Used By The Cops

The speed limit was sixty here, but Caleb pushed his bike more, faster, up past eighty. It wouldn't matter, he wasn't endangering anyone but himself. The road was deserted.
He craved the high speeds at any given time. The sports bike—Japanese, custom—was built for it. But that wasn't all. Usually he sped to get away, to forget. Today he sped because his elation demanded it. As of last week, he was eighteen, and eighteen meant freedom. Eighteen meant a chance for a life that didn't leave his shoulders constantly hunched up about his neck.

A siren wailed suddenly, and his heart dropped.
"fuck," he muttered. Between the wind and his helmet he couldn't even hear the word.
It was his own damn fault for speeding anyway. Nothing to do but pull over.

Dust stirred and swirled about his thighs, kicked up by the bike's wheels as he came to a halt off the shoulder. Once he pulled the helmet off, the sound of tires crunching on dry dirt came to him from behind...the police car joining him.
He was reaching for his wallet when one of them said, "Off the bike, son."

A little annoyed, but trying not to show it, Caleb glanced back at the officers before obeying. One of them stood forward from the other. The one who spoke, he guessed. Dark of hair and eyes, frowning at him. Caleb squinted at his silver name tag. Adams.
The other stood with his arms crossed, and damn did that guy spend a lot of time at the gym. His arms were huge, his chest powerful. His name tag read Pender.
They stared at Caleb, saying nothing, so he pulled his wallet out and fished around for his license. Even looking down, he could feel their eyes bearing down on him.

Men looked at him like that, moreso lately it felt like. He knew what they were seeing, what it must look like to them. His hair a dusky brown, his body lean and of the kind of muscle that comes from hiking, climbing, spending every hour he could out in the wilderness away from...well, from everything.
Grey eyes, a too-worn hoodie. Torn jeans. He must look like every slacker teenager they'd ever seen.
Oh, and he was supposed to be in school right now. Whoops.

They still hadn't said anything. Caleb held his license out. "Uh, I know I was speeding…"
"Yeah." Adams rubbed his chin, and his eyes roved all over Caleb's body.
Caleb shifted his feet, his face heating up—and not from the noonday sun beating down on them all.
"Put your hands on the hood of the car, son," Adams said at last.

Caleb stepped forward, nearly going along with it without even thinking, but he stopped himself. "What?"
Adams gripped his nightstick and advanced on him. His voice went louder, harsher. "Son, did I stutter?"
Caleb flinched, and did as he was told this time, sliding between them to the car. He leaned over, the hood warm against his palms.
The nightstick tapped his thigh. "Spread your legs."

A cold sweat swept over Caleb's skin. He nudged his feet further apart.
"More." The nightstick tapped the inside of his thigh this time. "Get those legs wide for me, son."

This isn't normal. He cringed inside, and stepped his feet wide apart, opening his thighs for the officer. He hung his head down so they couldn't see his face and he couldn't see them. He stared at the car hood, and willed this all to be over with soon.
"There we go," Adams muttered. Then he frisked him, and Caleb actually relaxed marginally. The officer checked his pants pockets, patted him down along his arms, felt the pockets of the hoodie and ran his hands up the outside of Caleb's legs. Exactly like he'd seen done in the movies and on television. Exactly like he would have expected.

Then the officer's touches got slower. Longer. His hands came up the inside of Caleb's legs, massaged his inner thighs. One strong, confident hand drifted upward, caressed his ass, and gave it a squeeze.
Caleb was almost panting. This wasn't right. This wasn't normal. God, what could he do? They were police officers.

Adams wrenched his hands behind his back, sending Caleb falling forward. The side of his face hit the car hood as cold cuffs cinched into place about his wrists. "What are you doing?!"
"You wanna flaunt that ass all over the place, we'll put it to use for you."
What.
Flaunting? He was wearing jeans for fuck's sake!

Adams hauled him up with one hand on his shirt collar and gave his ass another squeeze. The officer walked him around to the side of the car, where Pender held the rear door open. They bent him face first over the back seat.
This can't be happening. This can't be happening. Caleb breathed hard into the seat as they rummaged around in the front of the car. How could they do this? What about the mounted camera? They must have one! How the fuck could they just do this!
"Here it is." A different voice, deep and thick. It was the first time Pender had spoken. "From that hooker last night."
"Nice."

Hands yanked at his pants and pulled them down until his ass was exposed, bared to them. Caleb buried his face in the seat and felt tears welling in his eyes. Stop. Stop. Somehow the word couldn't make it out of his mouth.
"Mm. Goddamn." Adams again. His hands explored Caleb's ass in earnest now, running over his skin, pinching him, squeezing the globes of his ass with calloused fingers. "This slut needs it bad."
"Mmm." Pender's answering purr.
"Think he can take the stick?"

Caleb went cold and hot all over. The thought of that hard, unyielding weapon of intimidation sliding into him sent heat right to his cock, even as his mind recoiled. No, please. "Please. Please!"
The no just wouldn't come out. His back arched, ass pushing back, thighs spreading for them.
"We got what you need, son."

