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Killer

By: JustinCider



Note:

This story, though based on fact, has been written to entertain and, hopefully, turn on the reader. At the time it happened neither AIDS nor Herpes had come on the scene and the worst STD could be cured within 2 days. Things now are different and I would not encourage casual sex without a condom. As for the content of the story, if you dislike it, don't read it. If you are underage, or have a religious or moral objection to stories of sex between consenting adults, do not read this story!

For the enlightened others, I very much hope you enjoy yourselves.



I stared at her totally unresponsive body. 

"Oh shit! Oh fuck, oh God, oh shit! I've killed her." I remember muttering to myself in panic. 

I pinched her earlobe hard in response to a vague memory, she didn't even twitch.

It all started earlier on that same night when I picked her up in a bar. At that time (the early eighties) if you wanted to go bar hopping in Bangkok but wanted to avoid the tourists you went to 'Soi Cowboy.' This was a small bar area just off Sukhumvit road between Soi 21 and Soi 23. She was a hostess in a bar which specialized in running pirated copies of the latest Hollywood movies (nothing much changes). I was young and horny, she was cute, cheerful and happy to spend the night with me. Negotiations with the bar took no time at all and we were on our way.

When we got back to the hotel we hopped straight from the shower into bed, the sex was energetic and thoroughly enjoyable. It's so much better when the girl is totally enjoying it too. Once the first edge of horniness was off, and the obligatory shower was out of the way, we started to talk. Unlike most of the girls at the time her English was very good. She told me how turned on it had made her that I had eaten her pussy. I hadn't known that the Thai Buddhists considered the head a sacred area, it suddenly dawned on me that this was the reason so few Thai girls at the time gave head. She said that was why she had pushed my head away when she got close to orgasm, it was far too dirty a thing to carry on with. I told her I would love to eat her cum and, in fact, would clean her up after I next filled her pussy.

Her eyes got wide and her pussy clenched wetly on my playing fingers. "You would do that for me?" She asked in astonishment. 

"Anytime you like." I told her quietly. 

She moaned, then rolled against me and we started kissing again. Meanwhile the glimmer of an idea began to take root in my head.

After a while I worked my way down to her now soaking cleft, she moaned softly and pulled my face tightly to her by my hair. One of the most appealing things to me about Asian women is the almost obsessive attention they give to personal hygiene, her pussy was sweet, clean and delicious. It was only a few minutes later that she was pushing hard on my forehead to stop me as the waves of her orgasm threatened to overwhelm her. I allowed her to push me away and knelt on the bed to allow my aching cock access to her moist heat.

I would love to be able to boast that we fucked for hours. Truth to tell, she was so enthusiastic and agile it was probably no more than around 15 minutes. She had what seemed like a couple of mini orgasms and I finally came so hard I felt I was turning myself inside out.

This time I managed to catch her before she ran for the shower. I kissed her and held her and told her to wait 'til we cooled down a little. Slowly my little play kisses turned more serious, our passions started to grow again and her urge for the shower grew more desperate. 

"Oh no, Baby." I told her. "First I have to do something for you." 

Her eyes got suddenly wide. "OH no, not that!" She cried almost in panic. "It's too dirty!" 

I smiled to myself smugly as I slid down her perfect body. I slid my arms under her legs and grabbed her wrists, she seemed almost mesmerized by what I was about to do. Holding eye contact I dipped my head slowly towards her pussy, and the combination of my cum and hers that was now drooling out. As if she finally realized what was about to happen she ripped one wrist free and tried to push me away. 

"Noooo, please no!" she cried. But I was now beyond stopping.

I started with little licks of her pretty clit, it was like a marble rolled in oil, and it tasted divine. As I moved lower and started to suck our juices from her she went berserk. She was leaping around the bed like a fish out of water, pushing desperately at my head and crying wildly in Thai. I hung on grimly and stuck my tongue as far inside her as it would go. That did it, she gave two mighty shudders, almost throwing me off, then went totally limp. 

That was when I thought I had killed her.

After around 5 minutes I finally thought to check her breathing, to my absolute relief she was very, very gently breathing in and out. The night that was one of the longest nights of my life, I daren't sleep in case she stopped breathing, every few minutes I had to check. Sometime after dawn I must have finally dropped off as I woke to her kissing me enthusiastically a little later on.

She must have told the other girls in the bar as I became very popular in there for the rest of my holiday and had many offers of a free "jig-a-jig". I didn't take the girls up on it as I owed my girl a lot, and it would not have been fair to her. I never went back to Thailand, for various reasons. But I have never forgotten the girl I "Killed", I wonder if she ever thinks of me?

Killer B



Shortly after moving to our small town twenty years ago, my wife and I bought a house on the edge of town that backed up to cornfields. Our neighbors on the left were a retired couple, Gene and Geraldine. They were friendly although Gene was somewhat hard of hearing so any exchanges were in full volume. On the other side lived Jack and Kitty with their three kids who were the same ages as our three. Once their children had graduated from college, Jack and Kitty moved to a smaller home. Our new neighbors, Craig and Mindy, had a thirteen year old girl, Beryl, and an eleven year old son, Scott. We watched those kids grow into good adults. I told Craig and Mindy one day while we were all out doing yardwork that they should be proud of their children. Scott, now 19, had filled in on a foursome for a charity golf outing with me a few weeks ago and I had been impressed with his manners and general demeanor. He had just finished his first year of college and Beryl , now 21, had just finished her third year. Both kids held down part time jobs while they saved for school.

It had been a while since I had seen Beryl. As we were talking, she pulled in, waved at us, and went into her house. From the brief glance I cast her way, I could see she had developed into a beautiful young lady. With shoulder length straight blonde hair, a dynamite thin, spinner type body, and what I guessed to be perky A cup breasts, she was a knockout. To me, she became Killer B. The kind of woman I absolutely adored. Her brother, Scott, while only 5'8" or 5'9", had a toned, athletic swimmers body and a beautiful smile.

Like most homeowners, the only time I saw my neighbors in their back yards after their kids were grown was when they mowed. Otherwise, they kept to the occasional patio cookout. I took advantage of their minimal use of their yards as we had a pool and spa and I enjoyed using them nude. Try as I might, I could never get my late wife, Lynn, to join me. She was worried the neighbors would see us. I told her I was cautious when I went out (wouldn't want to be charged with indecent exposure to a minor! That would be the kiss of death in a small town where people liked to talk.)

I'd head home for lunch, shed my clothes, and tell Lynn I was headed outside to get my dose of vitamin D. She'd just shake her head and say "One of these days..." 

"You'll join me?" I'd finish her sentence.

She would just roll her eyes. "Someone needs to be ready to take the bail bond in," she'd say and go back to her lunch.

After battling health issues for many years, Lynn finally succumbed three years ago at age 54. I still miss her dearly. I considered selling the house but my kids still liked to visit and our grandchildren were just getting to the age where they could start enjoying the pool. Plus, it was still a good place to get my vitamin D!

So it was on a warm July day, I headed home for lunch, shucked my clothes, and headed out back for some sun. After the brutal winter we had, the penetrating warmth of the sun felt great. My mind drifted off. The closing of a car door barely registered. Even so, I knew I was safely sheltered from passing eyes. As I rose up to turn over, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Beryl was headed straight for me. Wearing a white tank top, cut off shorts, and sandals, she looked absolutely stunning. I pulled the towel over my lap as she approached.

"Hi Mr. G", she said. "I saw your car out front. Nobody answered the door so I thought I'd check and see if you were out here", she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Hi Beryl" I replied. "I haven't seen you in quite a while. How's the college scene?"

"Not too bad. The pre-med courses are tough but I'm doing fine. Glad summer break is here though.

"Pre-med, eh? Is that for nursing or will I be calling you doctor someday?" I asked.

"Well, you know Mom's a nurse. I've always loved nursing!" she said with a smile.

Was that a double entendre I thought? More likely just wishful thinking from a dirty old man, I mused. While I was struggling to maintain a lucid, detached conversation, my subliminal reaction to this gorgeous creature sitting beside me was causing my cock to betray my true thoughts. I nonchalantly tried to adjust my towel to hide my growing cock.

Beryl glanced down and said "You don't have to worry about me. I've seen a lot of penises in the course of my studies. It's a normal physiological reaction. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time I've seen it", she giggled.

"W-w-w-wait, what did you say?" I stuttered.

"I said it wouldn't be the first time I've seen your cock". She giggled again.

"I thought I had been pretty cautious" I said.

"Well, last year, I came home from volleyball camp one day around lunch time. As I opened the door to haul my gear into the house our cat, Calico, slipped past me. So I threw my bag inside then went out after her. I found her in our backyard trying to stalk a squirrel. I snatched her up and turned around to take her back inside when I saw you lying out. I could tell you were naked and I hadn't seen a naked guy in person yet. So I put Calico back in the house then slipped around the other side into the cornfield. I crept through the corn until I got behind your house where I had a better view. I guess I was just fascinated by the naked male body. I'd never seen a shaved cock either so that was cool. After that day, whenever I saw your car in the drive at lunch, Id sneak around to spy on you. I even grabbed Dad's binoculars so I could get up close and personal, so to speak."

"Does anybody else know?" I asked anxiously.

"Only Scott, and he won't tell anybody" she said.

"Scott?" I asked.

"Yes, he asked me one day where I was going. I just told him I was going out bird watching. I must not have been too convincing. Well, his boss let him leave work early on his 18th birthday and as he pulled in the drive he saw me heading out to the cornfield. He decided to see where I was going and followed me. I never heard him coming. I was watching you through the binoculars when he put his hand on my shoulder. Man, I nearly jumped out of my skin and almost screamed but I knew you'd hear me. It took all I had to keep quiet. Well, he got a good look and after that day, we'd find each other out here watching you. We had to get another pair of binoculars" she laughed. "That must have been where he got the idea to shave his cock."

"Wait, how do you know he shaves, too?" I asked.

"Let's just say he helped me pass my finals on male anatomy last semester" she giggled.

By now, my cock was hard as steel and my mind was reeling. As I was trying to process these revelations, Beryl took advantage of my temporarily distracted state and snatched the towel away.

"Wow", she said softly, "It's even better up close!" With that, she reached over and wrapped her small hand around it. "It's a lot thicker than Scott's but not quite as long", she smiled. "But I bet it's just as tasty". She leaned down and proceeded to slowly lick it, then slipped the head into her mouth.

I've never been one to finish quick. As I've aged, it seems I can last even longer. However, it took all my concentration not to cum right there! My God, her mouth and tongue were heavenly! I slipped a hand under her top and palmed a perky tit, rolling the nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Beryl moaned softly. 

After five minutes of an exquisite blowjob, I pulled her up and kissed her passionately. Then I said "Why don't you kick off those clothes and work on your tan with me?"

Within seconds, she was standing before me naked, those fabulous perky tits just begging to be sucked. Her flat stomach lead down to the sexiest set of cunt lips I'd seen since Lynn died. Absolutely hairless, her pussy was glistening with her wetness. I pulled her to me as I lay back on the recliner. She was straddling my head as I gently pulled her slim hips down until her pussy lips met my tongue. As I alternated licking and sucking her sweet nectar, her moans increased in volume and intensity.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh God. Yes, eat me, eat me, don't stop. Oh God that's feels so good" she groaned. "Uh, uh, uh, yes, right there, right there," she whispered. I've always loved a woman who was vocal during sex. It makes me work even harder to bring her to ecstasy. "Lick me. Suck my clit. Oh God, oh God, I'm cummmmmmiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnggg," she cried. Her legs clamped tightly around me head as her body spasmed. I drove my tongue into her pussy. "No, no, no more. Too sensitive" she gasped. Weakly, she stood up then collapsed on to the adjoining chair, the aftershocks of her orgasm rippling across that beautiful flat stomach. After a few minutes, she turned to me and said, "That is one talented tongue, mister. You should give lessons to every guy I've ever dated."

"Well, I do love to lick pussy" I replied. "You find out quick if you're doing the right things."

"You obviously pay attention to feedback," she giggled. "I've never been eaten like that before. That could become addicting."

"Have you ever been tongued while someone is fucking you?" I asked. "I absolutely love to do that but most guys are skittish about it. They seem to think if a guy's tongue is on their cock it means they're gay. The few times I've done it with another couple, they both seemed to really enjoy the sensations and experience," I said.

"Wow," said Beryl, "What you just did was so intense I'm not sure if I could be fucked at the same time. But...," she smiled, "maybe we could find out one of these days."

"If you mean "we" as in you, me, and another guy, write me in with permanent marker! As long as the other guy isn't homophobic, I mean, in such tight places, my tongue may slip or end up licking both of you."

"So," Beryl mused, "you've licked a cock before?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I've even given a few blowjobs, although I'm probably not as talented as you."

"You're lying'" Beryl giggled.

"Well, it is something I would never have done in my younger days. But the older I got, the more I wondered what it would feel like to be giving a blowjob instead of getting one. Then I tried it and wondered why I had waited so long. Don't get me wrong. Women will always come first for me, but there's just something about the feel and taste of a hard cock in my mouth that feels so fantastic. Find somebody and I'll prove it to you."

"That would be hot to see. Do you swallow?" Beryl giggled.

"Of course," I replied. "What's the use of doing all the hard work if you're not going to enjoy the reward? Get it? "Hard" work?

Beryl groaned. "As bad as that was, just listening to you describe it has me all wet."

She stood up and straddled me again. She leaned her slim body on mine and slowly slid down until my cock was pushing against her glistening pussy. "Don't worry'" she said, "I'm on the pill." With that, she slowly pushed back and my cock split her lips. She eased down slowly, whimpering and moaning as she took more and more of it. Man was she tight! When she finally had it all in, she lay still for a moment, "God I feel so full". She whispered.

She placed her hands on my chest and slowly sat up. Seeing her beautiful bald pussy impaled on my cock with those gorgeous A cup tits and that radiant smile, it looked like she was enjoying it more than me, if that were even possible. Then she pulled herself up till the tip of my cock was barely in before driving back down. Her body was light as a feather but her pussy kept a viselike grip on my shaft.

"Oh God, does that feel good'" she moaned.

"God yes'" I replied. "You look so damn sexy like this. I'll die a happy man."

"Not yet you don't," she smiled. "Quit talking and fuck me hard," she groaned as she slammed back down on my cock. Leaning forward, our lips met and we furiously kissed. Putting my hands on her hips I lifted her up and slammed back in. With every thrust she moaned. "Harder, fuck me harder," she cried. In a frenzy, I kept slamming into her velvet box. The slap of our bodies meeting resounded in the sunshine. I took a tit into my mouth and gently nipped and sucked as her breathing grew ragged. "Now, now, now," she cried and I slammed into the hilt as she cried out in orgasm. Feeling her tight pussy contract around my cock caused me to release a load of cum. "Yes, fill me," she moaned as spurt after spurt emptied into her. As our orgasms ebbed, she collapsed into my embrace. 

We lay there a while sighing as the aftershocks rippled through our bodies. Then, I flipped her over onto her back and withdrew.

"My God, that was the best fucking I've ever had," Beryl sighed.

"It's not over yet," I smiled as I slid down her beautiful body. "I can't send you home looking like this."

"What are you talking about?" Beryl asked.

"I always clean up my messes," I said as, smiling, I stuck my tongue in her slit and began lapping up our juices.

Beryl immediately began moaning and writhing. "Easy," she gasped. "It's sensitive, but don't stop. You are,uh,uh,uh,an amazing man. Oh, oh, oh I'm cumming again," she wailed as she pushed me away. "No more, no more, not now," she gasped.

We were both dripping with perspiration (and other bodily fluids). "Let's go for a swim," I said. "Time to cool off a bit."

After doing a few laps and floating around, we hoisted ourselves out and lay back on the recliners in the sun. I couldn't stop staring at her perfect body as we talked. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer and leaned over to suckle those beautiful breasts. She laughed softly.

"What's so funny?" I asked, coming up for air.

"Those old wives tales are so not true," she chuckled.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The one about swallowing cum will increase your breast size. I should be a DD by now," she laughed.

"Well, believe me," I said. "A lot of guys love these petite mouthfuls. Most guys I know think those huge breasts are grotesque. We much prefer the smaller sizes."

"But I'll never be able to give you a titty fuck," Beryl pouted.

"Don't worry," I replied. "I'd much rather fuck something tight and wet, like that beautiful pussy of yours or that cute little mouth."

"Little!" she cried, punching me in the arm. "It's big enough to accommodate that monster of yours!"

"For which I am extremely grateful," I replied. "But the afternoon is about over and your folks will be home soon. As much as I hate to say it, you'd better put your clothes on and go home."

"You're right," Beryl murmered. "This has been one of the best days ever. I WILL be back though."

"You are welcome back any time," I said. "Next time I'll try to do better."

"As if that's possible," Beryl sighed.

"Well, practice makes perfect as the saying goes," I replied.

"In that case, can you help me practice?" Beryl asked, laughingly.

"Any time, any where, any way!" I said.

"Good!" Beryl replied. "I'm already thinking of some things for next time." 

So, I thought, there will be a next time. How could I have gotten so lucky? A young, beautiful spinner, a perfect 10+ in my book wanting to pleasure a man my age. As Beryl pulled her shorts on, I asked "Why me? Why now?"

"Well", she replied with that dazzling smile, "You've always been so polite to me and my family, you've obviously taken care of your body, and today, you focused on my pleasure, not yours. Most guys my age seem to be looking for another notch on the bedpost or something to brag about. Why now? Now I know I can't hurt your wife or your marriage." Reaching out, she softly stroked my cock. "I've wanted this ever since I saw it from the cornfield."

"Any time, little lady, any time," I softly replied.

She leaned in and kissed me again, our tongues dueling. Then she stepped back. "As Arnie said, "I'll be back", she giggled. "And I'll bring my little friend with me!" With that, she was off across the lawn.

My eyes couldn't leave that bewitching figure. When she was gone, I sat back in my chair. What did I do to ever deserve this? And what did she mean by her little friend? Probably that beautiful little cunt, I shrugged. I'll have to wait and see. Wonder what the forecast is for tomorrow?



Killer B Ch. 02







Killer B Ch. 03



Neither the weather nor work cooperated the next few days as a cold front brought rain and a moderating temperature. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny. The weather forecast showed a good weekend to be outdoors. I fixed a pot of coffee and took a cup out to the front porch as I retrieved the paper. As I sat there catching up on the news, I noticed Craig loading a couple of suitcases into his car. As Mindy shut their front door, I heard her say "We'll let you know how things are going. Probably be a few days before we get back. Love you!" Then she got in the car and they drove off. Wonder what's up? I thought.

After finishing the paper, I went out back and vacuumed the pool, tested the chemical balance, and added some chlorine. Then I mowed and trimmed the yard - typical suburban homeowner weekend rituals. As I finished up I saw Scott mowing his yard and waved at him. The drone of other mowers throughout the neighborhood reminded me of the thrumming of cicadas - the sounds of summer.

After fixing a sandwich and grabbing a glass of iced tea, I shucked my clothes and headed poolside. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Killer B coming my way. "Hi Beryl, what's up?" I asked.

"Where were your folks headed?" I asked.

"Pleasant Hill," she replied. "My Aunt Lisa broke her leg. Uncle Bill has to head out of town on business this week so they went to help her and get her to her appointments."

"That's nice of them," I replied. "I'll keep an eye out to make sure no wild parties go on at your house."

"Like that would ever happen," Beryl laughed. "Mind if I swim?"

"Not at all," I said. Just remember the rule - no skinny dipping - alone, that is."

"Well, seeing as I am not alone, I guess I'm safe," she giggled dropping her shorts and peeling her top off. My cock automatically responded. "I was hoping I'd get a rise out of you!" Beryl giggled.

"It's not you," I replied. "It's just a normal physiological reaction as a member of the medical community reminded me recently."

"Yeah, right," Beryl responded, sticking her tongue out at me before knifing gracefully into the sparkling waters. "This feels great!" she said. "You should join me."

"Oh, I hope to "join" you soon," I winked. "But I figured I'd work up a sweat before I swam. Besides, I have to wait an hour until after I've eaten."

"That's an old wives tale," Beryl shot back. "Besides, it might depend on what you've eaten," she giggled. After swimming a few laps, she hoisted herself out of the pool and came over near me. 

"Well, it's nice to see I still have it," I said.

"What do you mean?" asked Beryl.

"Just that I can still make a young girl become soaking wet while gazing on my naked body," I replied.

"Don't flatter yourself," Beryl responded. "I just got out of the pool, remember?"

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Let me see." I plunged a finger into her soaking pussy and was rewarded with a gentle moan. "Looks like a lot of water got in here," I said. "Let me try to flick some out." I began massaging her G spot and her legs buckled as her moans intensified. I pulled her down on me in a 69 position and began lapping her cunt lips while holding her slender ass cheeks. I felt her hot breath on my cock as she took me in her hand. Another groan escaped her lips before she began sucking on my aching cock.

Suddenly, I felt another pair of hands on her waist. Looking up, I saw a beautiful, slender, shaved cock poised to enter her cunt. I glanced up farther and saw it was Scott. In the blink of an eye, his cock head penetrated her lips and he sunk balls deep into her tight pussy. Beryl pulled her mouth off my cock. "Oh God," she groaned, "oh, fuck me, lick me, Oh God, oh God."

As Scott's cock began to piston into her cunt, I continued to lick her pussy and clit, occasionally licking his cock, too. I moved lower and took a shaved ball into my mouth eliciting a groan from Scott. I moved back and licked her pussy and his cock as it rammed in and out. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes, yes, yes, yesssssssssssssss," Beryl wailed. "Don't stop, don't stop, yes, lick my clit now. Fuck me harder, harder," she begged. I could see Scott's balls beginning to contract. Their bodies slapping together sounded so damn erotic. "Now, now, now, I'm CCCCCUUUUMMM... MMIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG!" Beryl cried. At the same time, Scott grunted as he began spurting his cum deep into her pussy. I was in heaven as I lapped up their juices. Scott slowly withdrew his glistening cock from Beryl's soaked cunt. I greedily took it in my mouth to savor every delectable drop then finished cleaning Beryl's pussy as she softly whimpered.

"Man, that was fucking awesome!" Scott exclaimed. "What a rush! I don't think I have ever cum that hard!

"Hey bro," Beryl smiled, "I was hoping you'd come join the party."

We disentangled. Beryl rolled over on her back as she caught her breath. Scott sat back in a chair and I sat up on the recliner. I finally got a good look at Scott. My, what a magnificent specimen! He had fine hair on his legs and arms but was completely shaven on his chest and crotch. Even limp, his cock was beautiful.

"Wow, Mr. G," he smiled, "I've never been licked before while fucking a girl but that sensation was unbelievable! I almost busted a nut when I first felt it."

"Yeah, that was awesome," Beryl agreed with a big smile. "We've definitely got to do that again."

"Say when," I said.

"When," Beryl giggled.

"Now?" I asked.

"Absolutely!" Beryl replied. "You haven't gotten off yet. Now it's your turn."

"Yeah, Mr. G," Scott chimed in. "I'm ready if you are." I looked down and saw his cock hard and ready. Oh to be young, I thought.

Beryl sat up. "Need help?" she giggled. She began tonguing my rapidly growing cock. "Get it ready, Scott," she said. Scott knelt down and began tonguing me too. Watching those two swap tongues as they played with my cock almost made me cum right there.

"Lay down, Scott," I commanded. Scott laid back and Beryl took her 69 position over him.

"Come and get it," she giggled looking back over her shoulder. Her smile was dazzling.

I knelt behind that gorgeous ass and pulled her cheeks open. Scott was tonguing her lips and the tip of my cock as I positioned it at her entrance. Beryl began moaning softly. Then I pushed into her sopping hole. "Oh God," she groaned. "That feels so fucking good." She began rocking back and forth. I was in a rhythm now. I matched my pace to her moans as I savored the sensation of Scott's tongue on my cock where it entered Beryl. I leaned over and palmed her beautiful little tits. I began gently pulling and tweaking her nipples and the intensity of her moans increased. "Yes, yes, yes, keep fucking me. Harder, deeper, oh God, oh God." I felt her body tremble as another orgasm rippled through it. She paused momentarily, then began rocking back again. She was so wrapped up in the feelings coursing through her body she could do nothing else. I saw Scott's cock throbbing in front of her closed eyes. 

"Fuck me harder," Beryl demanded. I pulled my hands back to her slender hips and began thrusting into her with abandon. Pulling out to the tip, I would slam back into her. As the pace and fury increased, I pulled all the way out. But instead of slamming back into her wet pussy I entered Scott's waiting mouth. He gagged before I drew out and reentered Beryl. Her moans became one nonstop long guttural sound. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she chanted as I continued to pound into her. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, now, now, now, I'M CCCCCCCUUUUUUUMMMM... MMMIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG!" she gasped as her body convulsed. A couple more thrusts and I began shooting into her. I felt Scott's tongue lapping us up. I pulled out and plunged one last thrust into his eager mouth and felt him sucking me dry. Then he went back to lapping Beryl's juices. "Stop, stop, stop," she pleaded as she rolled off and onto a cushion, spent.

I sat back in a chair, panting as I watched her flat stomach heaving while she gulped in air.

"Un-fucking-believable!" Scott beemed, sitting up. My gaze was drawn to his still stiff cock.

"Come here, Scott," I said.

He stoos up and walked over. I reached out and stroked his cock. Then I kissed the tip and began taking it into my mouth. "Mmmmmm," Scott sighed. I continued sucking and, putting my hands on his ass cheeks, I began pulling him into my mouth. His hands went from my shoulders to the back of my head as he began fucking my face gently.

"Damn, that's hot!" Beryl whispered. I glanced over and saw her kneading her breasts. I cupped Scott's balls and his moans intensified.

"Yes, yes, yes, suck that cock!" he hissed.

One of Beryl's hands went to her pussy and she began fingering her clit as her breathing became ragged. "Yes, suck that cock," she whispered. "Make him cum."

Scott's breathing was becoming ragged now and I could feel his ball sac tightening. "Get ready," Scott hissed. "I feel it, I feel it."

"Yes, fill his mouth Scott," Beryl egged him on as one hand became a blur on her clit and the other pulled her nipples.

I hummed on his cock and that sent him over the edge. "Now, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh," Scott grunted with each spurt of his copious load. His cum tasted sweet and silky.

Beryl moaned as she came again writhing in ecstasy on the cushion.

Finally, Scott withdrew his pulsing cock as it slowly softened. He collapsed into the chair and laid back with his eyes closed. Beryl lay on the cushion, her eyes closed, too, moaning softly. I just sat there drinking in those two gorgeous naked bodies. I silently picked up my phone and snapped a few pictures of them. 

It was fully half an hour before they stirred. "Oh my God," Scott said, "that was truly incredible."

"You said it," Beryl sighed.

"Yes," I said, "I can't remember the last time I had that much fucking fun. Get it?" I chuckled.

They groaned in unison. "As incredibly good the sex was, that joke was incredibly bad." Beryl said.

"Well," I said, "now that I've worked up a sweat, time for a dip in the pool."

"Me, too," Scott replied.

"You two go ahead," Beryl said. "I've still got to rest up."

Scott and I dove into the pool. "So," I asked, "how long will your folks be gone?"

Scott smiled, "I'm thinking at least a week."

"In that case, Beryl, you better get well rested!" I said as Scott and I laughed.



Killer B Ch. 04



After swimming a few laps, Scott and I exited the pool and retired to a couple of chairs. Beryl was still lying on the cushion. We chatted about a number of different subjects as the afternoon passed. "Mind if I ask you a question?" I said "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Ask away," Beryl and Scott replied, almost in unison. 

"So, how long have you two been enjoying the fruits of the flesh with each other and did it ever seem weird?" I asked before taking a sip of tea.

"That sounds like two questions," Beryl smirked as she sat up. "But it's all your fault," she said laughing.

"My fault?" I sputtered, nearly spitting out my tea.

"Yes, remember when I told you Scott caught me in the cornfield watching you sunbathe?" Beryl said.

"Yeah," Scott interrupted, "she had one hand on the binoculars and one down the front of her shorts. Sister or not, I'm a guy, and that sight made me hard as a rock. Before that, I'd never thought of her as a sex object. But right then and there, I realized what a fox she was."

Beryl jumped back in. "Well, when he put his hand on me it shocked me so much I jumped back. When my butt hit his crotch I could feel his hard on. Anyway, at that point hormones took over. We were both so horny we needed some relief. So it just felt natural to help each other out, if you know what I mean," Beryl said with a dazzling smile.

"Afterwards," Scott said, "it did feel a bit strange realizing what we'd done. But the way I looked at it, sister or not, Beryl was just a hot chick I had a chance to bone. If she wasn't my sister, she'd be a girl I'd try to get in bed anyway because she looks so damn hot."

"Same here," Beryl responded. "Scott's the type of guy I'd be after in a heartbeat. Just because he's my brother shouldn't change things. I mean, I know what society thinks about that kind of stuff, but the way I look at it is I have a hot guy living in the same house as me so let's take advantage of it."

"Yes," Scott laughed. "It is convenient, although not so much when Mom and Dad are around."

"So," I asked, "does anybody else know about you two besides me? Cody? Scott's girlfriend? Your friends?"

"No," Beryl replied. "Again, with the society outlook and especially in a small town, we didn't feel we could trust anybody to keep it a quiet. People seem to like to talk around here whether they know what they're saying is true or not."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I'm not sure how my girlfriend, Payton, would handle it. Although she can be pretty wild!" he grinned.

"Yeah," Beryl chimed in. "Cody knows I've played with others and I think that idea excites him. He really got off on having sex while we were watching you sunbathe. But I don't know how he'd feel about Scott and me, though."

"Well," I suggested, "maybe you should introduce that idea next time you're playing with them. Tell them you had a dream about it and see how they react. I'm pretty sure you'll find out rather quickly if they're grossed out or intrigued by the idea. If they show an interest, just keep embellishing the dream and see where they'd draw the line. If they're all in, maybe schedule a double date or something like a game of Truth or Dare where the talk gets around to sex and see if the hormones take over." 

"Hmmm," Scott mused, "that might be interesting. Last time Payton did the reverse cowgirl position I was stroking her clit and telling her to imagine my fingers were someone else's tongue and she had a huge orgasm. But going from fantasy to reality is a big step."

"True," I replied, "but if they are receptive just keep revisiting and ramping up the details and they might eventually want to try it. Emphasize that it's just recreational sex. It's not like you're going to leave them for the other person. Some people have hobbies like golf or gardening or fishing. Your hobby is recreational sex where people try different things and everybody goes home happy. Besides, how are you going to find out if you like something or not if you just dismiss it out of hand? When I was young the idea of being bisexual didn't appeal to me in the least. But as I got older and more comfortable with my sexuality, I got to the point where I wondered what I might be missing so I tried it out. I enjoyed it so much I was kicking myself for not trying it earlier. Of course, it helped that I wasn't pressured into it. The couple I was playing with just suggested I try it then decide. The husband's description of his first time sounded interesting so I gave it a shot. Talk about a different sensation. They got me hooked on it"

"Well, we'll certainly have to at least introduce the concept," Beryl replied.

"Anybody hungry?" I asked. "I'll throw some burgers on the grill."

"That sounds great!" said Scott.

"There's chips and carrots, too" I added. "Drinks and condiments are in the fridge." I fired up the grill. Scott grabbed the carrots and drinks from the fridge. Beryl pulled the chips and paper plates from the pantry. We sat around naked eating dinner and talking about relationships as the sun set. Just being in the presence of their young, naked, beautiful bodies was intoxicating to me. The night air grew cooler. "Should we continue this conversation in the hot tub?" I asked.

"That sounds like a great idea!" Beryl responded.

We eased into the spa and I turned on the jets. "I've heard some women can get off just from the jets," I said.

"Well,since I'm the only woman here, I guess I'll have to test that theory," Beryl giggled adjusting her body in the spa. "Oooohhhh, that does feel nice," she sighed as she laid her head back and closed her eyes. "Mmmmmm." Scott and I watched as her face registered her building pleasure. "We've got to get one of these, bro," she sighed. The fluttering of her eyelids portended her approaching orgasm. "Oh, oh, oh, yes, yes, yes. Here it comes, HERE IT COMES! OH MY GOD!" she cried out as her body spasmed then went limp. I slipped an arm around her and pulled her to my lap. Her display had resulted in two very hard cocks. With little effort, my cock split her cunt lips and entered her tight, wet pussy. Beryl's eyes opened and she smiled, her dazzling white teeth lighting up the gloom. She tilted her head back and our lips met as we passionately kissed. Carefully, I repositioned our bodies until I felt one of the jets massaging her clit. She gasped. Then, while I pulled and tweaked her perfect tiny tits, I slowly began fucking that beautiful, bald pussy. Her eyes closed as she groaned in pleasure. Meanwhile, Scott had stood up and moved towards us, his cock inches from her lips. Beryl opened her eyes and, with a big smile, hungrily sucked his shaft into her lovely mouth. The three of us found a rhythm and bathed in the sensations of pleasure sweeping through us. Scott began humping her mouth more insistently as he neared the edge. With a grunt, he emptied his load into Beryl's mouth. Then, he staggered back and sat with a splash.

Beryl turned her face toward mine with a smile, then feverishly began kissing me, sharing Scott's load. Meanwhile, my hands had moved to her slender hips and were effortlessly lifting her weightless body up then slamming it down on my cock. "My God, I love the way you're fucking me," she whispered. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, mmmmmmmm, yesss, yesssss, yesssssssssssss," she hissed. Her body was beginning to tremble as I too felt the impending end. "Oh God, oh God, oh, God,OH GODDDDD," she shouted. "NOWWWWWWWWWWWW, AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" she wailed as she grew incoherent. Her body jerked violently as her orgasm crashed through her lithe body. Feeling her pussy clench I spurted jet after jet of hot cum deep into her as I pulled her sweet body down on my shaft. I could feel the aftershocks of her orgasm ripple through her body and felt the clenching and unclenching of her pussy as her limp body lay in my lap, her head resting back on my shoulder, her eyes closed as soft moans came with every breath, eventually trailing off to just the sound of her breathing.

After many long minutes during which the only sounds were our ragged breathing and the chirping of the crickets, her eyes fluttered open and she began to stir, a smile playing across her face. "I know I'll sleep well tonight," she giggled.

"I think we all will," I replied. "Good thing tomorrow is a day of rest."

"You're resting tomorrow?" Beryl pouted.

"I think he means tomorrow he'll give us the rest," Scott laughed.

"If you two are too scared to spend the night alone in your house while your parents are away, I will graciously offer you shelter," I winked.

"We should accept that offer, sis," Scott responded. "We don't know how many dirty old men are out there waiting to take advantage of us."

"Yeah," Beryl replied, "better to stay with the dirty old man we know than chance it," she laughed.

"What you should know," I said, "is that the only bed in the house is my king size bed."

"Well," Scott replied, "if we're imposing on your hospitality, I guess we have to accept what Is offered without complaint."

"Sounds good to me," Beryl giggled. "Besides, I've always wanted breakfast in bed," she winked.

