All Cops Need Love

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Osvaldo Cruz Square is always busy. On a Sunday afternoon it is nearly impossible to walk here. I am now walking between the bustling, iconic Paulista Avenue and the discreet street where Pátio Paulista Mall is. I turn to the modern façade, which contrasts with its arched tall doors, like a train station, and enter. Some gorgeous, slender girls greet me at the entrance. They are so perfectly dressed and heavily plastered with makeup, that I feel like I am in an inverted catwalk—I am riding on the red carpet while they watch the customers entering. I don’t know how they can hold their plastic smiles for so long. I still smile back at them sheepishly. What a stupid system of retailing! If they only knew my true intention in coming here, they’d turn their backs on me.

If I’m lucky, Noel is waiting for me. I just need to rush to the toilet, because I really don’t like making others wait. Of course Noel is not his real name. Cops never give away their real names to strangers; much less when they meet in the toilets.

This time I take the escalator and tap my finger on the rubber railing, which feels warm and soft. I look at the endless lines of stores but do not pay attention to them. All I can see is this big hairy man in front of me, ready to be grabbed, kissed, sucked, and fucked. The big cop Noel is the real deal!

The moment I reach the second floor, I feel confused and lost. What now? This place is not the same! Geez, I think I should have taken the elevator, like the last time. I look around and find the elevator at the distance.

“Excuse me, sir. Is there a toilet around here?” I ask an older man. He is struggling with his cane and holding a small dog with the pink leash dangling loosely. Both stare at me.

“Yes, young man. There’s one on this floor, see that sign over there?” The three of us look at the sign.

“Oh, thanks, sir.” The stupid sign is tiny and almost hidden away. Anyway, the narrow hall is hard to spot. It’s no wonder Noel picked this place.

In the toilet I see nobody; except, of course, for some people in the cubicles already fucking. I find one empty and enter. I hear some people moaning gently beside my cubicle. I feel hot and wish Noel were here.

Geez! I get tired of waiting and yawn. I realize I’ve been here for over forty-five minutes! I wish cops

off-duty would be more punctual!

I check my watch again, just to make sure I’ve been such an idiot to wait for that long in a public john for his date, I mean, his fuck-buddy. I leave the cubicle and slam the door hard. The people who have been fucking beside my cubicle stop. Then, they all start again. As I dry my hands, Noel appears. He smiles and points to the cubicle that I’ve just vacated.

Oh boy, even without his officer’s suit, he is imposing, masculine, and sexy. He is wearing a yellow Polo shirt, and I can’t help paying attention to his strong chest and protruding tits. His arms are hairy and strong. I can never tire of watching his belly and strong back. His rear end is a sight to behold. I lust at the sight of his small navy-blue cotton shorts, which press and squeeze hard his solid large buttocks. My knees nearly give way as I inspect this cop further down. His hairy muscular tanned thighs make me want to worship this earthly idol! He’s also wearing those open leather shoes without socks.

He opens the door for me and I enter. He comes after me, closes the door, and locks it. He leans his solid back against the door, as if to hold it against the world. We are at last safe in our bunker. He spreads his legs and runs his large fat hairy hand over his bulge. He smiles as I take action. In no time I free his long fat cock from his briefs. I love the musky smell! He knows I am his bitch now. He quietly moans and rubs his rock-hard cock against my head.

Try as I might, I always find it hard to accommodate his cock in my mouth. It probably has to do with my anxiety of wanting to take his cock all at once, added to the thrill of having sex with him here. Sucking cocks has never been hard for me. I try, I repeat, I try to fit his junk in my mouth and get my jaw worked out. The first time I gave him a blowjob, my jaw, lips, tongue, throat, and face got all worked out. Fuck, who doesn’t get apprehensive while fucking in a public toilet, all the while running the risk of being caught?

This time, I’m going to proceed with care. I take another deep breath and take his thick hard shaft and pull his foreskin back. Then I lick the head of his cock and wash it generously with my tongue. He breathes harder and does his utmost to remain as quiet as a mouse. I insert his cock inside my mouth. Slowly, I can almost accommodate everything in. Then, I feel his salty delicious taste–a real man’s taste.

