Raspberry Vodka

Nick pulled his panties on and smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror. His lips--his pretty mouth--were painted an off shade of gloss pink. His body was completely shaved. He thought he looked terrific.

Walking barefoot out to the kitchen Nick removed the bottle of raspberry vodka from the freezer and poured himself a quarter glass. He drank. It was ultra-cold going down. He smiled.

The oven clock read 2:46. Fourteen minutes to go. Taking his drink with him, Nick walked to his front door and looked out the lights into the drive. It was empty. 13 minutes to go, according to the clock. He waited. He paced, the time seeming to stand still. He poured himself a shot's worth of vodka.

Don't overdo it, Nick told himself. You want to be relaxed, at ease when he arrives, but not high. Not over the limit. Nick took a deep breath and let it out. Then another.

He paced.

Three o'clock finally arrived. Nick stood at the door lights looking out. Nothing. Not yet.

3:05 came and went. Fuck it. Nick poured himself more vodka.

He felt empty. Completely empty inside. He'd had a bagel for breakfast, around nine, but that was it. A little while ago he'd douched himself--twice. Douched himself then, while rinsing off in the shower, opened himself up with his jelly dildo. Now the vodka--the alcohol--seemed to flow right through him. He was feeling tipsy. A little bit. He was getting a nice high on.

3:10. 3:11. Then at 3:12 the big two-color SUV wheeled into his driveway. Nick's heart leapt. The cop wasn't going to be a no-show. All that work Nick had done--in front of the mirror, on the toilet, in the shower--would not have been in vain.

Nevertheless, Nick didn't want to appear to be over eager. So he waited until the cop rang the doorbell--waited a few seconds after that--to discreetly open the door, remaining, all but his face, behind it. Nick smiled. "Hey there," he said.

"Sorry I'm late," said the cop, entering Nick's house. "Departmental meeting ran long."

"That's OK," Nick insisted. "Can I get you a drink or...?" Or, are you technically still on duty?

They were standing in Nick's vestibule. And the cop, seemingly suddenly transfixed, was staring at Nick. At his body. Looking it up and down. He reached a hand out--put it on Nick's bare side. "You look...great!" the word abruptly exploding from him. Then another: "Hot!"

"Thanks," Nick blushed.

"No, I'm fine, fine," he said about the drink.

"Mind if I get myself one?" A fourth "one" as it were.

"Not at all. Suit yourself," said the cop.

When Nick turned from the freezer the cop was removing his heavily ladened gun belt. He set it, coiled, on the counter end to his left. "Here OK?"

"Sure. Fine," Nick agreed. This is a good sign, he thought, pouring more vodka into a fresh glass. And taking the old one to the sink. It's as if he'd just lowered his pants.

The cop, meanwhile, had slid to his right onto the seat of a wooden barstool. Now he could sit and look at Nick--watch and observe him. He pointed a thickish index finger. "Tell me something. How do you...choose those?"

This led Nick to look down at himself. At what the cop was looking, pointing at. "These?" he giggled, a little drunkenly. "I don't," Nick claimed. "I just reach into my drawer and put on whatever comes to hand."

"Cute!" the cop declared.

"I wanted to wear...something," Nick said.

"They fit you great. Love the look."

"I'm glad," Nick smiled. "I wore them just for you," contradicting, perhaps, what he'd just claimed seconds before.

"So anything else going on since...the robbery?"

Nick shook his head. "No. No, sir. Any leads?" he asked.

"Oh, you'll have to talk to the detective about that," said the cop, rocking side to side on the stool. "Have you talked to him?"

"Her," Nick corrected. "Left a voicemail. Haven't heard back yet."

"Well stay on her," the cop advised. Adding, "About that."

The conversation hit a brief lull before Nick asked, hopefully, "So how long can you stay?"

"Depends. An hour. Half hour. Five," he laughed, "minutes."

"Oh."

"So all those panties on the floor upstairs...," the cop digressed, "I mean they were on the floor the other day. They're...yours?"

"Yes," Nick nodded.

"And the bras and the--"

"Yes," Nick abruptly replied.

"Why aren't you wearing a bra today?"

"For you?" Nick blinked. Fact is, he'd thought about wearing one but decided against it. Too...out there. Outré. "I...can...I can go upstairs and put one on."

The cop laughed. "No. Not necessary. Just checking. Wondering."

Nick forced a smile. "I thought it was pretty amazing the other day when you told me...told me you liked, um, crossdressers. After I--"

"I do."