Oh boy, I thought, will anyone get any sleep tonight? But more importantly, will I be able to keep up with these two insatiable sex machines? Oh to be young again!



Killer B Ch. 05



My concerns about an all-night orgy were unfounded (not that that would have been a bad thing!). Between the spa, sun, and sexercise, I think we were all asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows. I awoke in the middle of the night (as us older guys are wont to do) to find my arm wrapped around Beryl who had draped herself across my body. Her face was angelic and I looked at her tiny hand on my chest. Memories of Lynn in just that position flooded back and my heart ached as I missed her. I gently extricated myself from her embrace and went to the restroom. When I returned, she had turned over and was spooning Scott. As usual, the sight of her naked body took my breath away and I felt a stirring down below. I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep with visions of their naked bodies cavorting by the pool streaming through my consciousness. 

When I awoke in the morning, I could hear Scott softly snoring. I glanced at him and noticed he was sporting some morning wood that gently pulsed and looked erotic as hell. Beryl wasn't in bed. The smell of coffee told me where to find her. As I walked into the kitchen, I saw her gorgeous, tight, little ass as she was bent over looking in the fridge. In the few steps it took me to come up behind her, I was fully erect. I pressed my hard cock into her sexy butt crack as my hands went to her skinny waist. "Hmmm," she giggled, "I wondered where the sausage was."

"I usually try to keep it between the buns," I murmured.

"I'll try to remember that next time," she giggled as she stood up and turned around, closing the door. I lifted her pixie-like body up. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck as our tongues dueled. I carried her to the table and sat her down on it, all the while kissing her passionately. I sat down in a chair as her legs opened up.

"I haven't had a breakfast spread like this in years," I smiled.

"Help yourself," Beryl giggled. "You can eat until we're both satisfied," she laughed. 

I gently began lapping her pussy eliciting a soft moan. Beryl lay back on the table. As my ministrations increased, her moans became louder and more insistent. "Oh God, I love your tongue," she whispered. I alternated between flicking her clit and plunging my tongue into her pussy. Her lithe body began to tremble. "Yes, yessss, yessssssss," she hissed. My tongue moved back to tease her clit as I inserted two fingers into her tight pussy and began to massage her G spot. "Oh God! Oh God! Right there, right there, oh fuck, oh fuck," she whimpered. "Ahhhhh, aaahhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhh," she cried as her body tensed. "Oh God," she whimpered again between clenched teeth as her orgasm exploded wracking her tiny body. She lay there mewing softly as the sensations ebbed. I just sat there drinking in the sight of her beautiful, sprawled body.

After five minutes she raised her head and with a twinkle in her eye said, "I think I'm ready for sausage." I pulled her towards me and gently impaled her on my shaft as she wrapped her arms around my neck and assaulted my tongue with hers. She softly moaned into my mouth as my cock filled her tight, wet pussy. It was so incredibly erotic as I lifted her light, spinner body and basically jacked my cock with her delectable cunt. The sensations were overwhelming. I angled her hips forward so her clit was touching with each stroke. Soon, she had her forehead on my shoulder with her eyes closed, panting softly with each trip up and down my shaft. "Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmmm," She sighed each time she bottomed out on my cock. Soon she accelerated the pace with her tiny hands on my shoulders as she pistoned my cock into her dripping pussy. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," she chanted with each stroke. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, AHHHHHHHHHHHH," she wailed with one final decisive thrust as she jammed me deep into her spasming cunt. Her head fell to my shoulders as her arms wrapped around my neck, her breathing reduced to gasping for air. "I fucking love great sex," she murmured. "I am so glad I came over that day."

"You're glad?" I replied. "This old guy had long ago given up the idea of ever being able to see a young, beautiful, naked body like yours in my arms. I thought I was resigned to just watching young bodies like yours at sex parties or on porn videos."

Beryl wriggled on my lap. "You're still hard," she said in awe.

"Yes, the older I get the better my stamina in certain areas," I replied. "Besides, I was always taught that ladies came first - and second, and third even." I smiled.

"Time to take care of that," she said with a smile lifting herself off my lap. She knelt down and slowly took me into her mouth. Her tongue felt exquisite as it bathed my shaft. She began bobbing on my cock while one hand fondled my balls and the other wrapped around the base. She looked up at me with a smile and her eyes twinkled. I could feel the sensations building as she flicked my crown with her tongue. The sight of that little pixie with my cock in her mouth put me over the edge.

"Oh, Beryl," I groaned, "get ready. Here it comes." I grunted as I filled her mouth with cum. To her credit, she caught every drop in her tiny little mouth. Then she carefully pulled off my cock and slid back up my body to give me a kiss as her arms cradled my neck. Her mouth was filled with cum as she shared it with me.

Finally, she pulled back, swallowed, then smiled and said," I thought you might like some cream with your coffee."

"How thoughtful," I said with a smile. "You really know how to serve breakfast."

"Why thank you," she giggled. "Now that we've worked up an appetite, how about some real food?"

"Yeah, we need to keep up our strength," I laughed.

"How about eggs, bacon, and toast?" asked Beryl.

"Sounds great to me!" I replied. "I'll have my eggs over easy, bacon crisp, and toast with jam."

"What you want and what you'll get might be two different things," Beryl laughed. "You can have your eggs anyway you like as long as they're scrambled, bacon however it turns out, and dry toast."

"Well, as long as I'm not fixing it, anything you make will be delicious, I'm sure," I replied. "Of course, having tasted that delectable body of yours, anything else will pale in comparison." In truth, she could have served me cardboard with paste and I wouldn't have noticed as I gazed at her sitting across the table with her dazzling smile and beautiful tiny tits on display. "Did you make enough for Scott, too?" I asked.

Beryl laughed. "We'll be lucky if he's up before noon. Scott likes to sleep in on the weekends."

"Well, a part of him was up earlier," I winked.

Beryl laughed. "Yeah but the rest of him takes longer." 

After eating breakfast, we poured a cup of coffee and went out to sit by the pool. The church bells pealed across town. Otherwise, it was a quiet Sunday morning, the birds chirping as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. "Well, not exactly breakfast in bed for you today," I observed.

"No, that's still on my bucket list," Beryl giggled (God she was beautiful). "But it was absolutely delicious just the same. I was going to go back for seconds but I think I'll let things settle until lunch." She flashed her dazzling smile and her eyes sparkled. "Breakfast in bed is something we can look forward to, hopefully sooner rather than later."



Killer Babe



The phone starts ringing at half-past six. I'm awake, just back from the bathroom after a night of fitful sleep.

I frown, thinking about whom it could be. But then I remember... I've placed the ad yesterday in the local paper. It wouldn't be the first time they called me as soon as four-o-clock in the morning. It leaves me wondering if the ink is dry by then. Men are always in such a hurry. I'll never be able to understand them.

I pick up the receiver.

"Hello, early morning bird," I say.

"You're the broad who placed the ad?"

His voice is coarse and clipped, obviously in the habit of giving orders and expecting obeisance.

"Yes."

"How much?"

I laugh. Always the first thing they ask.

"Nothing at all, honey," I assure him, "I'm not in it for the money. I just want some fun without the hassle of a relationship."

I have a dark and sultry voice, very sexy and exotic. My mother used to say, that with a voice like mine men would still want to get in my pants, even if I should look better with a bag over my head... Of course she was joking about the bag. But my vocal chords are really my true magic.

This one however is a real suspicious bloke.

"All right, say I don't believe you, what's the snag in it?"

"None, none at all," I assure him, "No money, no obligations, just some wonderful moments between you and me. I am nobody's property, why should I not make some fun when I am in the mood?"

"So, you're not a hooker?"

"Call me that again and I hang up," I warn him.

"Sorry, sorry," he hasten to say.

He's silent for a long moment, muttering under his breath. But finally he puts the question in.

"When you're free?"

"Any time you want till Friday. This week I've nothing better to do."

He laughs, "You're a hot bitch, I bet. The straight stuff or ..."

"I would prefer that, but if you know some special tricks we can talk about it... However, no SM or filthy things like peeing... Anal is discussable only if you're not hung like a horse."

"Depends how good you're at it."

"Excellent, so they say. No one said it hurts anyway."

Stupid answer for a stupid question, if you ask me. But he has another laughing fit.

"All right, I'll be there by nine, if it's all right with you. I like a taste of pussy before I go to office."

I assure him it sounds good enough for me. He hooks in after I've given him directions to the place where I'm staying.

It was a short conversation and a polite one as well. Many start swearing, calling me all sorts of names I certainly don't deserve, or try to moralize or analyze my motives, or have the urge to tell the most strange stories. But this one is different, concise and to the point. I promise myself to offer him a real good time.

I decide to take a shower.

But first I make the bed neatly. I change the sheets and put a tube of Vaseline and some condoms on the nightstand. Then I take my nightie off , pausing a moment or two before the full-length mirror to admire my body.

I'm not particularly vain, but I can say that the years have been very kind to me. I watch what I eat and I spent much time remaining fit. I'm forty, but people give me at least ten years less. I'm a natural red-hair, hazel eyes, slightly tanned. I have C-cup breasts that are a natural match for my narrow waist en smoothly flaring hips. I look good in whatever clothes I chose to wear. At the beach I'm still able to catch full male attention.

Gazing at my figure, my eyes travel down my flawless, pear shaped breasts to my still flat stomach and on to my smoothly shaven pussy. They say that for a white woman I have a large clitoris and thick, protruding inner lips. I remember their size used to embarrass me as a young girl at school. But boy, that changed soon.

My smile becomes bigger as I turn left and right, looking at the sensual curve of my hips and my shapely thighs and ass. I know, mirrors makes a girl self-conceited. They make me also horny... I let a hand slip idly across my breast, sending a chill through me as I touch a overly sensitive nipple. I move my feet apart, allowing my free hand move to my sex mound. My flushed face stares back at me from the mirror as I spread the fleshy hood covering my swelling clit. I close my eyes as I begin to play with myself.

******

After the shower I prepare breakfast.

By the time I have my second cup of coffee, the radio announcer is reading the headlines of the eight-o-clock news.

I always drink coffee before a date, too much coffee. People think you're used to it after a couple of times, but that's not my experience. Each time again, I'm still a nervous wreck. Who will it be, young or older, having a nice tool or something pathetic between his legs, a competent lover or not, kind and considerate or the proverbial male pig?

I'm not afraid of falling into the hands of some sadistic predator. I can take care of myself. I'm also a very good and quick judge of character. Bad guys don't cross my threshold.

No, rather than apprehension it's a blank and nameless excitement that comes over me. I can't place that feeling, that's the whole fucking problem.

It's not evident waiting for a guy, I never get used to it. A stiff cup of coffee is the only thing that helps pass the time.

I'm degusting my fifth one when the bell rings.

It's nine o-clock. At least he's punctual. I fumble for the small gun in the pocket of the bathrobe before walking to the door. I didn't bother to put clothes on.

Through the fisheye I give him the once-over. He seems decent enough, expensive suit, gold rimmed glasses, around fifty. He's small and stocky build, fat is gaining rapidly terrain on muscles.

"Coffee?" I ask, after introductions are made and we're back in the living room, "Or something stronger? I have Chivas Regal if you like... Or maybe you rather want to skip the formalities?"

If it's up to them, I never have to bother myself with drinks. They always opt for direct action. This bloke's not different. He just grins and grabs my ass.

"With or without clothes?"

"Depends on how much you ask."

I sigh, "I said already I don't want money. Only I like it better naked, gives you so much more satisfaction."

"Take that robe of. I'm sure you have I body to die for."

He starts undressing before his words are cold, clearly in a hurry. I like him already, certainly not a lingerer.

With a docile smile I do what he wants. When I'm naked I put my feet apart and spread my vaginal lips with my fingers, showing him the pink insides of my already wet pussy.

"I'll bring you into the seventh heaven," I promise in a hoarse voice.

He grabs my crotch, finding it necessary to accentuate his masculinity by shoving his middle finger in my poor asshole.

"Go to the bedroom, make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you is a sec," I whisper, gently pushing his hand away.

Still dressed in his pants he disappears.

They never need spurs. Disgusting.

I'm never in a hurry. I finish my coffee before joining him.

"Can we start?" I coax, swaying my hips and making sure my tits bounces up and down.

He lies on his back on the bed, an elated smile on his lips. I climb on top of him and give him a sweet, deep kiss, rubbing my stiff nipples against his hairy chest.

"What do you want your girlie to do?" I ask him, "You want to sniff my pussy, or you want me to suck you off."

"No, fuck me baby... Do it nice and slowly," he grunts

He has his eyes closed, making it exceptionally easy for me.

"Let me take a condom..."

I open the drawer of the night table, taking out what once belonged to gramps...

Then, in one swift movement, I cut his throat. One stroke with the good old razor and it's over. I'm good at it, baby.

He doesn't make a sound, only a couple of violent jerks made his body shudder, nearly throwing me off the bed. Jets of warm, salty blood spurts in my face and upper body, drenching me from head to toe.

"Yess!!!" I shriek, while a powerful orgasm sweeps through my belly.

Then I open my mouth for that delicious fountain of blood, drinking as much as I can before he's completely drained.

******

I leave the body where it is when I move on.

In the next town I ask the local paper if they're willing to place an ad.

And the next day you can see it in print.

"Life is gray and drab for you?Want some endless adventure? The ultimate one-night stand? Then call this Killer Babe."

(The phone-number at the end is always different of course.)

I never have to wait long, never.

Who knows, maybe we'll meet. Remember, nobody has ever complained about me. 



Killer Cop Ch. 1



Chapter I: Rookie

"Jesus," Lisa bitched into her beer, "if I wanted to be a damned secretary, I wouldn't have bothering going to college. I want to be a cop, damn it!"

"Know what your problem is?" Barney asked. He didn't lisp any more than he simpered. So much for her naive stereotype of gay men. He was the only person in the precinct she could talk to - her first true friend since high school, really.

"Yeah. I was born without a cock."

He laughed. "Wrong. You could be riding in a patrol car in under a month if you'd just loosen up."

Officer Lisa Cole leaned back. Her wide leather belt creaked. Her narrow, high-boned face was made ugly by her sneer. "Like Sally Dawson loosened up? Had her uniforms tailored so tight that her nipples poked through and her ass crack showed?"

"Come on. You know that's not what I meant."

"I should file sexual discrimination charges. The only reason I'm not pulling some kind of real duty is because -"

"Whoa, girl. And lose any chance you've got to ever make it? Bad plan, Lisa," he warned. "You walk around with a chip on your shoulder. Everybody thinks you're arrogant. Know what they say behind your back?"

"Yeah. They think I'm a fucking dyke or something."

"Are you?"

That hurt. She didn't show it. "Are you out of your head, Barnes?"

The conversation drifted away from anything serious after that, but haunted her for the rest of the week. She hated to admit it, but Barney was right. She acted cold, impersonal - entirely asexual and professional was the way she'd thought of it. But that wasn't the impression her fellow officers got. That kind of thing shouldn't matter, but it did.

She observed Sally Dawson with new eyes. The woman had a great body, and didn't seem to care if the men looked at it. Her uniforms weren't really as tight as all that, and Lisa grudgingly confessed that the woman was a good cop. Not better than she was. Not even prettier, for that matter. What rankled was that she managed to use her femininity. She let her big tits bounce and her hips sway. And she was out there where the action was as a result.

Over the weekend, Lisa grudgingly admitted that she had a choice. She could enter and retrieve data for the rest of her career, or make some changes and get on with her life. On the whole, letting herself act a little more feminine seemed less odious than the alternative. She didn't have to look like a fucking bimbo, for Christ's sake. Just a human being.

So, when Monday came, she steeled herself, stifled her fear, and went to work literally with her hair down. And her bra off. With an almost invisible trace of makeup she'd had to go out and buy. She felt ridiculous at first, but her astonishment at the difference it made in the way the rest of the guys acted banished her self-consciousness before lunch.

Not that she was able to forget about any of it. The continual covert looks directed her way kept her aware of herself all afternoon. Her badge and nametag attracted more attention than usual, as did the revolver on her hip. People who hadn't even known her name went out of their way to smile and say hello. Every time she used the john, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Each time she touched up her powder, she did it with a severe expression, as if that could offset the unseemly joy of finally losing the invisibility she'd wrapped about her when she was twelve.

And it wasn't just the patrolmen who noticed her. Captain Wilson actually smiled at her a couple of times. He was the one responsible for her assignment. She made herself smile back.

The next day, she added a refined touch of lip gloss to her look. The day after, a hint of mascara. Wednesday, she wore the slightly altered uniform she retrieved from the tailor. Every evening, she pored through magazines, desperate for information on how to use the unfamiliar feminine utensils that were making all the difference in the world. That Friday, she went so far as to buy herself a dress to wear to a party she'd been invited to the next evening. In entire five months she'd been on the force, it was the first time she'd ever been included in any extra-curricular activity.

Lisa spent hours getting ready. Curling her hair. Doing her nails. Shaving her legs. All the things most women took for granted, she felt like a fool for doing. But, she was a determined fool. If this was what it took to get out from behind her desk, it was worth whatever humiliation she had to endure.

Walking through the door of the apartment where the party was happening was harder than anything she'd ever done in her life. She was terrified. The dress was too small and too tight and too red. The nail polish made her fingertips feel heavy. The lipstick made her afraid to talk. The heels made her awkward and the pantyhose made her legs oddly slick.

But nobody noticed her tremendous discomfort. The looks she'd gotten at work were nothing like what she got that night. Within an hour, everybody there had pulled her aside, had expressed sincere interest in getting to know her better as they stared at her half-exposed tits. It was exciting as hell. For the first time, they treated her like a real person, not some damned robot. Hell, even Sally Dawson complimented her and displayed more friendliness than she ever had before.

It was a night of firsts. Her first experience with hard liquor, and, consequently, her first time drunk. Her first cigarette. Her first slow dance in years. And, later, her first fuck since she was raped.

It wasn't a conscious decision to do it with Captain Wilson in the back seat of his car. She was way too drunk to drive, and he offered her a ride home. Somehow, before she knew it, he was kissing her - and she was kissing right back, with a hunger she'd never known. When he'd stretched her dress down below her tits and turned his lips to them, she'd shouted with joy, gripped his head with stubby red nails so he couldn't change his mind.

Nothing had ever felt that good. Bolts of lightning shot from her suddenly bone-hard nipples and electrified her entire body. Parts of her came to life that she didn't know she had. A sudden flood of dire need, of utter desperation, consumed her. She didn't care who this man was, or what the repercussions of fucking him might be. All she knew is that if she couldn't get his cock between her legs, she'd surely die.

And, she thought that's what her orgasm was - the precursor of a glorious death. It transported her, took her into realms she'd never suspected even existed. She'd masturbated a few times, had what she thought were orgasms twice before. But they were utterly insignificant in comparison to the racking, glorious convulsions that overwhelmed her that night. Then, when what little consciousness she possessed told her that it could get no better than this, the cock filling her, making her whole for the first time ever, leapt and jerked and spewed the nectar of the gods deep, deep inside her. Her eyes widened. She arched into it, drove it deeper still, and fainted.

Or passed out. But just for a moment. The captain was still gasping atop her, muttering her name, telling her how wonderful she was when her senses returned to her. Her legs were still wrapped around his, and her hips were still rolling slowly. But she felt dulled, somehow. Sluggish in mind and body. She barely noticed his awkward disengagement, the slight tension as they finished the drive to her apartment. There was no goodnight kiss, no more tenderness, no final words of endearment. It was over. That was fine by her. She wasn't after a romantic attachment any more than she'd been after sex. He was married. He was her boss. She was no starry-eyed kid.

But the memory lingered, colored her entire Sunday. It was more clear and distinct than she'd experienced it in real time. She could still feel traces of each kiss, each caress.

She thought she should feel guilty, so Lisa tried to make herself feel bad. She told herself that she'd made the biggest mistake of her life. Drunkenly parading herself like some fucking hooker. Laughing and smoking cigarettes and dancing with half the guys there. Damned near raping her superior officer. Word was going to get around. Her reputation was ruined. Her career was in jeopardy.

But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make herself care. A persistent glow filled her every time she recalled what it'd been like to have that many men wanting her. And, after ten years, a man inside her. She hadn't felt helpless or weak, as she'd always imagined women were during sex. She felt strong, stronger than ever before.

She got on with her Sunday routine, but, while she was ironing uniforms, she kept catching sight of the nail polish she couldn't make herself remove, and smiling. Every time she moved, the slight soreness between her legs wistfully reminded her of what had happened.

That night, she masturbated, used the little red nails to replicate what had happened the night before. It wasn't as good as she'd hoped, but was far better than her previous tries. She drifted into a lazy sleep feeling hopeful.

But, Monday morning, it was back to the daily day. The nail polish came off and the uniform went on. The precinct looked the same. She and the captain both pretended nothing unusual had happened, but the sly smirks and quiet whispers told her that everyone knew otherwise. She tried to ignore it all, but wasn't able to hide from her tremendous confusion.

On one hand, it pissed her off that her fellow officers were acting like old hens. They should have been above gossip. But, curiously, their secret leers and smirks were more flattering than offensive. They'd thought she was a dyke, did they? Well, now they knew better. She was a woman. All woman. She found herself standing tall, bearing their innuendo like a medal.

Wednesday, one of the patrolmen asked her out to dinner. She accepted. Despite his obvious sexual interest, and her own curiosity, she held him off. Not on the first date, she told herself. Thursday, Captain Wilson caught her alone in the records room and kissed her, groped her tits through her uniform shirt. She eagerly returned the all-too-brief embrace, felt the first-time wonder of a cock swelling in her hands within his slacks.

Friday night, he made excuses to his wife and visited her apartment. She was ready for him, wearing the second dress she'd ever bought and a face bright with anticipation and careful cosmetics.

He wanted oral sex. She tried to say no. He was insistent. She confessed that she'd never done it before. He was gently persuasive, promised to teach her. It was nothing like she'd expected. His cock was silky soft between her slick red lips, seemed to fit her mouth as if designed for it. He urged her to finger herself while she sucked and kissed him.

Doing herself that way while he slid in and out of her mouth was strangely exciting. The lights were all on. Her black dress was bunched around her waist. He'd made her remove her hose and panties, but leave her high heels on. He could see everything. Her lipstick smearing his cock, paled by her saliva. Her thick black lashes and tasteful silver eye shadow. Her juices glistening on her pretty painted fingertips.

She felt vulnerable, but not timid. She wanted him to see her, all of her. She wanted him to make her do more nasty things. She heard herself telling him that, begging him to teach her, show her, do whatever he wanted to her.

He made strange gurgling noises, made fists of the hands that had been stroking her brown hair, and, without warning, came in her mouth. She gagged, struggled feebly, but couldn't get free. It was either swallow or choke to death. It was salty and slightly bitter, but not at all unpleasant tasting. It was hot and slick sliding down her throat. Her paralysis was quickly gone. She found herself wishing there was more of it, regretting that she'd let the first geysers escape her stretched lips and dribble down her chin. She vowed not to make that mistake again.

Then, wonder of wonders, he wanted to eat her pussy. She'd heard of that, and been disgusted by the idea - just as she had by the thought of a cock in her mouth. Suddenly, there was nothing revolting about it. As his tongue encountered her core, she melted. She was coming even before his fingers penetrated her cunt. Just the sensation of his tongue rolling her clit sent her into the first of a series of explosions that she never wanted to stop.

Her sheets were wet, fragrant with sweat and both male and female come. Her dress was a wrinkled tangle around her waist, leaving her tits and pussy exposed to the chill air conditioning. Her smooth, naked thigh was atop his hairy one. The cigarette they shared was almost as delicious as his come had been. And she didn't cough this time as she inhaled the rich smoke.

"I've been thinking," he said with artificial casualness.

"Oh? About what?" But she knew. A new excitement built within her.

"About you yammering at me to get you out from behind that desk. Maybe you're right."

She tensed. "Really! You meant it! I can -"

"Hey. Slow down, Lisa. It's not going to happen tomorrow. Or even next week. I'm going to have to shuffle things around some. Piss a few people off, no doubt."

She grabbed the cigarette, punched him playfully on the shoulder. "You just want to keep me inside as long as you can so you can feel me up whenever you want to."

"Well, there is that. It's kind of a mutual fringe benefit, don't you think? And, if I rush things along, people will talk. We don't want that, do we?"

She hurried to agree, but her mind was already elsewhere. She was finally going to be a real cop. His hand squeezing her tit reminded her of where she was, what she was doing. This time, she got to actually see the miracle as his soft member elongated and hardened inside her fist, then vanished inside the hole between her legs that should have been too tiny to contain it. She forgot she was a policewoman. Being only a woman was enough, for a while.

It wasn't until after he'd gone home to his wife that she drowsily realized what should have been obvious all alone. He'd given her what she wanted only because she'd given him what he wanted. Pussy. That made her a whore. She was bought and paid for. She'd become the kind of woman she most scorned, become the most despicable thing in her inflexible value system. She went to sleep wondering if it was such a bad thing after all.

She awoke late Saturday, feeling invigorated and only slightly guilty as she remembered. She looked down and laughed at herself. The dress was still bunched around her trim waist. Bite marks decorated her left tit and right thigh. Her new high heels were mysterious lumps under the smelly sheets. Dried come made her pussy itch.

She scampered into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. She looked like shit. Sleeping in makeup maybe wasn't such a good idea. The mascara and eyeliner had blurred into black circles around her eyes. The lipstick he'd admired and told her was so sexy was a faint red halo around her puffy mouth. And sleeping in the dress wasn't such a great plan, either. The damned thing was almost ruined.

As she showered, she decided that today was the day she'd invest in some slinky lingerie. Maybe she'd sleep in her makeup sometimes, but never her dress. And, she was by god going to go out shopping looking good. She styled her hair, did what she'd already come to think of as her weekend makeup, slipped into the cleaned red dress, and studied herself in the closet mirror.

She looked hot. Come to think of it, she felt hot. The daylight made everything different. Brighter. Gaudier. Sluttish, even. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She turned away from her reflection, both excited and afraid. Was she losing her mind?

She sat on the ruined bed, tried desperately to sort out her feelings. The captain had forgotten his cigarettes and lighter. Funny. She thought of him as either the Captain or Wilson - never Paul. She toyed with a cigarette, then lit it. It was different from the ones the night before. The smoke stuck slightly in her throat, tasted stale and harsh. Her mouth stained the filter red. As red as her fingernails and toenails and dress.

The bitch of it was, she liked looking this way. She had no idea when or why, but sometime during the past week, she'd ceased doing her best to look feminine for others, and started doing it for herself. She felt vibrant, alive in every cell of her body. She was ashamed of herself for feeling so good. It was cheap and tawdry. It was like an open invitation to fuck. Not make love, but just have sex. She didn't love Wilson. Paul. He didn't love her. He had a wife and kids. She had the Job. This was all just for kicks.

She caught herself daydreaming. What if she'd discovered this wonderful feeling earlier? What if, when that basketball player had raped her, she'd been able to cut loose and enjoy it? It wouldn't have hurt as much that way, physically or emotionally. Another thought swam up into her foggy brain. Was this bizarre, uncharacteristic acting out somehow related to that?

She jerked her thoughts away. It was too scary. She never thought about that experience. Never. It was over and done. So far in the past that it no longer existed. There was just today and tomorrow. She took a final drag from the cigarette, crushed it into the saucer-become-ashtray. And today she was going to buy lingerie. And be stared at and desired by every man in sight. She was a beautiful, sexy woman in the throes of self-discovery, and there wasn't a damned thing wrong with that. And fuck anybody who thought differently.

Lisa spent way too much money, knew she was doing it, and didn't give a damn. Not only did she find two silky, lacy teddies that she fell in love with, but she couldn't resist a stunning gold dress and matching five inch heels. Then, she had to have a garter belt and real hose - her first of both.

And there was more. So much more. But, already, she wasn't going to have anywhere near enough paycheck left to cover her bills. Tough shit, she laughed to herself, then refreshed her bright scarlet lips in the rearview mirror. I'll get by somehow. She stopped at a convenience store and bought her first pack of cigarettes.

There was a bar three blocks from home. Impulsively, she decided she want a drink. She pretended to ignore the attentive stares lingering over her as she took a stool. Before she could get her purse open to pay for her tequila sunrise, the bartender told her it'd been taken care of. She hid her astonishment. She'd been in bars maybe a dozen times in her life, and that'd never happened. She smiled a slightly nervous thanks two stools to her right. The man there took it as an invitation.

He doted upon her. He lit her cigarettes. He continued to buy her drinks. He made her laugh, time and again. He stared openly into her deep blue eyes as well as down her low, tight bodice. She saw her beauty and desirability etched in his feverish gaze, in the bulge of his slacks.

When he offered to take her to his hotel room, she hesitated too long. He'd already helped her to her feet and begun guiding her toward the door, his arm wrapped around her waist, his chest warm against her left tit. Her hip insinuatingly rubbed his. It was too late to say no. She didn't want to, anyway. Not really. It was the least she could do to thank him for making her feel so wonderful. Thank God she was too tipsy to have scruples.

The sex was mediocre. She was far too busy being enthralled by his almost servile attentions to her body to feel much. Oh, it was nice, but he seemed almost afraid of her. He was so desperate to please her that she had to fight away laughter. The fucker was worshipping her, for Christ's sake.

She was no expert, but the way Wilson had licked her pussy had seemed much more adept than this, and felt a hell of a lot better, too. And this guy kissed her tits like he was afraid he was going to break the damned things. And, when he finally stuck his cock in her juicy hole, he came almost instantly.




Killer Cop Ch. 1



She had to reassure him, tell him how great he was, how she'd come like a cannon while he was eating her cunt, to keep him from crying like a baby. His gratitude knew no bounds.

He was back in his suit and tie by the time she cleaned herself up in the bathroom and remade her face. He was suddenly in a hurry. A late appointment. She shrugged, thanked him from the bottom of her heart - although she wasn't really sure why - and left.

It wasn't until she got home, kicked off her ridiculously tall heels and flopped woozily on the sofa that she opened her purse, wanting a cigarette, and found the money. A pair of crisp new fifty dollar bills. It took her several seconds to realize where they'd come from. He'd paid her.

She stared blankly at the engraved paper. A momentary horror washed over her, leaving her bathed in cold sweat and awash in nausea. He'd thought she was a pro. He'd believed the only reason she went with him was for the money.

She swallowed the bile clogging her throat. Her hand shook so wildly that she had trouble finally lighting the cigarette. But the smoke steadied her.

Okay. What's done is done. It was a stupid mistake for him to make. Whores demand their money up front, and almost never work at three in the fucking afternoon in neighborhood bars. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't asked him for a damned thing. She couldn't help it if the asshole mistook her for a woman who fucked for money. She wasn't responsible.

Her shrill giggle shocked her. Well, at least her new clothes were partly paid for. She wasn't going to have to diet the last half of the month away. Just the last week or so. Another raw laugh, half sob this time. Unless, of course, she decided to do another bar or two. There were bound to be more idiots like that one out there.

To Be Continued...





Killer Cop Ch. 2



Chapter II: Hard Duty


Barney just sat there, silent as a cemetery.

"Jesus," Lisa begged, "say something, will you?" She fumbled a cigarette alight.

He stared emptily at her tobacco, shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry. It's just hard to believe."

"What?" she bridled, spitting smoke. "That tight-assed little me has been getting her brains fucked out after ten years of complete celibacy?"

"No. I mean, that, too. But . . ." He watched her smoke some more. "Look, I don't want to hurt you, Lisa, but it's really hard for me to believe that you didn't see it coming. I mean, a guy picks you up in a bar, takes you to his room - obviously for sex - and you didn't know he thought you were a pro?"

He saw she was doing her best to control her anger, shaking with the effort as she fought for clarity. There were visible changes in her from the last time they'd shared an after shift beer. The cigarette, for one. She looked as if she'd been smoking for years, not less than a week. The white tube seemed an extension of her hand.

That, too, was slightly different. Her cuticles were pushed back and her filed nails wore a clear polish. She used them to brush an errant lock of hair from her face. She wore it down, not up and away from her pretty, angularly waifish features. It looked like she used spray or mousse to hold it, another recent development.

And the face it framed wore a touch of foundation, blush, powder, mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss. Obviously, she didn't just brush her teeth and throw on a clean uniform any more. And, the uniform itself was neatly tailored, not standard issue. It left no doubt in any observer's mind that beneath was, not just a cop, but a slim and shapely woman.

The fear in her bright blue eyes was new, too. Seeing any emotion in them other than anger was, in some ways, the biggest change of all. Her deeply bowed lips finally blew a smoky sigh, then shaped sad words.

"Yeah. I know. Maybe if I hadn't let him get me drunk, I'd have seen it coming. Shit. Maybe I didn't want to see it coming and got drunk so I could do it. After what happened with Wilson, maybe I felt so much like a whore that . . . Hell. Who knows?"

He nodded, tried a little humor. "I feel responsible. If I hadn't told you to loosen up, this wouldn't have happened."

She didn't hear the levity as she ground out her cigarette. "That's bullshit, Barnes. I was a disaster waiting to happen. It's like every bit of sexual energy I've stuffed since the rape is boiling out of me. If you hadn't put the idea in my head, somebody else would have."

She sighed again. "I guess I just need to be more careful."

"No shit. All you need to do is get busted for coming on to some vice cop in a hotel bar."

She grinned, her eyes finally regaining some sparkle. "That'd shake things up around the precinct, wouldn't it?" Her smile softened. She reached out, took both his hands in hers. "Barney, there's no way I can begin to tell you how good a friend you are. If I hadn't been able to talk to somebody about this, I'd have lost my shit big time. Thanks."

He squeezed her hands, then reclaimed his own. "No sweat. You'd do the same for me."

"You know it. But now it's time for food. No more eating out for a long time." She shook her head, made a wry face. "I can't believe I really bought those clothes."

"Hey. Cut yourself some slack, girl. It's okay to look as sexy as you feel." He stood. "Besides, if push comes to shove, you know now how to make your wardrobe pay for itself."

Her laughter tinkled gaily as they walked out together. Her smile endured all the way home. Too bad Barnes was gay. She could really get interested in him in a physical way.

She unlocked the door, surveyed her living room with fresh eyes. She hadn't felt this good in four days, since last Saturday, before she'd let that stranger fuck her. She felt like what her Catholic friends used to describe after exiting the confessional. Her crippling shame was gone. Well, almost anyway.

She probed it like a kid poking at a scab. The thing was, it'd been such fun. To dress up and paint her face and strut her stuff like that. To bask in the heat of men's longing gazes. To really feel, after her twisted adolescence, like a desirable woman who didn't have to fear becoming a victim again.

That was the bottom line, she realized as she dropped her uniform blouse and slacks onto the bedroom floor. She'd become a cop because she needed to feel strong - protect herself by protecting others. She'd become virtually asexual to minimize her sense of total vulnerability.

