10eight:

You can tell a lot about a guy by the vehicle he drives.

First are the smaller cars, your Accord and Maxima type. Usually younger and a little unkempt. Servers, retail guys, and boys starting that entry level business job. There’s usually some cigarette ashes, maybe a take-out container in the back. Generally nice, but always complain when they get slapped with a ticket.

Guys in pickups? Studs. Muscle, fur, and butch. They roll down the window to hand over their license and you get that wif of sweat, dried mud, and skoal just before they ask if they can get a warning because they don’t want to pay. They can be a little rough and tumble, but who doesn’t love that?

Every so often you pull over a Mercedes. Invariably attractive guys. Sleek hair, white teeth, like to speed, and always worry about how the points will affect their license. The most courteous response they muster is usually a roll of the eyes.

The best to stop were guys in Jeeps. Typically young, sexy, and the only ones to really joke around and make light of the situation of being pulled over. Any time you handed them a ticket it was usually met with an apology; these were the only guys who usually had any accountability. That kind of honesty is awfully sexy, and shows just the right mix of confidence and vulnerability.

That’s what happened when I pulled this kid earlier in the week for not wearing his seatbelt. It had just rained, so the roads were still slick, and he passes me going the opposite direction on Hwy 165. He stopped quick enough after I turned around on him. As I walked up to the passenger’s side of the Jeep, I looked in and asked him first, “Where’s your shirt?” He looked over at me with a furrowed brow and said, “well I was trying to keep it dry so I threw it under the seat when it started to rain.” His chest and shoulders were still wet and his hair dripping. I smirked at him, “having doors and a cover might have helped some, you know.” He smiled, laughed a little while he shook his head and looked down, “yeah, I guess that would have helped.” As I eyed his smooth tight chest up and down I asked, “so is that why you don’t have a seatbelt on?” “Awe man,” he said, as he flopped his head back on the seat, “dude, yeah. I totally forgot, you got me, I’m sorry.” I had to give him my typical speech about how dangerous is was, which it is, but moved back to joking around with him for a second after that. “I hate to tell you, but I’m gonna need your license,” I told him. “Oh yessir,” he said as he reached back and lifted his right hip up slightly, showing off a muscular ass, to pull out his wallet. His chest glistened and was still slick and damp as he moved. Reaching his thick and toned arm out he handed over his license. “Since you were so honest and you’re still soaked I’ll go easy on ya, just give me a second,” I said and started to turn to walk back to my patrol car. He raised his eyebrows slightly and said, “oh you don’t have to go easy on me, I can take it.” I chuckled as I walked back to the car.

When I finished writing the warning for the kid I walked back up to his window, this time on the driver’s side so I could talk right to him. “Okay, listen, I’ve just got a warning for you,” I said to him and smiled, “I’m not saying you have to put your shirt back on, but just keep the seatbelt on.” He laughed a little and looked over, “sounds like a deal, good thing it was just my shirt I took off.” I extended my hand with the warning and handed it over to him. He had a sudden quizzical look on his face as he looked at the warning with the extra piece of paper with it. After a second he looked up at me with a sidelong glance and wide one-sided grin. “Thanks man,” he said as he looked at the phone number I gave him. I nodded down at him, “well you be safe sir, have a good rest of your afternoon,” and walked back to the patrol car.

As soon as I got in, my cell phone pinged. “Hey” was all the text said. Damn, at least the boy was quick. I turned the blue lights off and put the car in drive and started to pull off.  As I did I read the second text that came in “if I speed by will you stop me again?”

10eight:

I gave a smirk as passed Mark in the hall.  

“Ready?” I asked.

“Hell yeah, man,” he said with a soft drawl.

I would be a few guys behind him in formation for graduation.  The twenty weeks we spent together at the academy as roommates had made us pretty close friends.  ‘Course, we’d be going to different counties in the state, but we had planned to keep up.  We were both excited for today, and it was well deserved.  