"And then whispered to me, like, upstairs...maybe you could come back some day."

The cop said nothing. So Nick exulted, "And now here you are!"

"Here I am," the cop deadpanned. He began to wrestle free the top button of his shirt. "Mind if I...? It's a little warm in here."

"No, I..." Nick switched gears: "I can turn the AC down if you want..."

The cop stopped with the second button. He was wearing a white tee underneath. "These fucking black uniforms," he said.

Nick headed for the thermostat. Which was upstairs. "I'll go turn down the--"

The cop snagged Nick by the bare waist. "No! It's OK. I like it," he grinned, "hot."

The cop was a big man, with big hands, thick fingers. He turned Nick 90 degrees. Squeezed his buttocks in the panties. "On the other hand," he said, "if you wanna go upstairs..."

The cop was bigger than Nick's dildo. Bigger than anything he could ever remember. It was tough sledding at first--to the point that Nick began to wonder--worry--his asshole was being torn. Ripped. He gritted his teeth. Decided to grin and bear it.

Then it got easier, the fucking. And easier. And the cop's big cock, while entering him, remained a big load, but it was manageable now. Pleasurable even.

"You moan a lot little girl," the cop said at one point.

"I can...shut up," a grimacing Nick offered.

"No. It's OK."

And the cop fucked him and fucked. His stamina in exact proportion to his size. In fact, it went on so long that Nick began to glance over now and then at this bedside clock. It was coming up now on 4:15.

"I won't cum in you," the cop announced.

"No, I...it's OK. Go ahead."

But just like that the cop had pulled out and now his sperm was raining down on Nick's lower backside, like they were shooting a porn flick and this was the cumshot.

The rain seemed to last a long time--a big load--and afterwards the cop said, sounding a bit lost, "Now what do I do?"

"Get...a washcloth? Or a towel? From the...?"

Rather than dropping it on Nick's back the cop, rather meekly, merely handed it to him with a "Here." Meanwhile the cop's plentiful cum was beginning to run down his hips, his sides.

"You came a lot," Nick surmised, after rolling over into the sitting position, wet towel in hand.

"I've been saving it up. For you," claimed the cop, who was beginning to get dressed.

This declaration brought a smile to Nick's face. A big one. "Well I'm glad you did," he declared. "You don't have to leave already do you?"

"Get ready to leave," was all he said. Or rather, how he put it.

Nick, the dried cum still on his backside, said, "I'll fix you a drink." And reluctantly, to Nick's pleasure, the cop replied, "OK. One for the road."

Nick pulled his panties on and headed downstairs. Now that the cop's big cock was out of him he was getting a hard on. And he was glad to have something, however bikini-minimal, to cover it.

The cop was pulling on his gun belt when Nick brought the glass of vodka over. A short one. Two clear shots.

When the cop tasted it he winced. "What the fuck...?"

"Oh. It's raspberry."

The cop set the glass down and pushed it away. "No thanks. All yours."

The cop had a gold band sunken into the flesh of his right ring finger. He pointed with another. "We should've done something about that when we were upstairs."

Nick looked down at himself again. At his slanting erection in the colorful panty.

"Oh. No, it's--"

"You didn't get like that when I was fucking you did you?"

"No, I...It's...Don't worry about it," Nick insisted.

"I would've stroked you while I was fucking you..."

Nick started to tell him it was all after the fact--this. But he held off...

Instead he said to his new friend, "So when can you come back?"

And the cop ran a hand through his full head of grey-flecked hair and said, "Dunno. Next week? Week after? I'll let you know."

"Yes, do," Nick eagerly smiled, while keeping his distance.

"Gotta go."

"Yeah."

"Sexy panties?"

Nick was initially at a loss. What do I say? "Yes," finally.

"And a bra. And stockings."

Nick's heart made an uptick...even before his lover gave his erection a squeeze in the silky microfiber covering, but not hiding it. "Yes! Sure!"

The cop looked back. "And if anybody ever asks...I was here doing a follow up on the robbery. Right?"

"Of course."

Nick watched his lover drive away. He then went back in his kitchen and thought about masturbating into the glass in the sink. But no, he needed a shower. Could do that in the shower. He'd ride out the "down" period until mid-evening then text the cop on how great it was. How great he'd been...

Nick then spied the glass the cop had pushed away. Still filled with the raspberry vodka he'd rejected.

Nick swallowed it down. The future was looking bright.