She stepped into the shower, relaxed even further under the stinging spray of scalding water. She'd tried to amputate her femininity. She weighed her firm tits with soap-slick hands, massaged them with suds until her nipples stood out, dark and proud.

It was too bad she'd felt she had to do that. All those years, wasted. All those formative relationships that could have happened and didn't. Her soapy hands ran down her body, rubbed her belly, slipped lower. Hot water drummed against her hard, high ass. Her lashes fluttered. Her hips rocked. Thank God it hadn't worked. Thank God she was still a woman. Warm and alive. Pliant, succulent and desirable. Responsive. Capable of deep pleasure, and giving the same.

Both hands were busy by then. Exploring the wonders of her body, eliciting shivers of joy from recesses still veiled in mystery. She was so naive, so inexperienced. Her hips had established a regular rhythm. So eager to learn.

Her breath was coming in quick pants. She heard the magical music of her soft whimpers and moans echo faintly in the shower stall. In a way, doing it with strangers was good. No messy involvements. No ugly scenes to extract herself from. Just wonderful kisses and caresses. Just cocks filling her mouth and stretching her cunt. Just come exploding in her womb, gushing into her mouth. Just the miracle of fantastic, awesome orgasms. No ugly entanglements beyond those between washable sheets.

She leaned against the shower wall as her knees threatened to buckle under her. Her brilliant red lipstick smearing the length of faceless dicks, her pussy oozing delicious pale stranger's come. Yes. She wanted that. She had to have it. She envisioned men lined up to fuck her. Watching one another kiss her hungry red lips, fuck her writhing, endlessly spasming body, dumping their seed into her bottomless pit, rolling off her, only to be replaced by the next one.

She began a howl, bit her lips harshly to silence herself. Her hands were a blur, one digging into her seeping hole, the other toying with the button of her ass. More than one. On her knees, like in a nasty picture she'd seen in a magazine she wasn't supposed to know was in her brother's bottom drawer. A massive cock lost in her sodden cunt. Another, greased, buried up her ass. A third pushed down her throat. A fourth and fifth sliding through her oiled little fists. Bathed in come. Soaked by it. Sticky and smelly to the bottom of her soul.

She bit her lips even harder, blocked most of her shrill scream, doubled up over her hands. It was the best yet, made the orgasms the captain gave her seem pale and paltry. Her hands slowed to tender strokes, then speeded, then slowed again. It went on and on. It eased only to return, diminished in gradual, glorious stages, leaving her on her back, knees up thrust and spread, under the spray of warm water.

It seemed ridiculously hard to move. The hot water was almost gone, though, and she had no desire to cool down. She worked the faucets with her red-tipped toes. She didn't have to take that polish off. She wished she didn't have to strip her fingernails, either. They were so pretty.

She crawled from the tub, amused by her weakness, but made uncomfortable by the overwhelming power of her fantasy. Dreaming about sex was an all new thing. Her rigidity had been so steely that even her imagination had fallen victim. It, too, it seemed, was making up for lost time.

She blotted herself dry, wriggled into her cotton panties. Plain. Not lacy and colorful. But her hips were loose. Hell, everything was loose. No tension was left inside her, anywhere. She smiled into the mirror as she ran her brush sensuously through her shoulder length, coffee brown hair. She admired her pretty little tits as they bounced invitingly. Her lips were passion and bite swollen, seemed irresistibly kissable. She was momentarily humbled by the intensity of her beauty.

She'd always treated her body as a machine, a tool she used to move herself through space. It lifted weights. It did pushups and situps. It maneuvered the academy's obstacle course. It trained her weapon at targets. It'd never before been truly a part of her.

Now, she saw it could be a vehicle of pleasure, a source of joy for herself and others. Its skin was soft and creamy and radiant, flushed with residual heat. It was lushly curved, if lean. It was softly muscled, strong. It was flawless.

Except for the curly, damp tufts of dark pubic hair poking through the leg openings of the bland panties. She remedied that with scissors and a razor, ran lazy fingers through what remained of her thatch, parted it to view the pretty pink slash within its cover.

She'd read that some women removed all their pussy hair. What would that be like? She grinned, brushed at the dew still lingering in her lower lips. No more hair between Captain Wilson's teeth. He'd bitched about that, last Friday. Nothing to prevent her from watching each delectable detail of what he - or her next stranger - did to her.

The way that thought came surprised her. It hadn't been part of another fantasy, but a flat statement. She left her panties on the bathroom floor, swayed distractedly to her bed. She would do that again, she understood as she lit a cigarette. Somewhere, sometime - many times - she'd see someone she wanted and take him. In a motel or apartment or on a park bench, she'd unzip him and stuff him into her cunt, without qualm or hesitation. Not for love. Not for money either, of course. That was too dangerous.

She chuckled, low in her throat. Jesus. She wouldn't whore herself again because of the Job. Not because of any moral stance, or even a legal one. Only because, if she got popped, she'd never work again. She mused idly; if it weren't for that inescapable fact, would she sell herself again?

What a slut, she laughed. All those years of moral and ethical posturing had been pure denial of the raw needs secretly growing beneath the stony surface of her awareness. Hiding them just added to their power. Look where all those self-lies had gotten her.

She flopped back on the bed, inhaled hugely, and tickled her Flat, well muscled stomach. Well, this wasn't such a bad place to be, was it? Perpetually horny, and with the maturity and looks to get what she wanted?

The next morning, under a standard memo, Wilson had scrawled a cryptic note: "2:00. Unit 1721." Two was when she took her afternoon break. Car 1721, the roster told her, was in the garage for repairs. Her stomach crawled with anticipation. It was too soon for anything about reassignment. He just wanted a quickie. A part of her anatomy a little lower began churning, too.

All day, her excitement built, reaching the limits of her endurance. Her nipples felt like bullets, poked through her blouse for everyone to see. There was no way to hide them. They were noticed. She averted her eyes, slumped her shoulders to minimize their prominence. The attention just heightened her rabid desire. She tried to keep her mind on her work, and failed miserably. She was going to get fucked, right here in the building, with hundreds of people all around her. She was terrified that her dampening cunt would stain her slacks with its juice, make it look like she'd pissed all over herself. When it didn't, she couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed.

Unable to wait another second, she skipped out a little early. Wilson was still in his office with somebody from Vice. She ducked into a stairwell, slid down toward the basement garage, quiet as a thief.

The parking area was almost silent. The only sounds were dull echoes from the street above. The light was dim. All the work was being done at night. Only at shift change was there much going on down here. She used a quick stab of light from her torch to locate unit 1721. It was up on blocks, hood yawning blackly. She lit a shaky cigarette, muttered her impatience, then shut up as the bare concrete gave her back her own words, amplified.

If I scream when I come, all hell will break loose. A dozen cops, weapons drawn, will be all over us in seconds. She fought back a giggle, then obeyed impulse that felt almost as lewd. He loved her red lipstick. She'd started carrying it with her, always, just as an illicit little reminder. She used the car's interior light to paint a vivid double bow.

She was working on her second cigarette - and her hot, swollen clit - by the time he emerged from the stairwell, tiptoeing, as she had.

"About fucking time you got here," she purred as he stepped to the open rear door. She could tell he could see, by the cigarette's glow, that she was naked below the waist. Her cunt made wet, sucking noises around her fingers.

"Couldn't wait, huh?"

She shuddered. The way he was watching her did things inside her. "Ever since I read the memo, I've been hot as a mink. Lucky for you you're the first one through that door. I'd have jumped anybody with a dick." She'd intended it as a joke, but it came out with more energy than she'd planned.

He leaned casually against the vehicle, lit his own smoke, held the lighter inside. "Ah. Lipstick. Not exactly regulation, Cole."

"Neither is being bare-assed with my fist in my pussy. Are you going to fuck me, or just stand there?"

He let the lighter go out. "Both." His hand worked his zipper, pulled out his semi-rigid member. "It's all yours, officer."

She threw away her cigarette, stroked him the way he'd shown her. She leaned over, licked the length of his shaft, circled the head with a darting tongue. She couldn't see his face. She didn't need to.

She liked sucking cock even more the second time she tried it. Its silky texture, as she ran it to the back of her mouth, was like nothing else in the world. She fucked him with her face, slowly, gently, teasing him as she hadn't had the presence of mind to do before. And, with each stroke, her own fire burned hotter.

Within minutes, she wasn't able to tease anymore. She slavered over the cock, moaned and whined as saliva dribbled unheeded from the corners of her mouth. She needed his come to quench the dire thirst that'd built all day long. Only then did she want to come, let her own orgasm satisfy her.

His hands tangled in her hair, guided her. He was saying something. Something about work. She fought to hear, refused to relinquish the prize in her mouth.

"That meeting I just got out of. Any idea what it was about?"

"Mmm" That meant no. He was against her soft palate, nearly gagging her. Her lips smacked noisily as she gasped a quick breath, rolled her tongue around the purpling head.

"There's a push coming down on hookers in the district. Vice is way shorthanded. They need help this weekend. Units and people. It's going to over-extend us pretty badly." His voice was showing strain, but it wasn't job related stress.

His words were dim. She had three fingers sloshing around in her cunt. Her thumb was rubbing her clit wildly. Vice. Whores. Like her. She squealed, increased the pace of her bobbing head, her sucking lips.

His hands were more urgent, more forceful. He was hurting her a little, but she didn't give a damn. "You've heard of deep throat? It can mean two things, Cole. It can be a code word for undercover work. And it can be this."

He forced her head toward him, twisted it a little upwards. She gagged. He was going down her throat. All the way down. She couldn't breathe. She tried to fight him, but it was too late. Her lips were crushed against his pubic bone. His balls were soft against her chin. He held her there for an instant. Dark motes began to swim before her eyes. He eased himself out.

She choked, made raw sounds as she leaned against his heavy leather belt, taking deep, painful lungsful of air, unable to make any sense of his words and cruelty.

"Again, Cole. All the way, baby. Do it."

She coughed and eagerly engulfed him. She knew it could be done now. He'd shown her how. She eased him to the hard point, fought the need to gag, and took him. It was good. Unspeakably grand. Her mouth was as deep as her cunt. Deeper. She milked him with her throat, nuzzled his belly with her lips, and felt herself begin to come.

She backed off, grabbed another breath, and did it again. She felt his hips tightening, knew this time what the little twitches of his cock meant, and was ready. Her own orgasm was in full, spectacular bloom by the time his began. Spurt after spurt of white hot come shot into her gullet. Even when she had to have air, she made sure that nothing escaped her, that not a single stray cell evaded her come slick lips. And, even after he was spent, began to soften in her mouth, her own climax rolled inevitably on, an unstoppable juggernaut.

His words barely penetrated that lurid, heavenly haze. But they registered upon her. They triggered a fresh, gut-wrenching inner twist.

"So. What do you say, Cole? Want to do a little undercover work Friday and Saturday night? Play streetwalker for Sergeant Gillian in Vice? Personally, I think you'd make the best whore in town."

She managed a raw laugh. Her throat felt like ground beef. "Yeah," she croaked. "Sounds great, Cap."

He zipped his slacks, tucked his shirt in, buttons over fly, by the book. "Show up tomorrow night at nine-thirty. Take the day off to rest up and get ready. You'll have to supply your own clothes. Now get yourself straightened out. You're late."

"No problem. Can do."

He turned to leave. "Captain Wilson? Thanks. You've got no idea what this means to me."

He waved it off. "It's no favor. You deserve it."

The door closed behind him. She lit a fresh cigarette, pulled her pants back on and struggled up the stairs, into the empty john. Her lipstick was almost all gone. So was her makeup. Her cheeks and chin were red, scraped by his pubic hair. Her hair was wildly knotted.

She splashed herself with cold, stinging water, gingerly blotted herself dry, then covered the rawness with a little more powder than usual. Yeah. She deserved this assignment, all right. Too fucking perfect. Fuck your boss until he promises you he'll help you, she thought, savagely tugging a brush through her hair. Suck his cock, drink his come again, and he comes through, just like he said he would. Dumb bastard doesn't have any idea what he's doing.

Pretend I'm a cunt for rent? No need to fake it. Dress like a common whore? Act cheap and easy? No need to act. This's the perfect assignment. Exactly what I deserve. Deep throat, huh? Cap, you just made my day. Twice.

The last hours of work slipped past effortlessly, mainly because she made no effort. Already, she was obsessively planning for tomorrow. She was interrupted, time and again, by people come to congratulate her. And stare. Word had gotten around that she was going to pull her first real duty assignment. They remembered what she'd looked like at the party. She watched them slyly visualize Lisa the Whore. She intended to meet and surpass their every expectation.

She set about it the instant she got off work, totally forgetting that she was supposed to get together with Barnes again. She dashed to a huge drugstore, knowing they'd have everything she needed. Then, she hurried home, even more eager to begin than she'd been for Wilson to meet her in the garage.




Killer Cop Ch. 2



She was working on her tenth fingernail, going through the tedious process of making the artificial tip into a perfectly real-looking extension of her natural nail, when Barney called.

"Shit, guy," she said, scowling at her still flawed work, "I totally spaced it out. I'm really sorry."

"Understandable, all things considered. Excited, huh?"

She controlled the impulse to blurt out the whole wonderful story. "That's the understatement of the decade. I'm really going to make it, Barney. I'm going to be the best fucking plain-clothes officer out there."

He laughed. "Plain clothes, Lisa?" The emphasis on the first word was unmistakable.

She chortled, too. "Well, not exactly. I wonder if I can claim that nasty gold dress as a uniform expense now?"

"Could be." His levity was replaced by concern. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, considering everything that's happened?"

She admired her completed left hand's long, curved nails, in need only of paint. "I'm absolutely positive, hon. I can't think of a better way to exorcise this ugly demon I raised. Can you?"

It wasn't exactly a lie. She was careful not to do that to him. She cared too much. But deception was going to have to be part of her life from now on. It was part of the price she'd have to pay.

It took another hour just to complete her nails, and that was only the start. She learned how to use them, to adapt her movements to compensate for their initial clumsiness, as she plucked her eyebrows into thin, graceful arcs and worked with the bikini wax.

She didn't stop with her legs. The pain of uprooting every last trace of cunt hair brought beads of cold sweat to her brow. But it didn't register in her mind as pain. The process was hypnotic. She almost regretted its completion, curled forward as far as she could to microscopically examine what she'd done to herself.

"I wish I could lick you," she whispered to her dewy lower lips. "You're so beautiful. Look how you pout and beg. Wilson said you taste wonderful."

She very carefully ran a hooked red nail over, around, then between her fleshy folds, collecting her moisture.

"So smooth and soft and delicate. No hair left at all. Just like when you were twelve." She delicately touched the fingertip to her tongue, savored its flavor and rich scent, probed the new sharp edges of her nail.

"Oh, yeah. Nice. Very nice, Lisa. You taste as good as you look, girl."

She stared downward hollowly, then roused herself. It took effort. She felt like she was floating somewhere above it all, looking down from a great distance at the unknown woman emerging from her own body like a butterfly from a cocoon. Like she was beside herself, seeing the woman she'd been less than two weeks ago fading, vanishing forever as the rough, ugly, hard covering broke and fell away, little by little, freeing the beautiful creature trapped inside.

"Come on, honey," she urged herself tenderly. "Back to work."

Next came her hair. Her soul cried out for her to make a permanent change, to shatter the horrors of the past, crown her head with a color as glorious as what was happening inside. But she'd bought washable hair color. The Job again. Needing to watch, she lathered it in before the lavatory mirror, meticulously attending to the boxed instructions. Her gestures were slow and deliberate, almost ritualistic. Her eyes were dull, her round, full mouth relaxed, lips slightly parted.

Then she styled her new hair. Differently. With gel and spray, erasing her natural waves, compelling it to hang as straight as if it were ironed. It drank light, hung in shining ebony sheets on either side of her face. Black as midnight. Black as sin.

She discovered that she was staring blindly at her reflection. She had no idea how long she'd been doing so, without thought, without emotion. For an instant, she was filled with fear. What was happening to her? She was fading, vanishing. The nude young woman in the mirror, hairless below her brows, wasn't really her. Where was she going? She felt numb, mentally and physically, sluggish, uncoordinated. Terror rose, but didn't extend to her expressionless, relaxed face.

The bathroom faded from her sight. She was no longer in her apartment, a thousand miles from where she grew up. It was a fragrant spring night. A quarter moon hung in the sky, suspended from stars by invisible wires. A tall boy and a girl who barely reached his chest were strolling silently through the night. The rest of the kids had dispersed after the game.

She and Tommy walked toward her house, side by side. Her cheerleader's skirt swished around her legs. She was nervous. He was so tall, so strong, so handsome. He liked her! He really did! What did a junior in high school, a basketball star, see in a shy seventh grader like her? He could have anybody he wanted. Sarah Waters, the prettiest girl in school, wore his letter jacket. If she didn't have the flu, this wouldn't be happening. He reached for and found her hand.

The black haired woman before the mirror was helpless to intervene. It was like a movie. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't get up and leave the theater. She couldn't even close her eyes against what came next. She heard a vague, weak inner whimper.

Tommy slowed, stopped. She looked up at him, watched him lower his face toward hers, felt his lips meet hers, watched in horror as she returned the embrace with all her heart.

He broke the contact, led her through Mrs. Pauley's side yard, toward the dry creek and crescent of fine zoyza grass at its bank, and lay her upon the living green carpet. He'd been so sweet, at first. It was like a scene from a romance novel; the handsome older hero stroking the hair, gently kissing the poor young servant girl in the ghostly moonlight. He loved her, he whispered softly. But kissing and exchanging endearments hadn't been what he really wanted to do.

He chuckled when she said no to his groping under her sweater. He wouldn't stop. She fought. He turned mean, meaner than she'd ever known anybody could be. He didn't hit her, though. He just took her little throat in one big hand and squeezed any time she tried to make a sound or resist.

Whore. That's what he called her as he slammed his cock into her virginal cunt, ripping his way through the ineffectively resisting membrane, tearing his way into her soul, murdering love and innocence and trust.

Then he'd left her laying on that soft, grassy carpet, disgusted by her childish tears. He'd run into the night like a thief. She'd staggered home, bleeding just a little, not nearly enough to signify the depth of the wound.

Whore. That's what her father had called her, too. It was all her fault. His words and curses had stung even more than his slaps. They'd ripped her deeper than Tommy's cock had ever reached.

Because her dad was right. She'd gotten exactly what she deserved. Her faint plea for justice had fallen on deaf ears. Even as she'd vowed to herself that it'd never happen again, that no one had the right to use her that way, she suspected, in a cold, black part of her heart, that she was bad, that she wouldn't have cared so much if Tommy had just promised her his class ring or letter jacket. All she'd really wanted was to be paid for her sacrifice.

With a psychic jolt, the vision ended. She was back. In an adult body. In her own bathroom. Still gazing into the mirror. A single tear shone on each cheek, ran in graceful curves, leaving shining paths toward the corners of her trembling mouth. She watched until the expression in the mirror changed. From shocked horror, the face altered until it wore a harsh, pitiless smile.

"Well, cunt, they'll pay you now. This is who you've always been. It's about fucking time you acted it out."

She held her cold, blue-eyed gaze as she lit a cigarette. "You were a whore even then. You loved it, you mattress-backed little slut. You knew what he wanted all along. You tried to blackmail him with the rape bullshit, and he didn't cave in. So you told the lie. You tried to destroy his whole fucking life. You wanted to send him to prison because he wanted somebody else more than you."

Her laughter held no humor. Her eyes roved over her body. Her hands did the same. Neither held anything but self-contempt. Her words were mocking, dripped scorn.

"No more lies, cunt. Not to yourself, anyway. Now you know. You know who you are, what you are, and why."

She watched her lips fit themselves around the cigarette, take bitter smoke. Without thought or hesitation, she did her makeup. Heavier than before, until her entire face wore a mask that hid her old self entirely, buried it beneath blended color.

Slick, shimmering red lips smiled approval. Lashes brittle with layers of mascara waved over lids sagging under the weight of glittering gold and silver eye shadow.

"Yes," she hissed, watching her slow lips move, tasting their sweet color with a lazy tongue. "Now finish it."

In the bedroom, she stepped into the elastic garter belt, rolled silky hose up sleek legs and strapped on towering gilded heels. Then she stretched the dress to cover what little it would. Dumping makeup, condoms, cigarettes - and nothing else - into a clasp purse, she stepped out into the night to practice for her first weekend's duty.

To Be Continued...



Killer Cop Ch. 3



Chapter III: The Streets Dawn


Friday. The Lisa emerging from the elevator and opening her apartment door wore the same gold minidress and matching shoes, the same lurid makeup as the one who'd left the building at ten the evening before. But she wasn't the same, at least in her own mind.

She'd done too many things in the intervening eight hours that could never be undone, even if she wanted to. She suspected that there'd be times in the weeks and years to come that'd she'd wish, with all her heart, that it was possible to undo them. But, at the moment, she had no regrets.

She flopped limply onto the sofa, still wearing the broad, bitter scarlet smile she'd worn throughout the night. She unbuckled her tall sandals, kicked them carelessly under the coffee table. She'd fucked three total strangers. She'd been whimsically selective about it, but not choosing her suitors from those wearing the most expensive clothes, or offering the most money. Rather, she'd been moved by needs she hadn't bothered to name, and discovered her motives only after the fact.

She snicked open her purse, brought out cigarettes and a wad of cash. Three hundred and fifty bucks. About a week's normal take-home pay. Normal. Strange word. What was it going to mean from now on?

She lit a smoke, stared at the money with sharp, cold eyes. It was well earned. She let the memories replay themselves, savoring each detail. The harshness vanished from her face, was replaced by a wistful dreaminess.

The first guy had really gotten off on her lips. That's why she'd gone with him. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her slick red mouth, had damned near creamed his slacks when she'd deliberately, slowly, repainted it for him before leaving the bar. She refused to let him kiss her, ruin her perfection, but she mercilessly teased him with it, made her words languorous, kept her face mere inches from his, and drove him mad.

She knew he wanted to fuck it, and she wanted him to. His cock hadn't been as big as Wilson's, had slid down her throat like a candy cane made of hot flesh, with an ease that had both astonished and gratified her. She was naturally good at this.

It'd been strangely curved, too. At least she'd assumed it was strange. She really only had two to compare it to, since she couldn't remember anything about Tommy's. When he shot off, she'd been ready, had captured every mote as she worked her lips and licked his balls with her painfully distended tongue. She had her own orgasm, without ever even touching her gushing cunt.

The second was a big, ugly bruiser who could have passed for somebody's hired muscle, had it not been for his thousand dollar suit and refined speech. He instantly saw through her bluff and read her inexperience. An eager, innocent slut. That's what got him off. When he called her on it, she admitted the truth - this was her first night on the street, and she loved what she was doing. He had her mount him, ride a cock so massive that she'd seriously wondered if she could spread herself wide enough to take it.

She could, of course. She watched, enthralled, as her hairless snatch parted, swallowed it inch by inch, stroke by stroke penetrating her further than anything ever had. She'd come twice before he finally filled the rubber with sperm, ballooning its reservoir to the bursting point.

The last one was some rich kid from the burbs, slumming in his Dad's BMW, acting like he knew the score. The poor bastard was terrified, and, it turned out, a virgin bent on getting deflowered. She'd been more than happy to oblige. The first time was shitty, way too quickly finished for her to get off with him. But she let him watch her finger-fuck herself for another fifty bucks. Watching his cock slowly refill with blood as she rolled her clit and dipped sharp crimson nails into her wetness had provided them both with an incredible rush of lust. The second fuck had been a freebie, and, in some ways, the best of the night.

Lisa groaned and stretched, watched the hem of the dress rise to nearly bare her tired, sore pussy, admired the dark slash of the garter strap on her white flesh. She swung her legs apart, made her exposure complete. Her lower lips were reddened, still slightly puffy. Ever so gently, she explored herself, felt the warm fuzziness seep back into her. She sighed heavily and stopped, wondering, with something approaching sadness, if she would ever get enough cock, if this need would ever abate.

She rose, moved into the bedroom, watched herself peel away her new uniform, and searched her soul for shame. There was none. She saw her dark red lips downturn in the mirror. But there was something different. Something much deeper than the makeup and straight, jet black hair.

She stepped nearer the glass, peered into the blue eyes surrounded by heavy black borders. Something was missing from her, something she'd lived with for so long it'd become a part of her. There was an emotional hole, but it remained unidentifiable as she stripped off her makeup, clicked off the lights, and padded her way to the bed.

Sleep came almost instantly, and claimed her until five that afternoon. She awoke groggy, sluggish, as she always did when she slept during the day. It wasn't until she was halfway to the kitchen that she recalled the why of her inverted schedule.

Her shuffling steps faltered. It was too dreamlike. Despite the tenderness between her legs, the stretched web beneath her tongue, and her hooked red fingernails, it took the reality of the pile of cash on the coffee table to convince her she hadn't dreamed it. How could she feel so fucking normal?

She shrugged it off as the water dripped through the ground coffee beans, and set about her usual wake-up routine. After her first cup of brew, she ran through her exercises. Fresh coffee in hand, she showered away the sweat - as well as the residue of last night's hair color and sex, she realized with a trace of regret. She grinned into the spray of hot water. There was plenty more where that came from.

She spent hours redoing her hair and makeup, refining her image a little, and lounged, nude and nervous, until it was time to prepare for the night's work. It would be vastly different tonight. She wasn't just a whore, she was a cop, too. She was going to go out there and bust her sisters and men who could have been her customers. Her excitement at actually, finally, acting like a police officer warred with her awakened sexuality.

She scowled. The painted slut in the mirror scowled back. What a fucking hypocrite. She always had been, though. This was nothing new. She'd always been a judgmental, compassionless two-faced bitch. She savagely sucked a cigarette to life. The only difference was that now she was admitting it.

Her self-hatred wasn't complete, however. Something else nagged at her and built until it eventually got her attention. It was the same nameless feeling that had puzzled her the night before, but this time its identity became clear.

Justice. Vindication. These had always been important to her. Still, it was unnerving to realize that the emotional void she'd noted was just that. The scales were somehow being balanced. A part of her had been aware of her guilt ever since the "rape." She'd made it a part of herself. It had ruled her ever since, by way of celibacy and hatred of victimizers. She'd become a cop because she couldn't send a boy to jail. He'd been unreachable. Others wouldn't be.

Now, she was making reparations, in a twisted way. She couldn't undo what she'd done in the past, but she could punish herself for wanting to do it.

Her scarlet laugh was bitter, cruel. She blew smoke. "See?" she whispered throatily. "See, Tommy? See, Daddy? You were right. I was wrong. I hope this helps a little."

Then she stalked out, dampening all feeling, making herself as emotionally numb as whores - and policewomen - had to be. She was early, and caused quite a stir at the precinct. The guys reacted openly to what they assumed was a disguise. They whistled, called out obscene suggestions. She posed for them. She flirted shamelessly, mimicked the actions of the streetwalkers they saw brought in every night of the week. They knew she was mocking herself, but misunderstood the why of it. They laughed uproariously, amazed by her new relaxation, her willingness to play.

Lisa the tight-assed, humorless rookie, always serious, always staid, was dead and buried. Fuck it, she thought, sitting on a lap and wiggling her ass, then making a quick escape. Might as well have a good time.

Other female officers straggled in, displaying varying degrees of discomfort in their whore's weeds. She pulled back a notch, reined herself in. She'd been dangerously close to the edge, much closer than anyone knew. Her gut felt hollow, her cunt damp. A part of her wanted to let everyone know who she really was. A part of her wanted to lay down on the booking counter and spread her legs and take on all the boys in blue who wanted a piece. With effort, she made herself go to the corner where the other women were clumping.

She felt out of place. She lit a cigarette, leaned against a wall, quieted her hammering heart. Another woman, someone Lisa didn't recognize, wearing a scanty blue halter top and black leather skirt, joined her.

"Got an extra smoke?"

She shook one out, silently welcoming the distraction. "I'm Lisa Cole."

"I know. Sergeant Trotter. Vice."

"Ah. You've done this kind of thing before. I wondered why you looked so . . ."

"Comfortable? Yeah. I guess it's pretty much old hat for me by now. But you don't look too scared, either. Why's that?"

Lisa covered her stab of panic with the cigarette. "I am. I just hide it better than most, I guess."

"Come on, Cole," she jibed quietly. The nervous tittering surrounding them made it as intimate as a whisper. "Get real, okay? It's kind of a turn-on, isn't it? I've seen it before. Some girls get a real rush out of duty like this. Gives them a chance to loosen up and be women for a change." The wizened eyes speared her, read her too well.

"Is that the way it is for you?" Asking a question seemed her only defense. Besides, she was curious.

"It was, my first few times," the sergeant openly confided. "I'd always kind of wondered what it was like, you know? I was always curious about everything good girls weren't supposed to do." She shrugged. Her tits bounced. "Now, hell, it's just a part of the job. I get dressed and go to work. No big deal."

But she eyed Lisa through their cloud of mutual smoke. "It takes special people to do this right. Most of these girls won't fool anybody who knows the streets. You, though, you're different."

Captain Wilson appeared, with the Vice officer she'd seen him closeted with the day before. Lisa's cold sweat began to dry. Trotter smelled something wrong. She diverted her eyes to the senior officers, praying for the bitch to get lost in the crowd.

They led the way into the squad room and spelled out the night's drill. The women were paired, teamed with plainclothes backups, and assigned territories. It was a typical sweep operation, one everyone knew wouldn't really accomplish a damned thing. The women would pop a few johns. The guys would haul them in, along with a few working girls. Everybody would make bail by Monday morning. It wouldn't make any difference - but the papers would report it, and the public would be appeased for a while.

But that didn't make it any less of a high for Lisa. The night was a non-stop blur of excitement. The gun weighed heavily in her purse. Stalking the downtown streets, rubbing elbows with real whores - other real whores, that is - made her feel as cheap and sleazy as they were. She watched. She learned. She paraded herself, just like they did. She leaned into car windows, showing off her tits, licking her slick red lips, making them negotiate a price.

She rode away in their cars into the night, heart hammering. Only the fact that she was always followed by unmarked cars kept her from sneaking a blow job or a down-and-dirty quick fuck for a buck.

She was a little surprised that busting the poor fuckers was such a turn-on. Taking them right to the edge, being careful not to entrap them or compromise the arrest in any way, was like foreplay. Their horror or outrage or bleak fear, when they realized what was really happening, was almost, in some ways, as good as fucking them would have been.

It filled her with a sense of power, similar to what she'd experienced the night before. It was the opposite side of the same coin. She was in complete control. She was free to act as slutty as she knew how - in fact, the nastier, the better - yet she dominated them. They were there to indulge themselves, to wallow in their superiority as much as in her pussy. To totally turn the tables on them, to watch them crumble before her, left her breathless.

Until exactly two-forty-five a.m, fifteen minutes from the end. Until the kid in the restored beige Caddie grinned sheepishly at her hard nipples, looked straight into her passion-heavy eyes, instead of at their glittering gold eye shadow, and asked her her name. None of the others had done that. Eye contact seemed to be something to be avoided, and names were cumbersome, useless baggage. This kid was different. The hard knot of her excitement loosened. She heard her words tumble from her mouth without being aware of deciding to speak them.

"Look, kid. You're after something special, right? Not just a sloppy head job in an alley. If you can go a c-note, meet me in front of the drugstore at Twelfth and Ash in two hours. Sound good?"

"I don't know. That's a lot of money."

"Believe me, honey, I'll make it worth every penny."

He cruised off. She turned, shrugged at her partner and the black pro who'd been watching. "He just wanted to look. Probably go home and jack off, pretending his hand's my face." Her throat felt clogged with need. She prayed he'd be there.

She got there ten minutes late. She'd rushed through the paperwork that wouldn't wait and had been on her way out the door when Wilson had snagged her. Her eagerness to get out of there had made his shape in the shadows of the door invisible.

"Hey, baby," he'd sneered quietly. "Got time for a quickie?"

A rude, coarse rejection shaped itself on her lips, but she choked it back. "It's been a long night, Cap."

"Come on, Cole. You forgetting what I went through to get you in on this? The least you can do is show your gratitude."

The message couldn't have been more clear. Unless she wanted to go back to riding a desk, she'd have to fuck him, right now.

She lit another cigarette, smiled the smile she'd been using all night. "Come on," she drawled. "I guess a dose of come really would feel pretty good right now."

She led the way around the side of the building, listened to the harsh click of her heels on the pavement, heard the softer pad of his steps not far behind. She established herself in the shadow of a dumpster, amidst a jumble of empty crates and boxes.

"You did good tonight, Cole. You've got a knack for this sort of thing."

She faced the wall, leaned over a rough wooden box, held her cigarette in her mouth as she lifted her dress. He didn't know the half of it. "Come on, baby. Stick it in there. I need it at least as much as you do."

He was already hard. He gasped as he rammed her. "You shaved your cunt."

She bucked against him, drove him all the way home in one quick move. Her own voice shook perilously. "I did it for you. Like it?"

"Oh, yeah." He showed her just how much. He grabbed her hips, pounded her from behind until the force of his thrusts made her snap the cigarette in half as she scrabbled for a better grip.

He was uncharacteristically quick. When he blew his come into her, it felt like a jet of white hot lava. Without warning, she felt her vaginal walls begin their rhythmic milking contractions. She had to bite her arm to block her shout of raw joy. He jerked himself out before she was through, left her gasping weakly on the crate.

His laugh was cold. "Shit, Cole. I feel like I ought to leave you some money."

"No sweat, Cap," she managed. "You already paid me. Thanks."

He sauntered off, left her fighting for her breath, his come running down her legs, still laying face down on the splintery box.

She pulled herself together, hurried as much as she was able. At least he hadn't fucked up her makeup. She was able to fix her bitten lips and mop up most of his sperm at a stoplight.

The Cadillac was there. The kid's shadow was ramrod stiff behind the wheel in the glare of her headlights. She was fairly steady on her feet as she walked to his window.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," he said, almost apologetically. "I've got the money."

"Great, honey. I knew I could count on you. I've been looking forward to this ever since you left."

He relaxed a little. "Really?"

"Really. I knew right away you were someone special. Do you have somewhere we can go?"

The nerves returned. "Well, I don't live too far away."

She followed. Her anticipation had returned. this was going to be something extraordinary. Just how she knew that, she couldn't say. Until she saw his living room walls, covered with heavy metal posters. Women in leather and chains, scowling defiantly down at him. Until the deference he'd shown her resolved into abject submission, and she felt herself swelling on the inside. Until she'd commanded him to strip and lay down with his hands above his head and snapped her well-used handcuffs around his slim wrists, with the chain looped through the headboard. Her lust verged upon rage as she sank onto his short, fat cock, glaring cruelly down into his terrified eyes.

She felt herself slip over some precipitous cliff within her secret inner landscape. She felt crazed as she plummeted into its unsuspected depths. She slapped him, hard, across each side of his face, and his fear vanished, became pure gratitude. He babbled non-stop as she fucked him. He raved feverishly as she pinched his nipples with long, sharp nails. He came, even though she'd ordered him not to. She slapped him even more viciously, stinging her palms, then slid up and covered his face with her dripping pussy, smothered him until he began lapping his - and Wilson's - sperm from her hole.