There were forty of us future troopers in the class. Basic 155.  Six that dropped out in the first few weeks.

I definitely lucked out in getting him as a roommate.  Not an overachiever or a slack ass.  He had that natural handsomeness and was one of those guys that never knows how attractive they really are.  What a stud, I thought, as I reached out to shake his hand the first time we met.  He loved to talk about everything “back home” in Georgia. The country boy in him always came out when he’d bring up hunting and fishing.  And he always talked real nice about his girlfriend.  Lucky girl, I’d always think.  How’d you snag a guy like this?

The mornings were always a crazy rush.  We’d jump out of bed at 0430 and change into our PT uniforms.  Our run started promptly at 0500 and we’d return forty-five minutes later with sweat running down our backs and a dark V on the front of our shirts.  The training staff would give us about twenty minutes to shower, shave, and dress.  So, it was hectic to say the least.

But that twenty minutes was usually the highlight of my day.  Mark would peel his shirt off as we walked into the room.  His back slick with sweat and his light chest hair dripping.  I’d follow suit.  One random morning my eyes were glued to his ass as he dropped his shorts and boxers in one quick swoop.  Dusted with more of that fine blonde hair, his round ass bounced as his hopped out of his drawers. He was standing in front of the large mirror on the wall opposite the bathroom, the one we used it to make sure our uniforms were squared away before we left for classes and training.  Maybe my eyes lingered too long, but I caught his glance in the reflection.  Fuck I hope he didn’t see me. I quickly made up a random statement to make it seem like I meant to catch his eye.  "Man they don’t give us enough time to get ready in the mornings,“ I stammered.  He casually turned around and walked over to the bathroom, exposing that incredible manhood.  Fuck don’t look right at it, shit, I thought.  The quick glance I got was unbelievable, a perfect cut cock, nice bush, and two fuzzy egg sized balls.  Damn he had a lucky girlfriend.  "Yeah I know, I wish they’d at least give me time to beat off, what the fuck,”  he said, just before turning on the water to the shower. Yeah I wish that too.

That was the routine for weeks.  By the tenth week in we had developed a nice rapport.  We were buds and joked and horsed around on the little free time we had at night.  Wrestling around, he was usually the one to pin me down. Maybe I let him, feeling that package rub on me every now and again was always hot.

After one particularly long day at the range we were both sore and beat and ready to sleep.  We knew we wouldn’t get much sleep, we never did with 0430 right around the corner.  Both of us closed the law books and turned in early.  I fell asleep quickly, my ears still ringing from all the rounds we had fired today.  I guess it was about twenty or thirty minutes later that I woke up and heard a soft rustling noise in the room.  I opened my eyes, I was facing the wall.  It seemed to stop but as I was laying there it started again.  Slow, steady.  A rustling, crinkling noise of the cheap and scratchy sheets.  Holy shit, I thought to myself.  Mark was jerking off.  Thad had to be it.  I heard a slow and drawn out swish.  The quiet but obviously heavier breathing I knew all too well.  There’s no way he’s really stroking it, fuck what do I do.

I laid there for what seemed like forever.  It must have been all of two minutes, but I was boned up like crazy by then so it felt longer.  Making a quick decision, I deliberately turned onto my elbow and looked straight over at the other bed.  Mark suddenly fumbled with the cover sheet and tried to cover himself.

He cleared his throat, “sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, shit.”

“Nah it’s cool, sorry I interrupted, take care of your business man.”

He chuckled a little. “Yeah bo, I guess it’s just been too long, hadn’t gotten off in weeks,” he said and gave his dick a little squeeze.

What the fuck, just do it.  I threw the cover off and jumped out of bed, bounded over to him in my boxers and kneeled down at the side of his.  He had this confused look on his face but didn’t say anything.  I one motion I threw my hand over to him and grabbed his still semi-hard shaft through the sheet.  "Dude what the hell?“ he protested and wiggled himself up into an almost seated position. I gave it a second and looked him straight in the eye, “it’s cool man, relax, I just wanna help you out.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered sternly as he grabbed my wrist.  

