Gay Erotic Stories

Part 5 It was now 5:00 a.m. and there was just one more community service to perform before releasing my hot captive cop Dean Buttano. This police officer had long been a gay-bashing asshole and the source of a lot of police harassment in my neighborhood. Now I intended to give him the spanking he so richly deserved. With the toy gun trained on him, I instructed him to chain himself standing up on the mattress bent at the waist with his wrists in the wall chains and his legs apart -ankles in the chains at the foot of the bed. I secured the last wrist manacle and then rubbed his lily-white ass with a good coating of baby oil. My dad had always used this on me to give a better contact. I then withdrew from my sex toys box the sturdy oak paddle I had christened "Buttano Butt Blaster". The sex shop clerk had informed me that this paddle was ideal for strong adult males who needed correction. I applied a little baby oil to it as well. "You better count these out. I tend to lose track and then we have to start all over again." Dean yelled out the count as the first ten swats connected to the tight oily ass with a resounding "thwack". "One - thank you Mr. Stalker may I have another! Two . . ..". Dean yelped, swore and pulled against the chains as I explained the reason for his punishment. I was mending his gay-bashing ways or at least making him pay for them. Rehabilitation or retribution - I couldn't decide. The white muscle-dimpled ass colored to a light pink and I noted with delight that his as yet unsatisfied cock flopped and hardened particularly on swats that landed flatly on Dean's cum-dripping hole. I continued on with the paddle for a further 40 two-handed whacks. Around 30, Dean began to sniffle and sob like a four year old boy. At 50 I stopped and rubbed the well reddened behind and between his legs with more baby oil. I gave Dean a chance to regain his composure. "Now tell me how sorry you are for being such a bad ass fag-bashing cop," I commanded. "Yeah man. Whatever you say. I'm sorry. I won't hassle fags anymore. Just stop paddling my ass, ok?" Then I sat on the mattress and made him lay chained over my lap. I pulled his hard oily cock and balls back between his legs and administered a final barrage of swats with my bare hands. I peppered his ass cheeks and genitals, fingering his well-fucked butthole and squeezing and oiling his cock and balls between leisurely smacks. This hand spanking over my lap was apparently less painful than the paddle but more humiliating for Dean. The tears began to well up again, but Dean moaned and grunted in uncontrollable pleasure as I stroked him between spanks. And wow was his cock hard and red! It dribbled a steady flow of pre-cum. At the end he was squirming in my lap gasping for breath and begging for mercy, visibly struggling to control his own urge to shoot off in my hand. But I had made it clear to him that he did not yet have permission to ejaculate. I unchained Dean and he lowered himself stomach first onto the mattress. Obviously his red ass was too hot to turn over and sit. From my experience with dad I new that sitting would be a problem for about a week. I chuckled at the thought. "Do you need to cum now officer?" I asked with a smirk. Dean stood and wiped the tears away. He looked down at his rock hard cock for a long while. It continued throbbed and refused to soften. Then he said in a low voice with his head hung in shame, "Yeah, I guess so. I guess I need to cum before my balls explode." "Ask nice and I might let you jerk off for me." "Please may I cum Mr. Stalker?" "OK, I guess you earned it." I reluctantly agreed. I stood out of camera range with the toy gun. Dean stood stroking his long oily shaved tool with his hairy legs wide apart and big feet planted on the floor. Most guys stroke the whole length of their dick when beating off. I know I do. But Dean didn't. Instead, he pulled down and squeezed on his big ball sack with one hand and gently fingered, stroked and scratched just the foreskin and head of his cock with the other hand. Obviously Dean was a guy that needed little stimulation when he wanted to cum. After just a few minutes his head fell back, eyes closed, hips shuttered and his ass muscles spasmed. The cock was now longer and more tumescent than ever, the head fully unsheathed from the foreskin. It was just like mine only much bigger, arching like a large banana and poking back into Dean's stomach a few inches above the navel. At this point I interrupted Dean's pleasure and told the hot cop to stop jerking and present his cock to the camera so I could tape it close-up from every angle. This seemed to excite Dean all the more and he put his hands on his hips and waggled his beautiful cock and big tight balls