I suppose in many respects, I can be considered an American Dream. All moral men want to protect and serve their society at large; I do it professionally. I have been at it for fifteen years; right out of the academy when I was twenty-two. And I love it. I really love my job-title of Officer Travis Nelson. And I really enjoy the perks and prestige that such a job affords me. But, I, just like the mass of other men, have a secret; an unfulfilled thirst; a quiet desperation. Mine is a surfacing sexual obsession with cocky, 20-something, skateboarders.

Of all the things that I left back there in my youth, I still cannot abandon the memories of a weekend Boy Scout campout at thirteen years old. I experienced the sweet mysteries of boy-on-boy sex for the first time with a twelve-year-old skateboarding hotshot. I never saw him again, but my heterosexual sex-life of the past 25 years has never duplicated anything close to the total, over-the-top ecstasy I experienced that weekend. For a long time I was able to easily dismiss these longings. But lately my arousal-factor is almost getting out of hand every time I encounter a wiry, sweaty, gymnastic, smart-mouthed, wide-eyed guy in his late teens, or early twenties, who is obsessed with skateboarding. The age-of-consent factor of these guys must be present, otherwise there is no sexual interest. Of late, my prick, my heart and my head cruelly tumble me in that direction.

For instance, I'm on my way to question a few young hoods about a recent robbery. They range in ages from seventeen to twenty-three. All four perpetrators are sterling examples of the superior, skateboarder mentality; but Brendon Sanderhal is the one that I could easily risk everything for. He is twenty years old. But his slight build at five-feet-six inches tall and those large playful eyes, give him the appearance of being much younger. He has never been stupid enough to ever get arrested; but he always seems to be right in the middle of all the larcenous action. With my neurotic sensitivity toward this personality-type, my professionalism tells me I shouldn't be on this case. But I can't help myself - it brings me up close and personal with Brendon Sanderhal.

The stoic, good-looking Officer Travis Nelson cruised his squad car through the congested car-and-people traffic on West Shackshawn Street. His hazel eyes peered through his aviator shades in search of the four suspects. His broad shoulders, six foot, no-nonsense, frame sat behind the wheel. His detached attitude and well-trained demeanor in no way dictated that he, in the least, had a sexual interest in anything other than his badge, his gun, and female pussy.

Suddenly, from out behind of a group of dissenting old women, Officer Travis spotted Brendon. He and the skateboarder guy locked glances for a second or two. Then, for whatever reason, the skateboarder decided to bolt. Rapidly, Travis turned on the siren and was hot in pursuit. After weaving through cars and meandering citizenry, Travis cornered Brendon in an alley. He questioned the guy for a while. But after a few flip answers and wisecracks, he decided to bring Brendon down for further interrogation.

After about an hour in an interviewing room at headquarters, where Officer Travis was more concerned with Brendon's personal life than anything else, he decided to cut the guy loose. Travis discovered during the interview, that the guy lived with his grandmother. Ten years earlier his parents had been accidentally killed in an explosion and he was being supported by insurance payments from that. Work was not a necessity in his young life, so he pretty much did what he wanted to do, whenever he wanted to do it. With his shift being over, Officer Travis Nelson told Brendon to wait, and he went to sign out. Changing into his jeans, sneakers and tee-shirt, Travis drove the guy back toward his home.

En route to West Shackshawn Street, Travis wondered if, with his wife and kids being in Maine with her parents for the weekend, he would be able to muster up the courage to bring this guy home. But by the time they arrived on the street where Brendon lived, the officer hadn't been able to embolden himself to create such a violation of his professional code.

"Where do you want me to drop you, killer?" he asked the sexy twenty-year-old skateboarder, dreading the thought of releasing such beauty back into this ugly jungle.

For almost a minute Brendon said nothing. Then he turned those large, playful, innocent eyes on me, saying, "Can't I come home with you?"

Whoa! My mind excitedly expanded with my cock, on that one. I couldn't think! I couldn't breathe! I couldn't speak! My professional detachment seemingly flew right out the squad car window. "Unh, ... I, ... ah, ..." I stammered

"Oh, come on, man, you know you want me to. And I want to! So what's the problem?" he said through those full luscious lips and sleepy eyes.

The inebriating scent of youthful body odor overwhelmed the atmosphere in the car. And, as though in a trance, I rode the twenty mile distance to my suburban home in a mindless euphoric stupor. I felt his hot hand slide onto my thigh. It slyly eased down on my crotch. I shuddered when I realized that I was going to see all that young masculine beauty naked. The musky scented arm pits, the sweaty smell of his feet, the intoxicating aroma of his perspiring, ass, and the satiny, pinhole-sized anus. His hot, gentle touch, and the thoughts of his nakedness prompted my first explosion of the night, as I shot wildly into my shorts.

Once we got home, with the car being put away, I picked up the little sweaty, baggy-panted, five foot six, inner-city delight and carried him up the stairs to the guestroom. Dropping him on the bed, I climbed on top of him. Straddling him, I pulled his sweatshirt up over his head. Ah, the sexually arousing aroma of a skateboarder's arms pits; there ain't nothing like it, I thought, as my slobbering tongue dove down to feverishly taste that sweet, overwhelming dampness.

"That tickles!' he squealed, shoving his little body up against my asshole, giggling uproariously. But it tasted and smelled too damn good to let go.

