The Autobahnpolizei

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Straight German Cycle Cop Is Turned

*

I suppose I am not surprised. Inside I always know, but I do not know I know.

I am always thinking of myself as einem männlichen Mann–as you say, “a man’s man.” Proud of myself. I am 178 cm–in American 5-feet-10 and 87 kilos–190 pounds. I was not the biggest bulle on the police force, but as an Autobahnpolizei, German Motorcycle Highway Patrol, I take care of myself.

By me it is a great job. Patrolling the Autobahn is very good. The scenery in the Baden-Württemberg area of Germany is very beautiful. The E-52 Autobahn goes from München to Stuttgart, and when goes on to Karlsruhe, it goes through the Schwarzwald, the Black Forest. Very beautiful.

I also keep myself in healthy vigor. I work out all the time in the station weights room. I am not, as the Americans say, “the biggest motherfucker in the valley,” but when I am walking up to the car I stop on the Autobahn, when I stand up straight, spread my shoulders, and glare down at reckless driver in his car, he trembles. He is in fear.

I like looking at myself in the mirror–my uniform fits me perfectly. Looks like leather but is Gore-Tex–much more efficient, lighter, better insulation. Bright green with white stripes and a white leather belt and shoulder strap. Mine is just a little small–tight-fitting–and I like it. It makes me look like from the Gestüt, the “stud farm,” ja? The horny man.

My girlfriend has no complaints. She makes the fuck for me nearly every night–or she does before she goes away, but this is for later in story.

I wear the suspensorium–you say “the jockstrap”–every day. Just I am glad to think that I walk around with my “package” out proudly in front of me. Is American jockstrap. I order it on Internet. Is brand Obvi>usly. Very horny. Thin gray straps and big, black pouch that pushes forward my meat.

I must wear my Boxer-short over the jockstrap, though. The Boxer-short is police uniform, and also is to avoid the jokes in the locker room if I am wearing a sexy unterwäsche. But makes me feel little horny as I ride my patrols. The people in the cars, they do not know I am wearing a sexy jockstrap they cannot see.

Also I am proud of how much I make of the samen, the sperm. Always she complains that I make her leak all night long, and she has to sleep in a wet spot.

Too bad, my baby, this is come of getting laid by guy with the big Eier–the big eggs (You say “balls,” nein?) I am proud of make so much samen. Is mean I am männlich–masculine.

It is good to be the Autobahnpolizei. I like to be the one in charge. My woman, she too likes to be told what to do. And I am the man who knows what to do.

But maybe not now.

-==(^)==-

Never believe I how easy this is undone. Everything is flipped. Not in a thousand years do I think I end up like this.

I go from being “a man’s man” to be the man of a particular man. In a single night. Everything about me flips when he cuts through the bullshit I am surround myself with–and he teaches me who I really am.

Never think I this. The queer, the homo-man, this is not favorable in the polizei-business. It is of maximum shame. I grow up without even think of other men. Is too shameful.

Is not to say I do not notice, though. I think is very handsome the muscular, the “hale and hearty” man. I think is not shame to “notice” handsome man in police showers or locker room. Sometimes I get the Erektion, but I am careful to hide. I am not the queer, not the schwuchtel. I am a man’s man. Just that I can appreciate a handsome man. This is not bad.

Often I wonder what sex with a man would be like. It would be shameful, of course, and most usual I stop such thoughts. But still, I often wonder. A man’s body can be handsome. What would be like to caress-touch a man? What would be like to fuck my cock into his asshole?

What would be like to feel a man’s hard Erektion fucking my asshole. I stop such thoughts. They are shameful.

Then I get into a “situation.” My own fault, really. Careless police work. I get into situation I think is worse than death.

Then I find out it is the best of life.

I am making the patrol on my green Autobahnpolizei BMW, a real hot rod motorcycle, ja? I catch every driver making dangerous driving, even on the Autobahn, where there is no speed limit. I live in Stuttgart, near Black Forest, in southwestern Germany. Is home of Mercedes-Benz factory. I can see the Mercedes factory from my apartment. Porsche factory is not far away. This part of Germany is famous for high-speed cars.

Is the end of day, sun is going down, I have called on the radio to check out, and I am riding home. On the way, I see, off in the trees, a small fire. The Autobahn exit is nearby, so I pull off high-speed road and go back on side road to see what is it. It is not large fire but could grow aldatma porno dangerous.

I park the motorcycle and walk over. Ach! Is a campfire. This is illegal.

