of love
He had me kiss him. And kiss him more. He bit my lip. He gazed into my blue eyes with his blue eyes on and off. Exquisite. So was the kissing. I rubbed my cock against his.

Eventually, the work began. He needed a massage. I'm no masseur, but I've been getting to know his big, beautiful body so well that I felt I was instinctively giving him what he need. He said it was good. By the time I got to his legs and feet, I realized how his big 6-2 body was in great shape, for all the knocks he's taken on the beat. Strong and resilient. Then he had me lick his feet. That's something I'm kinda squeamish about, but I will never disobey him. I want to obey his every command. I love that. Subjecting my will to his. I'm been so amazed at how sexually and emotionally satisfying that is for me. I love to serve... and service.

His feet were salty. I wondered if he had washed them. But he's usually very clean. Cop feet, I thought. Feet that chase criminals, stand tough in front of punks, hold up this magnificent body.

Then he started recording me doing him on his smart phone. I've always liked the camera. I love to give a show. The camera makes me even more inspired to pleasure him. He commands me to lick his leg up to his cock. I do, looking at his legs, the camera and his watching face. He has me lick his hole. Hesitant, because I could smell shit a bit, I forced myself to plunge in. After all, he licked me out once when I wasn't very clean there, a long time ago, then made me kiss him. That pig is such a pig. 

So I pleasured him there until he turned over. ''Suck me,'' he commanded, still recording. My practice and practice on taking his thick cock was really paying off. I was able to give him exactly what he wanted, anticipate every want and desire, shove it down my throat without gagging, not scrape my teeth. ''Lick my balls.'' He loves that. And I bet no one has ever pleasured his balls like I do. I lick and lick like a big wolf cub. Dripping with sweat and saliva around my mouth and chin, I use my whole face to massage and work every part of his massive balls. I vacuum up one at a time into my mouth and suck and pull. ''Oh oui, oh oui!' he moans, still recording. 

Eventually he leaps up and tells me to get up. I get into doggy position, expecting to get slammed. Instead, he sits on a wooden stool I'd never seen before. ''Suck me,'' he commands. I go at it, the phone under the floor, recording. He fucks my face, I fuck his cock with my mouth. I take him deep. Then it becomes clear -- he want to come this way. And he starts. So magnificent when he does. A majestic build-up, first a  little bit of sperm, a little bit of grunting, then more and more and all that sweet, sweet cop cum in my mouth. I read his needs and release his cock from my mouth, sucking the last of the juice out of his slit quickly, just to get it and give a little -- but not too much -- sensation. 
I looked like that a long time ago.

It has been a long, long time since I really tasted sperm. I rolled it around in my mouth, tasting all of it. So fresh, sweet, so good tasting. It seems like the best I've ever tasted in all my life. 

As always, he goes to the kitchen sink to clean his dick (even after fucking me that's where he cleans his cock!). He comes back, lies on the bed next to me, and reviews the video. I look good. Pleasuring him. After a while, he has me lie on my side with my head in his massive arm and on his shoulder. We talk some more. I told him I loved that he could be both rough and gentle, very caring. I said a lot of men are just rough. He chuckled at that.

He asked me a lot of questions about my work, translating and writing; how much I charge, how I figure it out, etc. He never asked me so many questions before. I felt self-conscious answering them because of the little smile he had on his face and the way he looked into my eyes. He wasn't really listening to all the answers. He just wanted to look at me, drink me in. Like I do him. We were speaking in French, and at one point I said Châlisse, a Québécois swear word. He laughed, saying he never heard me swear in French before. I know that it often sounds funny for Québécois to hear English speakers swear in French. 

Even though he didn't fuck me, on the drive home I felt like I was floating, like I always do after a session with Mike. Shortly after I got home, after getting out of my suit, I heard his text arrive. Shit, I thought, I forgot to text him that I'd gotten home. No matter. He was hoping that I'd arrived safely and thanked me, like he always does.

Such a rough and giving man. I am so lucky to have this experience. The best ongoing sex I've ever had.

Note: I have a life partner who condones and encourages my relationship with Mike. James has his playmate, too. James and I figured out this morning that fundamentally, we're both bottoms :-)  I love James very much. We've been together over 7 years, and our relationship is built on loving companionship with lots of laughs (and yelling!) and food. Mike is happy with his wife.

Life is good!

Monday, February 11, 2013

Police Be Mine!

It kinda seems like my cop and I had our Valentine's Day today. I texted him to say I was jonesing for big cop cock, so he had me meet him in his fuckpad as soon as I finished my work. When I got there, he said he was feeling like getting extra rough, since he was on vacation -- he hadn't had an idiot punk to rough up for over three weeks! 

Don't get me wrong -- it's not like he's ever gonna beat me up bad. He has perfect control over what he does and sometimes asks me if he "hurt" me. Well, that's what I want, don't I! Nevertheless, in between slaps to the face, bites and cutting off my oxygen, he caresses my face lovingly and gazes into my eyes. Sometimes I get scared, but I know I can trust him.

The Valentine's part started after he came (he had me sit on his cock -- and this time it didn't hurt at all!). After talking about stuff, me giving him a massage, he invited me to go eat at ... McDonald's! 

