Sarge had been in a squad which busted Conroy's house. As the sergeant handcuffed him Conroy got a handful of the sergeant's crotch. No-one else noticed. That was three years ago: Conroy did time. The other weekend Sarge heard Conroy was out. In his offduty clobber he rode his Kawasaki ZX-10 to an evening biker venue in Surrey. He spotted Conroy, and Conroy spotted him. Both guys made that they hadn't seen each other, but after a while Conroy slouched over to the sergeant, cocked his leg over the seat and sat on the pillion. The sergeant started up and Conroy bent his legs up onto the pillion footrests. The big bike roared away from the diner and up the road. Conroy kept his hands on the seat but snuggled up close against his rider. Both men stayed low to minimise wind resistance and moved as one on the bends. The sergeant felt the warmth of his passenger through his leathers, and felt the guy's meat pressing against his arse. Boy, was this bloke equipped. It made the policeman heady. They turned at the roundabout to come back to the diner. When they were about half a mile away Conroy's right hand left the pillion seat and reached round to the sergeant's crotch. It stayed there: the policeman widened his thighs and shunted his pelvis forward to the invading hand. When they were nearing the diner Conroy squeezed. Hard. Sarge just surrendered to it, slowing their speed so that Conroy could have more time to dish out the CBT. Conroy saw his man's helmeted head drop in pain, and grinned. When they pulled in Conroy climbed off. He raised his visor and said `Gonna have you one day Sergeant. You're built for it, and you're gonna take it` He walked over to his bike, climbed on and started it up. The two men looked at each other. Conroy made a quick jacking gesture with his right hand, and rode off
three nights later Sarge rode over to Conroy's scrap metal yard - commando, douched and greased
Sarge had been in a squad which busted Conroy's house. As the sergeant handcuffed him Conroy got a handful of the sergeant's crotch. No-one else noticed. That was three years ago: Conroy did time. The other weekend Sarge heard Conroy was out. In his offduty clobber he rode his Kawasaki ZX-10 to an evening biker venue in Surrey. He spotted Conroy, and Conroy spotted him. Both guys made that they hadn't seen each other, but after a while Conroy slouched over to the sergeant, cocked his leg over the seat and sat on the pillion. The sergeant started up and Conroy bent his legs up onto the pillion footrests. The big bike roared away from the diner and up the road. Conroy kept his hands on the seat but snuggled up close against his rider. Both men stayed low to minimise wind resistance and moved as one on the bends. The sergeant felt the warmth of his passenger through his leathers, and felt the guy's meat pressing against his arse. Boy, was this bloke equipped. It made the policeman heady. They turned at the roundabout to come back to the diner. When they were about half a mile away Conroy's right hand left the pillion seat and reached round to the sergeant's crotch. It stayed there: the policeman widened his thighs and shunted his pelvis forward to the invading hand. When they were nearing the diner Conroy squeezed. Hard. Sarge just surrendered to it, slowing their speed so that Conroy could have more time to dish out the CBT. Conroy saw his man's helmeted head drop in pain, and grinned. When they pulled in Conroy climbed off. He raised his visor and said `Gonna have you one day Sergeant. You're built for it, and you're gonna take it` He walked over to his bike, climbed on and started it up. The two men looked at each other. Conroy made a quick jacking gesture with his right hand, and rode off
ReplyDeletethree nights later Sarge rode over to Conroy's scrap metal yard - commando, douched and greased