I make quiet and move closer. There sits one man. I can see by his haircut, and even though he is not in uniform, an Ami! American soldier! His clothes look American. From the PX. I step into the light. “What you do here, Ami? Is not permitted the making of fire here! Get up!”

“Hey, sorry, Fritz. Just out hiking on the Wander-pfad [is “hiking trail”] and thought I’d warm up something to eat.” He has a backpack and packages of hiking food.

When he stands up, ufa! he is a big one. Taller than I am, he has more weight, too. Typical Ami face. Close-cut yellow hair. He has freckles. Probably from California. Almost I ask him if he is a surfer. He is bigger man than I, but I am not worry. I am good at the hand-to-hand combat. And I have a pistole. “Why are you at night on the Wanderpfad?”

Then I realize I am the stupid. I hear a sound behind me, but is too late. I am seized from behind by very, very big man. Much stronger. Much bigger. And first man gets up and runs to me.

In seconds I am in shame. They have me in my own handcuffs. Then I turn to see who is the kamerad.

Gott im Himmel, both men are monsters, but the one behind me is not to believe! The huge black man is at least 198 cm (six-foot-six), and my guess is that he is at least 90 kg (285 pounds). Scheise, compared to these two, I am young boy.

How embarrassing! This man and his buddy have overpower me. As the Americans say, they have me by the balls, and I know it.

I cannot tear the eyes from colossus black man, though. His face remind me of old pictures from long ago, Mohammed Ali, the prize fighter. Verdammt! His shirt stretches over the massive chest. I am thinking 127-140 cm (50-55 in.)! The shoulders broad as the fussball goals! And I am with horror–he pulls off the shirt–Mein Gott, his chest muscles–the pecs, ja?–like gun turrets on a tank! And Nippele like black bullseyes on the target.

I am amazed, astounded by the size of the man but also scared, as you say, shitless as I see what he does–he pulls off his clothes! Fuck! (Ja, we use also this word, also) Down go his pants! Muscle-belly. Armor-plating! What a man! The broad shoulders taper down to about a waist about 102 cm (40 in.) Scheisse, he is the magnificenz!

He is wear the Boxer-short. I cannot really tell, but he is maybe with a very big package. And then he yanks them down, and I see.

Unglaublich! As they hold me tightly, I gaze down on his huge Vorhaut, his foreskin, like a hood stretched over such a giant Schlange I cannot believe. Gigantic!

And huge balls.

The big black man’s voice is deep. “Gonna turn you, cop, and once you lose your ass-cherry, you can’t never go back.” My blood runs cold.

He pushes me over onto hands and knees. Most strange: I feel small thrills surging over my body–I am supposed to be terrified, nein? But in strange way, I am–how do you say–curious. Anticipating? I will also say, maybe just a little eager?

Still, I fight them, but they hold all the cards. They handcuff me to the small tree, forcing me down onto my knees. They pull open my belt and pull my pants down to my knees. Then my Boxer-short.

The one who is watching us points at me. “Hey, look at this! Fritz’s wearing a jockstrap–a nice, sexy one! You gay, Fritz?”

Before I can answer with outrage, the big, black hands grip my hips, and–Oh, no, oh, no!–I feel him mount me.

“Gonna break you in right, cop.” His voice is like the growl of Satan in my ear. “Gonna make you love it. Break you forever more.”

I crack. “Las’ mir los! Please! Please, you do not do this! I–I do anything you want–“

–“Yeah, I know. You gonna do what I want right now.”

No, this can not be! My hands and arms stretch out before me, my chest on the ground, but my ass in air for him as he keeps my knees bent, my ass lifted. His big hands rub my hips, and Mein Gott! There it is, that gigantic Schwanz at my rectum! I tighten my belly, I am thinking to shut him out, but I hear his voice:

“Loosen up, man. It’s gonna happen. This is your last moment as a virgin. You’re gonna lose your cherry. Nothing you can do about it. If you relax, it’ll go easier on you. Won’t hurt as much.”

Gott im Himmel, what am I going to do? Perhaps it is mistake, but I decide to do as he says. It is shameful to me, but I relax. I try not to close up the arschloch, my asshole.

And his lightning strikes. Underneath his foreskin is a huge cockhead, and it spreads open my poor, virgin hole. It hurts, as they say, like a motherfucker, and I arch back my head, gritting my teeth, choking back a scream into a choke, a gasp-growl. Verdammt, it hurts!