As I suck, I massage his large low-hanging hairy purplish balls. They are heavy and filled with cum for me. His forest of pubic hair is long and smooth. I bet he’s using conditioner here, though they smell musky. I also massage his massive hairy istanbul travesti thighs. I wish he could moan loudly for me, because I love to hear a real man grunting and moaning with pleasure, just like any wild bear or lion!

As I continue with this lovely task, I sense him coming. He holds my head, spreads his legs, and breathes faster. I speed the movement of my tongue and feel ready for his sweet load. He breathes hard and covers his mouth to avoid a scandalous groan. I swallow as much cum as I can. Some of course runs down the sides of my mouth. I wipe them and continue swallowing as much as I can. I wipe his cock clean and pull the foreskin back and forth to get every single drop out. He pulls me to himself and kisses me. This is the sign meaning, thank you man! As I remain level to his chest, since he’s a much taller man, he grabs my hard cock and grins.

He turns around and lowers his shorts down to his knees. I smile and take from my bag a small bottle of lube. And, as I insert a finger inside him, he breathes harder and covers his mouth. I take out a condom and put it on. As I insert my cock in his private hole, he pants and, at times, holds his breath and releases it all at once. I enter his tight hole slowly. In no time, my cock is all the way inside of him. I feel my cock buried in his fleshy hairy buttocks and feel the tight warm grip, which drives me crazy. I simply love fucking hairy chubby guys.

As I am already all the way inside him, I do not waste time. I fuck his ass hard and thrust my cock back and forth, like a piston. I cum and continue fucking his ass hard. As I finish, I remain inside him, making him wait. Then I pull out slowly. He takes out the condom for me and cleans my cock with his big mouth.

When the coast is clear, we get off and wash our hands in the sink, dry, and smile to one another. He never looks at himself in the mirror. I do, for I love to see the look of satisfaction on my face. As I turn to look at him, he’s already gone. I smile and return to my cubicle, for I left my bag with a black T-shirt, a cap, and black jogger’s pants that I’d brought along. I get changed in a flash and try to pursue my cop in the mall. It’s not hard to spot a big man like him. I keep a safe distance between us. This time I’m determined to know more about this hot sexy undercover cop.

I mix with the crowd and follow him. He takes the escalator to the third floor. I’m lucky, because he is going to have lunch, and possible spend time there. He looks around, sits by a table, and waits. I do the same. Suddenly, as expected, someone comes to join him–a lady!

At first I think she must be his mother. Gosh, she’s with a five-year-old girl! Perhaps she could be his younger sister? I pay more attention to the lady. She’s short, chubby, middle-aged, with extremely long black wavy hair. She’s wearing a tasteless old-fashioned plaid, long, dark brown dress with padded shoulders. I thought no one used those ugly shoulder pads anymore! She has a large necklace with a gold crucifix dangling between her huge breasts. I notice her wearing those low-heeled dark pink shoes with a large marigold on each. Jesus! At first I thought they were sunflowers. Just then I realize this lady is actually pregnant, for she often rubs her own belly. They keep on arguing the whole time. As their argument heats up, the little girl hides behind her mother, pulling her dress, and exposing all the more her belly. I’m shocked at this scene! No wonder Noel was in such a hurry to leave the toilet!

Surely today I’ve seen enough, and I decide to leave. I feel a pit in my stomach. Men are suck jerks!

In spite of my disgust and anger, I stop to admire the beautiful water fountain. I always do. I listen to the soothing hypnotic sound and admire the clear water. I find myself holding an ice cream cone with the ball melting away. I wonder how it ended up in my hand. I dump it in the trash, and feel empty inside. I’ve been so stupid for wanting to find my prince charming at the toilets! Oh, God! How it hurts to wake up alone after having lost the illusion of finding happiness here.

On the following Sunday, I get up early, accessing some gay porn sites for bears, and checking his profile again: hairy, strong, 1,85 meter, 105 kg, single, discreet, sex only!

After my shower, I get ready for the mall. As I am about to leave my house, I remember the news about criminal gangs killing cops. I hold the doorknob and pause. No, everything will be all right with him. I rush down the flight of stairs, for I’m not patient to wait for the slow elevator to reach the fifth floor. I greet the doorman, taking the morning paper along with me, and go to the mall. Fortunately, it’s not far from my apartment building.

In the cubicle, I start reading the paper. I’m sure I’m the only one actually reading and getting some culture in this sort of place. I hear some people fucking next to my cubicle. I check the paper and see some bloody scenes. I feel istanbul travestileri angry as I see the headlines about the crimes against cops. The criminals even killed a fireman of all people!

