By ty dehner

With his head bobbing to the beat of the music coming from the speakers in his SUV, Austin Dougherty’s mind was not focused on the road passing under the tires of his Carmine Red Porsche Cayenne. Sitting in the driver’s seat wearing black Adidas pants with the triple white stripes down the legs, his right foot, wearing white Stan Smith shoes, was hovering over the gas pedal in case he had to quickly get his machine out of cruise control. Austin was in a black Adidas jacket wearing a white high performance t-shirt under, the shirt having the logo of the major league football team he plays for. The quarterback kept his tight leather gloved left hand firmly gripping the top of the steering wheel.

Heading east through Banning, California, on Interstate 10, the lights of all the fast food establishments on the side of the highway kept the night from being fully dark as the headlights on his Porche illuminated the cracks in this heavily used section of the interstate. The cruise control was set at eighty since Austin has several freeway lanes as the concrete ribbon cuts through the pass between San Gorgonio Mountain on the north and Mount San Jacinto to the south.

The sun had set a few hours ago, as it is January in Riverside County. The air was mild for winter, as the sound of the concrete pads ran under the vehicle, sometimes almost matching the music rhythm that helped Austin forget today’s final team meeting ending the season.

The six-three, 245-pound career player was running through moments of their last game, which took them out of the playoffs. It was an average season, the quarterback reflecting on the mistakes he made over the season, promising to do better for the new season coming in the Summer.

Cutting short his visiting time after the meeting, Austin just wanted to get home, eat food prepared by his chef, and crash into his bed watching some mindless streaming television. He liked going to his house in Palm Springs when he had a few days off; now, the quarterback can stay as long as he wants.

After signing with the San Diego Sailors two years ago with the largest contract of his career, Austin decided he wanted some land away from the ocean. While he could afford the beachfront, and his first house was in Windansea Beach, just north of San Diego, which overlooks the Pacific Ocean, Austin wanted something away from the beach that was often crowded on weekends and holidays.

After searching for many weeks, the football pro discovered his dream home in desert heaven. Austin laughed after signing the paperwork as he was a gay football player living in a town that is heavily gay. He wondered if anyone might think it was a hint as to his sexuality since Austin only shared his sexuality with a select few friends and family.

The sport of professional football had come a long way, but it was still a challenge to be out and proud in the league. At times, Austin was disappointed in himself for keeping it all a secret, and any relationship always ended because the man he was involved with wanted to be open. Austin couldn’t allow himself to be that free.

As his thoughts stray, Austin always returns to the last game, recollecting the major screw-ups that occurred, taking them out of the playoffs. With no focus on the music or his driving on the interstate at high speed, Austin took a few moments before noticing the flashing red and blue lights coming up behind him. As the patrol motorcycle pulled closer, its siren broke through the heavy beat of the music that filled Austin’s Porsche.

The footballer checks his mirror several times as the siren reaches a higher sound level than The Weekend singing. Austin sighed that he didn’t want to deal with a pullover. Looking down at his speedometer, the quarterback sees that he runs eighty, usually not enough to get pulled over. Looking back in the mirror, Austin talks to himself as the light from the mirror reflects back on to the top half of his face.

“Fuck man, give me a break!”

Slamming his gloved hand on the steering wheel, Austin taps the brake to stop the cruise control as the vehicle starts to slow down. Austin looks for a place to pull over safely, deciding to take the next exit, one thousand feet ahead. The law enforcers’ bike’s siren goes silent, but the flashing lights continue as the cop follows close to the red sports SUV.

Changing lanes with his amber blinker, Austin moves to the freeway’s right, noticing the offramp to Main Street just past the Morongo Casino. Taking the exit, Austin turns left at the stop sign, then goes a short distance on Main Street, where he pulls his vehicle to the shoulder, parking on the side of the street where the Cabazon Dinosaurs are lit up in the distance.  The motorcycle patrol officer follows the actions of the Porsche, coming to a halt behind Austin’s vehicle.

Austin turns off the engine, leaving his foot on the brake and lowering his side window. The dry desert air slides into the Porsche, mixing with the leather scent from Austin’s seat, warmed by his body.

Looking into the rearview mirror, Austin watches the motorcycle cop stop behind him, parking his Honda so the headlight illuminates the Porsche. Dismounting his bike, the gravel along the road edge crackles as the motorcycle officer’s tall, black, polished Dehner boots progress.

Lit in red from the brake lights. A slight smile grows on the quarterback’s face as he sees that he has been pulled over by a motor cop wearing a dark blue uniform and not the tan California Highway Patrol he expected.