She cursed him, mocked him savagely as he drank himself and another man from her fountain. She made sure he knew it wasn't just his jism he was eating. And he loved it. She added her own come to his meal, bending back to use her nails to finger his ass as she squirmed on his wet face.

He cried like a baby when she told him he'd gotten all he'd paid for. He pled with her to stay longer. He didn't have any more cash, but she could take anything he had if she'd use a dildo in a bedside drawer to ass-fuck him.

Instead, she demanded that he be home the same time the next night - with another hundred bucks. If she felt like it, she'd fuck his ass then. But he had to be a good little bitch, or she'd just make him suck her store of come and leave.

She was fishing through her purse for her handcuff key. Her hand was shaking wildly. Her cunt felt like it owned her. She encountered her lipstick and the key at the same moment. Before unlocking him, she spread a thick coat of brilliant red over his lips.

A slut like he was should always wear lipstick, she told him, again straddling his face. Grabbing his hair, she smeared his pretty little mouth against her oozing slit. He was still crying as she freed his wrists and marched out the door.

On the long drive home, her all-consuming madness began to fade, was replaced by something that felt like an emotional nausea. The vision of the young man, weeping helplessly, lipstick smeared all over his face, became repulsive. She'd done something unspeakable, something depraved. She'd emasculated him as thoroughly as if she'd taken a straight razor and sliced off his cock. And she'd adored doing, with a horrid joy that haunted her.




Killer Cop Ch. 3



Her cigarette tasted like bile. She threw it out the window. The thing was, he'd wanted her to do exactly as she'd done. His sobs had held as much gratefulness as humiliation. She'd done something to him he didn't have the guts to do to himself, or even beg for aloud. Was that what being a whore was really about? Intuiting underlying, unspoken sexual needs, and meeting them for people?

She barked a harsh laugh. There should be some kind of handbook, some course she could take. Something to tell her what that little fucker expected her to do next. He'd put her in charge, made her entirely responsible. She gave a mental shrug as she turned into her parking garage. Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe what she did to him was less important than how she did it.

She sat in the car for a moment, wondering if the same applied to herself. She had to admit - unwillingly - that part of why she was selling herself was to act out, somehow reverse her rape. But examining that issue required more energy than she had. She drug herself into the elevator, marched tiredly down the hall to her apartment, again flopped on the couch and added another hundred dollars to yesterday's take, still littering the coffee table.

Again she slid her hem upward the few inches required to bare her pantiless pussy. As she stared down at it, still decorated with smeared lipstick, a twinge of the drunken sensation of power returned. Her glistening lips shaped a lewd smile. It was exactly the same sense of strength that'd filled her on the street, playing cop. It didn't matter which side of the game she played. She won both ways.

As the sun came up on Saturday, Lisa fell into bed, her mind numb with fatigue. But plans for the next day were already taking shape in her head, as if her subconscious had an agenda of its own.

To Be Continued...



Killer Cop Ch. 4



Chapter IV: The Princess Rides Out

She awoke early - noon. After a great workout that left her tingling, alive all over, she showered and used the last of the hair color. She spent a ritualistic hour before the mirror, painting her living self-portrait. She was pleased by her work, by the malleability of her face, the way it changed so quickly and remarkably into whatever she wanted it to be. She could have spent all day there, playing with different effects, experimenting with herself. But she had other things to do.

She wriggled into a pair of jeans she'd relegated to the bottom drawer because she'd bought them too small, tucked an almost transparent white blouse into them, found her red shoes, and went shopping. She relished the way the denim gripped her ass, the way it outlined her cunt, the way the heels tightened her legs. She felt that she trailed sexuality as well as smoke and perfume.

As Lisa pored over lace panties, she remembered the day she'd bought the jeans. She'd been depressed. Hell, she'd always been either depressed or angry. But, that day, she'd deliberately sought to make some change in herself. She'd been desperate, and the jeans had seemed perfect. But, enfolded in the billowy fog of depression, she'd stupidly picked up the wrong size. She vividly recalled her deep pain and sorrow when she'd tried to squeeze into them at home.

She wondered, lifting several pairs of tiny undies from the display, if it hadn't been foreshadowing, just a hint of what her subconscious was whispering was inevitable. Whatever. She compressed her lips, felt their slight, succulent slickness, and moved on.

Whore's clothes weren't easy to find in the mall she'd chosen. She had to use her imagination to come up with an outfit that approached the slatternly wear of the streets. She hadn't quite fit in last night. Too much class. She wouldn't have that problem again.

That and her other purchases ate up most of her cash. That was okay. They'd pay for themselves, starting tonight. Scoring was as sure as sunset.

She was home by the time the sun hit the horizon, climbing into her fresh uniform. She tucked the lace teddy into the lycra miniskirt, frowned at the fishnet stockings. They weren't her style, but most of the other streetwalkers had been wearing them. She shrugged. Her tits made the silky fabric shift and shimmer.

She redid her face from scratch, applied and wiped away the cosmetics until she got the look she wanted. The mirror said she was closer to fifteen than twenty-two. A very loose and beautiful and available fifteen. Nobody would believe that she'd fucked only a half dozen men in her entire life, and only one prior to the last ten days. Her look said she'd been doing it as long as she could remember, and often.

She looked jaded. Worn. Willing to do anything for the right amount of money, but incapable of feeling anything at all. This poor, sexy, juvenile bitch was pure siren, but callous and cold. She'd fuck like a wild beast, but it wouldn't mean a thing.

Yet, on the inside, she was hollow with excitement. She adored her appearance, the sensuous, casual way she smoked, the way her heavy cherry lips hung open with such insolent invitation. She was going to raise hell tonight, on and off duty. Maybe she should corner Wilson for some quick action before things officially got started.

But, instead of tapping out the precinct's phone number, her curved scarlet nails shaped Barney's.

"Hey, Barnes. Glad you're home. Want to grab a cup of coffee before we night owls hit the bricks?"

He did, but named a restaurant where he could get something a little more potent than caffeine. He beat her there. Her entrance caused a minor stir, evoked a wide grin from her friend.

"Christ, Cole. I heard about the show you put on last night. You've got every straight male you tortured having wet dreams."

She flounced into her chair with a show of leg and a smile that broke the spell of the teenage cunt persona. He lit her cigarette. "Wait till you hear about tonight."

He laughed. "You regressing or what? Trying to relive a miserable adolescence?"

It was meant as a joke. Her smile faltered. "I don't know. Could be."

He turned more serious, too. "Hit a sore spot, didn't I? Sorry."

"That's okay. Maybe I need to think about that. I didn't really try and make myself look like a runaway teenybopper. It just kind of happened on its own. Weird, huh? Figure it's Freudian or something?"

"All I know is that it's convincing. You would've been asked for an ID if you'd ordered booze. Shave off a few more years, and . . ."

"Yeah. I'm back at twelve again."

"I was going to say you'd look like Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver."

She couldn't summon a laugh. "Fuck, Barney. One minute I'm having the time of my life, acting out all the fun shit I missed as a kid, and the next it's like I'm reliving a past that maybe almost happened. Am I going crazy?"

She hadn't intended to let her sudden fear show. She felt at least as young as she looked, and anything but callous. She'd never been so alone and scared and confused. There was a huge black hole where her heart should have been.

He grabbed her trembling hand. "Hey, babe. Take it easy. Maybe you've been crazy and you're getting sane."

She blinked away tears. "Look at me! I'm sitting here like some goddamn . . . Oh, Barney! I'm afraid I'm losing control. This isn't me! Why am I doing this to myself?"

"Hey. No tears, okay? You'll ruin those pretty eyes." He leaned back as she withdrew her hand, grabbed a napkin and blotted and sniffed. "You want to know what I think?"

She nodded.

"You've never done a relationship. You've never even had a crush on a guy, much less been in love. Not since that asshole, whatever his name was -"

"Tommy."

"Yeah. It looks to me like this is an ass-backwards way of getting attention. I think you're looking for love, kid."

Her laugh was shaky. "Love? Who could love a slut like me? Some crazed psycho who looks like DeNiro?"

"That's what you look like kid. That's not what you are."

She leaned forward, spoke in an urgent, frightened whisper, her piercing blue eyes large as saucers within their ornate cosmetic frames. "But what if it is, Barney? What if this is the real me, the woman I've been hiding from all this time? What if I kept myself hidden inside my walled city for a good reason? Now that the walls have collapsed . . ."

His gaze didn't waver. His voice held no doubt. "The walls are down, all right. But, Lisa, there's a huge cloud of dust blocking your vision. To really get free, you've got to climb through the rubble." He gestured at her costume. "That's all this is. Keep the faith, hon."

Her eyes held a plea she couldn't control. "Do you think I can do it? Get out alive and in one piece?"

"I'm absolutely positive."

She sank back against the chair, sipped at the coffee gone lukewarm, frowned at the red crescent left by her lips. "God, I hope you're right."

It was a thoughtful, sobered Lisa Cole who pulled into the parking lot across from the station forty minutes later. The makeup caking her face felt like a weight. Her scanty clothing felt like invisible armor, like she was both protected by and imprisoned within her near nudity. The Princess rides out from the fallen city. But to fight monster? Who was the enemy? Tommy? Rape?

She snorted at that. Now, rape was just a bad business deal. It might even be fun to again feel that absolute powerlessness, now that she knew what strength was. The kid last night sure as hell enjoyed it.

She glanced into the back seat, saw the plastic bag there, and cringed inwardly. She'd forgotten about that. Half turned, she stared at the paraphernalia as if it could hurt her. Her first pre-arranged gig. Of course, she couldn't go. It'd be wrong. She needed time off, time away from this shit. Time for the dust to settle so she could see -

The interior light flared, right in her eyes, as the passenger door opened. A dark bulk rocked the car as it sat. Captain Wilson settled himself, closed the door with a solid thunk.

"You ought to turn that damned light off, Cole. Off duty cops are targets, too."

She twisted the appropriate switch to the left until it clicked. "Sorry. Forgot."

He chuckled. "But I can see why a girl who looks like you would want people to see her. Where do those fishnets end, baby?" His hand investigated.

She clamped her thighs together. Her throat was tight. "Hey, Cap. Not here, okay? After shift, maybe."

"Why not both?" he insisted, petting her thighs, slowly sliding the lycra skirt higher.

"Shit, man, half the fucking squad would see us." But all of her wasn't resisting. Just from the hunger in his eyes, she warmed. Her fear began to dissipate like fog heated by sunrise. The hand kneading her leg felt good.

"What? Worried about your reputation? You pretty well fucked that up last night. Quite a little show you put on for the guys. And on the street. Vice was really impressed, too."

"Oh?" A slow thrill crept from the vicinity of his hand up her spine. She'd done well. Her legs relaxed slightly, allowing his hand to delve between them, but not completely to its target.

"Yeah. It seems Sergeant Trotter is a big fan of yours. She wanted to know if I'd be willing to give you up. Let her have you downtown."

There was a moment's silence. It was her move. "What did you tell her?"

"Just told her that it was up to you." But he was saying a hell of a lot more than that.

She heard him. "I see."

Lisa relaxed into the seat, saw the face given back to her by the visor mirror she'd bought at the mall. Who was that kid with all the makeup on? Whose azure eyes were they, half closed, with such thick, black lashes and fluttering peacock-tinted lids? Whose cheeks, flushed by too much rouge and growing yet darker? Whose shimmering lips, hanging openly, painted with shocking, full-grown need. Whose same dark lips shaped the words of her decision? "Do it," she muttered, swinging wide her gate, reaching blindly for him.

"What?" His hand found her as she thrust at it.

"Fuck me. Here. Now. Do whatever you want to me. Don't ever believe me if I say no."

"That's what I thought."

He told her what he wanted, and how. On her knees in the back seat, her face next to the window, her skirt over her hips, her ass high, quivering as he pummeled her. Citizens and fellow soldiers passed by, feet away, without noting the rocking car or hearing her muted cries. She longed to cry out. Here I am. Look at me. Watch me fuck him. I have no shame. I'm proud of what I am, Daddy.

But she didn't. She focused her attention on the fat, long cock spreading her wetness, making sucking noises as it slid out to its head before burying itself until its driver's hips slapped her hard, bare ass. Already, she was coming. Already, her inner muscles twitched and writhed around the hot, hard shaft. Her nipples rubbed against the silky fabric of the teddy, the light contact so electric that it verged on pain.

He was saying something. She tried to listen.

"Answer me, cunt! Do you want the transfer?"

"Yes," she croaked, pushing harder into him, needing more.

"So you can play whore full time?"

"Yes. So I never have to stop," she muttered thickly, reaching down to rub her swollen clit, to feel his slickened cock where it vanished into her soul.

"But you'll come when I call you. You owe me."

"I'll never forget what you've done. What you've helped me do." Her voice shook wildly. The distended button between her nails was making her delirious. It was coming. Bigger, more powerful than ever. She was earning everything she got. Every orgasm. Every promotion. Every dollar. She deserved it all, and more.

She screamed when it became too much. A shrill, ululating wail that began where his cock ended and stretched her unkissed crimson lips into a wide round hole. His cock leapt. His hips bucked. His come shot into her, felt like it was transformed into sound, roiled out her throat.

A hard, huge hand clamped over her mouth, stifled her raw shout, made it impossible for her to breathe for a moment. Like the long-ago hand on her throat, gripping, squeezing. Impossibly, the awesome power of her orgasm redoubled. The scream died in her throat, was transformed from something physical to something psychic, involving her entire being.

As red and black motes swam before her eyes, she felt grass under her squirming ass, felt the sharp pain of her ruptured hymen, felt the orgasm that had silenced her then, too.

Her sight dimmed. Physical sensations became foggy, distant, then ceased altogether. But not for long. Just long enough for Wilson to have pulled out, to have let her collapse onto the seat like a broken doll. She faintly heard his zipper close, felt him disentangle from her limp legs.

"Congratulations, Cole. You've made the grade. Better clean up. You've only got fifteen minutes before roll call."

She tried to move, straighten herself as he climbed from the car. It took too much effort. She relaxed, heard the door slam. She felt so weak. Her eyes closed. The image returned.

Fighting him away. Pushing with her hands. Trying to scratch his eyes out. Scared. So fucking scared there weren't words. But, even through her panic, feeling him inside her. Huge. Too huge. Tearing her in half. Feeling so good.

She'd tried. She really had. With all her heart and soul, she'd tried to make the swelling joy go away. It wasn't supposed to be that way. It was a bad thing. But it was his fault. He was too big and too strong. He'd raped her. He'd made her come.

She made a pitiful sound, half laugh, half sob, and pushed herself upright in the seat. Her cunt still pulsed, still tickled, deep inside. She swept a dank lock of black hair from her face, fought her skirt down. As she clambered from the back door, then into the front, she could feel his come trickling down her leg. A part of her still felt like it was again lost in orgasm.

Lost. That was the key word. Or found, maybe. She'd found her memory of that night, hadn't she? All of it, after all these years. It explained why she'd instantly accepted her Dad's brand, why she'd known, all along, that he was right, that she deserved punishment, that seeking vindication had been unjust.

It made a lie of the last decade. By having that orgasm, she'd made it not-rape. She found a cigarette, sucked soothing smoke as far inside as she could, then let it go in a tight plume.

She just liked to be roughed up a little. That was the bottom line. She was just a twisted little bitch who liked it kinky. The dirtier the deed, the more she got off on it. Wilson, bless his black heart, had consistently done the right thing, quite by accident. He'd seen her heart from the start, treated her like the filth she was. Yeah. She owed him a lot. A free lifetime supply of cunt.

Speaking of Wilson, it was time for the official version of tonight's fun. She'd better get her sleazy ass cleaned up and repainted and get inside. There was work to be done, a transfer to implement. And a trick to turn afterwards. Maybe more than one.

She made her last night at the old precinct one to remember. The guys all greeted and treated her like she was one of the underage hookers they drug in on a regular basis. She was surly and sullen and bored. When they surreptitiously pinched her ass, she callously wiggled it for more. When they peeked under her lacy top, she remained bent forward until they'd gotten a good look. When she stood, she gave them all a nice beaver shot.

They laughed uproariously, tried to hide the erections that tented their trousers, treated the whole thing like it was a game. She really didn't give a fuck what they thought. For Lisa, it wasn't a game. Any one of them could have had her for the asking.

Sergeant Trotter caught her outside the briefing room. She, too, was wearing a different outfit. The other women sported basically what they'd worn the night before.

"So. Wilson says you're interested in joining up."

Lisa gave her a cigarette, lit it and her own. Her cunt was throbbing. Her voice was throaty. "Very interested. Where do I sign?"

"You just did. Paperwork's been in the pipe all day."

"You knew. What made you so sure?"

"Watching you work. Seeing how it turned your crank to lead the johns on - and how you still kept your head. Not one bad pop all night. Tell me something, Cole. How far are you willing to go?"

Lisa eyed her superior through their smoke. "I'm not sure what you mean, Sarge."

"I mean, how convincing can you be?"

"I guess that depends. The more an assignment interests me, the better I'd be at it."

"Ah. Being a whore interests you. We deal with more than hookers, you know. Do drugs and gambling interest you, too?"

"I've never tried either one," she shrugged, wondering where this bizarre interview was headed. "If you sent me after somebody important, would I be willing to do whatever it takes? That what you're wondering?"

"Off the record, of course."

"Of course. Let's just say that I'd do my damnedest to bring the bad guys in. That answer enough?"

"Yeah." Her eyes lingered over her new recruit. "Can you act as young as you can look?"

"Watch me work tonight and decide for yourself."

Trotter gave her a curious nod and started through the door, then looked back over her bare shoulder. "By the way, you spilled something sticky on your hose. Better wipe it off before it stains something."

Lisa didn't blush, didn't even blink. She just grabbed a napkin and cleaned up a spot of Wilson's come she'd missed before. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. We've got to cover one another's back from now on."

The briefing wasn't brief. They never are. Lisa's mind wandered, replaying Trotter's words, digging for hidden meanings. Had she been saying sometimes Lisa'd have to fuck, not fake it? The by now familiar butterflies filled her gut, crept lower.

The work was just as exciting as it had been her first night. She was more confident, even more brazen, and a tad more reckless, too. As a fifteen year old slut renting her holes on street corners should be.

This was her job now. This, and variations upon it, would become daily fare. It was as if her session with Wilson and acceptance by Trotter had primed her, physically and emotionally, to push the boundaries of legality.

She walked right on the edge of entrapment all night. She couldn't actually touch them, grab their cocks the way her fingers ached to. But twice, she couldn't resist letting them feel her up a little. Once, as she leaned far inside a car, the dude had petted her left tit like it was a kitten. Later, just before her dinner break, on the too-short ride to the dark alley she'd named, the driver had driven his hand between her legs, encountered her damp, naked cunt. It'd taken every bit of her willpower to drag the fingers away instead of urging them deeper. She turned him over to the uniforms, just like the others.

But it'd wrecked her appetite for food. Instead of meeting Trotter and a couple of others at a diner, Lisa made do with coffee and casual banter with a couple of real child whores bragging about their successes.

When the car stopped in front of them and the balding, grey bearded man smiled and waved her over, her throat tightened. None of the other cops were around. She was on her own. They wouldn't be back for at least another fifteen minutes. Before even making a conscious decision to do so, she found herself sliding through the door he'd opened for her.

She didn't have to fake nervousness. The words she'd heard all night - how much for a little blow job - resonated in her skull. She answered by the book. How much did he think she was worth? He peeled a pair of twenties from a fat roll, eyed her questioningly, then added a ten. She nodded. His cock was the most immense thing she'd ever seen. She had it out and hard before they got to their dim corner. A full nine inches long and nearly as fat as a beer can, it filled both her amazed hands as well as her impossibly stretched lips. It hurt. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get much more than its head into her mouth.




Killer Cop Ch. 4



He was used to that, seemed to appreciate the way she jacked him, tickled his hairy sack with her nails, bathed what she could handle with fervent kisses and guttural, lavish praise. She meant every word of it. It was magnificent. She wanted it all, was horridly frustrated because she couldn't take it down her throat.

He offered her another ten to swallow his come. Fuck. A major earthquake couldn't have made her not gulp it down. It was oddly bitter. She noted, as she slurped and gasped, that everyone's she'd sampled had tasted different, but his was almost unpleasant. She swallowed and sucked and licked him clean, anyway. A deal is a deal.

He dropped her off a block from her assigned corner. She was dizzy with need, had to resist the impulse to step into a dark doorway and finger herself to the orgasm she desperately craved. Instead, she focused the energy into her makeup, lingering over her lipstick until she was satisfied that her just fucked mouth told the whole story. She was a teenage cock-sucker by trade as well as inclination.

Trotter was already back, watched the bold, insolent strut of her approach. Lisa couldn't summon even an iota of nervousness at the knowing smirk the sergeant wore and the snide comment about eating out. Her new boss didn't seem to care.

Wilson wasn't waiting for her after the shift ended. She dawdled and dallied for a while, cleared up a few details that would have kept, hoping for a farewell fuck in the alley. He didn't show. Mildly pissed, she only then remembered what she was supposed to do after work. She had a customer waiting.

Her low-grade anger served her well. The kid was so fucking anxious, so terrified she wouldn't show, that she laughed in his face. He'd scoured the apartment from wall to wall, just like she was a straight girlfriend come to call. But he had the money.

She watched him, picked up on cues he dropped as to what he really expected from her. Just like before, he wanted humiliation, subjugation. She sat on the sofa, cigarette and drink in hand, and ordered him to strip for her, nice and slow, to the music on the radio. He was inept, awkward. afraid. She had to tell him how to do everything. She made it perfectly clear that he was a total fuckup, an absolute and irredeemable failure as a man. He was wounded, but his cock stood at shameful attention.

"Open the bag," she ordered.

The plastic rustled as he picked it up. His eyes were on hers. "What's inside?"

"Your clothes for the night. Put them on."

He was horrified by what he found. "No! I can't!"

She slid to her feet. "Sure you can, baby. Here. Let me help."

He backed slowly away. "No."

It took all of five seconds to subdue him. The arm lock was painful, not playful. She made sure he knew that she'd dislocate his shoulder if he continued to resist. He stood on his tiptoes, grimacing, as she walked him to the bed, cuffed him as she had before.

She casually retrieved her cigarette and drink. "I didn't want to have to do it this way," she lied. "But I know it's what you want. Since you obviously don't have the balls to do it by yourself, I guess it's up to me. It'll cost you, though. Another hundred."

"No. Please. I -"

The hand squeezing his balls shut him up. "Another hundred. Right?"

He agreed.

She really had no idea how to go about it. She improvised the whole thing. She searched the tidy little bathroom for his razor, found an electric version, and used it. It pulled as much hair as it cut, and left a nasty stubble. She told him to take care of that later. He instantly agreed. Then she dressed him. He cooperated fully, all reservation having been shed with his leg and underarm hair. Still, she kept the handcuffs in place as she finished her work. Finally, blindfolded, hands secured behind his back, she led him into the bathroom and stripped the cloth from his eyes.

"There, cunt. What do you think?"

His shock was absolute. He stood, frozen, only his darting, hungry eyes capable of movement. His sweet little red lips finally smiled. His long lashes batted coyly. "I love it," he simpered, turning to admire his false tits and long, stockinged legs. "Am I as pretty as I feel?"

"Yeah. Sure."

He was, really. He had decent legs, not too knobby. His ass was skinny, and the lump of his hard-on needed to be tucked away somehow. The dime store wig would pass in bad light. And his face was sexy as hell. His complexion had smoothed under the thick makeup she'd plastered over it, and his big brown cow's eyes glowed inside their liner and mascara and shadow.

He turned to face her, made his voice a parody of femininity. "How can I ever thank you?"

"The money's a start." She grabbed the cuffs, jerked him out of the bathroom and pushed him onto the living room floor.

This'll finish it."

She lifted his cheap minidress and her own more expensive skirt, sank down astride him, impaled her overheated cunt on his stretched rod, rubbed garter belts with him.

"Fuck me good, bitch," she growled ominously. "Make me come or I'll beat the living shit out of you."

He did okay. Well enough to get her off, anyway. But almost anything would have done that, by then. She was an orgasm waiting to happen.

After he filled her, she gave him back his come. He licked her clean with an energy even more desperate than the night before, succeeded in making her come a second time. He was really a better pussy eater than anybody's face she'd ridden. Maybe because he wanted one of his own, and whatever sperm was left by others in her reservoir.

With his wrists re-locked in front, she made him awkwardly repair his makeup, then drug him outside, forced him to tell her where his bank was, and made him withdraw the second hundred from the teller machine. Then, she forced him out of her car, made him walk the ten blocks home in pre-dawn's half-light. He needed the exposure, she mocked out the car window as she sped away.

She circled the block, turned off her headlights as she rounded the last corner. He hadn't stood there wearing that agonized look for long. Nor was he skulking from shadow to shadow. He was tapping his way down the sidewalk, getting the feel of the ill-fitting high heels. As a car approached, he cringed a little, for a moment. Then he added a sway to his ass and walked on.

She threw her cigarette into the street, clicked on the interior light, and looked into her eyes. They were those of a little girl playing a strange, warped game of adult dress-up. Couldn't anybody else see past the makeup? None of her johns, would-be or actual, ever saw her pain. Why was that? The other whores just saw competition. No. Not true. They knew, because they had the same look. Trotter had it, too.

She checked her lipstick. Unsmeared and gleaming. Her hair. Smooth and sleek. Such a sexy little piece. Such a raw bundle of sexuality, primed and ready.

Why did she have to be this way? Of all the ways possible, why this one?

She jerked the car into gear, cranked up the radio. Because this was the one that met all her needs. It got her laid as often as she wanted. It paid well. And it offered justice for all, in one nice, neat bundle.

Everybody should be so lucky.

To Be Continued...



Killer Cop Ch. 5



Chapter V: Room 127

Reasoning her way out of depression was like trying to blow her face off with an unloaded weapon. Usually, it was a waste of time, but every now and then she got a surprise.

Night finally fell on Sunday. It'd been a long, long day, and none of it had been fun. The attention-stealing skirt and blouse, the heels and hose she wore that night were new. Her hair was an ebony that would no longer wash out. The darker, wetter red lipstick that promised not to fade didn't make the smile her lips wore any more real. She'd obeyed the urge to get rid of the two-sixty she'd made the night before, but had gotten no pleasure from roaming the huge downtown mall.

The thoughts that haunted her as she stalked the nearly empty Sunday night streets were much the same as the ones that'd been with her all day. Being with the few other girls desperate enough to waste their time on the deserted streets just emphasized them.

She'd tried to do the right thing all her life. More than anything, she'd wanted to be a good girl, to live by the rules that guaranteed happiness. That's the way They said it worked. She'd tried to make Tommy stop. She'd really done everything a naive, panicked twelve year old could. But she'd thought she was in love with the fucker. Her crush on him was years old. And her body had betrayed her.

She'd always been a highly sexual girl. From the age of nine, before her first period, she'd had an almost perpetual case of the warm fuzzies. Hugging kittens and puppies and dolls made her feel kind of tingly. She had strange, troubling, happy dreams she didn't understand. And nobody was willing to explain her feelings to her.

The big people who had all the answers shunned her questions, or sternly told her she shouldn't feel that way, or laughed nervously and ignored her. She learned not to ask. She learned that sex was bad. She learned that she was bad. So she tried even harder to be as pure and good as They told her she should be.

And failed horribly, of course. It was inevitable. She was totally unprepared for life. Their evasions and lies had left her utterly helpless, unable to cope with the reality of passion. She'd had that fucking, puny little orgasm, and never told. She made herself forget the badness, but was branded a whore anyway by everyone who mattered. It was crazy. Were They all insane?

They'd sure as fuck made her that way. She'd violently suppressed every natural urge that had arisen. For almost ten years, she'd interpreted even the most innocent sexual dream as a full-blown nightmare. The slightest twinge of physical attraction had been something to be ashamed of, demanding repentance. Madness. Pure, certifiable insanity.

She paused in front of a closed porn theater, lit a cigarette, let the fitful breeze probe beneath the tight little neon blue skirt, lick her sleek, pantiless, moist little cunt. She gave an interested slow cruiser the benefit of her freshly manicured middle finger. That was the fourth or fifth trick she'd turned down. She hadn't come here to fuck. She was here to escape the oppressiveness of her apartment. The streets felt more like home than anywhere she could think of. She walked on, listening to the thin click of her spike heels on the concrete.

This was where she belonged now. Even if she never again let anyone pick her up and use her, this was where she wanted to be. Like Wilson, for all the wrong reasons, she'd done all the right things.

That realization amused her, curled her heavily painted lips into an ironic smile. Barney had been right. She was growing sane. She'd had to discover that her pussy was attached to the rest of her, find out the hard way that she was a highly desirable woman. She dropped her cigarette butt onto the sidewalk, delicately ground its red-tipped filter under the toe of her six inch pump.

Her true home wasn't really the streets. It was inside her long trained, long denied body. It was supple and hard and juicy, filled with vitality and strength and desire. All these years, it had waited for the rest of her to catch up with what it already knew. It was the source of the impulses that had guided her to this point. Now, it was doing its damnedest to make up for lost time.

She paused before the reflective plate glass of a barred pawnshop. Today was the first since the fateful Saturday night after the party that she hadn't given it - and the rest of her - at least one orgasm. All day, now that she thought back, it'd been on a low simmer, tingeing the threshold of her gloom with rosy hues. The urge had been with her throughout the depression. It had picked out the clothes she bought, dictated the face she painted, chosen the street she now strolled. While her conscious brain had been chasing itself in pointless, pained circles, the urge had taken charge.

She fluffed her midnight black hair, felt it tug through her hooked, mandarin red nails. It'd done a pretty fucking great job, too. It'd achieved the same youthfulness of the night before, but spared the jadedness. She looked more sultry than sleazy. The tight little black lace bra, visible through her sheer blue blouse, compressed her tits to adolescent size, but pushed them up proudly, left them bare to her aureoles. Easy, but sweet, too.

The eyes, glittering with metallic green color, grew moist. Such a sad little girl. Smart and pretty, she deserved a hell of a lot better than she'd gotten. They'd stolen everything joyous and bright from her left her only fear and pain.

Lisa tenderly blotted away her tears, sniffed back those that wanted to follow. It's okay now, she promised. We'll get back everything They took. It's not too late.

Really, she thought, studying her pert, sexy pose, I guess I ought to be grateful to the fuckers. Convincing me that I was a whore was a blessing. They created the problem, and at the same time gave me the solution. As soon as I quit fighting myself, the hurt went away. Maybe They made me miserable to start with, but it was me who perpetuated the crime. For years, I've been the only one making me suffer.

She leaned closer to the window, rubbed delicately at the faint smudges at the corners of the black frames of her eyes, erased the only traces of her day of distress and tears. It was getting late. She had to clean out her desk at the old precinct early enough to get downtown by ten. She was tired. Most of her restlessness had been walked off. Time to turn that sweet, hot ass home and tuck it in bed. She wanted to look fine her first day in Vice. She wanted to make a good impression.

She was halfway back to her car when the white sedan that had just passed made a u-turn and slowly came back. She had lots of time to prepare a rejection. But when the window slid down, and two smiling faces raked her with their eyes, the hollow excitement ballooned inside, blocked her throat. The fantasy in the shower. All those men.

Was she interested in trading a hundred and fifty of their dollars for a nice, cozy three-way? The hand raising the cigarette to her suddenly heavy lips shook slightly. As she shifted her hips, she was maddeningly aware of the tickle of the tight skirt on her thigh.

It wasn't all that late. And these two sailors looked like they might be a good time. Her words were as thick as her lips. "For that much, I'd be tempted to watch the clock. For twice that, I could relax and we could all have more fun."

They settled on two and a quarter. One, towering over her, all hard muscles and leer, stepped from the car. She slid in, trying to even out her breathing.

But she didn't want to do it in the car. Sitting between them, letting them grope her however they wanted to, bringing her back to life, was exquisite, but too cramped for what she had in mind.

"There's a motel," she purred as one set of hands fought another for her cunt, her tits. "I've got a room there. One of you can fuck my mouth and the other my cunt. You can have me any way you want me, without being crowded."

"Hey," the driver observed. "Your pussy's wet. You just fuck somebody else?"

"I wish," she growled, exploring a jean shielded cock with each hand. "You're the first tonight. I'm clean and ready for you guys."

She rented a room with a hundred of their money. For a week, not a night, the key to room 127 was hers. Maybe this wasn't going to be a good week to make an impression in Vice as an energetic young officer. Maybe she'd be back here every night. Maybe more than once a night.

If swallowing a cock to the balls had been transcendent, and being fucked doggie-style miraculous, doing both at the same moment quadrupled the experience for her. Had it not been for the baby-sweet taste of the cock filling her upper half, she'd have screamed her lungs out. Her muted shrieks resonated through the hot, saliva slick flesh, escalated her joy. And the rattling pummeling her cunt was getting, the slaps rained upon her upturned, begging ass, the ragged curses of her johns as they drove one another on - all this, and the mirrored wall she was able to watch herself in - added up to something that she knew was changing her forever.

There was more joy in this than anything They'd stolen from her by Their rape. Crime and retribution were insignificant concepts. Her job was trivial. Reality itself, as she'd always experienced it, became a shallow series of meaningless gestures.

This was real. The place the sailors were sending her. Their cocks were like cattle prods, rammed into her from both ends. They met in her center, the core of her being. Their crackling electric discharge flared in her very soul, illuminated another realm, only hinted at before.

It threatened to topple, to shatter. She lunged after the cock jerked from her mouth, only to feel her cunt lips contract around vacuous emptiness as the other was taken away, too. She heard a piteous mewling sound, saw dimly on the wall an image of a young woman, lipstick smeared from noise to chin, frantically finger-fucking herself as two men on the far side of the bed exchanged positions. That was her. They were coming back, not going away. They weren't through. It hadn't been a dream.

They impaled her with twin gestures, and she was instantly back there. Each time they met inside her, arcing their ten-thousand volt sparks into the Void, she saw yet more incomprehensible beauty surrounding her. This cavern of the soul was an entire universe, filled with grandeur, with unthinkable, unimaginable perfection. Completion. True fulfillment, not the kind that faded, abandoned her in her solitude.

And, when they finally came, after minutes or millennia, the vista expanded yet again. She wasn't inside. She was outside. The energy pumped into her from the twin fountains of fire and light exploded like a sun coming into being. The gouts of come, the jerking of flesh united with her somehow, became part of her essence. Together, the three of them created an entire universe. And two of them thought all they'd done was share a fabulous fuck with a beautiful young whore.

Her quiet laugh made her aware of the hot, sweaty flesh surrounding her. Over her, under her, still softly within her, was life. It cradled her like an infant, secure and safe at her mother's breast.

