Streaker is held by the bobbies..

While he's already starkers might as well do an intimate body search. Now, pull back your foreskin and lift your cock. Then turn round, bend over - and stretch 'em!  He peers inside with his little torch. Is there something there? Inserts a surgical-glove-covered finger and moves it around, up and down, side to side, his finger now hooked, now poker-stiff - while listening for any any sounds of satisfaction from him, which is not the idea - just one of the inevitable 'side-effects'.

I've mentioned before that I've had several brushes with the cops over the decades. One of my most spectacular was in the Summer of 1990 when I was out in the countryside hiking - with a bottle of vodka in my army haversack! - as well as a couple of items helpful to the mood I was after, of which more later. I was miles and miles from home, never wanting to be somewhere near where I'd have been known, even just by sight - and ready for any 'fun' I could find. After a couple of hours, getting frustrated with my lack of finding anything with potential for the kind of fun I was after, the vodka bottle had gradually relinquished much of its contents. The next thing I can remember is being shaken awake from a sleeping position in some long grass, finding myself stark naked with a blue-shirted cop grimly looking down on me.
"Get up and get dressed!" he growled.
I had a thumping headache, now exacerbated by the blinding sunlight. It was a real struggle to stand up, shrivelled cock and bum now in plain view, and to look around for my discarded army surplus shorts and to get into them - needing the embarrassing need to have a policeman help me get them on. 
"Come on. I'm taking you back to the station."
In my state of hangover befuddlement I honestly thought he meant the railway station, and said "Oh, it's okay. I can find my own way there."
He looked at me with a sneer. 
"Are you trying to play funny buggers?"
Then the penny dropped. "Oh you mean the police station........But why?"
"We've had a complaint about your behaviour. Come on." taking hold of my upper arm and leading me on to his cop car by the roadside a few yards away.
On reaching the cop shop, as he led me inside I asked what I'd done.
"We had a complaint from a taxi driver. You were seen standing stark bollock-naked by the roadside making as though you were trying to hitch a lift - only it wasn't your thumb you were using!"
I didn't recall any of this, and ever since then I've tried to but my memory of this has always been a blank. I only thought afterwards - but if I'd been so zonked out by the vodka that I couldn't remember any of this how had I been able to stand at all in order to do what he said I'd been doing? 😕
Anyway, we went in, where I found that my embarrassment and humiliation had only just begun.........

               .......to be continued at some other time.