Believing that he has been nabbed by Riverside County Sheriff, Austin knows he will be asked for his identification. Austin reaches for his insurance and registration from the visor above while pulling out his wallet from the front right pocket of his track pants to retrieve his license. As Austin holds his plastic ID, he can hear the crunch of the motor cop’s Bal-Laced Patrol boots on the gravel.

“Good evening, Sir.” the motorcycle officer states in a sober tone, his voice being one of a man in his early thirties, as he shines his small flashlight into the open window, briefly flashing the face of the quarterback sitting at the steering wheel, blinding Austin.

“Hello, officer, sir,” responds Austin, wanting to remain respectful. The quarterback’s voice is slightly deeper than the motor patrol’s but with an anxious twist.

“I realize I was going over the speed limit, but my mind was wandering. It’s been a long day today.” Austin is testing the waters to see if this cop knows he plays for the Sailors football team. As he speaks, Austin tries to get a look at the cop’s face, but he remains blinded by the flashlight.

Unmoved by Austin’s response, the motor cop keeps his full-face helmet on as Austin is briefly silent as he awaits what actions the cop will ask for. One thing that Austin does notice is that the uniform of this cop is that of the Palm Springs Police Department, Austin thinks that this guy is out of his district. Behind the helmet faceplate, the cop asks for the standard ID and paperwork from the speeder in his fancy foreign SUV.

“You must be aware of your surroundings when piloting your vehicle, sir. I’ll return shortly; please stay here.”

The motor cop makes his way back to his Honda ST1300. Austin watches in his rear view mirror as the lawman wears his uniform just right, his navy blue breeches with white strip down the outside legs that tuck into the tops of his black leather Dehners mold this cop’s ass into smooth round mounds that Austin dreams of his face being smothered by.

The quarterback is educated in uniform brands this cop wears. Austin has a fetish for uniforms, especially those worn by law enforcement. Since the cop has stepped away, Austin reaches down to stretch out his Adidas sweats so his hardening cock has room to grow.

With his dick free to expand, the cop’s flashlight shines into the Porsche as Austin returns his attention to why he is parked on the side of the road. Hearing the cop’s boots on the gravel. Austin turns to see the helmeted officer holding on to the paperwork.

“I need you to step out of your vehicle, sir.”

This request surprises the football player, “Pardon me?”

“Sir, please step out of your vehicle now.” There was an emphasis on the word now as Austin could see the cop was starting to position himself in a firmer stance, the cop’s right hand slowly being positioned above his weapon.

Lifting his hands, Austin shows that he will comply, so the quarterback opens his door and cautiously slides out of his vehicle, Austin’s all white shoes stepping on the gravel and raising his hands.

As Austin exits, traffic on the road goes by with the drivers checking out what is happening as they lower their speed as they pass.

“Stand and face your vehicle, sir.” orders the Motor.

Austin follows the order, facing the side of his SUV. Just as he is lifting his hands, the officer slams his body onto Austin, shoving him against the Porsche as Austin releases a grunt. “What the fuck!”

Quickly, the motorcycle cop pulls out his cuffs from his heavy black utility vest, which is also his bullet protection, securing the wrists of the vehicle driver. Breathing heavily, Austin slides a bit on the smooth surface of his SUV.

After being cuffed, the officer’s gloved hand grabs Austin’s shoulder, spinning the football player around so they are standing face to face. Austin stared into his own reflection off the cop’s helmet shield.

As the motor officer lifts the face portion of his full-face modular helmet, the cop’s eyes connect with Austin’s green eyes, indicating the power position the cop currently maintains.

Looking into the lawman’s deep brown eyes, Austin can see the caramel skin of the officer, a black well-trimmed goatee surrounding some very sexy lips, and the helmet covering what looks like short, cropped hair on the officer’s head.

There is a moment of silence as both these men connect, and their eyes dance. That connection is brief as the officer leans in, planting his lips firmly on Austin’s. The sweet taste of those lips makes Austin want to slide his tongue between those cop lips. But the cop teases his cuffed driver, quickly releasing his embrace.

“You’re going to follow me, and we’ll discuss how you can avoid a heavy fine and ticket.” The cop takes his gloved fingers, gently lifting Austin’s chin. “You understand, civilian?”

“Yes, Sir,” Austin responds quietly, not wanting to break the mood of this powerful, commanding moment. He shows that he is very interested in the cop, being respectful and unsure what the fuck is happening this night on the side of the ten freeway.