I made my motions more deliberate and after a few seconds his grip loosened. He didn’t say a word and kept a quizzical look on his face.  With the other hand I slowly started to move the cover and then grabbed his dick bare.  There was a sharp inhale at that.  I never took my eyes from his.  I wanted him to know I was serious, and this was for him.  I began to jerk his hardness in earnest and took those low hanging cum filled balls in my other hand, gently tugging on them.  His expression evened out and and he began to slowly, if apprehensively, close his eyes and fall in to the moment.  After a minute his body relaxed and his muscles gave up their tension.  I calmly raised up and brought my head closer.  I positioned my mouth near the head of his cock and breathed in his masculine scent.  His let out a light, quiet, moan.  I knew that was my permission.  I began to slide his shaft into my mouth and throat, going down to the base of his stiff seven inches.  I relished the slight saltiness of his cock and the mustiness that his crotch was giving off.  "Fuuck,“ he breathed, as my lips made it to the base of his dick.  He knew not to make much noise.  Slowly, but deliberately, he started to move his hips with my head.  Working his dick into my throat as much as he could.  His fervor grew and his balls started to draw in tight.  I stroked and caressed his nuts as they drew up.  I wanted to stimulate every drop I could out of those giant balls.  His motions grew quicker and his prick got impossibly harder.  I knew he was close.  He let out a faint whimper and immediately began to shoot his seed into my gullet.  It was salty, sweet, thick, and didn’t seem to stop.  Only one small stream came down from the corner of my mouth and dribbled down the side of his cock.  When his orgasm subsided I took my mouth off and brought my wet tongue down to the side of his member.  I licked up that stray stream of cum from the base back up to the tip.  He sucked in a sharp breath at that when my tongue lapped around his still sensitive head.  "Goddamn,”  he muttered.  I patted his muscled thigh and started to get up, my eager boner straining the threads of my boxers.

What he did next took my by surprise.  He laid one hand on my waist as I stood and shifted in the bed.  I froze and his hand nonchalantly moved around to rub, clumsily, my dick.  He looked up at me, biting his lower lip, and then as low and quietly as he could muster, “you didn’t get off man.”  I didn’t say a word.  Just looked dumbfounded as his fingers pried my cock from my drawers.  Wrapping his rough hands around my strained dick, he slowly began to stroke it.  Looking almost entranced, or amazed, or what-the-fuck-am-I-doing.  He breathed slowly and brought his mouth to my cock head.  It slowly opened as his lips touched the head.  What the fuck is going on, I can’t believe this happening, Holy fucking shit, I thought to myself.  He tensely sucked on just the head as my hand tenderly rested on his head, my fingers caressing through his short cropped dirty blonde hair.  It didn’t take me but a minute before I started to shoot.  The first entered his mouth, which made him pull off and spit some out, the rest of my cum flying over his shoulder and onto his chest as he stroked me.  Holy. Fucking. Shit.  I could barely stand.  "Damn man,“ I quietly said.  He let out a faint snicker and got up to clean himself off.  We didn’t say another word that night.

The next morning we didn’t speak either.  That was a mistake, I kept thinking and nervously got ready after our run.  We were both standing near each other in front of the mirror and wiping off any dust or stray hairs or whatever would keep our uniforms from looking ‘squared away.’  He moved slightly behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, giving them a heavy and massaging squeeze.  His eyes were right on mine in the reflection and shot me an approving smile as his body met mine.  

The rest of our time in the academy flew by.  From that point on we were the most relaxed trainees and always well rested in the mornings.  

"Hell yeah, man,” he said with a soft drawl. “We’re gonna have to plan that hunting trip soon, bud,” and smiled.

“Yessir we are,” I winked and patted his arm as I walked passed. “The sooner the better.”    

My bud @10eight does a mighty fine line in stroke stories, and whenever I have a research question about lawmen, he’s my go-to guy.