My legs get sore and so does my neck. I check my watch. Geez, I can’t believe I’ve waited for nearly two hours in this damn cubicle!

I rush to the restaurant and have a cup of coffee while scanning the entire food court for a familiar face. All the tables are taken by unfamiliar smiling faces.

On the following weekend I repeat the same ritual. This time I don’t bring the paper with me, for it brings bad luck. I enter my cubicle and wait patiently for him to come. I know exactly how he moves about and can identify his calm heavy footsteps. As I wait, the numbers and headlines about violence against cops, which keep on escalating, dance in my head. I try hard to shun them from my mind. Seventeen cops killed just this week! Criminals ambushed three officers and shot them in the back of their heads. These poor officers were on their knees when they were executed. Their names are circled in black ink in my head. I rush out of the toilet and go to the food court.

I finish my bottle of water and look around me. He’s nowhere to be seen.

On the next Sunday, I miss the greeting girls at the entrance of the mall. I wonder why they’re not here today. Is that supposed to be an omen? I look outside again and see a cop and my heart nearly skips a beat. He’s tall, hairy, and slim. I exit the main door and mean to make some small talk with this man. My heart sort of goes out for him. I can sense how tense he is, after all, many of his colleagues were killed in the past few weeks. Who could guarantee he is not going to be the next victim?

“Sir, my daughter has just had her wallet stolen from her purse in the mall! We were in the movies, then after the movie, she was going to buy,” the older lady is crying. Her daughter is much calmer. Then I hear the officer say that she can report the incident at the nearest police station, just a few blocks down the street or do it online. I check my watch and smile to myself.

Desperate times require desperate measures. Without thinking, I take out my money and bank card from my wallet. Then I dump the wallet in the toilet trash can. I hated the photos on my driver’s license and ID anyway.

“Officer, you won’t believe what happened to me!” I put on my distressed/hurt face. Thanks to the few free drama classes I took downtown!

“Yes, can I help you, sir?”

“I-I just can’t believe it happened to me, officer. I had my wallet on my food tray. I was too distracted and when I returned to my table to pick it up, it was already gone! I wish there were more security officers here! I wish you were inside to protect us law-abiding/tax-payer citizens, sir!”

“Listen, a lady was here just a while ago and reported a similar incident. What you should do is go to the nearest police station and report the theft. There’s one just a few blocks down this street, or if you prefer, you can do it online and report this theft.”

“Officer, I can’t believe there are no more safe places for us to go. Thieves and criminals aren’t afraid of anything. Do you trust places like this mall to bring your family in?”

“In places like this there are cameras and private security. Personally, I and other officer friends often come here. Most times we come as ordinary people in civilian’s clothes. Unfortunately there are people with evil intentions everywhere. But you can go to the police station as I suggested. I’m sure you’ll find all the assistance you need there, sir.”

“Thank you officer! I’m feeling much better now that I’ve spoken with you.” Without wasting more time, I walk down the street and find the police station. I look around and check every single officer I find. I know as a fact that they take turns and have different work shifts. If I’m lucky, I’ll find some information about Noel. And if not, go on searching for him to every corner of this big city!

About half hour filling the theft report document, I look around once more and don’t find him. As I reach the street to walk back home, I pass in front of two officers, equally tall and strong. My heart nearly skips a beat! I lower my head and find a park bench at the square nearby to sit. Oh, God, I need air! He seemed surprised to see me but kept walking on. I feel a great relief now. I know he is well and safe!

In the coming few weeks, I’ve quit coming to the mall. Instead, I buried myself into some translation work from English to Portuguese and vice-versa. Mrs. Canhoto, my coordinator at the private English school where I teach, found it odd that I’d requested to do some extra work on weekends. Her husband was the publishing assistant at Globo, a large publishing company in Brazil. She referred my services to her husband, and he took me in.

Anyway, life is surely full of surprises and changes. Little did I know I was about travesti istanbul to experience a big change soon.

One Sunday, after working until late on a translation, ‘Geez, who was that author again? Mr. Williams, I think. It was a play set in Mexico.’ The phone rings and I close my dictionary. It’s probably my auntie. She’s the only one who would call me at this time, eleven P.M.