But it stirred, became individual beings, not one grand pile. She stretched her body to fill the still warm space surrounding her. They had to go, they said. Had to be back on base real soon. She nodded happily, watched them scramble, like the embarrassed teenagers they were, into their civvies and hurry one another out the door.

She stretched again, let a wistful hand roam her drying body. With a deeply contented sigh, she rolled from bed and padded in to find out if the shower worked.

It worked just fine. Hell, everything was fine.

Forty minutes later, she emerged into the night air, breathed it deeply, tingling a little where the bra cut into her tits. Her ass was red, still stung hotly from the storm of slaps. That was nice. The skirt rubbed it, massaged it as she swayed the leisurely eight blocks to her car.

Home was welcome, now that she knew where it was. Her apartment felt cozy. The bed beckoned invitingly. She stood at the dresser, and wiped off the full makeup she'd done a few minutes before.

That'd been a little silly, she smiled. But fun. I wanted to. I wanted anybody who happened past to see on my lips what I'd just done, to see by my eyes who I am. To think I was the hottest whore in town. No. To know it, for a fact. I am. I really am. None of those other sad sluts puts her soul into it.

Nobody gets off like I do. Goes where I go. Takes them where I take them.

She tucked herself between the crisp sheets, slept with the smile of an utter innocent. After all, that's what she was.

She awoke languorously before the alarm could jolt her, with full and instant memory of the night before. It was lucky she'd gotten up early. She was moving slowly, with cat-like grace in her every gesture. The world was a rich, colorful place, and she was overjoyed to be a part of it.

The dress she'd bought at the mall was perfect. Both professional and alluring. The modest three inch heels felt foreshortened after what she'd become used to. And she had to consciously tone down her makeup several notches. Just because she was in Vice didn't give her the freedom to look like a loose cunt at the office. For reassurance, to give her the feeling of continuity she wanted, she wore her garter belt under lacy panties, and the new snug bra. That was enough to remind her. It was enough to bring together pieces of her life no longer had to keep in entirely separate compartments.

She hadn't counted on the sorrow she felt while emptying her desk drawers at the precinct. She was actually going to miss this place, these people. Especially Barnes. He was a prince. She kept her good-byes to the others light and bantering. With him, though, her deep feeling broke through. She tenderly stroked his face, right there in the bullpen where everyone saw. She kissed him lightly on his strong mouth, then wiped away her lipstick, much to everybody's amusement.

"Shit, Barnes. I'm ruining your reputation," she quipped in a slightly tremorous voice. "I'm breaking lots of the guy's hearts. They all thought you were absolutely gay."

He covered both his shy pleasure at her open affection, and his embarrassment, with an overblown macho strut. "Hey. Anybody who doesn't react to you is dead, not gay."

That drew a round of guffaws.

It came as a surprise to realize that these people really liked her, cared about her. They weren't deeply attached, except for Barney and the Captain, but they'd remember her well. She left deeply moved.

That made her arrival in her new workplace confusing. The normal hubbub flowed around her, didn't include her. It was like her very first virgin day on the job. It was all new, all over again. She fought away the feeling that she didn't belong here, reminded herself, in the washroom mirror, that this was precisely where she did belong.

Sergeant Trotter interrupted her silent self-talk. She, too, was much differently dressed. Despite more feminine attire, she kept her hard edge.

"Hey, Cole. Anybody thought to officially welcome you yet?"

"They're busy, and I've only been here ten minutes."

"Yeah, well, that's still no excuse to leave you sitting on your thumbs." She held out a hand stripped of nail polish.

"Welcome aboard."

Lisa felt uncomfortable about wearing her bright nails as she returned the strong grip, tried to ignore her unease. Trotter tucked her under her wing, led her through the department, made everybody put down what they were doing to say hello.

"Don't worry about remembering names," the only other woman on the day shift confided. They'd met briefly over the weekend. She tapped the ID clipped above a large tit with nails as red as Lisa's, if not as long. "That's what these are really for."

The sergeant maintained her proprietary air as they broke later for lunch. She had something on her mind. Lisa was afraid she knew what it was, swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw they were eating alone. Her boss ordered saki for both of them.

"So," she said, leaning back in the booth, "how long have you been working?"

Working at what, she wondered silently. "Not quite ten months. But you've read my jacket."

"Un huh. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

There. It was said. Maybe it was Trotter's directness, or maybe it was just having it out in the open, but Lisa felt relief, not panic. She accepted the offered cigarette. "Depends on when you start counting. Fifteen days since I took money for it." She inhaled deeply. "How about you?"

The smile was tight. "Almost five years. Part time, of course. I got started one night on Fifteenth Street while my partner was changing her kotex. The guy waved twenty-five bucks I sorely needed under my nose. I sucked him off not ten steps from Mike Riley, that fat redhead three desks down from yours. I've been doing it a couple of times a week ever since, mostly for shits and grins, not the cash." She tossed off the liquor. "Now you tell me your sad story."

"So far, it's not sad. I guess I'm like you. The money's useful, but it's not why I'm out there. I'm just kind of exploring. I don't know how else to describe it."

Trotter nodded. "I understand. Like I said the other night, it's a chance to do something completely rebellious. A way to live right on the edge. You have to stay sharp all the time. You can't afford to forget a single face you fuck, cause you may try to bust them someday if you do. Then the shit would hit the fan. Somebody'd say, 'Hey, I know that slut.' End of career."

Lisa smiled. "Is that part of your story, or a warning to me?"

"Both. And here's another one I learned the hard way. Don't fuck around on your day job. It's nothing but a pain in the ass. You'll get a reputation for making it only because you're a good lay. You'll never make rank that way. You'll just turn into the squad's bimbo. They'll promise you everything and give you only cock."

Lisa tapped ash from her smoke. "That makes sense."

"But you're still going to go down for Wilson?"

"Until I can ease my way out. I really do owe him. He delivered almost as soon as I did."

"Besides," the sarge grinned, "he's a great fuck, right?"

Lisa laughed. "That, too."

So much for feeling an alien in her new assignment. She'd discovered, if not an absolute ally, at least a blood sister. They'd be able to work well together, take care of one another, at least up to a point. But, if the house of cards ever fell on either one, she'd be buried alone.

When her day ended, she wheeled home, excited. There'd been challenge in every task set before her. She wasn't treated like a uniformed secretary, but an integral part of the squad. She'd already shown them she could do at least part of her job. She was determined to succeed as well everywhere else as she had on the street.

But, as she reached into her purse for a lazy, after frozen food cigarette, her hand brushed the motel key. She lingered over it, tracing its shape, feeling the words embossed on the plastic tag, knowing what it represented. She started her cigarette as she threw on her other clothes. She was at work on her face when it was gone. Twenty minutes later, she was in her car, headed back downtown.

She drove by the motel first, located a secluded parking garage a half block away. Then, as if to test its reality, she opened the door of 127 and checked it out. Ragged carpet. Ragged blankets. Fresh greying sheets all the stains would never wash out of. The bed was hard, the mattress amazingly new. They probably wore them out pretty quick around here. After dumping the bag filled with cosmetics in a drawer, she excitedly stepped out into her other world.




Killer Cop Ch. 5



She turned three tricks, but only two of them in her room. Her first just wanted an alley quickie. She looped a high heel around his waist and was jolted by the force of his penetration. She wasn't fully lubricated until he'd bounced her off the chill brick wall the third time. People were walking by, not fifteen feet away. Her lips fell slack. They weren't looking. They couldn't hear.

"Oooh, baby," she purred loudly, digging her nails into his shirt. "Harder baby. Faster."

A man's head turned toward the half-shadow where her john was fucking her. Instantly, he went from passer-by to witness, from witness to non-physical accomplice. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets. She grunted, tried to force the cock in deeper. Her first helper walked on, vanished. Another craned to squint into the dimness.

Here it came. The edge. Where everything changed. Before she could fling herself off, the body attached to the cock tensed, crushed her against the bricks, and spewed into her. Too soon. But she ground against him with all her strength, taking all she could, until he eased free, gasping, smiling foolishly, like most of them did.

She smiled, sighed, and lowered her dress. "That was sweet. Thanks."

He muttered something unintelligible and hurried away. She pulled herself together, mopped up what she could, and went back to work.

Number two had been her first black man. He'd tried to come off like he was a pimp. At first, Lisa wondered if maybe she was in trouble. Then his incompletely hidden nerves made her realize she was being scammed. He was faking it. He wasn't recruiting, he was looking for a freebie.

She laughed him down and told him to cough up her regular fee. He grinned, admitted his con, and wrangled her down to seventy-five.

It was true. Black dicks - though this one was really almost blue - were bigger, when they were soft. But the pale one she'd sucked for dinner Saturday was fatter and longer after she got it hard. And the rich hulk with the thousand dollar suit had been just this size when he got cranked. And had known what to do with it, too, unlike the guy hosing her now.

What really got her off was the beautiful chocolate hue of his bulky body pressed against her pale, slender form. His energy made up for his lack of skill. Besides, he, unlike most of the others she'd had, wasn't there to perform. He was there to blow his beans. That she managed to get hers, too, was purely coincidental. He believed she'd faked it. Still, he went away satisfied.

She smoked and relaxed, letting her sweat dry, and listened to the sounds of sex coming from the adjoining rooms. It was indistinct, almost like echoes of times past that'd happened here in 127, not next door and above. She was surrounded by it, entrapped within it. She was a willing prisoner.

She showered quickly, keeping her face and hair dry, then admired herself. Other than her makeup, nude, there was no indication of what she was doing. She bore no scars. In fact, it felt like old scars were fading, not new ones being made. How could They have been so wrong? She felt no shame, no injury. She wasn't being abused or dehumanized.

She slid back into her clothes. She freshened her brilliant face paint. Armed and armored, she went back for more, knowing that she was the true abuser here. She stripped the men of all humanity, made them be cocks with wallets, plugs for her to insert into her various receptacles and get charged.

Her third victim was scary. Not that he was in any way ominous. He just looked way too much like her father for her not to be afraid. She took it as a challenge, a test. If she could do this old guy, and enjoy it, it'd be proof that she was getting better, not going mad. Because, no matter how often she told herself otherwise, the specter of self-destruction loomed, right behind her joy.

So she took special care of this one, treated him gently, and herself as well, as it turned out. He was in no hurry, seemed as eager to fuck her with his eyes as anything else. He obviously believed she was as young as she looked, and treated her exactly as a loving, lustful father would have.

She didn't ask herself what kind of animal he must be. She didn't care if he'd actually bonked his daughter or not. The important thing was that he'd wanted to.

She became that for him. He'd brought a bottle of good whiskey. He adored watching her move around her room in her skimpy dress and heels, fetching and carrying for him, doting on him. Just as she had her own old man, in a positively chaste way. Now, she got to do it unchastely.

She flirted with him in the way she smoked her cigarette like it was his cock. He got the unspoken message. Lisa was thrilled that she made him blush. Made him hard. She flashed peeks of her bra, of her naked cunt. She asked him if her makeup was okay, redid it to his specifications. By then her loins were afire. She sat beside him on the bed, leaned toward his face with her own, knew the whiskey and tobacco fragrant breath from her succulent, wet lips would be the last straw.

"Is this what you want me to be, Daddy?"

She knew he wanted her so badly that he hurt. His desire burned pure and clear. There was no confusion. Even his killing shame couldn't dampen it. He had to fuck this child. He did just that.

She'd never tried to postpone a man's orgasm before. She tried to delay this one. The way he kissed her, with decades of forbidden energy, shattered her. The tender way he slid into her, rose and fell against her slick thighs, made her tremble, tumbled her off the cliff, again plummeted her into the filling Void. Bliss. Such a feeble fucking word.

But he came anyway. No matter how long he'd delayed, it wouldn't have been long enough.

She came back to pitiful physical reality to find their bodies locked together, both of them racked with hideous sobs. What hurts? she screamed into the black hole. What's happening? What's wrong?

He pulled himself together and scurried into his clothes. She still cried. He paused at the door, gave her a look she recognized. It'd been in Tommy's eyes that night, as he'd run away from the lawn beside the trickling stream. It'd been anguish at what he'd done. That's what her surrogate father left Lisa with, along with an extra hundred and fifty bucks.

Helpless to make it stop, she cried herself to sleep, never able to tell why she was in hysterics. She didn't wake until dawn.

Drained, she struggled to orient herself. Not her bedroom wall. The mirrored tile of her brothel cubby. She'd dreamed she'd fucked her dad. No. It was another sixtyish guy.

"Same thing," she told herself, was startled into total wakefulness by the grating tone of her voice.

She wanted to sleep. To forget. But she had to go to her other home, change clothes and go to her other job. Her real job, she'd started to say, but banished the thought. No. It was no longer as real as this one, this life. There was no doubt left in her mind about which she was ultimately going to embrace, or why.

To Be Continued...



Killer Cop Ch. 6



Chapter VI: All in the Family

But when it came down to it, Lisa wasn't able to make herself go to work. She called in sick, went back to bed. She couldn't sleep. She'd fucked her father. It might not have been his physical body, but it was him nonetheless. In her imagination, it hadn't been the nameless john, but Paul Cole who'd dumped come into her hungry cunt. It'd been his tongue she'd sucked and nibbled, his mouth she'd ground her lipstick into.

She'd whored herself for him all over again. This time, for real. Maybe she'd have to that time and again. He'd emptied his wallet to buy her. Two hundred an fifty bucks he'd left on the bedside table.

She shook herself, tried to banish the nightmare that was again warming her sluttish heart. If it'd been such a turn-on, why had she cried all night? Why did she feel so . . .

She couldn't name it. Maybe the emotion had no name. She felt around inside, like she was probing a toothache with her tongue. There was exhaustion. There was an unwillingness to believe it'd really happened. There was sorrow.

That was it. Grief. It was like the mother-fucker, or, in this case, daughter-fucker, was dead. Like she'd gotten a phone call at three a.m. A weepy voice and a bad connection. Sobs and static. Honey . . . rattle-pop . . . bad news. Your father . . . crackle-hiss . . . no pain . . . whine-screech . . . passed away . . .spit . . . in bed.

She was crying again, but laughing, too. It was so intense that she had to curl up into a tight little ball. Was she howling because of the laughter or the tears? Who the fuck knew. Whothe fuck cared. The bastard was stone cold at last. He'd never be able to hurt her again. That he still breathed was mere technicality .

She'd passed her exam. With an A.

Sleep came back, snuck up on her while her knees were near her chin, and her thumb close to her slack red lips. A tangle of black hair covered one cheek and eye. The other was streaked, washed nearly clean, except for the black threads of her waterproof mascara. She snored, so softly it could have been a cat's purr.

Trotter's phone call woke her at eleven.

"You got the bottom of the bottle flu, or are you really sick?"

Sick? Oh, yeah. "I had a rough night, Sarge. Sort of puked my guts out." In a way.

There was a pause. The harsh voice softened a half notch.

"You okay?"

"I'll live. I fell back asleep. I feel better now. Kind of weak and woozy, but okay."

"Yeah. Kind of weird how when it starts to go away it's so good that you're damn near grateful you barfed your face off all night."

Lisa laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that startled her slightly. It sounded so innocent. "Exactly."

"Well. Have a ball. Figuratively speaking, anyway. And remember us grunts down here in the trenches."

"Will do. Thanks for calling. Be back tomorrow. Promise."

Her cigarette tasted like candy. The bed felt like a cloud. Her belly hurt from the laughter or whatever. She never remembered feeling so relaxed, so at peace.

When her brain started working, she tried to shut it off. It spoiled everything. It wanted to remember and examine, to weigh and judge, to come to conclusions. The rest of her just wanted to lay in that warm internal glow and bask.

Most of the rest of her, anyway. Her stomach gave a rolling growl. The animal spoke. She'd burned a lot of fuel, and it wanted raw material. It wouldn't let her sleep. It wouldn't let her judge.

She gave in and fed it cereal and milk. It let her know that was fine, but it'd want more soon. She passed the time washing and decorating herself.

She didn't want to look fifteen anymore. She wanted to look her age. Her chronological age, anyway. She was a young adult who made her own decisions and was responsible for them. She'd be fucked if she'd let Them rule her anymore. Hell, she grinned around her lipstick brush, she'd be fucked anyway.

And, it was strange, but she didn't want to be a whore, either. That realization made her pause. There'd never been any real middle ground before. She either made damned sure everybody who saw her knew she was available, or she was in the blue uniform, wishing everybody could see the unpantied cunt and garters beneath.

Now . . . Now, what?

Now she was off duty, that's what. Not on the prowl. Not on either job.

She wiped away her heavy eye shadow, used about half as much of more muted shades. The same for her blusher and foundation. But not her lips. They were just fine the way she always did them. They were as much her as was her name.

She rooted through the closet, came up with an almost forgotten pastel print dress. She wished she had a bra that wasn't a piece of either erotica or armor. She made do with the erotica. When in doubt, that was the way to swing.

After a pleasant lunch in a nice restaurant she'd never have been able to afford without her added income, she went shopping again. She wanted clothes to match this wondrous mood, dresses and accessories that'd remind her, every time she put them on. She wanted to trap herself in amber, preserve this state for eternity.

And knew she couldn't. Even knew that, if she got her wish, she'd regret it. She'd be bored shitless in a day. Fuck. She'd be bored shitless by nightfall.

That's when she knew the mood had run its course. When she started thinking, planning for the night shift, making rules for herself. No more fucking till four a.m. Home, or at least alone, by two at the very latest. More sober than not, too.

She laughed aloud, drew puzzled looks and reactive grins from her fellow strollers down the street. It was that bell-like sound again. The shopping bags felt good in her hands. She was setting a curfew for herself. Laying down the law for weeknights.

"Now don't you fuck too many strangers," she sub-vocalized. "And never, ever, get into a car unless they pay you first."

She took time to let the looks she'd been getting all afternoon register. They were different. Lighter. Less purposeful and intense. The eyes that touched her swept like soft caresses, not plunging dicks. There's a beautiful woman, they said. There's someone I'd like to get to know.

She stopped for a smoke on a curbside bench. Did she really want that kind of attention? Did she want to pursue the kind of connection that would ensue? It demanded a degree of openness of her, of honesty. It was contact between two humans, stripped of artifice, ceasing to be strangers. What would she tell them about herself?

Hi. I'm Lisa Cole. I'm a Vice cop and hooker. I was raped when I was twelve.

Those were the only things of significance about her. That was all she had to say that meant anything. Oh, there were further details. I fucked my father dead. When I deep throat, I have an orgasm in my soul.

No. It was better not to. Not until she had something else to talk about. If they wanted something from her, let it be her pussy, her lips, even her virgin ass. Let it be something she could give.

But the thought left her restless, less than comfortable. She found herself hurrying home, knew that her excuse was feeble. She'd already tried on her new clothes. The dress she wanted to wear tonight would go perfectly with her red heels. She knew she was running from dangerous ground, seeking safety and familiarity.

So she was ready for the night earlier than usual, looked different from ever before. A classy call girl, not a sleazy streetwalker or common bar girl, walked from her apartment, drove to the ritzy hotel bar she'd targeted. The red dress clung and displayed, but wasn't obscenely stretched over her body. Her makeup was erotic, but tasteful. It was as close to a compromise as she could handle, for the time being. As close as she cared to come to expressing what others thought of as normalcy.

She discovered just how shallow civility was. She was as subtle as her victims. As polite. As insinuating and tactful. But, when the room doors closed, it was the same as anywhere else. Cock was cock, and cunt was cunt. Money was just as green and sweat still ruined her makeup. It didn't matter whether they wore three-piece suits from London or blue jeans from Korea.

But the night was different in one way. Her second and last john wanted to fuck her ass. She'd known it would happen. She'd wanted it to happen. But she was still afraid.

She was as prepared as she could be. As she spread lubricant over his cock, using both hands to slowly stroke hislong, slim shaft, smeared her lipstick into the grease until the beloved red color vanished, she shook with anticipation. This was a turning point. Another one.

A painful one, despite the man's relative gentleness. She tried to relax, as he quietly urged her to, but it felt like he was sticking a log up her ass, ripping her guts, violating her as even Tommy hadn't. She tried to watch, couldn't see anything. He described it for her, acted like he was the prostitute as he guided her into this new realm. He'd done this many times. She let herself be taught.

She liked it. Loved it. The tearing, burning pain eased, stoked a new sort of pleasure within her. Her ass, like her throat, had no bottom. It wasn't like her cunt. It could take a foot, two feet of joy. It could grip a cock like a passionate vise while she let the hot organ rearrange her guts. She could take whatever was put in her. Come belonged in there. This, her third hole, needed fucking too. She was no longer a virgin, anywhere at all.

She thrust wildly back at him, felt his balls slap her cheeks, gripped tightly in his hands.

"Yes," she told him in a low, hoarse voice. "Yes, fuck my white little ass. You're the first, baby. Do it good. Fuck it good. Slap my ass, honey. Yes. Nice and hard. God you feel huge. I can feel you in my throat, lover. I need you. I need your come, baby. Pump it in as deep as you can. Fuck me harder. Hurt me, honey. Hit my ass. Spank me. Good. That's good. Now come for me. Come in me. Ah, yeah. That's it."

And, like so many of them, he was gone almost before her own orgasm was over. She fell onto her fingers, gasping, smiling, felt her tingling cunt give a final twitch and lay still. Her ass burned, inside and out. She felt like she had to shit, but that part faded before she finished her ritual cigarette.

Nice. Very nice. She groaned as she rolled onto her back, hissed as she deliberately rubbed her burning backside against the now-stained sheets. Very nice, indeed. She'd remember with every step, every shift of her ass for days. And, when it was finally gone, she could find somebody else who wanted to use it and do it all over again.

She washed quickly, then stepped into her clothes. It was almost two. She didn't want to violate her rules. She satisfied herself with a quick swipe of lipstick, a blown kiss into the mirror, and made it home on time.

After her week was up, she renewed her option on room 127. For a month, this time. She bagged game almost every night. Her closet bulged with clothes of all descriptions. She was saving money to buy bigger tits. Her bills were paid.

After she was broken into the scene in Vice, she was assigned to a team investigating the crack epidemic on the east side. They busted a handful of street dealers who were instantly replaced. The war on drugs went on without truce, without hope on either side.

Captain Wilson balled her once a week or so. It never got old for her. He was as close as she'd ever had to a real lover. But he made sure he kept everything straight. He always paid, in information or favors. He didn't ask how she was learning all the sexual acrobatics she was showering him with, and she didn't volunteer anything. Their fucking just kept getting better and better.

When he insisted she was the best, nastiest fuck he'd ever had, she believed him. She had a natural genius. She seemed to instantly be able to sense what men wanted her to do, and was almost always able to give it to them. Little tongue techniques and partial swallows while she sucked cock. The right words to say in bars, on streets, in cars or beds. How to angle her cunt just right, roll her hips just so, and make their cocks scrape against her pussy lining, driving them both wild. How to catch the tip of their dicks with her sphincter muscles, keep them from being squeezed totally out of her ass when she pushed them down with deeper musculature.

She still came, almost every time. She knew it was true. She'd never have enough orgasms, never fuck enough men. She was a compulsive sexual addict. She adored her neurosis, welcomed it, embraced it as her only true lover.

She bought a selection of sex toys. Some she carried with her in a gym bag in the trunk of her car. Some were hers alone and not to be shared. Between her flesh and false cocks, she averaged four or five fucks a day. More, of course, on her days off.

She picked up a couple of regulars. The black guy from the streets, and the ass-fucker from the swank hotel. It was nice to be depended upon regularly, know what to expect from a john.

She continued to vary her routine to suit her mood. Sleazy streetwalker when the weather was just right or she just wanted a lot of quick fucks. Bar girl when she felt in the mood for a drink or two and something a little more thorough than a basic in and out job. A gorgeous lady for rent when she wanted to have doors opened for her and polite conversation over dinner before bed.

But her private taste definitely ran toward things that caused a little pain. Nothing drastic. She'd let one guy pay her extra to feel what a riding crop was like. After the second lash, she was through. Unfortunately, he'd paid for a dozen. By the time he finished, she was too hurt to enjoy anything at all.

But, being tied to the bed, blindfolded, never knowing for sure what was going to happen next, was a tremendous rush. Maybe he'd slide his cock along her sweet, slick lips, make her lick it. Or suddenly feel the head of it barely touching her begging clit, then press her pussy open with torturous slowness. Or tie her legs wide apart over her head and fuck her ass so hard he almost snapped her spine.

She collected lipsticks. She displayed them at eye-level in her bedroom in racks meant for knickknacks. By the time that first month was up, she owned forty-nine shades, and was actively looking for more. All were variants upon red, of course, ranging from a deep, deep burgundy at the right to an almost-hot-pink at the left end. They weren't the dime store variety. She kept the cheap stuff elsewhere. There was a small mirror in the gap between the center racks, and a holder for an array of brushes. Glosses had their own shelf, below. There were also lip powders and creams. She knew it was a fixation, and indulged it fully.

It was exactly thirty-one days after her transfer that Lisa's tidy little routine was upset and her world began to unravel. It was started by an innocent question, asked by a cruiser. She was standing on her downtown corner, in her best teeny-bopper finery, in a spot inherited when another girl simply stopped showing up. A dark rental car stopped.

"Hey, lady. I'm looking for somebody called Lisa."

"You can call me anything you want, honey." But her words covered an instant suspicion. Was this a setup?

"It's got to be Lisa. Heard of her?"

"What's she look like?"

"A little taller than you, but black hair cut like yours. And young. That's why I stopped. Wears red lipstick all the time, too. I thought -"

She tickled his arm, then raked it with crimson claws. She gave him a good look at her tits, her knowing mouth. "Baby, I'm the lipstick queen. I can smear it all over your cock. Better than your Lisa bitch ever has."

He blushed, withdrew a little. "No. Sorry. Lisa's real special. You know what I mean?" His eyes held shame. He was trying to explain.

"Oh. I see. She's built different, got something I don't."

He looked relieved by her tact. "Yeah. So?"

"Most 'girls' like Lisa usually hang out up on Seventeenth. Turn right when you get there. There's a little park on your left."

He thrust a five at her and hurried away.

She was both intrigued and slightly pissed as she put the puny tip away. Some fucking TV queen was using her name, copying her look. Was imitation the finest flattery, or something she should be offended by?

She didn't have time to make up her mind. Another car stopped. The grinning driver wanted to know if she liked to party. Really party. As in bachelor party. As in five hundred bucks. Lucky for them both it was a weekend. Her cunt gave a wet lurch as she climbed into the car, instantly forgetting the other Lisa, the one with a cock. Doing her first real group, eight horny young men with rebounding hard-ons, claimed her full attention. She passed out twice, overwhelmed by the awesome reality of having five cocks at once, of being fucked everywhere, of having hands touch her, grope her even where she didn't have holes.

She couldn't get out of her bed in 127. Her entire body was one solid, glorious ache. She'd been showered with praise and open-handed blows as well as by come. Since it was Sunday, she didn't have to call in sick again. She was doing that a lot recently.

But she remembered the other Lisa on her way back to the motel that evening. She still hurt all over, but her need for cock was unappeased. On a lark, she cruised the park, the gay and bi- bars nearby. A whim drove her to ask the prettiest of the transvestites she saw, a slinky redhead, if she'd ever heard the name.

"Sure thing." The tall whore had bulky shoulders, but seemingly real tits. Bright green eyes, just as feminine as her own, met hers. "So you're the real Lisa, huh? I've heard a lot about you. She talks about you all the time."

"The real Lisa?"

"Sure. The one who turned her on. The one she's trying to be when she grows up."

Her confusion cleared. The boy she'd shaved and made up and dressed and fucked and dumped on the street. "He's . . . She's working now?"

"And doing well. You're not mad, are you?"

"No," she admitted. "Not at all. It's kind of sweet in a way."

The near-woman was puzzled. "You're nothing like she said you were. She said you were a teenage leather bitch with more balls than she has."

Lisa shrugged. "You know how it is. You just give them what they want."

The laughter was less trained than her careful soprano, sounded more masculine. "Don't I ever."

"So where does Lisa hang out. I'd like to see her."

"Right here. She's in the park right now. Should be back any minute. Cigarette?"

They chatted idly on, like old friends. Lisa was used to the casual banter of other whores. In moments, this was just another sister, not a man in drag. The tits were real, it turned out, but she still had her cock. Still their differences were less significant than the similarities they shared. Lisa felt a growing intrigue with this bizarre lifestyle.

They both saw Lisa's namesake emerge from the shadows across the street at the same time. The minidress-clad figure with raven hair was convincing. Her walk in the perilous heels was graceful. Her legs were still bony, but her dark hose minimized that. She looked up and saw her watchers from the middle of the street. She broke into a fearful, happy smile as she neared. Lisa studied her approach.

It was the same basic thick-lipped, glittering-eyed look Lisa had gifted her with when she was still a man. But she'd made a passable attempt to narrow her chin and raise her cheekbones with cosmetics, and bow her lips more. To look like Lisa. The hair style was exactly the way she'd worn it a month before.

She'd not only emasculated the fag and brought him out of the closet, but she'd cloned herself as well.

She looked up slightly into eyes that were almost her own. "I don't know about you, but I need a drink."

The twins adjourned, arm in arm, toward a bar. Lisa smelled the come on her companion's breath, and instantly knew she wanted to fuck her creation. No. Not wanted to. Had to. Her desire was instant and complete and demanding. As they passed an alley mouth, Lisa thrust her into the darkness, kept her teetering and off balance until she'd forced her against a wall.




Killer Cop Ch. 6



Lisa drug her head down, crushed her lips against the other's, rammed her tongue between them to lap at the residual sperm within. She ignored, overrode the shocked protests and resistance as she dug her hand under the skirt and groped for the cock she knew was there. She found only smoothness, a slight soft ridge. Her hand traced it back, into the crack of her ass, found its head. It began to enlarge.

The other broke the kiss. "No," she begged. "Please don't make me."

"What's a whore care how she makes her money? Mine's as green as anyone's. How much?"

"No. Lisa. I can't."

She squeezed the cock, now painfully bent as it filled with blood. "This says you can, slut. You want it. Cocks don't lie. Surely you know that by now."

"But I'm a woman now! I -"

Her working hand finally freed the cock. She stroked it under the dress. "No. You're a slut. You're that first, before anything else. And I'm going to fuck you, bitch."

She pushed her onto a handy garbage can, sat on her, and had her cock where it belonged before she could say anything else stupid. She silenced her anguished shout with her lips, fucking her with her tongue again. She bounced sinuously on her lap, expertly holding the swollen dick inside her.

"Fuck my brains out, whore. Make me come or I'll beat you bloody. You worthless asshole. Use that little excuse for a cock right, you fucking queer."

But she couldn't keep it up, much as they both wanted to hear more. She couldn't speak. She was mesmerized by what was happening. She was fucking herself.

She made a desperate mewling noise and grabbed at her purse, letting the cock slip out, wave wetly, helplessly in the air. But only for a moment. She didn't need her hands to guide it back in. They were already busy.

She leaned back, kept fucking, as she deliriously made up the face before her, made it even more like herself. False tits pressed into her fleshy ones when she rubbed with them. Crimson nails intertwined as she gripped them. The dripping red lips hung slack in this living mirror. The frond-like black lashes wavered, made the metal-flake lids shimmer.

Both of her came at once, of course. It could've happened no other way. They arched together as one, blended fluids, cried out in soft harmony. But before she had time to celebrate this union, to feel it as deeply as she craved to, it ended. Her other half separated. She wanted to lick her come from her cunt. She wanted to take back her gift, reclaim it for her own. She didn't understand. Lisa felt sad.

But Lisa dutifully took her seat on the can and spread her legs wide. She lit a cigarette, fixed the lips attached to her body, fell into the glass mirror while the person squatting in front of her finished the dregs of the orgasm.

The other-Lisa ran away in tears. Still seated, still regretful, she had no energy to pursue. She sighed, shook her head and finished her smoke. Then she went to work. The only thing she wanted to do was give head. She offered discounts, gave five face-fucks, and went home nauseous.

Stroke two fell on her tree of life when Trotter put the make on her the next afternoon on a surveillance detail. It was a set up. Lisa realized it was just to get her alone.

At first she just went along when the sergeant slowly leaned down and kissed her. She'd been kind of curious. She felt the soft lips on hers, softer than any man's, tasted her cigarettes and lipstick and something else. Her femininity, maybe. It was just how she'd always wanted to be kissed, and never knew it. It took all of three seconds for her to begin to return the kiss in utter earnest.

She draped her arms around Trotter's neck and pulled her down onto the sofa. She had no intention of rejecting her boss. Lisa twined her tongue with Trotter's, stared into the softening green eyes, pressed her chest against real tits. Big ones.

It was nothing at all like the fuck with the other-Lisa. She wasn't making love to her mirror-reversed self, but to someone as yin as she. Not to a masculinized Lisa, but a fully feminine woman. With a warm, syrupy cunt and melon-like tits with huge brown aureoles. Not to a twisted parody she'd helped create, but a real human being.

It went on and on. Ann. She heard herself murmur the name as an impossibly knowing tongue probed her cunt, admired its scent, savored its honey, eased her toward her peak as if there was all the time in the world. It was like having her pussy eaten for the first time, vastly better than ever before. Her incipient orgasm pressed her down into the sofa cushions like an ever heavier weight. When it finally happened, with Ann's tongue flicking her clit faster than she knew a tongue could move, it was like being washed into the sea by massive, slow, irresistible waves.

They cuddled. They kissed. Lisa used her tongue to lap the dew from her sergeant's face. They sighed and laughed quietly and shared a peaceful cigarette. Then Lisa joyously returned the favor.

Ann held her head, stroked her hair as she sucked a tit into the back of her throat, milking it with her soft palate. She kissed her way lower over soft, smooth, fragrant flesh, thrilled to her core by the subtle differences between this and the seventy-three men she'd known.

She teased herself as well as Ann, went as slow as she could make herself go. She smelled the heavenly, musky perfume of her partner's cunt before she reached it. Saliva welled in her mouth. Her chin encountered the trimmed fringe of the pubic mound. The hair was slightly wiry, tickled her cheeks as she rubbed her face against the woman's secret center.

Then she was there, tasting her first cunt. She knew just what to do. She did what she'd dreamed of doing to herself six weeks before, the first day she'd shaved her pussy clean. She knew almost exactly what Ann was feeling, used her intuitive genius and her fresh memories to play her like a drum. Pussy juice welled from the fountain, tasting like the nectar of the gods, filling her with a tender strength as she lapped and sucked, whispered endearments to the folds of flesh she adored.

Only when the slim, sleek thighs wrapped around her head and squeezed, only when the hands caressing her hair knotted into fists, only then did she let herself go as wild as her lover. Her tongue became a whip. Her lips attached themselves like a lamprey. Her teeth nibbled. She couldn't breathe, didn't need to. All she needed to do was make this woman come like a volcano. All she needed was to drink her dry, suck from her every mote of fluid she generated.

It came as an unwelcome surprise when it ended. She wasn't finished. But Ann cruelly tugged her hair until she released her lip-lock and slid up to lay atop her so she could be kissed.