"Come on, Get off, I gotta pee! I gotta pee!" he giggled trying to get me off him. Throwing one leg to the side, I let him up. He shot for the bathroom, with me in hot pursuit. He unbuckled his baggy pants, letting them fall to the floor. He wore no underwear, and the scent of his sweaty ass made me drunk with lust. I fell to my knees and kissed his little satiny ass cheeks. My kisses traveled around to his moist pubic hair as my lips found his hands and erect cock. I licked at his cock as he peed, removing his hands. His rigid prick jumped as his urine splattered all over the place. Greedily, I sucked at his cute, tight little balls. Then bringing the trembling, hosing prick back down to my lips, I pointed it toward the bowl. Frantically, I kissed the beautiful flared head of the erect cock until he was finished, then I took the entire shiny, five-inch wonder into my slobbering mouth, and happily labored. Brendon weaved to and fro in that little guest bathroom, as I savagely grabbed him by that sweet, smooth ass and held his cock deep in my throat while I sucked, licked and hummed in heart-fulfilling pleasure.

Following a minute or two of my pleasure taking, Brendon wildly grabbed my buzz-cut head. He grunted, then screamed, as he began pumping like a savage animal into my hot, wet orifice. Yeah! He released an endless onslaught of sperm into my very grateful mouth and throat. As he shot his load, I slid my left hand up into that hot wet crack and massaged the scented, satiny hole. Mmmmmmm! The hot little bugger screamed again and released yet another copious amount of semen-ambrosia. Yeah!

As I sucked out the last remaining drop, the skateboarder slumped over on me, still grinding and gyrating his small hips. Smoothing my hands back and forth on that delectable bum, I roughly pressed the silken body to me one last time, and then stood up. The guy's face was a radiant mask of joy. His glowing, half-shut eyes searched my face with complete affection and adoration.

He uttered an "Oh, wow" as I picked him up again, and carried him back to the bed. He lay there in seductive abandon, arms resting above his head, as I removed his Nike sneakers, and pulled off the baggy jeans. His tasty phallus remained at full attention for me as it jerked and strained at my every movement on his body. Kicking off my shoes, pulling off my shirt, and divesting myself of the jeans and boxers, I climbed back onto the bed with my tempestuous skateboarder. I climbed atop him, slipping my muscled arms beneath him.

As I kissed his ears, neck, cheeks, and the top of his kinky head, his arms came up on my back and pressed his lithe naked body up against my erect prick. I wanted to French kiss him. But I felt that might freak him out. Slowly, ever so slowly, I moved down to his chest with kisses, gently sucking, nibbling and chewing on his young nipples. Again, he lost it. First there was the screaming, giggling and kicking, shouting "Stop! That tickles!" But my hungry persistence, and the sliding down of my hand to force a finger into his sweet hole, further awakened him sexually. He wanted that part of himself played with badly and pronto. Easing back from him with my finger still partly penetrating his squirming bum, I licked his hard smooth stomach; slipping on down to kiss his hard shaft that still oozed pre-come. Then, withdrawing my finger, I threw those two little muscular legs up over his head, and, like a madman, drove my tongue into his scented honey-pot of an anus. The guy had never felt this good before in his life. He hollered; he screamed; he grunted; he beat the bed with his fists; he laughed; he cried. All while he crazily humped his sweet, sweaty hinney-hole into my hot, rigid, impaling tongue.

I would shove the rolled impaler all the way in, titillating his prostate, and he would kick and scream. Then slowly I'd pull it out almost to the tip, and he would loudly moan the absence of it, when I again would fiercely dive in to the hilt, making him go nuts again. In no time at all, he was shouting "I'm gonna gonna come! Here, here, take it, ...please,.... take it! I'm cooommmminng...!"

He didn't have to beg me twice. Bringing those hot legs down on my shoulders, I lip-locked that rigid pink piston with a vengeance, my hands tightly gripping those two tasty, peaches-n-cream melons. Amid his screams of "Yeah, oh Yeah! Fuck! Oh Fuck, Yeah!", he generously yielded up yet another soul enriching batch of skateboarder's love-juice.

I lay there drinking in his love explosion, as my hands smoothed and massaged his satiny body. The scent emitting from his sweaty feet, armpits and crotch offered the illusions that this was the happiest moment of my life since that Boy Scout campout trip so very long ago. I had never ever felt this good, sexually, since I became an adult, and I hadn't even come yet. Still humping in my face, Brendon's hands came down and began smoothing on my days-growth cheeks. His fingers played around my lips and his cock, still imbedded in my mouth. An intense electric shock coursed through both of us while doing this. I had to come. I didn't want to waste it. But Brendon had shown no real interest in my body, so I was going to grind between his legs until orgasm.

Taking the semi-erect black out of my mouth and placing the guy's legs back down on the bed, I once again slid up on the guy. Before I realized what was going on, he had pushed me over on my back, and had climbed atop me. Oh yeah! Straddling me, with his hot bum against my raging dick, he leaned down and began to kiss me on the lips. What a sensation! The smell of his sweet young mouth put me over the top. Oh, baby, I'm gotta come," I groaned, feeling it coming.

Within a second, in one swift movement, he had reversed positions. His cute, petite ass was now facing me as he caught the first drop of my release with his mouth. He moaned loudly and happily as he eagerly received the thick white liquid product of my spasming, police officer's penis. The sight and scent of his contracting and expanding sphincter muscle further fueled the release of my seed. Kissing and licking the back of his thighs and then on up to that seductive asshole, I lasciviously dove in. The room was now alight with explosive electrical energy - sexual and spiritual. Something beautiful or remarkable was being born. Yet, I don't know exactly what it is. But if this was the biggest mistake I'll ever make, this very moment is the "something good" that will come of it.

And from where I stand, [or at the moment, lie], it pretty much looks like I finally got what I've wanted for the past 25 years. Brendon says he can't wait until I make love to him in full police uniform dress, gun, Garrison hat, and all.