Streets: Want Your Dick Sucked?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about a simple decoy operation in which an arrest is made and the politicians and news media make it into something it is. Blunt, profane language and violent scenes. There is also sexually explicit language. This story reflects the life in the streets of the typical Street Cop.

Submitted: March 23, 2016

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Submitted: March 23, 2016



It is 10 pm on a sweaty spring Sunday night in the Lechuga Valley.  Antonio Hien Giovanni, Junior, son of Huyen thi Pho and Antonio Giovanni, Senior, stands in front of a Riverside Park Youth Baseball League man’s room urinal.  He is nervous.  This is the first time he has done this.  His buddies all said, “It’s easy.  Stand there like you’re playing with your zipper and when guys walk in, look at them, smile and say ‘Howdy,’ like a cowboy.You know.”  Then they’d laugh and say things like, “Hey, we’ve all done it.  Piece of cake.  Don’t forget, love is where you find it.”

A large, muscular, athletic looking man in his twenties walks in and looks at him.  Hien is game to try anything, but this guy is big and looks very strong.He looks over his shoulder at the man and smiles, “Howdy.”  He closes his eyes briefly, contemplating possible events, “Good lord, this guy is big.”

Lieutenant Striker Gunn, United States Navy, is a United States Navy SEAL, the epitome of a patriotic American hero.  A highly respected, highly disciplined commando, highly skilled in the combat arts of killing, he wears the title “Hero” with pride and dignity.  He is an exceptional specimen of physical fitness and enjoys looking at himself in the mirror.  He has a special workout room in his home that is equipped with full length mirrors on all sides.  He likes to work out naked and watch the sweat roll off his muscular body. 

He has mirrors on the ceiling above his bed and four sides of the bed as well.  He enjoys watching himself and his sweaty sex partners straining and puffing with beads of sweat streaming off their bodies.  Striker has no preference for men or women, each has his or her special and unique merits, but tonight, after three weeks of ball busting desert warfare training, he wants a man.  He wants to feel that man large and hard and hot inside him.  He wants to feel him orgasm in his rectum and mouth and he wants to taste the spurting semen and slosh it around his mouth and tongue before swallowing.

Hien is a short man, but athletically built.  Striker has never had an Asian man but he understands they have large penises.  He has seen photos of dead Viet Cong, devoid of clothing, with seemingly large erections.

He walks up behind Hien, still standing at the urinal, leans close, breaths deep the aroma of the urinal, and in his sexiest voice, “Want your dick sucked?”

Hien feels his body heat and smells his cologne as he leans close.  When Striker speaks to him, Hien smells carne asada and beer.

“Where do you want to go to do it?”

“Right here, man.  I’ll suck your dick so hard, your forehead will cave in.”  He kneels and works at pulling down Hien’s zipper.

Hien speaks loudly.  “That works for me.”  He grabs Strikers fingers and tries to slow them down, he is nervous.  Now, much more loudly, “That works for me.”

“Great.  Let me get your dick out.”

“Wait just a minute, this is my first time.  That works for me.”

“A virgin.  Oh man, this is your lucky night.”  Striker is wrestling Hien’s fingers away from the zipper.  “Have I got a thrill for you.”

Officers Bob Lopez and Emiliano Estrada are parked about fifty feet away from the men’s room.  They can hear Hien saying “That works for me,” over and over.  That is the bust signal.  It means that the suspect has clearly stated that he wants to have sex in a public place—the public urinal.  They hear the stress in Hien’s voice and let him repeat the phrase before they get out of their unmarked police car, giggling, and walk toward the men’s room.  Once outside the car, they can’t hear the conversation between Striker and Hien because the receiver and recorder are in the car, but they can hear Hien yelling.

The headlights of the other cover units converge on the arrest site.

Inside the men’s room, Hien’s penis has shrunk and retracted into his abdominal cavity.  Striker has his fingers inside Hien’s pants and is trying to coax it out.  Hien reaches inside his shirt and shows Striker his badge.  “Halt.  Police Officer.”

Striker looks at the badge and smiles largely, “Police need love, too.”  He is not going to let Hien back out.  He knows that deep down inside, Hien really and truly wants “it.”

Hien tries to jerk away but he is blocked by the splash guards on either side of the urinal.  “No.  Fuck no.  I’m a police officer and you are under arrest.”

Striker sees Bob and Emiliano enter the men’s room and realizes that things are not as they once appeared.  He charges the opening between the two officers but not before Hien hooks an arm around his neck.  Lopez and Estrada are no match for the charging, 220 pound former All American college fullback, and they are knocked asunder.  Emiliano manages to grab and ankle, wrap himself around the suspect’s calf and is dragged outside.