“Hello?” I say, hardly recognizing my own hoarse voice.

“Ken?”

“Noel?” I say the first name that comes to my mind.

On the next Sunday, at the toilet, he enters the cubicle to join me. We stare at each other for a while. Both mute as a door. His heavy hands are on my shoulders. I feel different towards him now. I can sense he feels the same way. The magnetic desperate attraction is now gone. I just feel like hugging him, telling him everything will be all right, that he could work safely, that no criminals would kill him, that he could raise his family without worrying about me, and that I’d never go to his police station again. Instead, he just looks down, and exits. I just feel in my guts that I should let him go. But my heart tells me to run after him and tell him I care about us.

Fuck! What a mess!

At the distance, he stops. I feel tenderness for this big strong man. I decide to follow him and put an end to this. We need a proper closure.

He takes the escalator and I follow him. Obviously he knows I’m after him. Cops always do. He chooses this wide open area for us to meet. He chooses the same table that I saw him with his wife and kid, ages past.

I smile and join him by the same table. He doesn’t say a thing and puts both his strong hairy elbows on the table, hands joined, as if pleading. I realize my mistake and decide to leave.

“Please, stay, Ken.” We look into each other’s eyes.

“Is that what you really want, in such a public place?”

“Call me Gilberto, Ken.” He opens a shy smile.

“Oh, all right then.”

“My friend Júlio told me you were there, reporting a stolen wallet.”

“He was very helpful.” He nods.

“I had to call you and,” he looks down, “try my luck.” He fidgets with his large hands. I suppose officers are men of action and can’t keep still. I wonder what he wants from me, if anything at all. Perhaps he also needs, a proper closure.

“Try your luck?”

“Yes. I didn’t want something serious, just an affair. I suppose now I can have one, for I’m a free man.”

“What do you mean? What about?”

“My wife and child?” His voice is low and sad. I look around and cannot concentrate on my thoughts, for too many people are talking at once.

“Can we, perhaps, find a quieter place, Gilberto?”

“We could go to the cinema. There is the lobby and it gets quite empty once a movie starts.”

“Look, Gilberto. I don’t live too far from here. Would you like to come to my place instead?” And, to my surprise, he ends up accepting my invitation.

We walk towards the escalators, go down a few floors, and reach the bustling street. We walk silently. He has both large hands in his jeans pockets.

I open the door of my apartment and this large man enters. I invite him to sit on my sofa, and he collapses on it. Then he leans his strong body forward, covering his face. I hate this guilty-feeling-posture married men always have after realizing the mistake they’ve made. I wonder if he’s regretting coming here. However, I sense a change in him. He’s not like the others, whom I cannot even talk, just have sex with and leave. They don’t even bother to say ‘thank you,’ or ‘goodbye.’

Hesitatingly, I sit beside him and remain silent. He raises his head and turns to me. I can see he hasn’t slept well, for he has shadows around his eyes. He seems to have aged during the past few weeks. I notice his wedding ring in his fat hairy finger. He notices the new focus of my attention and smiles.

“I forgot to take it off, Ken.” He smiles, takes it off, and puts it on the coffee table.

“Can I see it, Gilberto?”

“Sure.” He takes the small object in his large hand. I take it and brush my hand against his hot hand. “Call me Gil if you want. All my friends, including my ex, call me this way.”

“All right, Gil.” I check the ring. “It’s beautiful, and heavy.”

“You can put it on if you want, Ken.”

“I-I’ve never, well, it’s beautiful. Are you sure you don’t mind if I?” I turn to him. He smiles.

“Why would I mind, my friend? If you want, you can keep it, as a souvenir.”

“I-I can’t, Gil.”

“Ok.” I check the engraved name.

“Gislaine. It’s a pretty name.”

“Life has been difficult for us lately, my friend. My ex said she didn’t want me anymore. She moved out, leaving everything behind her. Not a single spoon, glass, piece of furniture she wanted to take with her. She told me she’d rather be a widow than to live the shame of being married to a man like me,” he wipes his tears. I wipe my own tears too. I hate seeing big strong men crying. Sissy fags like me cry all the time, for no important reason. But not him, the strong proud cop. Gosh, this man is married and has a family to support. And I, well, I have my translation work to do to fill in my empty hours.

“I saw you and your family once, in the mall.” I say. He nods.

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