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."

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