"My FANTASY REVENGE Becomes SWEET REVENGE" ( based on a story by Wolfpek ) For years this ex-con plotted to stalk and capture the cop who put him in prison. Half his motivation was the need for revenge through humiliation...and half an obsession to dominate the trooper's magnificent hard body stripped down to his boots, gunbelt, and helmet.
(Story & pictures © 2006 Perfect Faces Imaging)

INTRODUCTION- My arresting officer, Trooper Donald Patrick Hansen, was a cocky, ambitious, by-the book stud who forced me to give back a fortune I had rightfully stolen, and also robbed me of ten years of my life. When all this happened a decade ago, Hansen was the hot dog rookie motor cop who earned a commendation for single handedly foiling my getaway. After my last bank heist, Hansen got on my tail in hot pursuit. He was a hell of a motorcycle rider, and I couldn’t shake him. His siren and flashing blue lights in my rear view mirror got me rattled. I ran off the road, and Hansen was right there to cuff me and take me in. OK. That was his job, but he did more. After he had me all caught cuffed, and a patrol car had just arrived to transport me to the lock up, I was maybe a little obvious about checking him out from his highly polished boots up to his bubble butt. He knew I was admiring him, and with other cops within earshot he goes, “WHAT’R YOU LOOKIN‘ AT? YOU A HOMO?“ I made the mistake of replying, “If you don’t want guys to look, how come you show it all off like you do?“

I figured out later that Hansen used his powerful body in that tightly tailored uniform (even his boots fit like a second skin) to project an intimidating high testosterone image of masculine authority. Needless to say, he was also a vein son-of-a-bitch. But Hansen had a big problem. He turned real weird when he sensed another man was more turned on by him than intimidated by him.

FROM THE MOMENT HE CAUGHT ME CHECKIN’ OUT HIS HARD BODY, IT WAS LIKE HE DECLARED WAR ON ME! Hansen made sure I got the worst jail cell with psycho cell mates. Then he lied at my trial, saying I’d resisted arrest and tried to make homo moves on him. That tacked a few years onto my sentence and made sure the QUEER label stuck with me in prison.

As years went by in The Joint, I met other cons who’d had similar run-ins with Trooper Hansen. Seems he volunteered to use his hot bod in jeans and a tight t-shirt as “jail bait” in certain public restrooms. As with me, he lied a lot about what went down when the guys he entrapped went to court.
I obsessed a lot about trooper Hansen. Half my fantasies were about his powerful body the only way I ever saw it- in his boots and motor uniform. I could almost feel the texture of the stretchy tan fabric of those riding breeches hugging the curves of those massive legs. I could follow the broad black stripes on the sides of his breeches running from his gun belt down along the sides of his legs until they disappeared into the tops of his boots. If I chose to, I could call up a mental picture of his face- a square jaw, the full lips-never smiling, the mirrored sunglasses. But mostly it was thoughts of his ample calf muscles and his sweet ass that taunted me. I couldn’t help trying to picture what he would look like if I could undress him. Gradually, other fantasies crowded in, thoughts of how I could take my revenge on Super Trooper Hansen for what he’d done to me and to a lot of other poor bastards whose only sin was that he caught them admiring his bod. But the revenge had to be “appropriate”. This trooper’s punishments had to fit his crimes.

I used the long hours pent up in prison and the contacts I still had on the outside to learn all I could about my Super Trooper. I learned Hansen’s nickname was “Lone WolF" because he liked to flaunt regulations and work alone - and get all the credit. I knew the day would come when I’d be free to stalk Trooper Hansen , and I would use that information to snare him. The day did come, only a few weeks after I made parole. I began that day in a deserted, dark warehouse just sitting and waiting. Waiting for Hansen.

My thoughts were interrupted, first by the thin wail of a siren, then by the approaching roar of a single police motorcycle. The huge doors of the warehouse had been left open, and through them I could see a junker of a car skid to a sudden stop, and out of it came running a tall, skinny punk kid. He paused for an instant as if to make sure his pursuer could see him. Then he ran by me, and disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse. Right on his heels, and right on cue, came Our Hero. Trooper Hansen skidded his bike to a perfectly controlled stop, kicking up a cloud of dust just inside the large warehouse door. Its flashing blue strobe lights against the darkness inside the building gave the scene a touch of the unreal. The trooper immediately dismounted, his gleaming boot leather catching streaks of eerie blue light as his left leg cleared his bike‘s saddle. But it wasn’t his boots I was watching. It was the play of his calf muscles and the almost perfect twin spheres of his ass. They looked even tougher now than in our first meeting.

