Riot

The parade couldn’t have picked a better day. The sun is shining. The air is warm but not stifling. It looks like half the city’s turned out to celebrate. And—your favourite part—the men in uniform are in short sleeves and looking hot.

One in particular has your attention—a cute collie that you’ve seen walking the beat near your street before. His fur is black, except for the splash of white that dribbles down between his eyes and covers his muzzle. His ears flop. You could almost call him cute, if he wasn’t also ripped. His uniform is struggling to contain arms that are crossed over his chest, and shorts that should have been baggy are looking form-fitting.
He smiles at you as you approach, but holds up one hand. “Sorry, you can’t come this way.”

“Oh?” You respond, drawing close enough that his partner at the nearby alley won’t hear, “But what if I was hoping you’d come this way, instead?”

The dog’s eyes match his grin. He pants in the heat of the day. Eyes scan the crowd behind you. He winks.

“Oh, if you’re looking for a bathroom, there’s one across the street in the mall. First right when you get in, can’t miss it.” He says loudly, then much more quietly, ”And a service closet right across from it that doesn’t lock right.”

You get the hint. As you drift back into the crowd, you hear him shout to his partner, “Robbie, I gotta take a piss. You got this?”

The mall is mostly empty, all the stores shut because of the parade, but the facilities are still open to the public. Just as the dog suggested, the door opens. Inside is a maintenance closet, filled with all manner of cleaning substances and tools for applying them. You only have to wait half a minute before the door opens and the dog in uniform is silhouetted.

“I have reason to believe you might have something in pockets” He says, closing the door behind him. “Do I have your consent for a search?”

When you nod, he grabs your arm and turns you to face against the wall. His restraint is gentle, but inescapable. A hand fits itself between your belly and jeans and slips down inside your pants. Fingers touch and stroke. He whispers in your ear. “I hope you won’t resist—at least not too much.”

You push back against him, and you feel his muscular chest press like marble against your back. The hand down your front unbuttons your fly and lets your pants fall to your knees. He’s ready for you, too. When your hips push back, you find that he’s unzipped his own fly and his impressive shaft is sliding up between your legs. His tip is just barely visible as you look down, rounded and circumcised and dripping.

Fangs bite you ear, and he pushes against you. He’s blunt, and it takes a few seconds of concentration and relaxing before you feel skin slide against skin. Then he’s inside you. He throbs, and you clench. He pants into you ear. You shield your head from the concrete wall as the dog’s forceful thrusts rock you. When he comes, you can feel each individual pulse against your inner walls.

He licks your ear and releases your arm. He whispers in your ear, “Hi. I’m officer Riot. I gotta get back to my partner, though, so… I’m off at eight. Burgers?”

It’s only after you nod your head that he pulls free. You can feel his enthusiasm dripping, and you’re suddenly grateful that you’re just across the hallway from the bathrooms. When you turn around, you only catch sight of his tail disappearing around the corner as he dashes back to duty.

Story by Kandrel