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Message-ID: <31548asstr$995742604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Webster Dazell <webdazell@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} I Sucked The Sheriff adventure/m/m oral, dom, twist
Date: Sat, 21 Jul 2001 15:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Sheriff.txt" begin>

"ADVENTURE (noun):  an unusual and exciting, often hazardous,
experience or activity." The New Oxford Dictionary of English

Welcome to my new "Adventure" series.  My two previous stories
"The Arrangement" and "Breaking The Arrangement" (which will
continue) were autobiographical.  Everything in them is based on
what actually happened to me as I was growing up.  While reliving
these experiences was enjoyable (although not as enjoyable as the
real thing), as a writer it was also frustrating because of the
need to be faithful to what really happened and not embellish
events.

The Adventure series has no such restrictions.  While some of the
stories may have a kernel of truth at their heart, for the most
part they are pure fiction, a chance to stretch my wings as an
author and go where my lust and imagination takes me. 

There will be "Rough Trade Adventures," "Glory Hole Adventures,"
"Transgendered Adventures, etc.;  In short adventures galore. 
However, there is a catch. As found as I am of sucking dick, I'm
an even bigger slut for feedback on these stories.  How many
adventures are posted on the web and how often they are posted
will be in direct relation to the number of emails I get at
webdazell@yahoo.com. The more (and more detailed) emails I get
the more stories will appear.  So, now that we've all got that
straight, sit back and let the adventure begin.

I SUCKED THE SHERIFF (BUT I ALSO SUCKED THE DEPUTY)
A "Law Enforcement Adventure" by Web Dazell

It was a good day for hunting.  The early fall had brought a
refreshing crispness to the weather and turned the canopies of
the trees into a harlequin's umbrella of chartreuse, ocher,
butterscotch and copper.  The rainstorm from a couple of days
before had left the earth comfortably soft but not overly wet,
perfect for hunkering down once the prey was ensnared. Best of
all, the quarry was plentiful. 

As I walked up the trail I could see my potential targets
scattered along its borders, their uncertain eyes tracking me as
I moved toward them, trying to determine my purpose.  Some, the
shyer ones, moved deeper into the trees while others less wary
than their counterparts stood their ground, one or two even
moving toward the path I was walking.

After several minutes of surveillance I spotted my prey resting
against the trunk of a small oak tree. Young but clearly mature.
A little smaller than average build with a delicate body and
longish limbs, the legs firm and muscular. As I drew slowly
closer I could see a pair of grey eyes stealthily peeking out
from under half lowered eyelids. The eyes were rather near
together above an irregularly shaped nose which emphasized the
leanness of the face. A fringe of tousled flaxen hair fell over
the tips of the ears. A good selection, I thought to myself, not
a trophy specimen but still very nice. The trick now would be to
finish my approach without spooking him further into the woods.

When we were about two feet apart his eyes snapped open, all
pretense of disinterest gone; his gaze locking with mine as each
of us appraised the other. Straightening up to step away from the
tree he gave a short, inquisitive tilt of his head, wordlessly
asking my intentions, intentions I made clear by running the tip
of my tongue across my semi-parted lips. With a crooked smile and
a short nod of his head he accepted my offer.  I had snagged my
prey.

Still not speaking we walked deeper into the woods, the back of
my hand occasionally brushing against his denim covered crotch. 
Our destination was one of the "Cocksuckers' Coves," a series of
a dozen or so secluded grottos which dotted the most remote
corner of this county park.

Accessed by the means of twisty paths which sometimes doubled
back on themselves, each cove was literally carved out of the
bushes and underbrush in the shape of an "L" lying on its side.
You entered though a narrow passageway which mimicked the
vertical line of the L and, about five feet later, made a second
turn to enter the actual cove, usually a 4 x 5 foot clearing
edged by brush and vines about seven feet tall. The ground in
each cove was cleared of plants and covered with wood chips. 
Every cove contained a log lying on its side as well as a three
to four foot stump setting upright. Some even had small garbage
cans.