Roughly spinning his captive around, slamming his chest against the German-made vehicle, the cop removes the cuffs. Getting the steel off his wrist, Austin rubs them as he brings back some blood to his gloved hands. As Austin looks at the cop, he sees the officer walking back to his Honda.

Being speechless, Austin climbs into the driver’s seat, shuts the door and starts his Porsche, pulling on his seat belt. The deep rumble of the cops’ motorcycle rides by Austin’s open window in a flash. The motor turns onto a dark road that leads toward the foothills. The footballer steps on the gas, causing Austin’s vehicle to spit out gravel as the tires take grip.

The narrow road is mostly filled with potholes, making Austin glad he has a four-wheel drive. Not wanting to lose sight of the cop, Austin keeps at a distance so that his headlights never leave the cop on the moonless night. After yet another turn leads Austin a few miles from the freeway, the cop points to his right, his gloved hand outstretched. Austin turns his Porsche to the right, where a water tank sits where the mountains meet the desert floor. Realizing this is the end of the road, Austin puts his vehicle into park, turning off the engine.

The cop rides forward a short distance, then performs a U-turn so that his headline shines directly at the driver’s side of Austin’s SUV. Dismounting his bike, the cop motions with his gloved hand for Austin to exit his vehicle.

As Austin climbs out of his SUV, the cop approaches, his right hand laying upon his Smith & Wesson M&P40. Austin steps into the dirt, dust building on those fancy white Adidas shoes. The quarterback moves toward the cop after shutting his vehicle door.

After a few steps by both, they meet and take each other into the other’s arms, hugging, their lips locking. Austin can feel the heavy uniform and gear that the cop wears against his light t-shirt and workout pants of nylon. Austin keeps his groin pressed into the cop, knowing his trackies will tent once he steps away.

As the two men work up a sweat in the open air of this secluded rural area, their breathing increases. Slowly, the cop pulls his lips away from Austin’s, whispering in the football player’s ear, “You are so fucking hot.”

Lifting his head, Austin moans a little as he feels the heavy vest the cop wears in his hands as he strokes up and down the back. “I am wearing my workout clothes just for you.”

“Damn, when you smell like sweat, you turn me on even more. Thinking of all those fucking football players hitting you, sweating on you.”

Their lips meet again as the tall black leather boots the cop wears start to get dusty as they scramble around in the glow of their headlights.

“You going to arrest me tonight?” Austin looks at the name badge on the motor, “Officer Guerrero?”

There is a slight laugh from the cop, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I felt how hard your cock was getting when I cuffed you.”

Austin’s face blushes as the deep-seated kink that Austin enjoys has become an important part of his life. Especially when it comes to encounters with law enforcement.

With their lips locked, Officer Cody Guerrero starts to take extra control of their lust for each other. Cody gently maneuvers Austin towards his motorcycle. Not caring about what will happen to him, Austin is getting into the cool touch of the cop’s heavy leather riding gloves on his bare skin as Cody strokes under the t-shirt, occasionally sliding his hand down the front of Austin’s pants.

With their feet scuffing in the dirt, Cody guides Austin to his motorcycle, his gloved hands cupping the football player’s manhood to keep him under his tight control. There is moaning from Austin’s lips as he feels the squeeze from the cop.

As Cody guides Austin to the motor cop’s Honda, the cop quickly spins the quarterback around to face the bike. Taking in his situation, Austin has a moment to understand what will happen, with a slight grin on his face.

Cody takes hold of Austin’s shoulder, applying pressure to lower Austin’s body onto the seat of the powerful cop motorcycle.

“Fuck.” quietly comes from Austin’s lips as he can’t believe the cop is going to be so open in his sexual use of this professional football player.

As Austin settles on the leather seat of the Honda, his stomach presses against it. Cody grabs the waist of Austin’s Adidas workout pants with the team logo, pulling them down to his knees and grabbing the snug Under Armor briefs that Austin wears. Austin’s eyes look around the darkness before him as he anticipates the filling of his hole by this cop.

Cody positioned his uniformed body at the ass of the football player as he unzipped his breeches. Working his cock out of his pants with his gloved hand, Cody was hard, and his seven inches were dripping, ready to fill the football quarterback with his seed.

Cody leans upon the back of the quarterback, whispering something into Austin’s ear. Austin raised his right hand to take hold of the cop’s hand, and they gripped them tightly. As they held this grip, Cody placed his cop cock at the opening of his football captive’s ass.

This is an excerpt from ty dehner’s book Playbook: Possession, available on Amazon

The author’s official website is here.