Alpha Cop Arrests Nasty Bottom

Positioning the bulb of his cock at the rim of the entrance, Kavanagh suddenly slammed Sam’s channel down on his thick staff.
*****
Mike Kavanagh stood at the French balcony window of his “seen better times” hotel on Canal Street, looking at the festival parade units forming below him, and then beyond to the western edge of the French Quarter. He was lucky to have found a residence hotel this near work that had smoking rooms, and he didn’t mind the water damage to his ceiling thanks to Hurricane Katrina and not yet fixed. It made a $150 difference a day in what he was paying—or, rather, in what the New York Police Department was paying.
A Mummer’s band was tuning up below his window. As he absentmindedly puffed on his cigarette and scratched his hairy belly and then his equally hairy balls, he was hoping that the band was, in fact, just tuning up and wouldn’t carry that cacophony of sound into the French Quarter.
This was the second day of the city’s three-day All Fools’ Day Parade festival, clustered around April Fools’ Day, and designed to augment the earlier-in-the-year Mardi Gras festivities that brought so much good business into New Orleans. This new attempt to bring cash into the city was much needed for the continuing recovery from Katrina, no matter that the festival usually would fall within what should be somber Lent and thus make blasphemy of the whole Mardi Gras concept.
He turned his head and looked at the bed. The sheets were tussled in a way that celebrated the wrestling match that had gone on already on the bed. The blond was young and small bodied, although perfectly proportioned. He had been plucked off the street late the previous night at the height of the parade and partying in the...