Fingers, slicked with something cold, plunged into him, making him jump. They were impatient, though, and worked him little before the hard aluminum end of the nightstick pressed up against him. Wet and slick as he was, they still had to force the shaft of the weapon in. And yet he groaned, arching his back painfully, pushing backward for more of it, more of that long, thick weapon inside him.
They laughed, and pulled it back, making him fuck himself on it for their amusement. He worked his hips and whined, desperate.

"Please, sir," he breathed, rocking back and forth on the length of the stick, unable to move enough to take as much of it as he really wanted.
"You've got it, son. Go on, get what you need."
Caleb groaned and impaled himself on the shaft harder, faster. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew if he would get enough of this, finish it, then it would all be over. He could stop. He could get away from them. But it would never be enough. If he took the entire length of the nightstick it wouldn't be enough.

One of them gave his ass a slap. "All right, son. We'll give you what you really want."
The nightstick drew out of him with a long, uncomfortable slide. Almost immediately, the head of a cock teased his wanting entrance.
Caleb panted. He wanted it, he didn't want it. He needed it, he hated it.

The cock eased into him, maddening in its leisurely slide. Caleb pushed back for it, for more.
"You like that son?" Adams pinched his ass. "You needed that cock, didn't you?"
Adams rode him. No slow start, no time to adjust. He pistoned in and out of Caleb like a machine while Caleb writhed on the car seat, moaning, wanting it to end, wishing in his head for this to be over even while his body opened up for the officer's cock.
He'd had sex all of twice in his life. Once with a girl in his sophomore year, and once with a guy he met in a club who'd offered him two hundred dollars if Caleb let him fuck him. With the girl it had been awkward, hesitant.

Caleb had always told himself the guy in the club was worth it. He'd occupied himself with Caleb for an hour. Called him a whore, a slut. It was all just talk, though. The guy fucked him and talked dirty to him like then then let him go, and that was it.
Now he was on the back seat of a cop car, taking it from a police officer who'd pulled him over for speeding.
Adams hauled his hips close, driving into him as deep as he could go. Caleb could feel the hot gush of cum spurting inside him, and even in his haze he realized that a man should not come this much. It seemed like it would never end, Adams's cock pulsing inside him, filling him with semen.

At last, panting, Adams pulled out.
"You're a good fuck, son," he said. He patted Caleb's hip. "Good, tight fuck."
Caleb felt open air behind him, then the looming mass of Pender and the heavy weight of a huge cock laid upon his ass. A shiver ran down his whole body.
"You need more, slut?" Pender's voice alone would have been enough to command him, even without the handcuffs, even without the threat of the nightsticks.
"Yes, sir. Please." He wiggled in Pender's grasp, hips in constant motion, needing the bulk of that cock in him now. "Please, sir, use me some more."
"Get that ass up, then."

Caleb bore down with his shoulders and head, shifting his weight forward and getting his feet up under him so he could raise his ass for the officer, to show how much he wanted it, to show how much he would appreciate it.
Pender grunted his approval and teased him with the head of his cock, running the bulbous glans over his entrance until Caleb whimpered with every breath. He took pity on him then, and drove his thick shaft into Caleb's body, slowly, relentlessly, hands guiding his hips back and up until the entire cock was in him from head to base. It drove all the breath out of Caleb. His ass pressed firm against Pender's groin.

If Adams had been a machine, Pender was an animal. He grunted as he thrust in and out of Caleb, pulling his cock almost all the way out then driving it back in again, balls deep. Harsh, hungry sounds escaped Caleb's throat at every brutal sheathing of that huge cock.
Pender clenched a fist in Caleb's hair and yanked his head up. With his hands cuffed, Caleb could only move with Pender, drive himself into the thrusts as his body was jostled, wrecked, pounded. Pender's other hand strayed from Caleb's hip and found a nipple, pinching it, twisting it. Caleb's inner thoughts became nothing but a broken record of yes, yes, God yes. He felt out of control, untethered, his inside forced open again and again by another man's cock.

He was a slut, just as they said. He wanted this, wanted it all. Whatever they wanted to do to him he wanted.
Pender abruptly shoved his head back down. The officer pressed Caleb's face into the car seat as he came inside him, driving in deep, his thrusts now short and fast. He emptied his cum into Caleb and the hot semen flooding inside of him brought him to orgasm without a hand even touching his cock.

Caleb had no time to catch his breath, to recover. Pender slid out of him and suddenly the cuffs were gone, Caleb's hands falling free. One of the officers yanked him out of the car by the waistband of his jeans to deposit him on the dusty ground. Caleb swayed where he sat, only vaguely aware of car doors opening and closing, of an engine revving to life, of the fading sound of a police car disappearing down a desolate highway.

He had no idea how long he sat there in a daze. It was the sensation of still-hot cum leaking out of him that shocked him back into the present. He got himself up on his knees and with shaking, fumbling hands managed to pull his jeans back up.
What…

If it weren't for the cum, he would have sworn it hadn't been real That it couldn't have been. His legs only barely held him up long enough to make it to the bike. He sagged against it, lowering to the ground again.
What the fuck just happened?