Once his cockhead is ensest porno pop in, though, the pain is not hurt quite so much. The man’s cockhead is like a fist. The big shaft is not quite so thick. I am grateful.

“Yeah, man, you just paid your dues. Won’t hurt that much from now on.” His voice is proud. He is fucking me. Fucking a cop.

And it does hurt. As he slides in, the pain makes me want to cry. But when I feel his coarse, crinkly pubic hair grinding in my ass–Mein Gott, that huge thing is in me to the bottom!–I am amazed. I am still alive. Never do I think I can take such a huge thing.

“We hold here for a few minutes, Herr Autobahnpolizei. Let you get used to me inside you. Pain ought to fade out after a while.”

He tells the truth. Slowly, very slowly the pain is fade out. But is not comfortable. And I am ashamed. A man has stuck his cock up my ass.

But then he begins to move. He pulls out that gigantic cock and–it feels–it is not to believe!–wunderbar! Excellent! Thrilling! I am astonish!

The buddy points at me. “Hey, Lowell, he likes it. He’s got a hardon.”

Lowell? My big man’s name is Lowell? He feels around my hips and grabs me. Ach, I am so ashamed. The buddy tells the truth. Lowell’s hand grips my cock, and it is hard as the tree trunk.

He laughs. “Terry, undo his handcuffs. He doesn’t want to get away now.”

This is the ultimate humiliation. They think I am such the schwuchtel–the fag–that I will not try to get away.

With the last gram of my diminishing manhood, I jump forward, out of Lowell’s grasp, and I struggle away.

He catches me quickly, of course–my pants are down around my knees–and he mounts me again, and once more I get the stab of the giant cockhead up my ass–but then, almost instant, I get the pleasure again. His thrust-strokes into me are wonderful! To feel the huge pipe thrust up into me drives me out of my mind! Verdammt, it feels fabulous.

I can not help myself–I have to stop there, to freeze for him, to allow him to breed me. I cannot struggle anymore, I want it too bad. My body has surrendered to him. It wants the fucking to go on. I give up, spread my legs wider, and reach out my arms for balance. His hands touch the ground on either side of my chest, and I turn my head and look over my shoulder at him.

He does not smile. The fucking is now serious business. I have to let him fuck me. I have to! Is too much pleasure.

Is true. He got me. Not only the fuck of my asshole. He got my brain. I can not resist him anymore. His fucking is the most sublime feeling I ever have. God, I never know how fabulous is to get fucked! I love it! A high like the drugs, like the Alkohol, like floating in air.

I must say to myself the truth: I love this man’s cock up my ass. Somehow is meant to be. Like it is natural–where I am supposed to be. He is plowing me long enough that his sex is slick and coated with my juices. Is make sexy, erotic schluck-schluck sound strong as he thrusts in and out. Is yet another thing that makes me fuck-crazy for him.

But still is shameful. Against everything ever I learn. Men do not screw each other. I bite my lip. Is good. When I get out of this–when they let me go–I forget it. I go on as before. Being fucked will be just a memory.

But suddenly something terrible. The thrill of being fucked by this man is driving me to the climax! Ach, Gott, nein! I cannot sink so low! I am breathing harder, and I feel myself about to reach the Orgasmus! I bite my lip hard to make pain, anything to stop it. I can not let myself be drive into climax by this man’s fucking my ass!

But it happens. Even I cannot hold back one desperate, pleasure-drunk moan, and I let loose with the samen, and, mein lieber Gott, is the heaviest, most strong Orgasmus ever I have! Is incredible! My eyes close, and I am not in this earth–I am in the heavens. I can not feel my body, only the wonderful, ecstatic connection of my asshole to Lowell’s wonderful organ.

Never do I have such physical pleasure-heaven. I collapse with the feeling, dripping with sweat, panting like the dog. I sag down in front, almost like I am bow down to him–but he is behind me, fucking me with that fabulous cock of his, and I am damned forever! After the peak of my pleasure-trance and I shoot my white samen all over the ground, his magic lunges in and out keep me at a level of pleasure so breathtaking I am think I will go crazy. The pleasure-drunk does not end!

Is so wonderful I am wondering why I have never discovered this before. Why no one tells me this, that to be fucked up the ass is–is not to believe!–better than fucking a woman! It is pleasure through the cock and is added the pleasure from the asshole!

And something more. In that moment, as he fucks me, I have no pride as a man, he takes my Männlichkeit–my escort porno “masculinity” and there is nothing I can do. I am his schlampe, his slut. But is very strange because–is good! Because is just this moment.