Striker straight arms officers arriving at the scene and literally runs over one.  Estrada loses his grip but Hien, with one arm looped under each armpit trying to get each hand locked behind his head in a hammer lock, is still on his back,.

Striker heads toward the river, still carrying Hien on his back.  He is a United States Navy SEAL.  The water is his friend.  If he can make it to the river, he can escape.Sergeant Tommy O’Brien enters the parking lot in his marked police car with both lights and siren activated.  He pulls directly in front of Striker, intending to cut him off, and goes into a sideways skid.

The police car and Striker collide and Hien is launched over the hood of the car, face first onto the gravel parking lot.  Striker, momentarily knocked breathless from the impact, is still trying to flee.  O’Brien trips him and rides him to the ground, where he wrestles one very muscular arm behind Strikers back and hopes the other officers get to him in time to help.

Rossendo Garcia, 300 pound plus uniformed street cop, slides his police car sideways to a stop a few feet from O’Brien and Striker.  He goes down on one knee in Striker’s muscular back and the struggle is over.  He wrenches Striker’s free arm from under his body, scraping layers of skin off in the process and handcuffs him behind his back.  Lifting Striker to his feet, he dusts him off and says, “Good fight.  It’s over now.”  Looking Striker directly in the eye, he shakes his head affirmatively as he says this.

Striker, trying to catch his breath and in pain from the collision, nods his head and says “Okay.”

At the ER, Striker is treated for bruises and possibly fractured ribs.  Hien takes 3 stitches from his face first dive into the gravel parking lot.  Sergeant O’Brien’s knees are scraped and his uniform is ruined.  Estrada and Lopez are both experiencing minor muscle pains, minor scrapes and scratches, but are otherwise okay.

After being examined by the ER doctor, Lieutenant Striker Gunn, USN, is transported and booked into the county jail where he is immediately released into the custody of his team members by direction of Superior Court Judge Leonard Chesterfield, locally more famously known as “Let’em Loose Leonard,” the Judge who can see the good in any felon regardless of the viciousness or cruelty of his or her offence, and husband of Lechugaville City Councilwoman Beatrice Chesterfield.

A week after the arrest at the ball park, the Lieutenant Striker Gunn, United States Naval Officer, is arraigned in Municipal Court, Lechuga County, California.  These are normally staid affairs with little or no dramatics.  The judge reads the charges and asks the accused if he or she understands them and then asks how he or she will plead.  If he or she doesn’t have an attorney, one may be appointed for him.  Then a date for trial is set.  In California, the accused doesn’t have to be present if he is represented by and attorney.If he is present, he doesn’t have to speak at all.  In those cases, the judge will note that the accused declined comment and will direct a plea of not guilty.  Even though it accomplishes nothing, if the accused is present, his attorney may make gratuitous comments about the frivolous accusations and complete pure-as-driven-snow innocence of the client.  The judge will allow this for a few seconds, interrupt the attorney, set a date for a “readiness” hearing, hit his gavel once, and say “next.”

But the case of Lieutenant Striker Gunn is different.

Lieutenant Gunn has an attorney.  Also present, are representatives from each of the cable news channels as well as the national broadcast news agencies.  There are also several print media reporters in the audience.

The attorney begins his representation facing the observers and press representatives, his back to the judge.  Lieutenant Gunn, hapless innocent, stands next to him, his back to the judge, shoulders slumped and rounded, head down, a proud American Hero now shamed by false arrest.  The courtroom is filled with naval officers and chiefs all decked out in crisply creased summer whites festooned with badges and ribbons and stripes of various and sundry significance.  All present to give moral support to their unjustly accused brother hero in the face of outrageous police persecution.

The attorney has a powerful voice and his plea for justice reaches near and far in the small courtroom and beyond to the opposite side of the hallway.  He lifts his arms as if beseeching the all mighty himself for relief.

“Your Honor, this is an unimaginable and despicable travesty of justice and I move that these charges be dismissed immediately.”  His voice comes down hard on “Immediately” and he shakes his head savagely.  His audience, heads bob up and down energetically in a manner not unlike a dutifully worshipful congregation, murmurs loudly in agreement.

His Honor looks befuddled says, “Turn around.”

The attorney continues addressing the crowd.

The Judge motions to the bailiff to turn the attorney and Striker around.

They turn around and the attorney starts to address the judge.

The judge holds up his palm.  “What case are you here for?”