proudly for his imagined audience. Finally I gave Dean permission to shoot. He gave a hard tug on his tightening ball sack, raised up on his toes and blew about 10 big squirts of creamy white goo shooting up in a large arc and landing with a splat on the floor about 15 feet in front of him. "Oh fuck yeah. Yeah that feels good!" Dean groaned subconsciously as he sprayed his huge load. Of course I made him lick his own puddles of ejaculate off the hard cement floor. This was his final humiliation but he carefully cleaned the floor just as I commanded. That cum joined my own in Dean's stomach. "OK, you had you're fun guy now let me go", Dean said, licking his own semen off his lips. Obviously he was feeling the deep humiliation losing his manhood in so many ways over the last several hours. The hot cop hunk had been turned from macho, arrogant alpha male into a pliant and obedient bottom in only the course of a few hours. I then packed up my camera, sex toys and all of Dean's clothing and gear and left Dean kneeling with hands behind his head clad in only sweat sox with instructions not to follow me for 10 minutes. I left him his wristwatch to mark the time and his Buttano Butt Blaster paddle as a reminder of his experience being ambushed and fucked by a young, scrawny fag punk. ---------------------- Later I noticed that the words "Property of Officer Dean Buttano" had been sewed into the waistband of the Dean's boxer briefs probably by that thoughtful and attentive girlfriend in the wallet photo or by the police department. This became my most cherished souvenir of my night with the straight cop. I had to leave town after that, knowing that Dean would kill me if he discovered me in the city. But as I suspected Dean was too macho to think of filing a complaint against me or even to confess what had happened to anyone. He sure didn't want his fellow cops to find out how he had been ambushed, stripped, chained-up and fucked by a wimpy 21-year-old queer. I also heard that Dean had to walk naked over to my apartment building that Tuesday morning after our little encounter to beg for clothes. The same neighbor Dean had arrested the week before answered the door. I also happen to know that that neighbor was a particularly mean S&M master. My neighbor later claimed he made Dean his slave for a few hours before giving him some old clothing and letting him go. I wonder what my neighbor thought of Dean's new tattoo, bright red ass or my cum dripping out of his reamed out man pussy. The stud cop's hard-ass reputation in my neighborhood would never be the same. I spent hours of enjoyment watching and editing Dean's videotape before I sold the rights to a shady S&M video distributor for $10,000. You can buy it at your neighborhood video store (if you live in the kind of neighborhood I live in). The title is "Cop Ambush". When it came out I couldn't resist sending a copy to Dean at his precinct with a note: "I enjoyed our night together stud. From this tape it looks like you did too. Maybe we'll do it again sometime. Hope you're enjoying your tattoo as much as I enjoyed placing it. Signed THE STALKER." I sometimes wondered if the gay men in my neighborhood ever recognized their own beat cop in the tape. I had edited the tape so that my face was never shown. The thought has often crossed my mind of returning to my hometown and breaking into Dean's house to chain him up and all-night fuck him again this time in his own bed. Later I heard he got married, had some kids and took a job as a cop in a nice safe straight suburb - but that wouldn't keep me from finding him on a return visit to my hometown. I enjoyed my encounter with Dean so much that I planned and carried out several other stalkings of macho straight men from all walks of life as I moved around the country. My encounter with Dean holds a special place in my heart because it was my first, but it was by no means the most exciting. Law enforcement officers were a favorite, but I also liked my professional and college athletes, TV and movie stars, construction workers, cowboys, firemen etc. I always liked to target straight men that were known to be openly hostile or abusive toward gays. By the time I was 30 I had ambushed 57 men this way. I have 57 videotapes to prove it. I also have 49 pairs of men's shorts and briefs and 8 jocks (all various brands, styles and sizes) into which I have carefully sewn in the words "Property of" and the names of each victim along with their profession and address. Of course each of these men is the proud owner of my carefully placed "THE STALKER" tattoo. Interestingly, to my knowledge, none of these straight studs ever told a soul about their encounter with me. I may tell you about each of them sometime, if you're interested. END