For just this moment, I like to give up to him. Is good to feel him screw me. Is good to let him take over my body. To own me for a few minutes. I am no longer the bulle, the cop. Just for the while I am a servant to a bigger man.

Is wonderful. I crouch down for him for as long as he wants to fuck me, and his thrusting Schlange keeps me forever in that dreaming, clouds-high pleasure state. I am thinking what I can do to make the pleasure-joy for him, to make him glad for fuck me.

Then he speaks. “Hey, cop, you’re a natural. You cummed without even touching yourself.”

Scheise, he knows. This is most shameful. I hear his voice above and behind me. Above me, where he is supposed to be. There is nothing I can do to save myself, so is not my fault. For this short time while he fucks me–I am his whore. I will forget about this tomorrow.

But I cannot let him know what terrible pleasure-madness I get from him. Then his voice again: “You really like this, don’t you?”

“Nein, es ist…” But his huge hose is still thrusting into me, is still making me drunk with the rapture. My body belongs to him. I must obey–“Ja! Is, is–not to believe! Gott!–I never–feel so–never before!”

He makes a soft laugh, and his thrusts get harder and more strong. More manly.

I like. He slams against my hips and gives me jolts that shake me. I like. My man is beating me with his power and strength. Is so good! I love him to make me feel helpless. Is wonderful!

Then is incredible. This monstrous-big man gets up onto his feet, and he picks me up with him! He stands in the woods, a tall, powerful mensch, holding me up by the thighs, my sizzling, thrilling asshole still swallowing his huge manhood–now even deeper. Ach, mein Gott! Is not to believe! I am to him just a toy, a rag doll.

I can not believe. He is so lusty-strong. For this time, he is the master of me. I feel his sweaty chest against my back. I lean back my head, and I smell his sweat. I cannot resist. I turn my head and lick at the drops of sweat on his face. Almost a kiss.

And when I realize this, I am going into another Orgasmus! I am the insane, and I can not hold back a long, loud groan. The pleasure is too much! My cock is shooting my surrender and submission high up into the air, all over my own chest and dribbling down into my cock-hair. My whole body is on fire with the lust and unbearable pleasure-frenzy! Mein Gott, what this man can do to me!

This is two times! The two most atom-bomb sex-pleasures of my life within fifteen minutes! I am insane with the bliss. I cannot think. I am a piece of meat for this man. He has make me his whore, and may god forgive me, I am glad for this.

When I hear his groan and I feel a hot fullness inside me, I know Lowell has shoot his seed into me. I am getting a strange feeling–pride. I am carry Lowell’s samen!

And too soon I feel him pull out this wonderful pole. I cannot deny it. I wish he would put it back in me. Drunk. I am dreamy with having my pleasure so terribly powerful two times! He releases my legs and lowers me to the ground, where I collapse and roll over onto my back.

I look up at Lowell, the huge black man. How he has controlled me. And there is that wonderful cock. I cannot deny. I love it. I realize: never have I fall in love so fast. I know all my life I have been looking for a man to fuck me.

“You’re a hot piece of ass, cop. Didn’t know they had queer officers in the Autobahn police.”

“I am not queer.” In the polizei, to be a schwuchtel is a shame.

“Hey, man, you cummed twice just from my cock up your ass. That’s pretty gay to me.” He looked me in the eyes. “You wanna do it again?”

And with these words I can almost hear something snap inside me. Is beyond my power to resist. Almost I don’t open my mouth, but automatically I hear my voice. Very soft.

Ja.

“Well, tell you what, Fritz, rather than us doing all the work, I think you ought to do something, too.” He smiles. “How’s about stripping off that uniform and dancing around a little? Maybe give us a lap-dance?”

I feel my face burn hot with shame. This is a humiliation no man can stand. But what is to matter that I go naked before them? They both have looked at my genitals. They have feel me get the hart Schlange for them. They have watch me get fucked and–as they say–cum twice. What matters that I show them the rest?

I can feel the heat on my face, and I know it is red as the beets. I cannot look at them. But I unbutton my shoes and take them off. I shuck down my pants and Boxer-short and jockstrap the rest of the way and off. Then off with the coat, the tie, the shirt.

And I am naked.

“Now dance.”

For this I am not too good. I hold onto the tree and slink in and out as women do in the bars. But is not to dance for them that I want. I want to feel the flesh of Lowell, this big, black god who has take me two times to heaven.

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