Next Visit
The Parole Officer continued

By: Andrew Stone

I was nervous as hell.  It was my visit with my parole officer since he raped my ass.  I sat in the waiting room jittering.   My appointment was for noon but the receptionist said he was running late and to wait in the waiting room until my name was called.  It was now 6 at night and I was still in the waiting room, nervous and sweating and wondering what the hell was going on.  A lot of people have gotten here after me and called ahead of me and left. 

The sound of my name in his baritone voice made me jumped out of my seat.  I looked over and he standing there holding the door open dressed in his typical black pants, white shirt and black tie.  He looked at me and waved me in.  We walked down the hall into his office and he closed the door behind me.  The chair is that is usually positioned in front of his desk was gone.  I stood there as he took a seat behind the desk and looked over my file and started to ask me the typical questions.  I answered them all than he just stared at me for a long while I stood there nervously.

“I’m going to have to search you for contraband,” I just stare at him not believing that it was going to happen again, “Start to strip.”

I didn’t try to question anything.  I just did what I was told.  I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my shirt.  He just sat there and stared at me.  I undid my belt and opened my pants and took them off followed by my boxers.  I stood there, as naked as the day I was born fighting off a hard on.  I stood there for while as he just looked at me from behind his desk slowly stroking his thick goatee. 

He reaches into a desk drawer and pulls out a urine sample container, “I’m going to need your weekly urine sample.”  I turn to head to the bathroom in back of his office, “You can stand right there and give me the sample.”

I stand there in shock.  He wants to pee right here.  I open the container and position it to catch my urine.  I’ve always been pee shy.  It was a hundred times worse this time.  I stand there trying to force some pee out of me.

He reaches into his drawer again and pulls out a package, “I can insert a foley if you have a hard time.”

I didn’t like the idea of him ramming anything down my dick.  I forced down hard and pissed some urine into the container and was relieved.  I screwed the cover back on placed it on the desk.  He just kept staring at me.  I could see his nipples through shirt now.

He reaches into his drawer once more and pulls out another sample container, “New regulations:  I’m going to need a d.n.a. sample.”  I stand there confused and asked why.  “It has to be a semen sample,” he lied, “And if you don’t act in accordance with your parole agreement you will be violated to jail to serve out the rest of your sentence.”

I take a hold my dick and start to stroke it.  I get hard quick.  I switch to a full grip and pull my cock back and forth.  He sits there and watches me jerking myself.  I try to get it over as quick as I can.

He stands up, “Place your hands behind your back.”  I look at him but comply.  He walks around his desk to me and handcuffs my hands behind my back.  “You are taking to long.  I’m going to have to assist.”  He walks around to his desk and pulls something out of his desk drawer.  At first I don’t recognize it but than I remember from a movie I saw once.  It’s a ball gag.  I take a step back.  “Don’t make me tackle you.  This is so you don’t you draw too much attention.”  I let him slide it over my head and tighten it up just to make this whole nightmare get over quicker.

He snaps on a rubber glove on his right hand than takes off his tie and unbuttons every button on his shirt and neatly places it on the back of his chair.  He looks at me, “I tend to sweat when have to do this.” He makes a joke but I don’t find it funny.  I watch him as he walks over to me, his big solid gut, and his barrel chest covered in fur.  His ungloved hands takes hold of the cuffs and his other hand takes hold of my cock.  I can help but to wince in pain, his grip is strong.  He has big hands and thick forearms and he’s a strong bastard.  My moans are muffled by the ball gag and I’m starting to lose control.  I shoot a load and he catches it with the specimen container.  I struggle to catch my breath with the damn ball gag on.

“I’m going to do a cavity search now.”  He pushes me to the desk, kicks me feet apart and bends me over.  I slam against his desk and some stuff on his desk scatter all over the place.  I’m confused for a second then I heard the jingle of him undoing his belt and the sound of condom wrapper being ripped open.  I hear him spit a few times, obviously lubing himself up then I feel something against my asshole and his strong, big hands on my hips.  He rams himself into me hard, harder than the last time he raped me.  I can’t help but scream but it’s muffled by the ball gag.  He rams his cock into me over and over again gaining speed with each fuck into me.  His hands let go of my hips and take hold of my hands that are still cuffed behind my back and grabs hold of them tightly as he plunges in deep and hard one last time and releases his load into me.  I feel his swollen manhood throb in me as he tries to suppress his moans.

After he catches his breath, he pulls himself out of me and turns me around.  There are some tears that ran down my face.  This fuck was much harder than the first one.  He places a hand on the back of my head and pulls me close to his face and licks the tears off of my face before kneeing me in my balls causing me to collapse onto the floor.  He pulls the condom off his cock and walks to the bathroom and comes back out zippering his pants and buckling his belt up again.

He sits on the floor and undoes the ball gag.  “It could be worse, you know.  You could be in jail.  A prime ass like yours would’ve been traded around a few times in jail.”   He un-cuffs me and I sit up.  “I’m not so bad, am I?”

I shake my head no and ask if I can get dressed.  He touches the side of my face and slowly traces a finger down my face to my chest down to my stomach.  I can’t help but tremble at his touch.  He breathes a sigh, “Yeah, sure, you can get dressed.”

We stand up and I throw my clothes on as he grabs his shirt and puts it on.  I finish up dressing and ask if I can leave.  “Yeah, sure, I’ll see you next week.”  He sounds almost sad but I don’t care.  I just want to hurry up back to my place and take a long shower and try to wash all this away.