The intricate and artificial nature of these coves had spawned a
number of rumors about their origins, one wag insisting the
"other fairies" were responsible.  The most  common theory was
horny park employees had created and maintained these little
slices of heaven so they could get their balls drained on a
regular basis. Although no one had ever seen a park employee in
one of the coves, it was an well accepted rule that anyone
wearing the brown park work uniform who entered a cove would be
treated like royalty with everyone falling to their knees in
homage.  Regardless of who or what created these sanctuaries, for
several years they had served as a well-known spots where gay men
could enjoy each other without fear of harassment.

My prey turned out to be as delicious as he looked. His dick was
pale white, longer than average but thin nestled in a clump of
golden down which also lightly covered his scrotum. His balls
were equally compact, rounded like marbles instead of the usual
egg shape.

He had no hesitation about using me for his pleasure, demanding I
lie on my back while he squatted just above me slowly lowering
his sac into my gaping mouth. I treated his balls as though they
were the finest chocolate cream eggs, desiring the syrup they
held inside. My tongue felt the weight of each one as they licked
back and forth, occasionally pausing while I sucked the full
scrotum as deeply inside me as I could, his precum dripping on my
forehead and running into my hair.

When he couldn't stand another lick, he stood up, pulling me to
my knees at the same time. There was no gentleness about him as
he quickly shoved his cock as far down my throat as he could,
causing me to choke. Without giving me a chance to recover he
began to quiver, his manjuice pouring out of him like water from
a garden hose. Pulling back slightly, I reveled in its salty
taste, its slimy texture.

Even after his orgasm we continued our sex play. I cleaned him
with my tongue and fingers paying special attention to his balls.
Despite one of my better efforts he remained semi-flaccid but
urged me to lie back down again to suck his nuts. Finally, after
about fifteen minutes had passed,  he stopped me and said he had
to go, he had another appointment to keep and just couldn't be
late. I was surprised by his goodbye, an open-mouthed kiss with
some tongue. Most men I suck off just want to leave afterwards.
Only my special lovers kiss me. I hoped I would see him again.

Nowhere near reaching my tea-bagging limit for the day, I was
following my conquest out of the cove to begin the search for
another dick to nurse on when it happened. Just as we left the
cove and turned to begin walking down the little trail toward the
main path, a hand extending from  the end of a light tan sleeve
thumped down on my shoulder stopping me in my tracks. Any
illusion I had that this was the mythical park worker vanished as
I heard the words "That's far enough faggot. You're under
arrest."  The light brown uniform belonged to a county employee
all right, it belonged to a deputy sheriff.

After dismissing my companion, "You're free to go. We're only
after cocksuckers like this one here. But spread the word, the
fairy circles are closed," the deputy turned his attention tome.

"Put your hands behind your back." I complied and felt the cold
circles of metal against my wrists like sandpaper soaked in salt.
The metallic click of the cuffs as they locked caused my fear to
rise up as thick as any cum that had ever coated my throat.

As the deputy read me my rights "You have the right to remain
silent...," I began to tremble, the words of the warning adding
an air of horrifying finality to what was happening.  This wasn't
a bad dream I would wake up from. I was being arrested. I was
going to jail. I would lose my job, my apartment, be placed on
the list of registered sex offenders. To this day I don't know
how I managed to stay upright and not melt like a wicked witch
doused with water.

When he had finished Mirandizing me, the deputy again grabbed my
shoulder this time turning me around to face in the opposite
direction. And there stood the sheriff.

He was a large, heavy man with a squared off face whose dark
leathery skin looked like an old, well-polished boot. Unlike his
deputy whose mousy brown hair was worn long and combed over his
scalp to conceal a bald spot, the sheriff's hair was gray and
cropped close to his head in a marine-style cut. He looked me up
and down like a drill instructor inspecting a new recruit, one
not particularly liking what he saw. I tried for a second to
return his gaze only to find my eyes dropping to the shiny silver
badge pinned on his chest. Here was a man who gave off an almost
palatable sense of command and virility. Orders would be
followed, no excuses would be accepted, no nonsense would be
tolerated. "Follow me son, we need to talk," he demanded turning
to reenter the cove never looking behind to see if I wasobeying.

"OK son, go sit on that stump over there.  I suppose you know
you're in a heap of trouble here." I nodded my agreement. "Funny
thing is, it isn't really your fault not that I expect you to
start laughing or anything." Puzzled at his affability, I
remained silent waiting for him to go on.

