Owned by the Cop

eXtasy Books

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 43,368
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Cat-and-mouse games between a college student and a cop start out as just sex, with no strings, but gradually become more intense as the two men’s relationship shifts and deepens.

Owned by the Cop
0 Ratings (0.0)

Owned by the Cop

eXtasy Books

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 43,368
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Martine Jardin
Excerpt

Life could be strange in its unpredictability.

Before he met his cop lover, Cordero Tejera was just another average, promiscuous young gay guy, going about his business. He harmed no one, and―somewhat ironically, as things turned out―he made a point of staying out of trouble with the law. A lot of good that did him!

Cordero was at home on a weekday night, and he was faced with one of those agonizing decisions a young gay man sometimes has to make. Should he stay at home and just jerk off, or should he go out in hopes of meeting somebody?

The convenience of staying in, and the odds against encountering the man of his dreams in a gay bar on a Wednesday night, at first tempted him to make an early night of it—alone. Cordero could give himself a quick self-induced orgasm with his fist and then fall asleep, all right there in his own comfortable bed.

He was actually undressed and in bed, with his laptop open beside him, ready to watch some internet porn to inspire a jerkoff session, when—perversely—the idea of going out began to appeal to him more and more. After all, one of Cordero’s favorite taverns was right there in his neighborhood, within walking distance. It was one of the city’s gay bars, which he frequently patronized, although usually on weekend nights.

He began to bargain with himself.

Just one drink. That was what Cordero promised himself, after a glance at the digital display of the alarm clock beside his bed. It was already close to midnight. One drink, and then I’ll come right home. I can jack off then. What’s the harm? He closed the laptop, and he got out of bed, his cock already twitching with the first signs of excitement.

He was already experiencing the tiny thrill of doing something which might be considered naughty and irresponsible. He had to get up and go to work in the morning, and he suspected that he’d end up breaking his own rule by staying at the bar for more than one drink.

Logic suggested that, because he wasn’t really going out with the intention of trying to pick up somebody, it didn’t matter much what he wore on this little excursion. But, at that moment, Cordero was thinking less in terms of logic, and more in terms of lust, by the minute. He decided that he ought to wear something which proclaimed his availability. After all, a guy never knew when he might get lucky!

On impulse, Cordero opened the top drawer of his bureau, where he kept a few clothes and personal items, but which also tended to be a quick-access repository for assorted sexual accessories—a jockstrap, an extra box of condoms and tube of lubricant, a pair of nipple clamps, a butt plug, a dildo, a dog collar, and so forth. Cordero rummaged through the clutter until he found what he was looking for.

The object was a cock ring. Cordero couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn it—probably on some occasion when he’d hooked up with a guy who was into some light leather action. Unfortunately, Cordero’s actual experience with leather sex, as opposed to fantasies, was limited to dressing up in vaguely motorcycle punk attire to go out, and then stripping down again and engaging what would have to be described as roughhousing with his hookup. He sighed, wishing he could go farther. Still, he had a few of the appropriate accessories, in the meanwhile. The ring was a single piece of heavy-gauge stainless steel, bent into a perfect circle and welded together at the seam, where the result was a slight ridge, almost like a traffic bump.

Holding the cock ring up to the light to examine it more closely, Cordero remembered that he preferred the way it felt to the sensation he got from the adjustable, snap-on kind. It happened to fit his genitals perfectly when he was fully erect, with just enough snugness to keep him continuously aware of its presence, surrounding his junk. He did recall, though, that the device tended to chafe him after he’d worn it for an hour or two.

So he went into the bathroom, where he rubbed a light coating of baby oil on the ring. Watching himself in the full-length mirror on one wall, he slipped the ring on, inserting one testicle through the circle at a time, and then tucking the head of his flaccid penis down to push it through, next.

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