"I knew you'd be good," Ann whispered, "but I had no idea you were quite that talented. Who taught you?"

Lisa snuggled down against a tit that shaped itself to her cheek, absently toyed with the other's softening nipple with the pads of her fingers. "My dreams, maybe. You're my first woman."

Trotter's silent laughter bounced her head. "Jesus, Cole. I'd call you a liar if I didn't know you better."

The silence was easy, comfortable. The sergeant combed her hair with her slim fingers. She felt drowsy, more relaxed than she knew she could be. For the first time since her sexuality had awakened, she felt no need for more. Satiation. That's what this marvelous peace was.

She lovingly kissed the tit under her, allowed a single tear to escape each eye. Had she been looking for this? Had she been on a quest for this fullness without knowing it? She trailed her hand downward, over the soft swells and into the damp hollow below. She stroked, not to arouse, but to complete, to soothe.

Yes. She'd been questing, in a way, all along. But not for a cunt to lick. For her mother. She'd just fucked her.

She suppressed an unseemly giggle. Fuck. Did she have to do the whole family to find peace? Did she have to backtrack through time and open her holes to everybody she'd ever known? Shit.

Trotter moved under her, lit a cigarette, resumed her tender caresses. Lisa feigned sleep. She had no memory of girlish hugs with Mom. Just a scared, sorrow-filled, dumpy little woman hiding in the corners of rooms, trying to stay invisible, out of Dad's way. Never any emotional support at all. At eleven, with her first period, her mother had treated her discharge as something shameful, something that had to be kept secret. After the rape, Mom had quailed and cried as if she'd been the one fucked in the neighbor's back yard. The rejection of her daughter had been clear. What little empathy they'd shared vanished.

She wasn't being rejected now. This woman was overjoyed to be with her, would stroke and pet and love her whenever she wanted. Other women would, too. All cocks looked and tasted different. Were cunts that varied, that miraculous? She vowed to find out as she stirred herself and stretched with a happy growl.

She sat up, lit her own cigarette, smiled down at the lazy woman draped loosely, shamelessly over the battered couch. She helped Ann to her feet. After a lingering kiss, they repaired one another's faces, tittering and giggling like little girls playing dress up. They abandoned the false stake-out, ate a leisurely, companionable dinner, and moseyed back to headquarters.

They knew something was up before they got to the door. Lisa recognized a bad feeling, a sense of wrongness, for the first time. She didn't want to go in. She didn't want to know what had the place roiling with activity. But she had no choice. The ominous knot in her gut told her that, too. Trotter pushed the door open and she had to follow.

She heard the words, but they kind of echoed. She had to concentrate to make any sense of the sounds. Someone was handing Ann a folder as he spoke.

"A weird one, sarge. Some TV hooker in fag-town got himself gutted like a fish. Found him in a dumpster in an alley off Seventeenth. Called himself Lisa."

To Be Continued...



Killer Cop Ch. 7



Chapter VII: The Princess Escapes


Horror clamped around Lisa like a vice. It took every iota of her strength to keep quiet, not to show any reaction to the news. She hadn't even known his real name. Paul Twilley. She'd only called him fag, wimp, Lisa. He was dead, split from his mutilated cock to his false tits. There were pictures.

Her horror had two parts. First came the irrevocability and senselessness of the violent death of someone she knew. He'd fucked her. She'd fucked him. She probably still carried minuscule traces of his life deep in her cunt. The thought made her nauseous.

The second aspect was that her double life could well be exposed. The recorded time of death put her in the alley with him less than four hours before some deranged animal had ripped him open. The investigation could turn her up. If it did, there went the ball game. Fuck. She could produce an alibi, if the other whores on her street would speak up, but that would still totally destroy her life.

She excused herself, too abruptly, and locked herself in a bathroom stall. She didn't puke, like she thought she would. Her smoke tasted like dried cabbage. Slowly, over the time it took to finish the cigarette, she saw that, regardless of whether she was implicated or not, life would never be the same.

Whores like Paul/Lisa died all the time. They were beaten to death. They were stabbed or shot. Sometimes their bodies were found. Sometimes they simply vanished, like the girl she'd gotten her corner from. Every time she put herself out there, the man she ended up with could be some psycho. There was no way to know, beforehand.

She'd heard the stories the girl's told. She'd been aware of the risk factor. But this drove it home. This made it personal. It could happen to her.

No, she corrected. It would happen, not could. If not by knife or gun, by disease or drug. It had to. What she was doing to herself wouldn't make sense otherwise. If it didn't happen on its own, she'd do something to make it so.

Peculiar place to find one of those crossroads in life, she smiled thinly. The middle stall in the ladies' shitter on the seventh floor. Guess it's appropriate, in a way.

She heard the door open, recognized the faint squeak of Ann's beige pumps. She dried her eyes.

"Having trouble with the plumbing, Lisa?"

"Nothing serious. Who drew the . . . Twilley thing?"

"Homicide took it away from us, as usual. Why?"

"I can't talk about it now. Not here. Want to go for a ride?"

"Where?"

"To the morgue."

Trotter didn't answer. Lisa flushed the toilet, drew a deep breath, and faced her. This was going to be a class A mother-fucker. But the sergeant didn't do anything more than meet her eyes and follow her from the room. The elevator ride was also silent. Only in the car, with Lisa staring out the passenger's window, did her partner speak up.

"You knew this guy." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. Biblically."

"It wasn't any accident he was going by your name. Hair like yours."

"No. No accident." She spilled all of it, never once looking inside the car.

Autumn was encroaching on summer. In the park, the trees were still green, but they knew. By the angle of the sun and the length of the days, by the first fluttering northerly breezes, they knew. Change was coming. They didn't resist in any way.

In a week or two, they'd begin to release their leaves. They'd served their purpose. It was time to go. Sometimes, she guessed, you'd find them blocks, maybe miles away. These very leaves, skittering through the concrete canyons, blown up against alley walls in little drifts.

"So what are you going to do?"

Lisa found a cigarette. "Better cover your ass, Ann. This is going to get messy. I've got to tell Homicide what I know. No way I'm coming out with my badge. I'll be damned lucky to stay out of jail. If you stand too close, they might want to sniff your cunt, too."

Trotter drove a half block in silence. "I can't let you do it, Lisa. I want you to keep that beautiful mouth shut. There's no fucking reason to do it. None at all. He's gone. Dead. You can't bring him back. All you can do is take yourself down."

Lisa shook her head. "I wish I could just forget about it, Ann. But it's more than feeling responsible for what happened to her. Him. Twilley. Paul Twilley. I can't let that happen to me. And it will, if I don't stop it." And it'll happen to you, too, someday, she thought. We both know it will.

"Okay. If you won't do it for yourself, then do it for me. You're right, you know. They're bound to investigate everybody who ever had anything to do with you. You're going to be responsible for taking others down, too. Like Wilson, maybe."

She knew it was true. Her heart felt like lead. It'd be so easy. So easy to just listen to Ann. She'd heard those sweet lips murmur words of love to her mere hours before. Now she was on her way to destroying yet another life.

Maybe, she reminded herself. Maybe not. I've got to follow my convictions. It's the right thing to do. Fuck, is it better to let her end up with a knife in her guts, or a reprimand? Surely that's all she'd get. Too many people owe her favors.

Trotter read her re-formed determination. Her anger showed through. "How about Wilson, then? You expose yourself as a whore who he just gave a juicy transfer to, and what's going to happen to him?"

Lisa stared out the window. "I'm sorry, Ann. I'm really sorry. But it's the only choice I have left. I've tried everything else, don't you see?"

"No. I don't see. And lots of other folks won't, either. And believe me, babe, you haven't really tried everything yet."

She spent the span of a red light staring coldly at Lisa's graceful body. The curve of her slim, round hips. The ripe swell of her full little tit. What she could see of her face, the rich red corner of her pouty mouth, the artfully traced and tinted corner of her eye.

"That's too bad, hon. What a hell of a waste of talent." She pulled away when the light went green, speculatively raked her companion's body one last time.

"What are you going to do after the dust clears? And it will, you know. You won't do any time. The papers'll give you your thirty seconds of fame, and things'll settle down after a while. But what about you? Where will you go? What will you do?"

Lisa shrugged. "Doesn't matter. That's not the point anymore."

"What is the point?"

"I don't know. I just know it's not what I thought it was. It's never been what I thought it was." She'd tried to do what They told her. She'd failed. She'd tried to set up her own system. It'd turned out to be just as full of lies as Theirs.

Trotter stopped the car in front of the building housing what was left of Paul Twilley. "Why the morgue, Cole? Why the fuck do you want to do this to yourself? It's not necessary."

"Maybe not. But unless I do it, I'm afraid I'll change my mind someday. It won't be real anymore. I'll forget. I'll only remember the good parts. What it felt like to clutch a hundred bucks in my fist while some stranger's cock split my cunt. And that's not what it's really about. That's only part of the truth."

She nodded toward the doors. "There's another part in the basement, in a cooler, wearing a toe-tag. And there are other parts I don't even know about yet."

Trotter's smile was icy. "At least there's something we agree on."

She did puke, later. She'd known she might. Fuck, maybe she wanted to vomit as much out of herself as she could. Maybe she wanted to feel drained, bleached as clean as she could get.

Then, it was off to an appointment with the homicide boys. Trotter had run away to make ass-covering phone calls, no doubt. That was just as well. She needed to do this on her own. They'd kissed goodbye in the elevator.

"Will you come by tonight?" Trotter had asked, still slightly cool, despite the knee pressed firmly between Lisa's thighs.

"You're sure that's smart? Risking being seen with me?" Lisa moaned.

"You'll be discreet. Come in the back way."

"Yes. I'm not going to want to be alone after this. Have some decent wine chilled? And be ready to fuck my brains out."

It went better than she'd expected. The two dicks on the case, Rogers and Brandt, stayed polite throughout, kept their questions and comments civil and to the point. She saw their anger and outrage, though. Not because she'd been a whore, but because she was hurting the Force. She'd tarnished her badge, the same one they wore.

They didn't take it from her, of course. Neither did Captain Sloan. She marched straight into his office and laid it out for him, too. It was pretty mechanical by the third telling. He was shocked, then grim. He didn't actually can her. He couldn't, until she actually signed the statement tomorrow. But he did suspend her without pay pending a review board. They both knew how the board would find.

That night, at Ann's place, she let her hurt and fear come out in the only way she felt strong enough to act it out. She got drunk and decadent.

Trotter laughed and broke the kiss Lisa had initiated. "Jesus. You are one horny bitch, Cole. Don't you ever get enough?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Why? Don't you want me?"

Ann cradled a hard little tit. "There. Does that feel good?"

Lisa arched her back, pressed into the caress. "Umm. It's a great start."

With her other hand, Trotter tickled a darkly stockinged thigh. "You look so soft tonight. So feminine. It makes me want to take charge, Lisa. It makes me want to dominate you."

Lisa's legs slowly parted. She cried out softly as the slender, wise hand stroked her upper thigh, insinuated itself upward. "Yes," she whispered. "Please. Do whatever you want to me. Tell me what to do, Ann."

Submission was exactly what she'd been craving. She wanted to relax, to not have any responsibilities at all other than to follow very explicit orders. Lick pussy, suck tit, lay still, roll over. It would make life so simple, make all the day's horrors and uncertainties vanish.

That was exactly the sort of release she craved after ruining both her careers. To have no worries for a while. No fears. To escape. To not have to be strong, just for the night.

"Fuck me," she begged, her cunt suddenly sodden, even though no fingers had petted it. "Hurry. Please."

Trotter shook her head soberly. "No good, babe."

"Ann, please. I need -"

"I know what you need. I know even better than you do, slut. Don't I, you cheap whore? You're going to do whatever I tell you, right?"

Lisa began to protest, began to let her hole chase the hand that was so maddeningly close. She bit her lips, made tight fists. More than she wanted immediate gratification, she wanted the other more. The helplessness. The infantile dependency. "Yes. Whatever you say."

"That's the idea. I've had all afternoon to think about it. I made some phone calls. We're going to have a little going away party."

She groaned. "Ann, I don't think I'm up for -"

"I'm talking a real party, whore. I'm going to see to it you get so thoroughly fucked tonight that you'll never want to turn another trick as long as you live. Put down that glass, wipe that insipid grin off your face, and go take a fucking bath."

She did as she was told, trying to imagine exactly what was up. All her regular johns? A train of tricks some of the street girls put together?

By the time the bath was draining, her nipples had been tweaked to full extension and her pussy lips were red from rubbing. She scraped the rough towel over herself more thoroughly than necessary.

Trotter had an absolutely scandalous outfit laid out for her. A black lace bustier, webbed down the gaping front, would cradle her tits, not hide them. Its garters would support her hose. The crotchless g-string panties left everything important exposed. The fingerless lace opera gloves were something new. No skirt. No blouse. Just stiletto heeled sandals.

She didn't ask, didn't protest, just dressed. Trotter examined her, adjusted the garters and tits to suit herself, then ordered her to the vanity to be made up.

Lisa did nothing but watch and wonder. Watch the consummate whore's face her lover was creating, plastering her face with too much of everything. And wonder at the anger, the barely contained rage she did it with. Even through Lisa' building lust, it didn't feel right. It was more than part of the game. It hadn't been like this before. She wasn't at all sure she liked it, but did nothing to break the spell the vast space inside her cunt was weaving over her judgment.

She stared raptly into the mirror, watched her face bloom with wicked color. Her sultry lids turned deep grey and silver all the way to her penciled brows and temples. Her lashes became black, long and thick and brittle. Their roots were traced with a black tinged with blue, making her azure eyes glow darkly.

The pores of her face vanished under foundation and powder. Her high cheekbones were unnaturally flushed above the artificially pallid perfection of her skin. The contours of her nose and chin had been visibly shaded. Her lips burned with her most treasured deep scarlet lipstick. Her mouth had been reshaped by a false outline, the color so thickly applied and so heavily glossed that no texture showed through. Her lips looked as slick as molten glass, and that hot.

"And you'll keep them that way, you fucking worthless cunt. Every time you smoke a cigarette or take a drink, or swallow a cock, you be damned sure your mouth is fucking perfect. Understand?"

"Yes, mam."

"Every time you fuck up and forget, you get three lashes with this." She slapped her leg with a short whip. It was soft, but hurt like hell. Lisa should know. It was hers. She'd both used and felt it before. She hated it, and Ann read it by her visible cringe. Why the threat of real punishment? Was she really still that mad?

"I won't forget. I promise."

"We'll see. Now, to make sure you stay in here without peeking until I'm ready for you to come out, I'm going to tie you to the bed. Lay down."

Lisa's fears were again lost in a hollow rush of need. She spread herself, her haunted eyes locked on the overhead mirror as the padded restraints were fastened around her wrists and ankles. They were hers, too. Had Ann broken into her car and lifted them? It didn't matter. They felt perfect, gripping her, stretching her, displaying her. She was a doll, a grotesque Barbie. Her nipples bulged, strained toward the ceiling. Her cunt steadily oozed fluids. Her parted, panting, gleaming lips said she was on the brink of orgasm. And they didn't lie. But there was no blindfold. And Ann, instead of fucking her with the huge dildo laying on the floor, left and closed the door.

It was all different, all new. She'd never been bound and left alone. She'd never looked like this, not even at her most wild. Never felt like this, so fucking turned on it was insane, and unable to do a damned thing about it. It was torturous. It was cruel and heartless.

And she loved it. Everything about it was perfect. The way her crimson mandarin nails hooked over the palms of her gloves, and her matching toes peeked through the impossibly tall shoes. The way the seams of the hose twisted gracefully as she turned her legs, admiring their beautiful shape. It was all absolutely ideal. She recognized, after a time, that this was what she'd always had in mind, how she always dreamed she should look. It wasn't who she was. It was who she craved to become with all her heart and soul. In a way, it truly was her soul made visible.

Ann must be trying to show her this about herself. That was why she was mad. Because Lisa had been blind to something she should know about. Something vital. Seeing herself this way changed everything. How could she ever stop being this, now that she'd finally seen it?

She was still enraptured, her vision so powerful that it kept her right on the edge of a stupendous orgasm, when she faintly heard the doorbell the first time. A few minutes later, there was a distant knock. The guests were arriving. She could hear the confused murmur of deliberately lowered voices.

Soon They would come for her. Come to look at her. Come to fuck her in every hole, all at once. It wasn't important who They were, as long as there were enough. It had to go on and on. She didn't care about anything beyond the realm of cocks and holes. Until she recognized, through the deafening din of her fantasies, a particular laugh.

Captain Wilson's laugh.

Then, other voices became clear enough to recognize. Ann's, of course. But, wasn't that Chandler, from the old precinct? And Riley and Donovan, the inseparable duo in Vice?

Her panic and denial rose sluggishly through the clinging fog of her transcendent lust. No. It couldn't be. Ann wouldn't do that to her.

The shrill cackle of that asshole Deputy Chief Walters' distinctive giggle shattered her refusal to face the facts.

That's exactly what Ann had done. Her peers. Her superiors. They were all out there. Soon, Ann was going to lead them through the door, show them who Lisa Cole really was.

She fought lethargically. She had to escape, snap or stretch the thick, soft ropes enough to wriggle free. It was hopeless. She knew from experience they were stronger than they looked, not mere props. All she succeeded in doing was wrinkling the bedspread.

Before the totality of the humiliation to come really registered, brought with it a desperate anguish and hysterical tears, the door swung open. Ann stepped through, smiling harshly, raking her with cold eyes.

"Well, well. The little slut's figured out what's going on. She's not as brainless as she looks, guys. Come on in. Say hi to the guest of honor."

Men began filing through the door. She knew them all. She'd worked beside them, heard their briefings or seen them pass through on their way to Wilson or Sloan's office. And they were staring hungrily and mockingly and pityingly and hatefully at her totally exposed self, painted and garbed like the Princess of Whores. They were all going to fuck her. She knew it by the look in their eyes as much as the bulges in their pants. They were going to gang rape her. And there was nothing in heaven or hell she could do to stop it.

"The sloppy cunt's chewed her lipstick guys. Can you believe it? She's in love with her mouth, you know. Know how many different red lipstick's she's collected. Forty-four. Right, Lisa?"

It was really forty-nine. Five more had come in the mail the day before. But she couldn't speak.

"I told her what'd happen if she did that without fixing it. Told her I'd use the whip on her. God she hates that. Loves to dish it out, but can't take it."

That drew a low chuckle from some of the audience. Most, though, seemed not to have heard Trotter. Their unwavering stares hurt. She'd never been looked at this way. The eyes bruised her tits with their collective weight, sank into her cunt like an invisible cock. But the pain was subtle, just as subtle as the discomfort of chains after wearing them for a while.

And, like that, it easily became pleasure. The lash fell across her thighs. Lisa felt a hard squeeze somewhere within her cervix. A second blow fell, across her stomach. The knot opened, bloomed like a night flower. They might hate her and pity her, but they'd fuck her anyway. The third blast of searing pain came from her tits. The black blossom became all there was. She plunged into its core with a shrill scream. She was nothing like any of them had ever seen before.

"Here, whore. Let Annie fix your lipstick for you. Hold still. I know the brush tickles. That's a good girl. You want to be sexy for the boys, don't you? I thought so." Aside. "Look at this, fellas. The slut's having an orgasm. I told you she'd be glad you all came."

They started fucking her soon after shooting a couple of rolls of film of her. Nobody'd ever done that before. Ann held up mirrors so she could always see exactly what the lens was seeing. They were capturing her there. They were trapping her, freezing her as she was at this moment. They were making her real. For all time, that's the way she'd be.




Killer Cop Ch. 7



That's what their cocks told her, too. She was holes. Sexily packaged holes. Cocks perfectly fit them all. Any other way they were used was incidental to being fucked in them. Something to do when they weren't serving their primary function.

But it wasn't until the tenth or twentieth one split her pussy or her ass or her mouth that that fact became part of her. There was no resistance anywhere within her. She had already come, before anyone touched her. She began again just before her first passenger shot his come deep inside her. She didn't think she ever stopped after that.

Funny. She never remembered their faces. She never could recall who did what to her. Who was mean and who was tender, who used her which way.

All she ever saw when she relived it was that her lips were always perfect unless they were sucking madly on something, and that she was never, ever totally empty. Somebody was always inside her. Usually, more than one somebody.

They threw her into that other reality. They kept her there. They wouldn't let her come back, even for an instant. They fucked her and fucked her. For eight hours, somebody told her, long afterwards. One hundred and twenty-seven times cocks had penetrated her. And, when they finally stopped, they said she wept, weakly begged god for it to never end.

And her prayer was granted.

Suddenly, there was no more time. Her veins were filled by flaming fog. Her dream became permanent. She was being fucked and it was never, ever going to end.

When she awakened, a familiar classically handsome face was looking down at her, wearing an expression of concern and fear. Barney. He'd come for his piece at last. She reached up for him, surprised that her restraints allowed it, feebly tried to pull him down to her warm, waiting, open body.

"Lisa!" His voice held tremendous relief. He effortlessly freed himself from her weak arms. "Jesus Christ! You're awake!"

He called for a doctor. Her surroundings began to register. What the fuck was she doing in a hospital? Where was everybody? Was the party over already?

The doctor didn't want to fuck, either. The nurse was an ugly old bag who looked like a dyke, but she ignored Lisa's invitation, too.

It took her a long, long time to figure out what was wrong. Somebody'd taken away her pretty clothes and wrapped her in a shapeless cotton sack. And she could tell by the feel of her face that they'd taken off her makeup, even her lipstick. No wonder they didn't want a piece of her ass. She looked like shit.

And they wouldn't even give her her fucking purse. At least when she raged at them, they did something right. They shackled her to the bed. She instantly smiled and fell back with a sigh, thanking them.

But figuring out what They wanted her to do was hard. They wouldn't tell her the rules of the game she was supposed to play. They wanted her to figure them out for herself. It was stupid, really. They wanted her to act like some fucking virgin cunt who didn't know cock from cucumber. Who would die before she wore makeup, especially lipstick. And whose taste in clothes made nuns' habits seem flashy. They wanted her to be like Mom and Dad had.

And it was clear that They weren't ever going to let anybody fuck her until she got it right. Acting wasn't good enough. She had to live it all the time for Them. It was hard. They made her quit finger-fucking herself, even at night in bed. She had to quit smoking. She had to pretend, more convincingly than for any john she'd ever balled, just exactly what They wanted her to pretend.

She did it, never once doubting she'd be given a fantastic reward for her immense effort. For an entire month, knowing that this was just another test sustained her. Only this was some kind of final exam. Even more important than fucking Mom and Dad, or turning that first almost accidental trick.

She finally understood this was what They'd meant all along. It was the same thing that Ann had taught her, really. She had to be able to do exactly what They told her to do. No matter how pointless. No matter how boring. Whatever They said, she had to do.

It wasn't just a game. It was truth. The only truth left. So simple. So pure. So easy, really. Easier than the continual warfare in her head.

So why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like she was dying?

But, at night, when she couldn't keep her knotted hands away from her sweet cunt a moment longer, she'd remember how it'd always been worth whatever she'd had to endure. There'd always been some stupendous fuck in store, like a graduation present. While her stubby-nailed, unadorned fingernails squished in her stubble haired pussy, she imagined how great this one was going to be. A fuck to end all fucks. One that'd might never, ever have to stop.

She'd passed the test with flying colors. Everybody said so. Her cunt drooled, as she sat meekly in the doctor's private office, wondering if he'd finally give her back her things, give her a minute to get ready, and fuck her till she screamed. Instead, he told her she could go home. Home. That was supposed to mean the apartment, not room 127. That must be where the next party was going to be. Instead of bolting from the room, she waited, as docile as a cow, until he urged her to go. He'd even called a cab for her.

The first thing she did, after she was sure the test was really over, was bum a cigarette from the taxi driver and greedily suck it down. The second thing she sucked down was his cock, while he drove, to buy the rest of the pack.

Her apartment building loomed over them. He avoided her lips as she tried to kiss him goodbye. She laughed and waved as he sped off, then hustled her ass upstairs. The rooms were empty. The air was stale and musty. And every fucking decent thing she had to wear had been stolen from her closet. Somebody'd ripped off her makeup, too. Her eyes welled with tears when she saw the bare wall that had held her precious lipstick collection.

"Why?" she wailed. "Why the fuck are you doing this to me!" But there was no answer. There never was.

So she had to start all over again. It was quicker and easier the second time, and even more grand than she'd imagined it'd be. Because she knew how to obey, now. And lots of people loved obedient slaves. They took care of her in fine fashion. They bought her huge tits. They gave her beautiful erotic clothes. They kept her in luxurious surroundings. They shared her with all of their friends. They for the most part let her fuck as often and whoever she wanted to, if she played by Their rules.

And they indulged her little idiosyncrasies. Like her only possession. All she ever took, from one master to the next mistress, was a single heavy suitcase holding a massive lipstick collection that was still growing. And she seemed unable to wear clothing heavier than lingerie, regardless of where she was taken. Diplomatic reception or cellar bar, she went almost totally nude.

Her face always, day and night, bore thick, mask-like makeup, amazingly ornate, dominated by one or another shade of searing red lipstick.

And she never, ever said no to anything. In fact, unless she was being fucked in one way or another, she seldom said anything at all.

Because she was the best. About that, there was no doubt. What Lisa couldn't do simply couldn't be done.

At last, she was safe.

- The End -



Killer Fantasy



Gloria smiled gently at me, "Come on Jack, tell me all about it. You know I want to know how you feel Baby, what you want to do with me or to me. Tell me everything." She was very persuasive.

"Honey I don't know, I don't really have any hidden desires. We already do all the things I ever dreamed about doing. I love our sex life. If I am not pleasing you or doing the things you want me to do you have to tell me. If I am not able to please you, I will try harder. I know I am probably not the best lover you have ever had. I think I try hard. I read the stories on the net. I try the things I think you will like, I know you are not into being whipped or that stuff."

We were sitting on our bed, she was in a short silk gown and I wore sleep shorts. I kept watching the way her nipples pushed little bumps in her gown.

"Darling I am not complaining about how you love ME! I don't think I am doing everything I could do to please you. Do you ever want another woman in bed with us. Or to watch another man do me. Giggle."

"NO, I don't want any of that. If that is what you want you are married to the wrong guy."

"Jack, I know you have fantasies, everyone has them. Don't be shy, tell me about them."

"Well there is a woman I fantasize about."

"Who, who is she, come on tell me about her."

"I don't think that matters, she is very attractive, really quite lovely. She is very sensual and sexy. She loves all kinds of sex, vaginal, anal, oral, and I think she is beautiful. She likes to tease and does so often. I think of her a lot."

"Now we are getting some where. Is she some one we know?"

"I'm not going to say anything to tell you who she is. That is my little secret."

"Do you want to have sex with her?"

"I thought we were talking about sexual fantasies!"

"Oh! Right, so you do think of having sex with her."

"Sure."

"Have you ever talked to this gal about doing it?" 

"You mean in my fantasy?"

"Of course, I hope you haven't in real life."

"Why not?"

"This is just supposed to be a fantasy. It is isn't it?"

She looked at me with her eyes wide open.

"Absolutely, I have never talked with anyone but you about sex since we have been married."

"I hope not, Oh! I know you wouldn't do that." Gloria said.

"Have you ever fantasized about making it with another guy?"

"Sure, even with several at once. Wouldn't you like to see me with other guys?"

"I already answered that, NO!"

"OK."

"You keep asking that same question, is having me watch part of your fantasy?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you have me bound and gagged while you screw some other guys?"

"No, sounds interesting though." Then she laughed and kissed me. "I could never hurt you or force you to do something against your will. Never."

I pulled her to me and kissed her passionately, I ran my hands over her breasts and felt her nipples poke further out. She pulled at my shorts, trying to get them off. I helped her then pulled her nightie up over her head. She was hot. I slipped my finger in her slit as we kissed passionately. She was wet, really wet. All that fantasy talk had her worked up. Her small hand found my cock. She stroked him rapidly. I caught her hand and told her she would make me cum too soon. I kissed and suckled at her sweet nipples, They were as hard as pencil erasers and about the same size and shape. I loved them, they were perfect. After a few minutes I kissed my way to her dripping little hot pussy. She grabbed my head and pulled it into her hard. My thumbs spread her wide and I slurped up all her juices I could find. I cleaned and caressed her pussy for a long time until she pulled my head up to her clit. She was getting to the really intense orgasms now, writhing around and squealing loudly. She pulled hard on me now, wanting me inside her. I slipped my rock hard cock slowly in her, feeling the wet warm walls of her vagina grip me tightly. Wonderful. I started long slow strokes deep into her. She was getting loud now and I new she was having one of her continuous orgasms. I thrust faster and faster, harder and harder. She was really hugging me hard and I felt my body tense as my sperm blasted inside her. She quivered and lay still. I rolled off of her and tried to get my breath. Damn that was good. Gloria jumped up and took her long, long shower like she always did after sex.

We didn't talk about fantasies for a week or two. Then one Sunday she said she was going over to her mother's the next night to visit while I watched the game. I thought nothing of it.

Monday night in a really close game the kick returner for the home team caught the kick at the back of the end zone and ran all the way for a touchdown. It had to be the most spectacular run I had ever seen, it seemed as if every player on the other team had their arms around him at least twice but he broke away each time. I was jumping around like an idiot. I grabbed the phone and called George, my good buddy from work, and fellow fan. 

His wife Cindy answered and said, "He went over to your house to watch the game. Isn't he there?"

"Er, ah, I haven't seen him yet."

"Hell, Jack, it's only two miles to your house. He should have been there an hour ago."

"Listen Cindy, If he's not home by midnight call me. He probably went over to Ted's to watch the game."

"Thanks Jack, you are a sweet guy, let me talk to Gloria."

"She's over at her Mom's. I'll tell her you called."

"G'Night, Jack."

Gloria got home about one o'clock. She slipped in our bedroom quietly and undressed in the bathroom by the nightlight. I watched through slitted eyelids. I saw her remove her panties, she looked at the gusset and looked at me. She went to the clothes hamper and pushed them down to the bottom. She closed the door and took a long, long shower. A long shower?

The door opened and she came and slipped into bed. She leaned over and kissed me, "Are you awake Dear?'

"Unn, half."

"I love you, sleep tight."

Sleep? Right. 

I lay awake most for the night and was just dropping off when I heard Gloria murmur something in her sleep. It sounded like some thing couldn't understand the I clearly heard 'George'. George? Then I heard it again, I would swear I heard "Fuck me George." What? I lay thinking for an hour or so. I got up and went in the bathroom and shut the door, I turned on the light. I dug down in the hamper. Her panties, my favorites from Victoria's Secret that I gave her for her birthday, were still wet. She loved them and only wore them on special occasions. There was a large grayish gob of something in the inside of the crotch. I felt sick, I turned and threw up, mostly in the toilet, some on the floor. I went back in the room and looked at her. Sound asleep. I got dressed and packed an overnighter. I put the panties on the pillow next to her face.

I went into the kitchen and fixed a cup of instant coffee. I picked up the phone and scrolled back through the list of callers. George's home number was on there a dozen times, twice Sunday. His private office phone was on there six times. Twice Monday. 

I started to leave the door to the house open but thought better of it. I didn't even take my truck. I walked up the street a ways to the intersection. I sat on the bus bench with an advertisement for Checker Cabs on it. I got out my cell phone and called the number. They said it would be an hour before they could get one there. I said I would be waiting. I took the cab to the diner down the street from my office. They were open and I ordered coffee. I had no idea of what I was going to do. I didn't have a home. I had a cheating wife. Cheating with my buddy from work who had the biggest mouth in the whole world. Everyone at work would know he was screwing my wife by nine o'clock this morning if they didn't know already. I knew I needed to get to the bank as soon as it opened. I knew I had all our credit cards in my billfold. Thank God for once that we had no kids, we had tried and tried and prayed and prayed, I guess the Lord knew what he was doing. 

I ordered a breakfast but couldn't eat a thing. At nine I called in sick and told them I might be out a week. I was in the bank lobby when I called. I transferred most of our money to new accounts. I left 5000 dollars in the debit account. I shut down all our joint credit cards. When I was through at the bank I called Hertz and ordered a economy car delivered to the bank. I sat in the little car and tried to think. What was I going to do. I knew I couldn't live without Gloria, I knew I couldn't live with her. I just couldn't believe she did this to me. I was sure she loved me.

I thought of Cindy, poor Cindy, I wondered if she knew. I called her. She answered. I said "Hi"! She yelled, "Jack where are you? Gloria is going nuts trying to find you. Are you alright? George called and said you called in sick."

"Yeah, I did. I am sick. Real sick. Let me tell you why. Gloria snuck in last night just after one. She undressed in the bath and hid her favorite panties, wet and full of some guy's cum in the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper. She said the guy's name twice in her sleep last night asking him to fuck her. That's why I am sick."

"Oh! NO! Jack, go see Gloria, right away. Please go now, Please."

"Cindy, I have no home, no wife, I know I don't want to live with out her. I don't know what to do. Thanks girl. I don't know what to tell you, just don't trust anyone, ever." I just dropped the phone on the floor board. I drove until the low fuel chime made me stop for gas. Annoying little bugger. I fueled up and I knew I needed some rest or sleep. I drove on, I was north bound I guessed. I didn't know where I was, didn't care. After a while I saw a motel sign and pulled in. I got a room for the night. I fell on the bed. I kept seeing Gloria and that fucking George together. I couldn't sleep. When I closed my eye I saw them. I watched the TV or a while. The news distracted me for a bit, I knew how the troops in Iraq felt, been there , done that. Then I looked up. I heard my name. I saw my picture. They were searching for me. There were numbers to call if I were seen. Even a reward for information leading to my being found.

$50,000 for that information. They said I was last seen two days ago in Huston, Texas. They were nuts. I only left last night. It was last night wasn't it? I thought it was!

Was it really, what day was this? I flipped through the channels. There was a commercial for a Ford dealer in Billings. Billings? The only Billings I knew about was Billings Montana. Shit that was a couple of thousand miles from home. But I didn't have a home. I stood up and walked in the bathroom. I looked at the guy in the mirror. Never saw him before in my life. I washed my face in cold water.

Was that me? Large circles under the eyes, almost black. Dirty clothes, the hair was a dirty gray, see! It wasn't me, I had brown hair. The guy in the mirror was thin, real thin. The guy looked like a bum, dirty, unshaven, wrinkled dirty clothes. Who was he? Gloria would know, she could tell me. I went out to the rental car and looked for my phone. Oh! There it was on the floor. I picked it up. I couldn't focus my eyes very well. I saw it showed a very low battery. I dialed my own number. A woman answered. I said, "Gloria?"

"Just a minute."

"Hello, this is Gloria."

"Hi! It's me, I think."

"Jack, where are you?"

"I don't know. I don't care, it don't matter where you are when you have no home, no wife, nobody, nothing." I couldn't hold my head up anymore, I started crying. "Why? Why Gloria, Why?"