"Blame it all on a soccer mom. Seems she's got a 13-year old son
who had an overnight camp out with his best friend who lives down
the street. About ten o'clock, ten-thirty the mom goes out into
the backyard to make sure the kids are all right. There's a light
on in the tent and she can hear something that sounds like
moaning. Figures the kids are telling ghost stories and that it'd
be neat to scare "em. So she creeps over to the tent, squats down
in front of the flaps and yanks "em open. Hard to tell who was
more surprised her or the kids."

As he talks the sheriff moves over until he's standing in front
of me about three feet away with his crotch at the level of my
face.  I notice just the slightest start of swelling in thearea.

"Both the kids are naked as jaybirds. The friend is lying on his
back with his legs spread wide, his knees bent and his heels
squashed against his ass. Her little angel is crouched down right
between those spread legs with his friend's dick tucked right
between his lips and his index finger crammed right up this
friend's ass. I guess all that moaning she heard meant the kid
liked getting his cock sucked, can't say I blame him."

At this point in the sheriff's recitation, there's no question
about his swelling. It looks like he's carrying a flashlight
inside his left pant leg, not as big as a six-cell Maglite but
not a penlight either. I notice the left hand he uses to
reposition the dark brown material of his trousers has a small
blue anchor tattooed on the back.

"After that the shit hit the fan. She hauls the kids into the
house, calls the other kid's dad and the interrogations begin.
Pretty good interrogations too since the father of the boy
getting the hummer is none other than our esteemed new county
prosecutor. Of course the kids are in tears, scared as hell,
don't know what's going to happen and the way that asshole's
carrying on isn't making things any better, muttering about sin,
hell and eternal damnation between questions. Are you following
all this son?"

I nodded warily, still perplexed about why he's telling a guy in
handcuffs all this.

"Good "cause we're getting near the payoff.  Turns out the kids
had been riding their bikes in the park when they noticed all the
guys congregating near the main trail. Being kids they decided to
play secret agent and follow them. Followed them all the way to
the coves. Even managed to create their own secret path to one
complete with gaps in the brush so they could spy on what was
going on. They got an real eyeful of guys getting a mouthful and
I guess they thought what they saw was pretty neat because
they've been taking turns sucking each other off for a month. If
mom hadn't busted their little party that night her son was going
pop the prosecutor's son's ass cherry; he'd been loosening him up
with the finger every time he sucked him off for the past week.
You don't mind if I get a little more comfortable while I tell
you this do you, son?"

Without waiting for my answer, the sheriff gave a downward tug on
his zipper. Almost immediately his fly spread outward, allowing
his underwear to bulge up through the gap like a white mushroom
pushing through the dark floor of the forest.

"That's better. It was getting a little tight in there." The
deputy, who had been sitting on the vertical log while the
sheriff conducted his soliloquy sniggered, a sound that was
quickly cut off with a sharp glace from the sheriff.

"Monday I get summoned to the prosecutor's office and treated to
a 45 minute harangue about how the queers are ruining this
community, trying to seduce children into their perverted
lifestyle, sinning against God's will. Then he asks me what I'm
going to do about it.

"When I tell him I don't think there's much I can do about it;
it's no big deal, kids like to experiment, his boy will probably
grow out of it, his face got a red as a ripe apple. He didn't
yell though. If anything his voice got lower, harder but lower.
Never mind his son he tells me. The boy is going to a military
school where he'll get the discipline and  training he needs."

Now the sheriff chuckled openly. "Ain't that just the place to
send a young cocksucker, a boy's military school.  He'll get
discipline and training alright. The kid'll be the belle of the
barracks by the time the first week's over. I could have told him
it'd be better to send the kid to board at a whorehouse, at least
then he'd have a chance to get some pussy, see if he liked that
better than dick but fuck "em, it ain't my problem."

By now my fear had drained away from me like water from a leaky
bucket only to be replaced by curiosity. I was still under arrest
but it was clear the sheriff had something on his mind, otherwise
why bother with this talk we when he could just take me in.