It was sort of awkward at first. In the 14 months we've been having sex together, we'd never been together outside the fuckpad before. I got the chance to observe him from afar as he went to fill the drink. I could see that if I'd never seen him before I would have found him very hot. Any guy who likes real men -- not plastic 6-pack creatures -- would. Six foot two, broad shoulders and a solid upper body, with legs proportional. Butch, rough kinda face, with all-seeing blue eyes, blond moustache, dark grey and brown hair cut military style, late 40s. [I just got a message from him saying Merci mon beau John et bonne nuit. (Thank you, my beautiful John, and good night.) I replied in kind, of course.] When it comes to his face, I'm completely biased -- to me, he's the most beautiful man in the world.

We sat and began our meal. He shoved his wrap into my face offering a taste, seemingly unaware as to how familiar that was for me! But the kinda romantic part was when he started making love with me by paying with his straw. I use the term "making love" in the 40s-song kind of way. He was poking it into my face mischievously, warning me that I better not give him any diseases! He was having fun doing it, too, and it made me laugh. It was very cute and impish. What with all the serious things we say to each other sometimes -- like how happy we are we found each other, it was fun to get silly. That seemed romantic in its way. For us. 

Saturday, January 5, 2013


Been awhile since I've written about my cop. I finally let him fuck me again last June. Then things got screwed up. Maybe because we said "I love you" to each other. I didn't get replies to emails, dates were getting postponed. I figured Mike was having lots of hot encounters, going through his mid-life crisis. I sent an email just to thank him for the good times we had; he wrote back thank you and said he couldn't wait to see me (J'ai super hâte à te voir), but broke dates again. The weekend he said he would be out of town, I started tailing him. Not physically, of course -- that would be really crazy. I just tracked his movements through his GPS location via Growlr. Ingenious, eh? And I got a big thrill out of knowing I was tracking a cop!

The weekend he said he would be away I tracked him going downtown one night and staying home the next. I even pinpointed him at his fuckpad -- the place where he took me. I sent an angry text: "I know where you are..." and that I was through bla-bla-bla, blocking him on Growlr. 

I tried to forget him. I couldn't. The summer went by and I had one or two pathetic sexual encounters with strangers, like I used to do. Finally, in the early fall, after one particularly disastrous encounter, I came home dejected. Jimmy said, soothingly, "You miss your cop, don't you." I sure did.

The next few days I scoured Growlr and Scruff to find him again. I did. It seems strange to me now that I don't know remember what I wrote in that first email. The gist of it I guess was that he was the best sex I ever had and I'd do anything to be his sex slave again. "Even fucking?" he asked. I balked. Not that! He said that were his terms. I realized I had to learn to take it. Suddenly, I was filled with resolve and obedience. Like Elizabeth Taylor in Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew, I was going to take or do anything he demanded. 

We set a date for the following Tuesday at his fuckpad.

The next day I went to my favourite sex shop in the Village, Fétiche Armada, where owner Ghislain -- who was green with envy over my situation -- cheerfully counselled me on how to get my ass in gear. He sold me a bulb with a pump to stretch my anus. And some silicone lubricant. I started practising as soon as I got home.

Mike was very pleased with the results. But first he wanted to set me straight. He was pissed off I disappeared over the summer. I told him maybe he wasn't a very good communicator. He retorted that he was a very good communicator! I hadn't thought so, but ever since he's taken pains to inform me when he'll meet me and keeps me posted as he gets away from his wife and when he's late. He gave me some good slaps across the face as punishment. I'm enthralled by that. 

Lying down together that Tuesday, he grabbed my head. He was angry about the summer. He said, "I want to tell you what you like about me." There were things physical, spiritual and emotional. I'd rather keep them between him and me.

It's been getting better and better, and hotter and hotter ever since. I'm under police orders not to have sex with anyone else. Why the hell would I?! Mind, I've never been exclusive to anyone before. He said he didn't need anyone else to suck his dick. He bought me a Christmas present but told me before I wasn't to buy him anything. I went for my annual HIV test this week. Results were negative. I was a bit relieved. So was he. 

I could go on, but maybe I've said too much already. Did I tell you he's very, very rough? Makes me feel so alive! I knew, back when he first tried to fuck me and he had me in a headlock. I knew that I could not escape -- that he had me. I could scream so they'd hear me in the hall, but I knew I couldn't wriggle out. It was the most thrilling sexual experience I'd ever had.

My Mike has a 
cop moustache like that
There's something about being a man's slave that is liberating. Whatever he says goes. I don't have to stand up for equality because there is none. As a result though, he's very kind, generous, loving and even tender. Gazing into my eyes. Caressing be. Slapping me. Being a trained and experienced rough guy, he knows how to do it without going too far. He even asks sometimes. I beg for more. I never did this before. He strangled me once while coming inside me. I stared deep into his eyes. I'm not afraid of dying, but I knew he wouldn't kill me.

One last note. It's really thrilling that Mike is a cop. But, as you've surely gleamed by now, he's much, much more than that. Yes, I'm a very lucky guy.

If you'd like to share your cop sex stories here, I'm sure there are others who would like to read them.