I felt like I was falling. I didn't care. I heard her calling my name. She never told me why. Why what? Why not just go to sleep? I did, I saw them again and screamed, they just kept fucking, and I screamed, they kept on fucking and I screamed, they kept on……………… .

I woke up. Where the hell was I? I tried to set up. I couldn't. I was strapped down. A bell started ringing and a nurse ran in the room. "Mr. Porter, relax, you are alright. Just lay back and relax. Your wife should be here any minute." I looked around the room. I was wired to some sort of monitor. There were IVs in both arms. A cannula was gently blowing up my nose. I closed my eyes. I guess I dozed for half an hour before the dream kicked in and I woke up. Someone was holding my hand, it was Gloria. "Hi! Girl, I never thought I would see you again. I really didn't think I wanted to, but I am glad to see you." She was crying and leaned over the bed and kissed me. 

"Jack, look at me, are you alright, can you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes I understand your words, I don't understand what you did."

"Oh! Jack, listen carefully to me, I never cheated on you, never, not once. Especially not with George. I never even fantasized about him." 

"Who was it then, I saw your panties."

"No one, Jack, no one, I wanted you to be jealous so I could find out who you were cheating with."

"I never cheated on you, never."

"But you told me you did. You said you had fantasies about her and made love to her in real life."

"No, I said there was only one woman I had ever had sexual dreams or fantasies about. And I did say I had carried out those fantasies in real life, I thought you knew, that woman was you."

"Me!"

"I have never wanted another woman, dreamed of, or touched another woman since I first laid eyes on you. I saw your panties."

"I was at Cindy's all night. George went to the sports bar. She helped me, she was in on fooling you, I just couldn't really cheat on you. When I got home I knew you were still awake I could see the light reflect in your eyes. I put warm water on my panties and squirted a little of my body lotion in them. I always thought it looked just like cum. Then I took my 'after sex' shower, I knew you would pick up on that. Then I whispered George's name later that night so you would hear it, I knew you were awake. Oh! Honey, I didn't think you would get so upset, after all, I thought you were cheating on me. I was so afraid I was loosing you to another woman I was almost crazy."

"Gloria, I love you, I just can't and don't want to live with out you. I will never cheat on you and I won't share you with anyone."

"Jack, I love you too! Please forgive me. I hurt you terribly and I can never forgive myself for that. Please let me make it up to you, I will be the best wife a man could have, I promise."

"You were already the best wife a man could have, except for the damned fantasies."



Killer Mike



Brigadier General Joananne Roberts, U.S. Army, watched as the column of her trucks moved down the highway headed toward Mississippi and Louisiana to help with the hurricane relief. The column was made up of Humvees, 6X6s and big semi-tractor trailers. She sat in her command Humvee and watched as her Operations Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Mike Murphy, counted vehicles. She held back a smile. She admired the man. He was a much-decorated combat veteran. He was older than she was by a couple of years. He had started as an enlisted man and she was a West Pointer. She knew she had advanced very rapidly because of several factors. She was a very pretty black female lesbian and was gifted with a brilliant mind. She spoke four languages fluently. She had been in the right places at the right times and was a darling of the NAACP and Woman's Rights Groups and Gay and Lesbian's Rights Groups even though she never once voiced their policies. She was totally apolitical. 

Murphy glanced up at her after the last vehicle passed and said, "All accounted for. Three missing. One wouldn't start, two with flat tires being repaired by their crews. They will be herded together by 2nd Lt. Franklin and brought along."

"Thank you, Mike. Good job. Let's move on down the road." She turned and looked back at her communications sergeant, "Where is the eye of Katrina now?" 

"It is reported just crossing the coast a little west of New Orleans right now. Ma'am."

She looked at LCOL Murphy. "That should put us right on time at the staging point. Right?"

"Yes General, we are right on schedule." One of the things she liked about him was that he was always cheerful and upbeat in his professional life. She knew that in his private life he was very morose and sad. He was able to keep his two lives separate. She admired that because she struggled in her personal relationships too. She hoped she covered it as well as he did.

The long line of camouflaged vehicles was strung out for miles in the right lane of the super highway. Her hummer rode in the left lane with the faster civilian traffic. She wanted to catch up with the lead Humvee carrying her Deputy Commander. She had two other convoys strung out behind her that had been loaded at other places. This first convoy carried primarily food, water and fuel.

Joananne leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. She thought of Marie, her girlfriend who had left her a few months ago, after eleven years of living together when ever possible. Marie said she couldn't handle the separations and the constant moving from base to base involved in Army life. She felt a tear run down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She saw Mike Murphy nod, then slowly look away. Murphy thought she was very lovely. Her large brown eyes set in the light brown face had always enchanted him. He loved the way she carried her slim body. There were subtle hints of lovely curves hidden by her bulky uniforms.

Her command hummer was in the lead when they pulled in the huge parking area of the staging point. She and mike met with the over all commander and were given the delivery points for each group of trucks. The weather had deteriorated badly and even though the storm was well north of them it was still windy and raining. The Major General in command requested that She and Mike proceed to the west and try and find out the condition of the roads to the west and down towards Pass Christian and Waveland. 

They had a meal, refueled and departed with four vehicles, each loaded with extra fuel cans. Two trucks had ten men each and with chain saws and axes. The last truck carried MREs and other supplies for the troops in the little convoy. They were in constant radio contact with the Area Commander.

As they neared the coast the devastation grew. Trees and wires were down everywhere. The destruction was widespread and there was no way the convoys could get through. Joananne advised the Area Commander that she would need a crew of engineers with heavy equipment in order to cut a road through to the coast highway.

She told him that every road they tried was blocked but that they would leave a crew working to try and open Route 49 while she went down I-10 to see if the road they showed as Canal Road was open to the south. She advised headquarters that she had little hope any roads were open anywhere along the area.

They did make it a ways down what they thought was Canal Road, then it was blocked. They turned around and started back when part of the road caved in under the Humvee. It rolled over in a washed out ditch and landed back on its wheels. The radioman was killed when he was thrown from the vehicle. The driver appeared to have a broken leg. The General and LCOL Murphy were not hurt other than some lumps and bruises. The general noticed a tear in Mike's sleeve with blood around it and asked if he were all right. He said it was nothing. They cared for the driver and put an inflatable splint on his leg. They used a shelter half to wrap up the radioman's body. They found the radios were operational and they were advised that rescue was on its way by helicopter.

Mike Murphy looked at the General, "What were we supposed learn that they couldn't have learned from a chopper in the first place?"

"I don't know Mike, we could have checked out the whole area and have been on our way home by now."

"General, are you alright? You are shaking. Here let me put my arms around you for a second."

Murphy stood close to her and put his arms around her. She put her head on his chest and cried for a few minutes. He buried his nose in her sweet smelling hair. He pressed his lips against her forehead and softly rubbed her back. Suddenly she stiffened and jumped back, staring at him. She quickly looked around. "Mike, that never happened, understand?"

"Yes Ma'am! What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about me falling apart, that didn't occur, right?"

"You are correct General, it never happened. I will swear to that. If there was anything that happened it was only a delightful dream on my part." He grinned at her.

"Thanks Mike."

"Not a problem, Ma'am."

"Mike, to be honest, your dream did feel good and calmed me right down."

"General you would have been fine without my dream. You are a very tough lady. I am proud to serve with you."

"She smiled at him, "Mike, that means more to me coming from you than I can tell you. Thank you again."

"Any time, Ma'am."

The doctors at the staging point examined them all and LCOL Murphy was found to have a puncture wound in his left biceps. The wound was cleaned. It required four stitches and he was bandaged and cleared to leave. He was surprised to find General Roberts waiting for him outside the Medical Tent. 

"Mike, how are you feeling, why didn't you tell me you were hurt? Now you have me all pissed off at you."

"Really, I am sorry. I didn't think it was that bad. I thought it was only a scratch."

"Mike, where is your stuff?" 

"Back in the Command Humvee."

"Shit, they brought my stuff but I didn't see yours. Well let's do this; they assigned us rooms over at that motel. I was told there are a washer and drier available there. Come on over to our rooms and take a shower and get clean and I'll put your clothes in the washer and then dry them. That way you will have some clean dry clothes for tomorrow. OK?"

"Sounds good to me."

They walked to the motel and found their rooms. They were in adjoining rooms. They were talking at the door when her things arrived. She told him put his dirty clothes in her room while he took a shower, then to wait while she took a shower and put on some clean clothes. He took his shower and climbed in bed and fell asleep. 

Later he awakened to a knock on his door. He yelled that it was open. The door opened a crack and he heard her ask if he were decent. He said he was. She stuck her head in and threw his clothes in on a chair. "There you go Colonel, clean clothes. Get dressed and we will go find chow. OK?"

"Right, Ma'am, give me five minutes."

Mike walked out looking clean and refreshed. The General smiled at him, "You look better now, are you ready to eat?"

"Yes, I have worked up an appetite. I'll buy if you would like to walk over to the Red Lobster Restaurant instead of looking for the mess tent."

"Sounds good to me, only we'll go Dutch. OK?"

"Fine, I just know it will be better than Army chow."

The place was very crowded and they had to wait for over an hour in the bar for a table. They each sipped one drink and were cautious about having more than that because they didn't know when they might be called. After a pause when Juneanne looked a little pensive, Mike reached over and put his white hand over her brown one. "I know it's none of my business but I have seen that expression on your face several times today, you look like you have lost a lover. I know just how you feel."

"You do, is that why you drink too much and look so sad all the time?"

"Yeah! It's a tough thing to get over. I guess I think about it too much. I try to figure out where I went wrong. I could understand why she might cheat on me when I am gone on a six or eight month deployment. But when I am just gone for a days work?" 

"Mike, it happens. There can be any one of a thousand reasons, most of them are not your fault."

"Hey, We went to counseling and tried to patch things up. The third time I caught her was all I could take. Luckily we didn't have kids." He grinned at her then turned serious. "You too?'

"No she just wanted to settle down in one place. I guess I didn't love her enough because she told me it was she or the Army. I'm still here. I told her that when I have my twenty years in I'll look her up. I won't."

Mike squeezed her hand. "Girl, you are beautiful, super smart and have everything in the world going for you. You will have no trouble finding someone." 

She looked at him for a long time, and then smiled softly. "Thank you, Mike. You are a sweet guy." He pulled his hand back quickly. Her smile grew and she laughed. "Hey, I liked that, and that is a real compliment. I like girls."

He looked at her, "Since we are baring our souls to each other, I have to ask, have you ever tried guys?"

Her eyes grew wide, her smile faded. "No. I never was attracted to men. Never even seriously thought about it. OH! I have thought about it but I couldn't see what the girls saw in them. That's just me."

"Well I can understand that, I like girls a whole lot better too."

"What, you are not gay or bi are you?"

"No, I am just like you, I only like girls, I'm not attracted to men at all. Maybe we both know men too well."

"Now that's a thought."

"Here comes the waitress, our table must be ready."

Over dinner they talked about their likes and dislikes. They discussed the kinds of music they liked; they both liked the same foods and were fond of trying new dishes. He ordered the Calamari because he had never tried it before. She asked if he liked stuffed clams. He said he did and she ordered them. She smiled, "I have never tried them but I love Calamari so if we don't like what we ordered we can trade and both be happy."

He grinned, "Sounds like a winner." They each ended up sharing half of what they had ordered and enjoyed the whole meal. They talked over coffee for a long time. They went back to their rooms. She smiled at him and then frowned. He said, "What's wrong?"


"Oh! Nothing, Good Night, I enjoyed our evening." She turned and went in her room.

Mike crawled in bed and turned out the light. He stared at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn't come as he recalled the evening. Then he heard a soft tap on the door between the rooms. He got up and unlocked his side. She looked at him, "I can't sleep. Would you like to talk some more?"' 

"Sure, I'd love it." He tried not to stare at her. She wore an OD T-shirt and panties. He knew she wasn't wearing a bra because her nipples poked bumps in the shirt. He felt his blood start to flow to his cock.

She sat on the side of his bed. "Did you really like the Calamari tonight?"

"Yes I did."

"Oh! Mike, that isn't it. I have been thinking about what you said tonight. I have really never given it a chance. Will you let me see if I like it?"

"What? Calamari?"

"No, I have to tell you I have never enjoyed being with anyone as much as I enjoyed being with you. I want you to kiss me. I have to know."

"Hey, I would love to kiss you. I'm probably not a good test though. I'm just a beat up old soldier. You need a handsome young dude."

"Mike you are the only one I would even dream of trying it with. I know you. If I don't like it and I say STOP, I know you will stop. I trust you with my life every day. You are the perfect one to try it with, I know it will never come back to haunt me."

Mike got up and walked to the bathroom. He turned the light on and shut the door most of the way leaving the room in a dim light. He returned to the bed and stood in front of her. He reached down and took her hands and lifted her to her feet. He looked into her eyes and placed a large white hand on each side of her brown face. His hands were warm but a little rough. He brushed his lips gently across hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mike. Yes." His hands moved down across her shoulders then slipped down her arms and finally rested on her hips. She felt the big warm hands slide around her waist then press her toward him. His lips met hers a little harder now, his tongue gliding along her lips. Her mouth opened slightly and his seeking tongue probed gently inside her mouth. Her arms moved up and around his neck. She loved the feel of his tongue, her tongue found his and ran along the side of it and deep into his mouth. 

She heard herself moan softly. His kiss was different than Marie's kisses, slightly rougher and a little less tender. The kiss was definitely more aggressive and seemed to demand she respond. His arms around her body held her firmly but were in no way threatening. They were comforting and protective. She found herself feeling very content and was very conscious of the heat and pressure of his erection pressing against her lower belly. She had a strong desire to touch it and feel it. She was very disappointed when he broke the kiss and pulled back away from her and held her shoulders. 

Her looked into her eyes again. "Are you OK? Did it do anything for you?"

"I have to be honest with you Mike, I did like it. Very much. I liked and reacted to all of it, the kiss, the hug, everything. Could we do it again?" 

"Your wish is my command.

"No! No way, that was not an order. This is strictly between you and I as a man and a woman. If you liked it too, do it again. Other wise forget it."

"Oh! I liked it all right; I know you could tell I did. Would you like to lay on the bed and kiss?"

"That sounds nice, Mike" She moved up on the bed and he followed and pulled her close to him. She felt his arousal again. Damn it felt huge. How did a girl take something that big inside of her? She wished she could see it. His lips touched hers again. He put one hand behind her head and the other was on her stomach. That second hand softly rubbed across her belly. Then it moved down over her panties to her hip and then around and gently caressed her ass. It moved up over the tummy again and slipped under her T-shirt and caressed along the underside of her breasts. She wanted the hand to move over her breast and touch her nipple.

It didn't though; it started moving away towards her belly again. She grabbed his hand and pulled it where she wanted it. The hand cupping her breast felt very good and she felt her body reacting to this man's caresses. His fingers tweaked the erect nipple making it stand taller. The hand moved quickly across her belly and rested over her mound. She knew he could feel the wetness of her panties. She was mewing now and took his hand and moved it under the waistband of her cotton panties.

He gasped as she pressed his hand over her soft smooth mound. Her legs were spread some now and he slipped in further between her thighs and ran a finger along her slit. The slight pressure on her clitoris was enough cause shudders to course through her body. The rough textured fingers were a new sensation for her. She really liked it. A whole lot!

She raised her hips off the sheets and helped him slip her panties off. She pulled away from him and removed her T-shirt. He sat up and slipped his shirt and shorts off too! As he turned back toward him she saw his large erection. She just had to touch it. She gently grasped it and heard his sharp intake of breath. She twisted down and looked at it carefully. It was not as long as some of the dildos she and Marie had used. It looked much thicker and it felt way better. It felt nice, warm, soft silky skin over steel. She ran her hand up the length and across the soft top of it. There was a drop of clear fluid on the head of it. It was slippery stuff. She examined his penis, she cupped his testicles and pulled them very carefully down between his thighs. She rubbed his cock softly over her smooth cheeks. She wanted to take it in her mouth, but not yet. It frightened her a little. She pulled him down on the bed

Damn, his hands were driving her crazy, they felt so good. Then his mouth closed over a nipple and suckled it. Wow! It felt as good as her other lovers had felt. A bit different, but just as good. She shook her head in wonder, this man was taking her places she had been before and he still had places she hadn't been.

She moved back up beside him and hugged him tight. He looked into her eyes, "Sweetheart, are you ready to go all the way?"

She placed a hand on each side of his face, "Yes! Oh yes, I really am. Please, do it now."

He rolled carefully between her legs. His head was at her breasts and he brought her to a shuddering climax before he eased down further trailing kisses over her flat little brown belly. Then he spread her legs further and opened her dark brown lips with his thumbs. His tongue brought exquisite sensations to her wet pussy. It lapped at her juices and reveled in sucking up every speck of her sweet nectar. She was orgasming regularly now. Then he moved back up over her. She felt the head of his cock pressing at the entrance to her vagina. She just knew it would never fit. It was just too big. She felt his hand rub it up and down her slit. His cock was getting more and more slippery. She reached down and pushed his hand away. She guided his cock into her. He was very gentle. He went in a little at a time, never thrusting hard. It went deeper and deeper. In and out he eased. She felt as if she were being split in two, yet it was a wonderful sensation. Then she felt his pubic hair against her pelvis. She had him all inside her. He remained still for a moment. Then he began long slow strokes. They were heavenly. This was much better than the best dildo she had ever felt. She was amazed at how comfortable she was with it now. Mike was kissing her face and sucking softly on her tongue and her lips. 

She dug her fingernails into his back. She wasn't ready when he changed his pace and thrust into her harder and more rapidly. His pubes slammed against her clit and the surge of joy each time it hit had her mind almost ready to shut down and quit thinking, she wanted to just relish what she was feeling. Then he moved even faster and she felt him stiffen and she watched his face scrunch up and his lips pull away from his teeth. Then she felt it. He came inside her. Pulse after pulse of his thick semen squirted inside her vagina making her slipperier and slipperier. God, how she loved it. She felt him soften and pull out. She missed having him inside her.

He eased back down on her. She loved the feeling of his full weight pressing her down. She hugged him even tighter to her.




Killer Mike



"Mike, oh! Mike, That was wonderful. God it was my best sex ever. Shit, Damn, Shit, what have I been missing?"

"Girl, I want to think you haven't missed a thing. I have to believe it never would have been the same with someone who didn't love you as much as I love you. I love everything about you. I have since I first met you. You would never believe how many nights I have dreamed of loving you like this. Wait, hey, I know you don't want to hear all this heavy stuff, you just wanted to try a man out. I hope you learned what you wanted to know. Again, Forgive me, please don't be angry with me."

Joananne felt his hot tears drop on her chest. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him tenderly. "Mike, I could never be angry with you. I know you are the finest, strongest, bravest and gentlest man in the world. I totally love what we just did. I want to do it with you every night forever and ever."

"General, we have to go slow here. Not that we are doing anything wrong. I don't think they can call this adultery; legally that is intercourse between a married person and someone other than their spouse. I just don't want one word about it to touch you."

"Thank you Mike. I am not worried except that people might think I favor you over others, that has always been true because I have always known you are a better officer than most of the ones senior to you. Just because it doesn't say Woo Poo (WestPoint.) after your name they don't want you to get ahead. I enjoyed tonight more than it is possible to tell you. I have trouble relating to most people I meet. The women don't know a thing about the Army and I don't know shit about playing bridge or taking care of babies. The civilian men I meet are dull and I don't have much in common with them either."

"Do you favor bottle feeding over breast feeding? I'm a big fan of breast-feeding. It's better than Calamari."

"I am well aware of your tit fetish, my nipples are going to be sore for a week."

"Sorry, they are just so delicious. Let me have another taste. Mmmmmmm! So good."

"Now damn it, stop that in the next twenty minutes or you are in big trouble."

"Mmm hummm!"

"Oh, you are getting hard again. I want to touch him again. Hey! I can't reach him when you are holding both my boobs."

"You'll just have to wait your turn. That is unless you want me to be a bottom feeder and do the famous 69."

"Let's give it a try, we haven't done that yet." They both shifted around until they were in position. She had a death grip on his cock. Her eyes were half closed as he pillaged her pussy; his talented tongue had her mesmerized. She shook her head and opened her mouth and for the first time in her life placed a man's cock inside it. She was only able to get a few inches of it in at first. She loved the way the top part of it felt. So soft and silky! She recognized the faint flavor of her own juices. The other taste must be from him. Not bad, just different. She closed her lips and mouth around it and savored the sensations arising from the realization of what she had in her mouth.

It was hard to concentrate because of the sensations emanating from her pussy. She was experiencing multiple orgasms. She moved her head up and down on his cock the way she had seen girls do in porn movies she and Marie had watched. Who the hell was Marie? She liked the feeling she got from adoring this fabulous male instrument that had given her such delicious pleasure and the best orgasms of her entire life. She knew she wasn't pleasing him as much as he pleased her. He would have to teach her. She was eager to learn.

A week later the general and half of her staff were back in North Carolina at their home Base. The balance of her staff remained to oversee the continuing operations. Less than half of the command's vehicles remained in the disaster area. LCOL Murphy and the General talked on their cell phones at least half a dozen times each day. He was spending all of his time off duty at her rented house off the base. A week after their return the General was wearing an engagement ring on her left hand. The Lieutenant Colonel was wearing a smile all the time. Her staff were afraid to ask. They all thought the world of her and felt she would tell them in due time.

At a staff meeting with the Division Commander he approached Brigadier General Roberts and said, "Joananne, is that what I think it is on your left ring finger?"

"Yes Sir. It is."

"Someone I know I hope."

"Yes Sir."

"Marie?"

"No Sir," she said, blushing, "Its Mike Murphy,"

"Our Mike Murphy?"

"Yes General, LCOL Mike Murphy."

"But, I mean I thought... I mean..."

"General I thought so too, right up until the first time he kissed me", she smiled.

"WOW! Well I'll be damned! Congratulations! You know how I feel about Mike. He is one hell of a soldier and a fine man. Is he here?" 

"Yes Sir, I believe he is with the operations group." The general took her hand and walked to the microphone. He tapped on it a few time, "Give me your attention please, this is an important announcement. All of you crowd around over here. I want to announce the engagement of two of our finest officers. Now I suspect that the reason we have not heard of this before is because they serve in the same unit. When they marry, and it becomes officially known, one of them will have to transfer.

"I could be no happier and prouder if it were one of my own kids getting married. Brigadier General Jo Roberts has consented to become the wife of Lieutenant Colonel Mike Murphy." A soft murmur went through the room; then the clapping started slowly and rapidly rose to a roar of clapping and cheering. Mike was pushed to the podium and stepped up and stood beside his fiancée. She took his hand and smiled at him. He took the mike, "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you, thank you so much. To be honest, Joananne and have not given much thought to what our future would be. We have been so absorbed with the wonder of our love and the learning and discovery of each other that we haven't discussed the future very much. We do know that we both do not want to spend any time apart. I haven't even met her family yet. I promise we will keep you guys informed. We have decided that it will not be a long engagement. If push comes to shove the Army may loose an officer or two."

A month later the couple was in west central Alabama visiting the Roberts family home. It was a happy homecoming for her. Everyone in the family liked Mike right away. Her father had been a Marine Captain in Nam. Her mother was an RN. Joananne also had a brother, A Marine Captain, who was home for a visit. The brother, Robert Robin Roberts, listed in official documents as Roberts, Robert Robin, and generally known as 'Rob Rob Robin", was totally in awe of his older sister and her husband to be. Rob couldn't believe the ribbons Mike was entitled to wear on his uniform. Mike wore the Combat Action and Parachutist badges over his ribbons for the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star with two stars, the Legion of Merit, the Bronze Star with three Oak leaf clusters, the Purple Heart with Four Stars, the Good Conduct metal, and an even dozen Service ribbons. Joananne had ten service ribbons topped by Bronze Star. Robbie knew his sister was the first female officer to receive a combat citation for heroism under fire in Iraq. And having served several tours in Iraq he knew she had to earn it.

Joan and Mike spent the weekend and then drove back to the base. They tried to discuss what they wanted to do career wise, Jo thought she should stay on active duty until she had her twenty years of service in, that would be in two more years. Mike was already eligible for retirement. He was currently in the selection zone for full colonel. They agreed that they should do nothing until the selection list was published in a couple of months.

As they rode peacefully along the highway with her head on his shoulder and her hands clutching his arm, she looked up at him and said, "Darling, I have been thinking about this ever since we became lovers. This is something I thought I would never say, I want your babies."

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to go off the pill. I only have a few years on my biological clock. How do you feel about it?"

"Wonderful, I never dreamed you would want that. I hope you decide to breast feed."

"Mike! You are just terrible with your tit fetish!"

"Yep! And you love it. Do they make General's uniforms in maternity styles?"

"As a matter of fact they do. I already checked. A female general's basic uniform is no different than a female second lieutenant's uniform except in the dress blues and I don't have to worry about that. The only difference is in the rank pins and badges. They even make them in camouflage." 

"Well as far as I am concerned you don't have to worry about camo maternity gear 'cause you just tell them your hubbie says you can't play; OK."

"Yes, Dear."

"We need to get home as fast as we can and get busy on this project."

"I quit the pill this morning and my next fertile period starts in a week and a half, so we can just practice until then. Kay by you?"

"Practice makes perfect. And I have always said you were perfect. Shouldn't be a problem. We can get in one in the morning, one at noon, and two each evening. That's four practices a day times ten days or forty practices before we go for the big try."

"I don't know. Maybe we should just abstain until then as make sure you have a big load saved up."

"If that's what you want we can do that."

"Never happen big guy, back to plan 'A'. How about we go to the O Club for dinner and dancing tonight?"

"Really! I don't think I have ever seen you in a dressy dress. Hell yes! I would love to show you off. How about that red dress you said Marie loved for you to wear for her?"

"What! That's too hot to wear in public. I can hardly walk in those 'Fuck-me' heels."

"Let's see how you look and then we will decide. We have been hiding too long. How is that?"

"We'll see big guy. I bet you are cute in that navy blue Ralph Lauren suit you won in that card game."

"Hey it is a $3500 dollar suit. This will be only the second time I've worn it. Hell, I couldn't wear it with Sears Shoes, I had to go out and spend $400 bucks on a pair of Italian shoes. Then an other couple of hundred for a shirt and tie. And even more for alterations. But I'll guarantee I'm the best dressed LCOL in the Army."

Mike took a quick shower then drew a tub of hot water for Joan and sprinkled it with her favorite bubble bath and oils. He told her to take a good soak and relax. He was going to take a nap before he got dressed.

He pretended to be asleep when she came out of the bath. He watched as she dried and powdered herself. She searched in her lingerie drawer and found his favorite set. She put on a black lace garter belt and panties with black seamed stockings. She slipped on a tiny sheer demi-bra. She sat at the dressing table and did her hair and makeup. She found the red dress in the closet. It fit perfectly. He got up and started dressing. Then he looked at her. She looked at him, "Is this too much?"

"Slip on your shoes and let me see."

She did, he motioned her to walk across the room, then turn around and walk back.

He smiled, "Perfect, right between HOT and Classy, really a little of both. I love the way you look." She looked at herself in the mirror for a long time. She walked back to the dressing table and gathered her hair into a ponytail set high on one side of her head. It was held by a large gold plated clasp. He clapped his hands when he saw what she had done. "Perfect, beautiful, my sweet girl. You are stunning. I am going to have to fight your admirers off with a big stick."

"Oh! Mike! Do you really think I'm pretty?"

"No, not just pretty, way, way above that. Get your purse and let's hit the road."

Joananne felt a little too sexily dressed at first. They had reservations and were a bit early so they went to the bar. There were many people there she had known for years who came over and congratulated her on her engagement and told her she looked really fabulous. A bird Colonel she worked with on a regular basis told her she looked better than he had ever seen her look, and that it really suited her. He kissed her cheek and shook Mike's hand and told him he was the luckiest of men.

Their reservation was called and they went to the dinning room and had a very pleasant dinner. Mike just grinned at her during the meal. She said, "What; why are you smiling at me all the time."

"Because you are absolutely gorgeous and I am so proud to be with you. Everyone here is jealous. The women are jealous because you are so beautiful and the men are jealous because they are not me."

"Oh! Mike, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Honey, you have always been beautiful, you just didn't know it and kept it hidden."

When the dishes were removed Jo went to powder her nose. Mike watched as a huge black man stopped her and asked her something. She glanced at Mike then nodded and danced with the man. When the dance was over she returned to the table.

Mike looked at her and smiled gently. "He was a really handsome guy. Who is he?"

"I don't really know. He seemed very nice though." 

"Do you have a dance for this old soldier, girl."

"Any time, any time at all. You are my man."

They enjoyed four or five dances and returned to the table. He had to go to the men's room and when he returned she was gone. He sat and looked around. He spotted her dancing with the same big black guy. After a few dances he got up and walked out on the veranda and got a breath of fresh air. He thought about how the evening was going. He grinned at himself, when you bring the prettiest girl to the dance you have to expect a little competition.

He headed back to the table and on the way he stopped and talked to some old friends he hadn't seen in a few years and learned they had just transferred in. Dave and Brenda were people he had known forever. He and Dave had been 2nd Lieutenants in his first assignment as an officer. Brenda wanted to know if he were married again as yet. He said he wasn't but that he was working on it. She was a lovely spirited woman he had always been extremely fond of. She asked him to dance with her so she could get all the dirt on his love life. He knew she would too! She stood and looked at her husband, "Can I let him get in my panties?"

"Sure, but you have to let me find a gal too if you do."

"Forget it, lover, I might never get you back."

"Brenda looked into Mikes eyes, "Damn I love that man more and more every day." 

Mike looked at her, "He is a lucky guy. I hope my girl loves me as much."

"You mean she is here?"

"Yeah, she is off dancing with a big handsome guy somewhere. Oh! There they are! See the big black guy dancing with the black girl in the red dress."

"That's your girl?"

"I think so. He seems to be trying to stake a claim though. Maybe I better mark my territory."

He guided Brenda over near Jo and her companion, "Joananne, Hi! I want you to meet an old friend of mine, this is Brenda Brown, Brenda this is my fiancée, Brigadier General Joananne Roberts."

Mike held back a smile when he saw the jaw of the big black man drop. "Brig.. .?"

Mike took Jo's hand, "Excuse us please," he said to the big guy, "I'm LCOL Murphy, I want my future wife to meet some old friends." He led the two women back to where Dave was sitting. They all sat at the table. Jo took Mikes hand and kissed it, "I'm so glad you rescued me. I was about to deck him. I wouldn't take me back to you."

Tears ran down Jo's cheeks, "I looked up and saw Mike dancing and laughing with Brenda and I almost died. I was so damned jealous I was ready to claw your eyes out, Brenda. You are very pretty."

"Hey, Mike and I are old buddies, I have Dave's permission to screw Mike any time I want to. Mike saved Dave's life twice and we just love him to pieces. He won't touch me though. I even offered again tonight and he started telling me about the wonderful girl he was engaged to. Are you really a Brigadier General?"

Mike grinned, "She sure is, this is the famous Joananne Roberts, Brigadier General, U. S. Army." I love her with all my heart."

"OH! I've heard of you. I thought you were a..."

"Like I tell everybody, I was, up until the first time he kissed me. I know now that I didn't know what I was missing; I'll never let him go. EVER!"

"Brenda hugged Jo and they cried together. Brenda took out a Kleenex and wiped the tears gently from Jo's eyes, "Honey, this old soldier is the second sweetest man in the world, I'll always love him. You are one lucky girl."

"Thank you, Brenda, I know that. I hope we can be friends."

"Damned right we'll be friends. No way around it."

"Brenda, do you and Dave have kids?"

"Yeah! Dave tells me we have three, most of the time I think it is six or seven."

Dave smiled softly at his wife, "No Dear, it is just three, would you like to try for four?"

"With you, anytime."

"I need to talk to you, Brenda, and if you would let me, I would love to spend some time with you and your family. Let me explain; my whole adult life has been the Army, I was a confirmed, practicing lesbian. I didn't find men at all attractive. I never associated with people who had children. Then I met and fell in love with Mike. Now it is very important to me to have his children. I will have his babies, I will! I want that so bad and I know absolutely nothing about kids."

"Honey, You and Mike are welcome at our house anytime. We both love Mike. I know you and I are going to be best friends. I'll help anyway I can. I know Dave will tell Mike how to do it."

Dave looked up, "Do what?"

"Make babies, Sweetie, pay attention instead of looking down the front of the General's dress." Everyone laughed. Joananne giggled and tugged her dress up. Brenda told her to forget it; all soldiers had a booby fetish. Joananne covered her face and laughed until she cried. Brenda looked at her, "Am I tellin' the truth?"

Mike and Dave looked at each other and grinned. "Who? Us?"

Jo looked at Mike, "Brenda sure knows her soldiers."

Brenda looked at Joananne, "How about you, were you that way when you liked girls?"

Jo covered her face with her hands again and nodded as she giggled."

"Yes, I guess I was."

"See I know my soldiers. This seems like a nice club, we haven't been stationed here before." 

Mike smiled at everyone, "Guys please excuse us, I have a mighty urge to dance with my sweetheart. I just can't help it." He took Jo's hand and led her to the dance floor. They danced several numbers when Mike felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the man Jo had danced with before.

"May I cut in Please?"

"I am sorry. I am Colonel Mike Murphy, my girl and I want to enjoy a few dances before we go home, so please forgive me, but no, she is spoken for."

The big black looked at Mike, "Are you 'Killer Mike' Murphy?"

"I have been called that, but I don't care for the name."

"I am sorry I bothered you, Sir. Please have a nice evening." As the man turned away, Mike and Jo heard him softly say, "Wow! 'Killer Mike Murphy'."

Mike looked at Jo, she smiled. He pressed his lips to hers. Her hand went behind his head and pulled him tighter to her. She grinned at him as she leaned back a little, "He was scared to death of you. You must have a bad reputation. Will you tell me how you got that name? I never heard anyone use it before."

"No Dear, I don't like talking about it."

"You know I'll just have to find out don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess you will."

"Honey, I'll always love you no matter what. You know that don't you?"

"I hope and pray you will. Please just let it be."

"I'll only ask one person, is that alright?"




Killer Mike



"Who?"

"Brenda Brown, if she knows she will tell the truth."

"OK, if you have to, but it is something I'm not real proud of."

Later the following week Joananne called Brenda on the phone and invited her to lunch at the Officer's Club. They had a nice lunch and Jo asked her if she knew why some people referred to her fiancée as 'Killer Mike'.

"Yes I have heard the story a hundred times. But never in front of Mike because he doesn't like that name. I am not sure I should tell you the story, I love the guy and I don't want to hurt him. He is not proud of what they say he did, but what he did was right and he saved a lot of lives including MY husband. I think you should have access to the after action report summary. It may still be classified. It took place in Kuwait during the beginning of Desert Storm. Joananne saw a tear run down Brenda's cheek.

"You really do love Mike don't you?"

"Yes, like a dear brother. I just can't go against his wishes. I like you a lot and I am positive you will feel the same or stronger about him after you hear the story.