As if he had read my thoughts the sheriff said "I know I'm
rambling a bit son but stay with me. Once he got through
consigning his own boy to the second circle of hell, the
prosecutor gave me my marching orders. Close down the coves,
arrest the all the faggots. Strike fear and terror into those
deviates. Just about what you'd expect from a bible-thumping, Dr.
Laura listening pimple on the ass of humanity.  Only problem is
that pimple's my boss. I don't like what he's got in mind but I
don't want to lose my job either. So now we come to the meat of
the situation."

To better illustrate his next words, the sheriff reached down and
pulled his dick out into the open. I watched entranced as his
tube of flesh emerged from its cottony cocoon, arching downward
and followed by a set of balls that swung freely from underneath
his rod.  The head of his cock was like an oversized southwestern
rain hat perched on a thick pole, round and tapering to a blunt
end. His dusky pisshole was already leaking precum, giving the
contrasting pink lips the look of having been coated with
glycerin. As he continued to speak his balls bobbed up and down
with each breath he took.

"I like having my cock sucked. So do a lot of men and even a lot
of boys. A lot of these men are married.  There's a lot of men
out there who love to suck cock. Again a lot of these men are
married.  Despite what that asshole prosecutor and the people who
voted him into office believe, there's nothing immoral about
that. What men do among themselves in private is nobody's
business but their own. Trouble is finding a place to do it. The
motel on the edge of town rents rooms by the hour to non-married
couples, provided they're a man and a woman. They sure ain't
renting one to two guys. The nearest adult bookstore is 78 miles
from here. Even I frown on folks using the bathrooms in the
basement of the library. That's why the coves exist.

"Everybody knows they weren't an accident. No sprites from some
fairy tale waved a magic wand to make them. A bunch of us in
higher positions here in the county used our influence to quietly
make sure there was a place to go outside of the public view. No
sense waving things in people's faces. What they don't see
they'll tolerate. And it worked, no one's scaring any horses out
here. Cocks are getting sucked, butts are getting fucked and
everybody's happy. Everybody but the prosecutor who wants to fuck
everything up because he's a small-minded bigot that ...  ah, I
don't want to rant about it anymore. Point is there are options.
Question is do we want to utilize those options?

"Now we can haul you off to jail, make an example of you like the
prosecutor wants. Bust everybody who comes in here over the next
week. Raze the coves and plant poison oak in their place. Really
do the whole "Carthage must be destroyed' bit. Never mind that
we'd be destroying the community along with it. You probably
don't like that option do you?"

Violently I shook my head no, my movements bringing me closer to
the sheriff's al fresco offering.

"Didn't think you would. So here's the other option.  It's not an
accident that of all the people cruising for sex here today we
picked you. Do what I'm about to ask, there's no arrest, this
never happened.. If you do your job quickly, we can reopen the
coves yet this month."

After the sheriff outlined his plan, I began to laugh. This was
revenge at its Machiavellian best.

"From that reaction I take it you agree," the sheriff asked?
Still using my head to communicate. I nodded.

"Good. Is there anything else you want before I take these cuffs
off you?"

For the first time during our encounter I spoke. "Please let me
suck your cock."

Now it was the sheriff's turn to laugh. "Damn son, I thought you
were a mute or something. Sure you can suck my cock. But you have
to suck Billy's too," he stated jerking his head in the direction
of his deputy who was already walking toward us. "In fact, I want
you to do Billy first. He's had a chance to see you in action. I
haven't."

In the blink of an eye Billy was standing before me. "I can
already see we've got a problem here," said Billy his voice
tinted with the echo of hill country. "Your hands are cuffed
behind your back and my pants are still up. I guess you'll have
to use your teeth to unbuckle my belt and get my pants down."

Before I could respond the sheriff intervened.  "For Christ's
sake Billy, you've been reading too many of those letters in
those HOMBREs you keep hidden in that box up in the attic. The
man can't undo your pants with his teeth. Strip "em off
yourself." Actually I could have but it would have taken at least
a half an hour, almost always a mood killer and besides the
quicker I got done with Billy, the quicker I could do the
sheriff.

Still, as Billy's pants puddled around his boots, I couldn't
resist giving a small demonstration of my skills by grabbing the
waistband of his briefs with my teeth and pulling them down to
below his knees in one continuous movement. Determined to put on
a good show, I attacked his dick like a famished man at a feast.