The Super Trooper didn't he even bother to draw his gun. I heard his deep voice echoing through the dark, empty warehouse.
“You shouldn’t steel cars, kid. Not until you learn to drive better than I can ride.”

He stood with his boots firmly planted about three feet apart. In what seemed like a gesture of arrogance, he didn’t even draw his gun, but signaled with a his index finger for the kid he had just run to ground to come out of the darkness. The kid obeyed and stepped into the light, his head lowered in submission.

Back in the shadows, I waited and watched. I stroked the long barrel of the tranquilizer dart gun that lay in my lap. I’d stolen it from a park ranger’s truck, along with two darts containing a chemical with the guaranteed potency to “bring down up to a 400 lb bear in under 10 seconds“. The trooper’s attention was on the bad boy prey he was about to collar. He drawled out some paternal John Wayne style bullshit about making it easier on everyone "son" and cooperating. The trooper reached to the back of his gunbelt and produced a pair of handcuffs. “I’m taking you in kid. Make it hard on yourself or make it easy.“
The kid was taller than Hansen, but he seemed to shrink under the troopers’ stare as he stepped slowly into the light, his hands raised. Trooper Hansen’s attention was on his captive, he had just begun to pat the kid down when I made my move. I focused the cross hairs of the tranquilizer gun on Hansen’s bubble but. I pulled the trigger and saw the tiny dart make a direct hit just inside the reinforced seat of his breeches. As Hansen turned reflexively to see what had hit him, that square jaw dropped open, and his helmeted head rolled off to one side and he sank slowly to one knee.

Hansen tried to reach for the dart which had already injected its cargo into his butt. By the time he found it, he had no strength to pull it out. In a second or two more, his face went blank and he just rolled over and flopped down on the deck between the kid and me, his boots kicking reflexively a few times before he grew still. It may have been wishful thinking, but it seemed that, knowing he was passing out, he mumbled a last request-“ Oh noooo! Don’t fuck with meee ….aaahhh.”

This REALITY was far sweeter than any FANTASY I ever had about my SUPER TROOPER. He lay on his back before me now giving me a good look at the flaring line of his wide lats tapering down to the waist. His booted legs were splayed wide apart, the fabric of those tan riding breeches pulled snug around his twitching thigh muscles. As before, the tightly tailored uniform left little to the imagination. I smiled at the thought that now I wouldn’t have to “imagine” what Hansen’s muscular body looked like naked. How big his cock was. How well hung he was. I was free to see for myself! He’d totally surrendered himself to me….with a little help from a stolen tranquilizer dart gun.

I knelt straddling his helmeted head and raised his upper body up by his shoulders. It was like playing with a very big, very hefty rag doll. His helmeted head rolled back in my arms, almost like he was begging for more TLC from me. The thought turned me on. This tranquilized beast was more like a puppy now.

Speaking of puppies, the kid who had led the Super Trooper to me, cleared his throat. He wanted the payment I’d promised him to “steal a car in front of motor cop Hansen and lead him to me". I tossed the kid a roll of ten twenty dollar bills and told him to count the money and get lost.The kid took the bankroll without even looking at it. His eyes were riveted on the uniformed muscleman I now held in my arms. The kid watched in amazement as I ripped Hansen’s uniform shirt open reveling his smooth pecs and tiny nipples. A few more rips and I had his whole torso fully exposed. I ran my open hands over the trooper’s washboard abs. This guy really had turned himself into a sculpted work of art.

"Dude,” said the kid.. “Can I help you DO HIM?”

No way was I gonna let this little hyena move in on my prey. I replied: "FUCK OFF!" The kid moved back, but only a few steps.

After a second he added “Can I maybe have his boots then? I really like his boots… and maybe I can like rob his socks off him and I’ll suck his toes…or jerk off on ’em for ya. I’ll even give ya back the two hundred…..”

My first reaction to all this was that I wasn’t interested in this puck’s personal fetish shit. Then the idea of the two of us having a feeding frenzy on this stud began to turn me on! This was a cop who couldn’t handle even an admiring glance from another man without going ballistic. I was also turned on by the idea of this scummy street kid "robbing" Hansen’s tall black leather Patrol Boots right off his feet! But my own personal fants always had me doing Hansen with his boots on, so I told the kid again to BACK THE FUCK OFF!