The attorney steps toward the bench, inhales deeply, throws his head back and pushes his chest out, “Your Honor, this case…”

Once again, the judge motions for him to stop.  He looks at Striker and asks, “What is your name, sir?”

"Lieutenant Striker Gunn, sir.”

The judge examines a piece of paper on the bench.  “Here you are.  How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?”

“I object your honor, I am this man’s attorney, and your questions should be addressed to…”

The judge whacks the bench with his gavel, his eyes narrow and his face grows taunt, “What’s your name?”

“Pecksniffian Pettifogger the Third, Esquire, but I go by Peck your honor.”

“Don’t interrupt me again.”

He and the attorney glare at each other for what seems like a lifetime to Striker, and then the judge says, “I’m directing a plea of ‘not guilty.’  Do you want to change it?”

“No, sir.”


The case of People versus Striker Gunn, Lieutenant, United States Navy generates much revenue for the local and regional print media and a great deal of advertising sales for most mass media and especially the conservative internet specialty news sites.  The cable news media audience is treated to long, indignant soliloquies on the 6 o’clock news about police misconduct and how grateful the speaker is for our brave and courageous Americans in uniform.  Those talking heads went on to quote anonymous sources in positions of knowledge about patriotic men and women who suffered from PTSD and became police officers and were endangering the public every day in uniform.  Locally, editorials and contributing authors refused to blame individual police officers who legitimately needed help but were less merciful on the Chiefs who failed those officers and the public.

Most avoid specifically accusing any of the involved police of misconduct or claim outright that Striker Gunn is innocent.  Some focus on matters of proof and claim that a trial will be nothing more than a costly and futile exercise.  They argue that in the final analysis, these cases always boil down to “He said, He said,” and who the jury chooses to believe.

So too, there are social commentaries lamenting the fact that police all over America target gay males for arrest and abuse.  There are anonymous commentaries by victims of police harassment offering personal testimony as to how they were innocently loitering in the men’s room in the park, under the pier, or on the beach, when they were caught up by unprovoked police pogroms.

As is her way, City Councilwoman Beatrice, portly, curvaceous, beach ball shaped woman, dressed in a dapper charcoal gray business suit, is interviewed on the front steps of City Hall.  She is concerned for the safety of the residents of and visitors to this small burg on the New River.  She is very concerned for the safety and liberties of homosexuals.  She laments the poor state of police behavior in Lechugaville and blames everything on the Chief of Police.  Striking a proud and noble pose, she demands to know how long the public must survive such egregious police malpractice and what steps the Chief of Police is taking to bring these officers to justice. 

An aide steps to her side and whispers in her ear.  She looks confused.  He whispers again.  She returns to the microphone, “I must apologize.  I have misspoken and I am deeply embarrassed.  I just now said “homosexuals,” I meant “gay people, male and female.”

She says “Thank you, “and turns to leave.  The aide whispers to her again.  She is flustered and shows.  Back to microphone, looking at the aide, “Gay people or gay men and women.”  He shrugs, she says, “Gay Americans?”  He looks terrified and holds up his hand to stop. 

She does and the public announcement is over.

Later that evening, talk show hosts and commentators across America observe that Councilwoman Chesterfield’s confusion is indicative of the rot in America’s soul and that she should be forgiven her faux pas. 

That evening, after reading several of the newspaper articles on the incident and watching a video of Beatrice’s news briefing, the Chief goes to the station with the Deputy Chief and speaks with Officer Lopez and Sergeant O’Brien.

“How are the officers?”

O’Brien answers, “Okay.  Hien has stitches in his face.  He might end up looking like a pirate, but otherwise, nothing serious.”

“Why are we conducting a decoy detail at an unoccupied youth league ball parks on a dark Sunday night?”

Sergeant O’Brien and Officer Lopez look at each other and back to the Chief.  O’Brien speaks, “Monday was the start of the Youth Baseball League Spring Season.  We’ve done this every year for the past three or four to let folks know that they can’t use those bathrooms for those activities anymore.”

Lopez adds, “Some of these guys are oblivious to crowds and a few years ago they were soliciting the people who were there to watch the games.  We had a few 415’s (editor’s note:  public disturbances).  The number of arrests has gone down each year.”

O’Brien, “The street team has been out there three nights this year, and this is the only arrest so far.  We’re probably going to call it quits.  There isn’t any reason to continue.”

The Chief nods, “Good job.  Tell the men I said that, Sergeant O’Brien.”  He looks at the Deputy Chief, “anything else?” 


“Well then, I’m going to watch my granddaughter’s softball game.  Good night gentlemen.”

© Copyright 2018 Eddie C Morton. All rights reserved.

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