My lips took the place of my hands as I moved back and forth on
Billy's rod, stopping to lick into his piss hole every time I
reached the crest of his cock. As he reached down to cup my chin
in his hands, I noticed a golden band on Billy's left hand. That
explains why he has to hide his HOMBREs up in the attic, Billy's
a married man who likes to get a little strange now and then.

Billy's cock felt feverish in my mouth as it rubbed against my
tongue. His hands left my chin and rested against my cheeks. Now
Billy was doing the work, feeding me his dick as he pulled my
head back and forth along its length. All I needed to do was keep
my lips lock tight against the warmth of his flesh.

His breathing beginning to match the pistoning action of his
cock, Billy began to shudder. A few more strokes and it was over
for him, his seed spilled across my tongue, slowly sliding down
my throat to join the earlier contribution from another man. Now,
the preliminary event over,  I can turn my attention to the real
object of my desire.

Even out of his uniform, for he has stripped completely while
watching me do Billy, the sheriff radiates authority, his iron
will apparent in his bearing. Here is a man, a man whose maturity
has come not with age but with years of experience in making
others do exactly what he wants.

"Son, you sure you don't want me to unlock those cuffs," he asks
while he fold his clothes and carefully lays them over the log.

"Maybe next time," I replied somewhat amazed at my audacity in
presuming there might be a next time.

I go to the sheriff as a worshiper in ancient Greece might go to
his god, on my knees with reverence and a sense that I am not
worthy of what I am about to receive. With Billy my tactic was
one of speed, with the sheriff my strategy is one of slowness.

Crouched before him the service begins as I crane my neck upwards
to gather the tip of his cock in my mouth. Almost indolently I
begin to climb upwards, pulling myself along by the pursuing
motion of my lips. As I near the top the sheriff's hands pull me
toward him, his cock brushing past my uvula and into my throat
blocking my windpipe and forcing me to breathe through my nose. 
The sheriff doesn't cease his guidance until my lips have
encircled the base of his dick, crushing against the flatness of
his abdomen. I barely have enough room for air to get to my
nostrils.

"Swallow," the sheriff commands and I obey.  "Again," he says and
again I obey. Now he allows me to slide back down his staff until
I reach the tip. Then the ritual repeats itself.

Up to the top, swallow twice and back down.  Up to the top,
swallow twice and back down. Each time the trip is easier as my
throat relaxes, my tongue becomes accustomed to the beating of
the vein on the underside of his prick and my nose gets used to
the hair that scrapes at its tip and sides.

Time after time the full length of his fleshy probe snakes its
way down into my gullet as my chin nests in his scrotum. I suck
him eagerly, hungrily awaiting his cockjuice; an acolyte
partaking in a profane communion.

In mid-stroke the sheriff tenses, his shaft growing even thicker
enlarging as is fills with blood and sperm.  His hands push me
down his cock until its tip rests on the back of my tongue. I
feel his dickhead swell even larger, pulsing against the roof of
my mouth as his ejaculate spurts to the back of my throat.

Throughout his orgasm the sheriff has been silent, even his
breathing too soft to be heard. But as he slowly removes his cock
from my mouth he gives a quiet moan. Is it proof I have satisfied
him or an indication I have disappointed him?

That was three weeks ago. Today I am sitting in a coffee shop in
the county seat reading a newspaper whose headline blares in 72
point type "County Prosecutor Resigns." The story underneath,
which carries my byline (that jon I was afraid of losing was as a
reporter for the paper), explains how the married prosecutor had
used county funds to rent an apartment for his mistress and their
two-year old love child. Tracking down this story was the job the
sheriff wanted me to do and I think I did it quite well, even
better than I suck cock.

With the prosecutor leaving office, the sheriff has told me the
coves will be allowed to reopen, possibly as soon as the weekend.
Best of all the new prosecutor has promised to prosecute his
predecessor. Given the evidence against him a conviction is a
sure thing. 

Our ex-prosecutor may soon find himself in a state prison where
the sheriff tells me they love to make sissies out of the new
fish. A friend of the sheriff's will see that "the pimple" will
get personal introductions to all of the right convicts to make
sure he gets turned out. He's even promised the sheriff a few
photos of the guy on his knees with a big black cock in his
mouth.  It seems there is some rough justice in this world after
all.




























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