Part Five
The young policeman continued to shiver and shake. If the inside of the
car hadn't been so hot-house hot by now, AKA would have thought it was the
result of his being stripped buck-naked. Yes, technically, he was still wearing
his dark, long-sleeved, heavy-weave duty-shirt, but it had been unbuttoned and
effectively pushed back off his beautifully toned shoulders. Yes, technically,
he was still wearing his sexy athletic T-shirt as well, but it remained bunched
high up on his smooth, elegantly tendoned neck. But nakedness, however relative
a matter, was clearly not the issue. The on-going body tremors were obviously a
combination of physiological and psychological reactions to what had just
happened to him.
AKA decided they could both use some cooler, fresher air--shivers or no
shivers. Given what still lay ahead, the temperature inside the car would only
rise. Better to cool things off now. Otherwise, on top of the fifteen minutes
or so it would take to plant the policeman the few feet necessary in the soft
forest earth--assuming that that was how this particular playing of THE GAME was
actually going to end tonight--AKA would have an unnecessarily time-consuming
window-mopping job to do as well. The point was that the clock was ticking.
Time did not stand still. Either for cops or for their killers.
Wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand, AKA reached for the
automatic window controls with the other and lowered two of the four windows
about three inches each. A cross-ventilated chill immediately began to make its
way through the interior of the car. The cold currents were quickly followed by
a variety of suddenly audible outdoor deep-night noises--the rustling of
undergrowth, the creaking of branches, the hootings of a nearby owl. The only
other sound was the erratic hiss and release of young Keith Landon's still
labored breathing.
AKA dropped a hand onto the scarred left knee, so far as AKA could tell
Keith Landon's one and only physical flaw.
"So how was that? The best you ever had? Tell me that was the best you
ever had."
Landon shifted his eyes in AKA's direction but said nothing.
"I mean it. Tell me. Was it?"
AKA squeezed the knee.
"Fuck you."
It came out a low growl.
Despite his manfully clenched jaws, Landon looked his youngest and most
vulnerable yet. It was as if AKA no longer was able to imagine the cop when he
was fifteen or sixteen, he was actually beginning to look fifteen or sixteen.
Nudity has a way of taking the years off, of course. But, despite what people
might think, so does fear.
"No, fuck you, baby," AKA replied with a grin. He squeezed the bony,
scar-ridged knee again. "You ever been fucked, by the way? You know what I
mean. Up the ass?"
AKA shoved a determined, sweat-slick hand under the left buttock. It
immediately tensed and hardened as the cop pressed down in an unsuccessful
effort to thwart the grope.
"You fuck me and I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you."
AKA laughed.
"God! I wish you guys could be more original! Do you have any idea how
many times I've heard that stupid threat? Look, I'm still here, okay." AKA
lifted his head. "Isn't there a Sondheim song about that?" He nodded to
himself. "Yes, I think there is." He looked back down at the young policeman.
"Besides, you can't just go around killing people. That's illegal. Even if
they've fucked you. You're a cop. You know that."
Taking a deep breath, AKA gave the aggressively flexed buttock an
equally aggressive squeeze.
"Well, you've had yours, so what good fun can I have in the short time
we have left?" he said. "Because the truth is we are rather pressed for time.
Thanks to the season of the year, the sun will come up a little bit later than
usual, but this is farm country we're in here. Those big, strapping farmboys
get up early, I hear, and I'd really like to be on my way home before anyone
much is on the road. If I'm not seen, I wasn't here, right? At least, not
being seen increases the odds is my favor, it seems to me. If there should ever
be any question about where I was tonight, that is."
AKA unzipped and released his own cock.
Kneeling up in the seat so that the young cop could see it, AKA once
again impressed by the amount of headroom there was in his car. The headroom
was yet another reason he had purchased this particular automobile, of course.
A van--and AKA had had three in the course of his GAME-playing career--was
definitely preferable for real, no-holes-barred, sex-and-violence action, but a
car--at least a car this size--was perfectly suitable for your occasional fun
quick-kill. The "hot seat" was not only reinforced and outfitted with all the
restraining straps AKA could wish, even the removable seat-covers and floor-pads
were designed to absorb whatever fluids might be involved. The truth was that
some guys on their way out often either pissed or shat their guts out. One
simply had to get used to it. Or, at least, be prepared for it.
"I like giving the guys I meet choices. Yours is head or ass. You can
take it in one or you can take in the other. I'm game for either, actually.
There's a kid in the trunk whose ass I had bigtime--several times over
actually--so head would even be nice for a change. But it's up to you. You
could think of it as turnabout being fair play? What do you say?"
Confusion vied with fury in young Landon's face.
Fury won.
"You put that in my mouth and I'll bite the whole fucking thing off!"
Undaunted, AKA undid his belt and unhooked his pants, further freeing
his cock.
"One kid actually tried to do that once. I had to go to the emergency
room. It was very embarrassing, speaking of being embarrassed. But no serious
damage was done." AKA pushed his pants and underpants down onto his thighs and
then hoisted his cock in the young cop's direction. "As you can see.
Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the kid's dick."
The culprit had been one of AKA's earliest (and youngest) victims. A
feisty, shaggy-haired fourteen-year old AKA had lured away from an isolated
tennis court with a promise of "some really great grass." (A bait that AKA had
used, with variable success, on several kids over the years.) The kid had been
hitting solo on the tennis backboard for half an hour before AKA approached him.
The seduction was easy, oh so easy. Partly because they had seen each other
around for several weeks by then, but mainly because of the grass. What hadn't
turned out to be so easy, however, was the face-fuck AKA had attempted once he
got the boy securely handcuffed in the back of the van. The kid really had
bitten down for all he was worth. Fortunately, he had not done much in the way
of chewing or AKA's serial-killer career might have ended hardly before it
began. Clutching his groin, the blood flowing, his fury rising, AKA had gripped
the kid by his long hair and banged his screaming head against the van floor.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Then he had bagged the dazed little motherfucker. While
the carnivorous little asshole bucked and sucked the clear plastic bag's
all-too-soon exhausted supply of oxygen into his all-too-soon airless lungs, AKA
had literally ripped and gnawed the kid's cock and balls free of his convulsing
little body. AKA could tell when the kid was dead because the blood stopped
flowing. All too soon, he had thought at the time. Then set about doing his
best to staunch the flow of his own blood.
AKA didn't know how he knew, but he knew that young Keith Landon would
never carry out the threat he had just made. It just wasn't something Boy
Scouts did. Maybe that was it. Or perhaps it was because AKA detected a deeply
ingrained fastidiousness in the young policeman, a fastidiousness that would
recoil, when push came to shove, at the whole messy (not to mention gory!) idea.
In any case, AKA was not intimidated. Far from it. He was now set on having
the cop blow him. They could do it easy or they could do it hard, but it would
get done. That sexy twink mouth with those sensuously full lips just begged to
be plugged with dick, whether it knew it or not.