"Thank you for being his friend, I love you for it." Said Jo and she put her hand over one of Brenda's hands and gently squeezed it. "I still think I want to know, I will tell him you didn't tell me."

"Thanks, and thanks for the lunch."

"I think we should do it at least once a week."

"Wonderful, my treat next time. OK? Maybe I'll bring my new neighbor, her husband is a light colonel too."

"Fine, just don't tell her I'm a general, just say my future hubby is a light colonel too."

"Good idea, Generals tend to intimidate some people."

"How do you think we get to be generals?"

Back in her office Joanie, as she always thought of herself, sat down at her GI laptop and searched for 'After Action Reports, Kuwait, 1991." She had to search by date Area and service.

After reading a dozen reports she found the one she was looking for. A detachment of a Special Forces company was infiltrated by boat into Kuwait at night. The detachment consisted of one Captain, one 1st Lt. 3 Sgt. and seven other ranks. They were to deploy so as to be able to illuminate a number of targets by the use of laser beams for precision destruction by Air Force and Naval Aircraft.

The detachment was discovered shortly after landing when a Naval vessel accidentally fired a parachute flare that lighted the area they were traversing. They were taken under fire by Iraqi Republican Guard troops in battalion force.

The commanding officer, Capt. Michael Murphy, USA, and his second in command, 1st Lt. David Brown, USA, got the unit under cover in a small partially destroyed building. One man was killed and several wounded by the initial burst of fire from the Iraqi forces. 

When the flare sputtered out, Capt. Murphy left Lt. Brown in charge and took Sgt. Leon Burski and executed a flanking maneuver against the Iraqi battalion. Captain Murphy captured an enemy machine gun nest and poured devastating fire into the Iraqi troops. Return fire from small arms and RPGs wounded Capt. Murphy and killed Sgt. Bruski. Capt. Murphy continued firing on the enemy until he exhausted his supply of ammunition.

He then returned to his detachment and exfiltrated them to a new position taking all the wounded with them. Capt. Murphy located the sites for the Laser teams and got all but one ready for the mission. Murphy and Lt Brown took the remaining Laser designator and proceeded to the site to get set up.

The site was a small building and the two men discovered it to be occupied by a squad of 15 Iraqi soldiers. Capt. Murphy left Lt. Brown and entered the building under cover of darkness. Murphy returned to get Brown and they returned to the building. The whole Iraqi squad was dead by knife wound or garrote; killed by Capt. Murphy.

Later that night just, before the mission time a group of 6 Iraqi soldiers entered the building, Lt. Brown was wounded before he and Murphy killed the remaining Iraqis. The raid took place on time and all targets were destroyed completely. In spite of having four gunshot wounds Capt. Murphy carried LT Brown to join the other members of the detachment. Capt Murphy led men of the detachment to recover the bodies of the slain men. He then organized a retreat to a pick up point and brought his whole detachment including the dead and wounded back to safety. The mission was a complete success at a cost of two dead and four wounded including Capt Murphy. Captain Murphy was credited with killing eighteen Iraqi soldiers in hand-to-hand combat and an estimated one hundred eighty with machine gun fire. A rough count was taken by Kuwaiti Forces at a later date and verified by POWs.

General Joananne Roberts sat and cried. She had seen the scars on his body. She knew he had spent months recovering and had endured many surgeries when he got back to the states. What was there for this hero to be ashamed of in his actions? There must be something missing in the story. She had to know what it was. This was the man she loved. She would protect him from further hurt at all costs.

She stood and walked to her rest room. She looked at herself in the mirror. She touched up her make up. She squared her shoulders and walked down the hall to the office of the Commanding General. She entered his outer office and asked if it were possible to see him.

She was ushered right in. He met her as she entered his office, "Jo, girl. You look lovely today. Better than I have ever seen you. How can I help you?"

"Sir, this is sort of a personal problem and I need your help."

"Come over here and sit on the couch with me, what can I do to help you?"

"It's about my Mike, Sir. He was called by a name by a man at the O Club the other night and it upset him. The man called him "Killer Mike Murphy'. That worries me; I hate to see him hurt. I know it has to do with his actions in Kuwait. I have read the reports and see nothing but heroism and bravery. Can you help me?"

"Yes Dear Lady, Mike is every thing you just said. He really has nothing to be ashamed of for what he did there.

Other officers who are jealous started a rumor that he had killed innocent civilians, women and children in Kuwait. An investigation revealed that no such thing had ever happened. Some people had started calling him 'Killer Mike" in admiration of his exploits and others twisted it in a derogatory manner. When he is in my command and I hear this flare up again I make all the officers and men aware that Mike is a true hero and anyone calling him that name will be subject to sever disciplinary actions, including an unsatisfactory fitness report. I haven't heard any reports of that in several years. Who said it, and who did he say it to?"

"I don't know who he was but he said it to me. He was a large black man and he wanted to dance with me and Mike introduced me as Brigadier General Roberts and himself as Colonel Mike Murphy. The man said, "'Killer Mike Murphy'? And Mike looked as if he had been slapped in the face."

"Jo, Mike is one of my favorite people. Ask a couple of guys who were there and saw everything. Ask LCOL David Brown, Ask Sgt. Major Sean O'Bannon. They will die for him in a heartbeat. No girl, just love him and know he did no wrong, it just isn't in the guy."

"OH! General, I know that, I just want to protect him. I hated seeing that look in his eyes."

"If you find out who the guy was let me know. Did you mention it to Dave Brown?"

"No! I don't think I did, I did say something to Brenda, his wife. How can I thank you for talking with me."

"Honey, just love and take care of Mike. I know he will love and take care of you,"

After they settled in the den of Joanie's house that evening, sipping a drink before dinner, Mike turned to his love and said, "Did you talk to Brenda today?"

"Yes I did, dear, the girl loves you deeply, and you can do no wrong in her eyes. She told me to go look it up because she loved you too much to tell me. So I did it. I found out you are an even bigger hero than I thought. I am so proud of you. I didn't find you had done one thing to be embarrassed about. I talked to the Big Man. He gave me the straight scoop about my man. You are his hero too. He said I have his permission to punch out anyone who calls you Killer Mike. I told him that I wouldn't have to. I know that any one who says that to you is either ignorant or too stupid to pour piss out of a boot. That is how I feel about the whole thing.

"Shit I got a medal for just being stubborn. I wouldn't leave a little firefight because all my people weren't clear. No bravery involved, I was just being a bitch. Oh! Mike, I just don't know how to tell you how proud I am to be your woman. I love you so damned much. Now kiss me."

Mike took her in his arms and kissed her. He picked her up and he carried her into the bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. He rapidly started removing his clothes. He was surprised when she pulled the lovely flowing caftan she was wearing over her head and threw it in a chair. She lay back on the bed totally nude. He grinned and jumped on the bed and rolled on top of her. She spread her legs and giggled. "What, no foreplay tonight?"

"You want foreplay? Then foreplay you get." He put her legs over his shoulders and dove into her pussy. His tongue quickly brought her to a really good orgasm. Her juices flowed as he sucked, lapped and licked every thing he could reach. She was moaning and mewing while she jerked and shook. He raised his head. "I'll start on the foreplay in a minute." Her hands grabbed his head and pulled him up over her, "Now! Fuck me right now!" She reached and found his erection and pulled him into her. She was thrusting her pelvis up at him and he slipped right inside her. 

"Oh my God, How I love that, you feel so damned good inside me. I just can't do without you for very long. I have waited all day for this. Give me your babies, put them deep inside me. Don't make them wiggle too far. Yes, YES! Ahhhhhhh YESSS! Mike, my dear Mike, ohhhh Mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Oh! Shit!"

"What girl! What's wrong?"

"Damned, I wanted to try doing your cock like you have been teaching me. I have been thinking about your sweet cock all day long. Dreaming of how he would feel in my mouth. I was going to really love him. Damn."

"Sweetie, why don't you just start on him anyway. Your talking about it has me half hard again now."

"Let me see! Ah! Yes! Here he comes, and he is hard. Wow!"

Several weeks later Joanie and Mike and Brenda and Dave sat in the Officer's Club having drinks waiting for dinner to be served. Mike grinned at the three other people, "I heard from a friend in Washington this afternoon just before I left the office. He said I have been selected for bird Colonel. Dave, I asked about you, he said they didn't select anyone from the bottom half of the seniority list."

Jo said, "Shit, I heard the same thing, you just stole my big surprise, Darling, I guess it will be about two months before you make grade, they are doing it so fast now. My last promotion took six months. I'm so proud and happy for you my love I just don't know what to say."

Dave shook Mike' hand and Brenda hurried to him and kissed him with tears coursing down her cheeks. Joanie just smiled at Brenda. She knew love when she saw it. She glanced across the dance floor and saw the big black man who she had danced with a couple of weeks before. The man walked up to the table and asked Joananne to dance with him. She smiled at him and asked him to sit with them for a moment. He pulled a chair over beside Joananne and smiled cockily at all of them. Jo looked at him. "My, you are a big guy, aren't you? The other night you called this sweet man beside me 'Killer Mike.' Exactly what did you mean by that?"

"Well I have heard he doesn't like the nickname and I thought I would see if I could get a rise out of him." 

"Looking at you I would guess you have never been in combat. Have you?"

"Er, ah, No, I haven't."

"What is your name and rank?"

"Maurice LaBlanc, 2nd Lieutenant."

"I thought as much. This man you wanted to get a rise out of is an old beat up soldier who could kill you in a heartbeat. On the day he was given the name "Killer" in admiration by his troops, he is credited with killing eighteen Iraqi Soldiers in hand-to-hand combat with a knife, he was already wounded, a few minutes earlier he had killed about two hundred other Iraqis with a machine gun he had captured from other Iraqis he had killed. He carried this man sitting with us, who was gravely wounded for almost a mile while he had four bullet wounds himself. What in the hell makes you eligible to make any comment on his bravery? You are not fit to wipe the sweat from his balls. If I ever hear of you speaking of him in any kind of slighting way I will personally kick your gonads up around your ears. I am Brigadier General Roberts and you had better bet your black ass I can do it. Good night and don't bother asking me to dance again."

She turned her back on the man and patted Mike's hand. "I can't wait to get in your pants tonight."

Dave was struggling not to fall out of his chair. Everyone within earshot was laughing at the big black as he strode rapidly away. Dave started clapping and everyone around joined in. When the noise was over Dave smiled at Mike, "I guess nobody better talk nasty about you or Mama bear will rip their heads off. Wow!"

"He is my man, I am the only person who can bitch at him."

"Shit!" Said Mike, "I am going to be walking on egg shells from now on, I don't want her mad at me."

The General leaned over towards him and said, "Sweetheart, I could never really be angry with you. You are my soul mate. I love you."

Two weeks later Mike was on an inspection trip to Mississippi and called Joananne on her cell phone, they talked for a few minutes and agreed to meet at the O'Club for dinner, he wouldn't be getting in until about nine and would meet her there.

Mike walked in the club and looked around for her. He had seen her car outside and knew she was there. She wasn't on the dance floor or in the bar or dinning room. He walked out on the veranda and saw only a few couples standing close together talking. Then he turned and saw Jo kissing the big black guy, Lablanc. He felt as if he had been cold cocked. He staggered and turned and walked out of the club. He walked to the Batchelor Officer's Quarters where he still kept a room and a few of his things. He sat and stared at the wall. He had no doubt about what he had seen. He got out a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured a tumbler half full. Two minutes later it was empty. He filled it up the next time and it lasted no longer. He sat on the bed and cried. He fell back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. His cell phone rang for a long time, and then his room phone rang and rang.

In the morning he dressed in a clean uniform and went to the commanding generals office and requested to see him. He was in the office for about ten minutes. When he left he caught a base bus to the main gate, then got a cab to Joananne's house. There was no one there he was inside for ten minutes and then came out and got in his car and drove off. 

General Roberts entered her office a little late that morning looking haggard and tired. Her secretary handed her a list of calls. The Commanding General wanted to see her in his office ASAP. Brenda Brown wanted her to call as soon as she got in. LCOL Brown wanted her to call him when she could. A Sergeant Major Sean O'Bannon had called three times.

She went to the CG's office and was shown right in. He met her at the door. "What happened between you and Mike?"

"I don't know for sure. I can only think of one thing, I hope I am wrong. I have looked for him all night long. How do you know something was wrong?"

"He was sitting outside my Office when I got here this morning, he handed me a request for an immediate transfer to a combat unit in Iraq. I asked him why and he just said he wanted it. I said I would have to consider it, then he handed me his letter of resignation of his commission effective midnight last night. I asked him to think it over. He said he had thought about it. He turned around and walked out. I am putting him on leave." Jo sat on a chair and sobbed. She stood, "I have to find him." And ran from the office. She went to her office and sat at her desk and thought. She heard a commotion out side her office and her door burst open and Brenda Brown stormed in. "What the fuck did you do to that dear man. He has gone crazy."

Joan sobbed, "I know! God help me I know." Jo's secretary entered an said "General, A Sergeant Major O'Bannon is on the phone and says it is very important he talk to you right away." 

Joanie picked up the phone. "This is General Roberts, how can I help you?" She heard a gruff voice say "Mam"am I have LCOL Murphy in my custody. He is as drunk as a skunk and is going to get himself in serious trouble. Can you help or are you the problem?"

She dropped into her chair. "Hold the line for a second Sarnmajor, please."

She looked at Brenda with tears running down her cheeks and handed her the phone. "Here maybe you can handle this better than I can."

Brenda grabbed the phone and said, "Sean, this is Brenda Brown, is he OK. Right! Keep him there no matter what! We will be there soon." She looked at Jo. "Thank God Girl, he's OK. Tell me what happened right now."

"I am not positive, I was supposed to meet him at the club last night at nine and he never showed up. I called everywhere trying to find him with no luck. The only thing I can think of is that he might have seen me kissing that Lieutenant LaBlanc out on the deck. LaBlanc came up to me and wanted to talk to me in private so we went outside and me begged my forgiveness for the way he had acted and told me he wanted to apologize to Mike too. We talked for a while and he told me a bunch of his buddies bet him he couldn't get a kiss from me and didn't tell him whom I was. The poor guy was practically in tears, he was afraid he had ruined his career and wanted to know how he could redeem himself. I laughed at him and told him to be more careful in the future. I said, "Here you win your bet." and gave him a nice kiss on the lips and shook his hand. He wiggled like a puppy and ran off to tell his buddies. It was nothing, less than nothing."

"It wasn't nothing to poor Mike if he saw it, remember, he caught his wife cheating on him three times or more. God knows what he thought. I thought he would never trust another woman. Are you coming with me?"

"I don't believe you can stop me."

Brenda dragged Joananne out the door. "Hold my calls," the general yelled as they left. Brenda called Dave and told him to meet them at O'Bannon's house.

There were several cars in front of the O'Bannon Quarters on the base. The Commanding General was there. Mrs. O'Bannon was handing Mike a cup of coffee when they walked in. She ran to Brenda and hugged and kissed her. They cried for moment then Mrs. O'Bannon took Joananne's hand pulled her to a bedroom. She looked at the Officer, "General, I had a long heart to heart talk with Mike. He loves you with all his heart. He has been hurt too many times. I do not know exactly what he saw but he thinks he saw you kissing another man. IF you are going to hurt him again I'll kick your butt, general or not. He saved my Sean's life, I owe him mine." Tears ran from her eyes. Jo sat on the bed and cried, she looked up at Mrs. O'Bannon. "I love Mike with all my heart, what he saw was a stupid mistake, my mistake, it meant so little to me that I never realize how it could hurt him. I didn't know he was there but I still might have done it. It was less than nothing to me, it was sort of a joke and a playful kiss. Not a speck of sexual feeling or intent was there. I have always told him exactly how I have felt about everything, I have never even told him a little fib or white lie. If I can get him to think about it I know he will know it is true."




Killer Mike



"Honey, I believe you. I don't think he knows you are here. Wait here and let me talk to him some more. Girl that man has given so much of himself to and for others he is very fragile. Those of us who love him try to protect him and love him until he heals himself." She turned and walked out the door. Jo sat and cried some more. The door opened and Brenda took her hand and pulled her along. She whispered, "Come on, Dave is going to run you back to your office. I'll call you in about twenty minutes. This may let Mike salvage a bit of his dignity."

Jo grabbed Brenda by the shoulders, "You need to know something, please don't tell him. I missed my period yesterday and today. I won't use that to get him back. But it does make me need him more."

Brenda grinned, "I want to scream it from the roof tops but I'll let you do it. Congratulations girl. I love both of you."

Brigadier General Roberts sat at her desk and stared at the wall. The twenty minutes were long, long, gone. Then the phone rang. She answered it, it was her secretary, "General, LCOL Murphy is on the line, will you take the call?"

"Oh! Yes, put him through."

"Mike is that you?"

"Yes Babe, it's me, I think I owe you an apology. I know I needlessly upset you."

"Oh! Darling, I love you so. Please know I love you with all my cotton pickin' heart. I always will. Where are you? Can you meet me at our house? I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise for me? Wait, a surprise? No! Please tell me what I am praying is true. Is it?"

"Yes dear, I think it is, I'm not positive but I think I'm right, Daddy."

"HOLY SHIT! WOOPEE! I'm on my way home."



Killer Mom



When I was five, I saw my mother kill my father. I watched as she sat over him yelling, and stabbing him in the chest. She then called 'uncle' Jerry who came over and took him away. We never talked about that night. On the few occasions I mentioned him without thinking, she just said, "He's gone, and we have to get on with our lives."

I knew why she did it. It was because he used to beat her almost every night. I remember that she was nice to me and gave me a lot of things, but that didn't stop me from being afraid. For years I thought that if I did something wrong, she would kill me too. 

Mom went over to 'Uncle' Jerry's house a lot for a few years, and then one day she said that he had left and that we wouldn't be seeing him any more. I asked her, "Do you mean he's 'Gone'?"

She looked at me strangely and said, "Yes." So I figured she'd killed him too.

As I got older, I spilled juice on the rug, broke her glass unicorn, and once even set a fire in her closet -- and still remained alive. My fears subsided. When I got into my early teens, I decided she'd done the right thing to kill him since he was beating her. 

That was about the time I started getting into the computer. Mom had shown me how to use it but I wasn't that interested until then. So one day I 'Googled' my name just to see what would happen, and references came up all over the place. They were about a person in the movie business who had my name. They named a few movies he had produced and there were some pictures of him. It was my father. I didn't really remember what he looked like, but I'd seen some photos in a box in mom's closet. There was an article that said he'd died of a heart attack at age thirty-one. What the hell?

Mom had told me almost nothing about him, but I was filled with a thousand questions. I printed out a few pages and went to find her. She was in the backyard. Our house was in the California hills and the closest houses were hidden behind bushes and hedges. It always felt that we lived in a world of our own. 

I said to mom, "This says that dad was a producer, that he made movies. It says he died from a heart attack...but I thought you killed him?"

My mother looked at me as if I was crazy. "What? What are you talking about?"

I said, "I remember mom; I saw you, you were screaming at him and you were on top of him and you were stabbing him, I remember, I saw it."

She covered her mouth for a moment and her eyes opened wide. "You saw me? Oh my God. Listen to me Jason...you saw me trying to bring him back...I was pounding on his chest, I didn't think you remembered any of it."

The reversal was almost as shocking as the time I thought it happened. I said, "You didn't kill him then...did you?"

Mom said, "Of course not. I loved him so much; I couldn't even talk about it... I never wanted to. If it wasn't for you, I don't know what I would have done. I thought you were too young and I didn't want to burden you with my unhappiness. All this time you thought I..." She had an astonished look on her face.

I said, "Well, I thought because he used to beat you at night and make you...yell because he was hitting you." 

"When?" She asked. "When did you see dad ever hit me? He was the sweetest man. Everything we have is because of him. What are you talking about?"

I said, "At night...when you thought I was asleep...I heard you."

"Oh my God..." She was laughing and covering her mouth. She kept laughing until she saw I getting upset. "This is unbelievable...one day you're going to laugh about this too Jason. He wasn't beating me. We were having sex." She blushed when she said; "I just made a lot of noise with him." She covered her face again and said with another laugh, "Oh my God, all these years you thought...and you never said anything?"

I said, "Well I thought if you did it, he deserved it." 

She came over to me and hugged me and said, "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry, I should have talked you about him...it just hurt me so much...I'm sorry baby, can you forgive me?"

I said, "Sure mom. I'm glad you didn't..." 

She squeezed me to her and said, "Oh you crazy boy."

And what stuck in my crazy head the most from all of this? The part where she told me about her making noises while having sex. Maybe I wasn't ready to hear it, and maybe it was that I was too ready. But that was when that sex switch flipped up in me, and I was turned on and ready to go. The girls in my class looked different, women on the street looked different, and my mother looked different. 

Besides my attention to her, my mother really did look 'Different'. It was probably because of the mixed blood. She was ¼ Cherokee and somehow it made her look almost Eurasian, with long straight dark hair and a smooth dusky complexion. She even had a Cherokee name, Inali, which referred to a fox. She went by Nali because she told me that whenever I heard someone call her by name, I repeated, 'Nali' over and over.

Mom told me about my father who had made some films that we were still getting money from, but that what we had mostly came from what he had inherited from his father. I knew we had money because mom never said no if I asked for some, and she would go to an expensive spa every week and get this treatment or that from someone named Janice. 

After our talk, I began having 'The Dream' at least once or twice a week. In the dream, I'm in the woods and it's getting dark. I'm not sure how to get out. I'm hearing noises and I start running. Finally I find a dirt road and there's a black car sitting there. I can't see in the windows. I'm cold. The back door opens and a woman motions me in. She's dressed in black with a black hat and I can't see her face, but I think it's my mother. 

I lean up against her breasts and close my eyes. Her hands are warming me. They go between my legs and they stay there. I fondle her breasts over the black dress. She massages my cock. We touch like that until I come. The dream triggered my first nocturnal emissions. 

That was also about the time I began drawing seriously. I had always doodled, and people said they liked what I drew, but Miss Canava, the art teacher, saw something more. She gave me lessons. Mom insisted on paying her, and in a few years I had technique and an individual style. I could do a pencil portrait of someone in about ten minutes that were surprisingly accurate at capturing at least an aspect of a personality.

For a while it was a fun thing. In high school I was invited to lots of parties. I knew why. When I got tired of being the trained seal that could do his 'tricks,' I stopped going. I did the sidewalk art fairs and made great money, which I didn't need, so I stopped that too. I didn't stop drawing. And I had hundreds of my mother. I did it so much she didn't even notice if I was drawing her as she read, or fixed dinner, or watched TV. 

When I started college, we often talked during the week, and I came home on weekends and holidays, because I was only eighty miles away. When the weather warmed, we spent all our time at the beach. Her creamy cleavage always turned me on. I often asked her to wear her white two-piece, even though I knew it would engender stares from others. You could just see a hint of the dark nipples through the fabric. I'd seen them a few times when she'd bent down and wasn't wearing a bra. 

I flirted with her and she flirted back. I thought about crossing the line many times and never did. She stood in front of the mirror one day and said, "God, I'm falling apart."

I said, "Stop it mom, you've got a killer body." We both laughed after an awkward moment, and after that, I'd jokingly call her 'Killer' sometimes. Once in a while I'd bring a girl home that I was seeing. Sandy a particularly big-boobed brunette, that I was with the longest, seemed to annoy mom more than others. 

On the phone she asked me, "Are those things of hers real?"

I laughed, "Of course not. Mom, you've got the last pair of real boobs around, and probably the best." Mom really did have great boobs. 

She said, "Oh go on." She sounded pleased. Then she said, "Are you serious about her?" 

I said, "No mom, we both see other people." 

She said, "Good, it's too soon, and I don't think she's the one for you anyway."

I said, "Why not?"

She said, "She's not smart enough, or pretty enough...or good enough for my boy." That was the first time she had ever said anything negative about a girl I was with. 

I laughed, "Mom, by your criteria, the only one that would be okay for me, is you."

She said, "Well, if I was a little younger, and not your mom, you'd be in trouble."

I said, "I wouldn't be in trouble, you'd be the one in trouble mom."

That was when I started drawing her from memory, and from imagination. I drew her in the white bathing suit, and turned it into a string bikini, which clearly showed the darkened circles of her nipples. And then I drew her asleep on the lounge chair, without the string bikini. And then there were a hundred different pictures of her in every possible position I could imagine her nude body. 

And when I got past the reluctance to draw what I had always wanted to draw, there were all the pictures of mom and me, kissing, touching, fucking. I spent hours, days and weeks creating my fantasyland. I made a graphic story of how we first make love, with every detail showing, and all the dialogue I wanted to put in her mouth, and all the places I wanted to be inside of, and she was filled with me. 

I guess it was inevitable that she would find them, or I would leave them for her to find. I found out on the phone. I was doing my usual teasing and flirting, but mom wasn't responding. When I asked her if something was wrong, She said, "I was cleaning up and I came across one of your sketchpads..." I didn't say anything because I went cold. I waited. She said, Honey, we have to talk when you come home."

The only good thing I could think of was that she called me 'Honey' and not 'Pervert.' I was glad it was Friday because I would have went nuts if I had to go over it all in my head for more than a day. I went home that night instead of my usual Saturday morning. We sat down before dinner and she brought the drawings she had found. Thank God. I saw that it was one of the earlier pads. I looked through it and it had mostly nudes of her and a few drawings of the two of us kissing. They were from different angles and there was no doubt about who the two people were.

She said, "Is this how you feel about me?" 

I said, "Mom, you know it's how I feel about you, don't you? Please don't be upset, I won't do it anymore if it bothers you."

"No baby," she said. "I couldn't tell you what to draw any more than I could tell you what to feel. It's just...confusing."

"Do you hate them mom?" I asked.

She said, "No, of course not, they're so well done...and full of love. You made me look beautiful."

"You are beautiful mom," I said. "I guess I wanted you to finally know how I feel, but I was afraid you might be shocked."

She gave a wry smile and said, "No baby, I wasn't shocked; I guess I knew...I won't lie to you...I was excited when I realized what the pictures were."

My temples started to throb when she said that and I said, "Mom, let me draw you, now, from life, I always wanted to, you're so beautiful...let me." 

She said, "How...?"

I said, "Right there." She sat in a deep plush chair. I turned the pad to a clean page and got a pencil. I said, "Take off your top mom." She stopped for a moment and then took off her blouse. She hesitantly asked with her eyes if I wanted her to take off her bra. I nodded and she reached behind and unclasped it, freeing the full globes and exposing the large mocha circles around her nipples. 

I said, "Mom, take off your skirt." It pulled down easily over the gentle curve of her hips. She kicked off her shoes and sat. She had tan thigh highs on that added some shine to her shapely legs. Her panties were almost the same color and made of satin.  

I said, "Let me see you." 

She took a deep breath, and as she took her panties off, she raised her eyebrows and said, "I'm glad I went to Janice's yesterday." She sat. 

I said, "You're gorgeous mom, you're perfect." She was shaved clean and her coloring was smooth between her legs. I walked up to her and her eyes opened wide in the uncertainty of what I was about to do. I asked her to sit back in the deep chair. I lifted her legs from the ankles and placed her feet on the chair exposing her completely. Her fragrance almost made me dizzy.

I went back and began drawing. After about three minutes, I was out of my mind. I could see the wetness shining on my mother's pussy and I was about to break the zipper with my hard-on. I walked over and kneeled in front of the incredible sight and put my hands on her ankles. She was saying "Jason..." in a way that could have meant either yes or no. I didn't wait to figure it out. I put mouth on her pussy and it was more than wet. Her hand caressed the back of my head. I licked her sweet juices and pushed my tongue between the soft slick folds of her lips. I went deep enough to slide along the walls of her vagina. 

I said, "Nali, you taste so good." Then I put the tip of my tongue on her clit. Mom moaned loudly. I wanted to fuck my mother at that moment more than I thought I could. I hurriedly undid my pants and brought my hard cock to her opening. She was still saying my name when I entered her. Her slit opened for me and she received her son. I was inside my mother's pussy, and I experience relief and a building of tension at the same time.

Mom was saying, "Oh God, Oh my God..." I began to enter her with the full length of my shaft. She was wet and yielding and before I stroked her more than two or three times, she began to cry.

I didn't want to stop, but seeing her upset continue, I pulled out. I said, "I'm sorry mom...I shouldn't have. I just wanted you so much; I love you so much." Seeing the tears fall affected me, and then I said the most difficult thing for me to say, "I won't bother you any more, I promise." I reached for her clothes.

Mom said, "Oh Jason, no, you didn't do anything I didn't want you to do. It's just that when you were inside me, it brought it all back for me. Your father...you feel just like him, when you were in me you filled me like he did, you even move in me like he did. Jason, I'm okay...I really think I am. That was the past, a different life. You and I are now. Baby, come be inside me again, it's what I want. I leaned over and kissed away her tears and then her lips found mine and, I tasted her tongue for the first time. 

She reached for me and my cock was hard in her hand as she guided me into her again. This time she didn't cry. I saw her smile as I stroked her pussy that wrapped itself around me. I pulled her toward me and she hung on because she could tell I was taking her down to the rug; I didn't want to be out of her. Once she was on the floor, I could get deeper into her pussy. I pushed her legs back and she was as opened as she could get. I pressed home and she moaned with each thrust. I was home when I felt myself inside her.

"Jason, don't ever leave me," she said, "don't ever go away, I couldn't stand it." 

I knew what she thinking about and I said, "I promise mom, I'm here, and this is where I want to be, with you, inside you."

She said, "Yes baby, inside me, inside your momma who loves you so much. Jason...Jason...Jason..." She was raising her hips to meet my thrusts and my name came out as a little yell as I filled her completely.

I loved the feel of her skin up and down my body, and the stockings that she still wore felt sexy when she moved on my thighs or legs, and especially when she wrapped her legs around my waist. I knew I couldn't go on for much longer at the insistent pace she was pushing as she took me deep. Her breaths were coming closer together and when she grabbed my ass and drew me in I said, "Mom can I come inside you?"

She said, "Yes baby, come inside me, come inside your mommy, come baby, come...come...come." It sounded as if she was almost there, but I had no choice. The first release was so intense it made me cry out. With the second release into her, I heard my mother say, "Yes baby, come with me...OH...OH, OH GOD..." She let out a long "OHHhhhhhhh..." that diminished in volume until it was a whisper. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me to her and said, "Darling, darling Jason, you made me feel so good baby."

I said, "Mom, I fantasized and dreamed about being with you this way for so long, and this was even better than I could have imagined."

"Oh baby," she said, "I'm so glad, and I'm proud to have you."

We never did get to have dinner. It was a night filled with wonders. Neither of us could stop. We slept between bouts, but inevitably one would wake the other with a touch, or a mouth, or a finger. 

At one point I asked her if she had known how I felt, or known that something was happening between us. She slid her hand down my chest and let it rest over my cock and she said, "When I realized that your flirting with me was serious, I had to examine my own feelings. I never thought it would come to anything, but I enjoyed fantasizing. I noticed that you were hard around me sometimes." She laughed a little and said, "This is embarrassing, but I began looking to see if I made you hard by not wearing a bra, or letting my skirt ride up, or some silly thing like that."

I was getting hard in her hand and I reached to touch her pussy as she talked. She said, "Then I found myself thinking more and more about you. I thought of you and me walking in the woods holding hands, and you'd stop and kiss me. Then I started thinking about you having sex with me."

"How mom?" I asked, as we gently masturbated each other. 

"At first I imagined you came to me when you thought I was sleeping, and you touched me...you ran your hands over my body and when I didn't wake up, you would touch my pussy until I came. And sometimes, I'd try to stop you, but you would tie me up and you forced me to...suck you..."

"I would never do that mom", I said.

She laughed, "I know silly, it was just a way to get to imagine you...like this..." She leaned over and took the expanded knob between her lips and sucked on it. She pressed it and I could feel that some pre-cum had oozed, and she took it on her tongue. She looked so hot. She said, "You want your mommy, don't you baby," as she licked her lips with my juice.

I said, "The answer might incriminate me mom."

She laughed and took the whole head and part of my shaft into the warm confines of her mouth. She made a small 'Mmmm...' sound each time she went down the thickened pole. She caressed my balls lovingly and said, "Well, your mommy wants you, and I don't care if it does incriminate me as a bad mother."

She went back and licked the column that sprang each time her tongue made contact. I said, "You're a perfect mom, and the way you take care of your son proves it; that's why I love you so much."

She said, "And you're perfect for me baby." She began sucking me in earnest. With my eyes closed, I listened to the sounds of her mouth and tones of pleasure we each made. She stroked the shaft when she wasn't trying to take more of me into her throat. 

I played with her tits as she sucked, and the tips of her nipples felt diamond hard in my palm. We had come a long way through a night that began with my asking her if I could come inside her pussy. I knew I was going to come in her mouth. I felt so close to her, so loving, so loved. 

Mom worked my cock with her hand and mouth slowly and teasingly, to extend the pleasure and build up the orgasmic energy to pressure-cooker intensity, but after a while, it was clear to both of us that I was about to come. She only stopped long enough to say, "I want to taste you darling."




Killer Mom



When the dam burst, all I could say was, "Oh NALI, OH NALI..." and then fired my juice into my mother's mouth. She moaned, and vigorously rubbed the shaft while keeping the head in her mouth. I was yelling something like "Wohhhhh..." as the full buildup of cum from my balls shot through my cock into her mouth. It was anything but an ordinary orgasm. Even as I came, I realized that the fierce passion I was feeling was not only about sex. I loved the woman that was sucking me, and that made all the difference. 

Before dawn, we both seemed wide-awake as she formed herself to my body and sporadically reached up for a soft kiss. Mom said, "Let's go take a shower and have breakfast, I'm starved." 

I said it sounded great, and of course when we got into the shower I couldn't keep my hands off her. With all the warm water and both of us slippery with body wash, everything felt sensuous. As I slid my hands over mom's big boobs, she said, "If you start that, we'll never get to eat."

I said, "I don't care, I'm hungry for you mom."

She gave a resigned laugh and said, "Oh God," and took my balls in her hand. We rubbed each other until only water slickened our bodies and then began a long kiss. Mom stopped long enough to say, "I could kiss you forever like this baby." I had other ideas for forever, or at least the next hour. I reached behind and put my hand between the warm globes of my mother's ass. She opened her legs and I accessed her pucker with my finger.

She responded more that I expected and began breathing hard. I'd never had anal sex, and I wanted it with my mother. I said, "I want your ass mom." It sounded crude when I heard myself say it.

Mom said, "Oh my God...okay baby...not here, in the bedroom." We got out of the shower and dried off hurriedly. Mom took a tube from a drawer and we went, still dripping, back to bed. Mom put whatever was in the tube on my cock and on her pucker before taking a position on her hands and knees. I wanted to be inside her that instant, and I also didn't want to rush it so I could savor the anticipation.

I sucked some of the moisture off her back and kissed up and down her flank. I took her breasts in my hands and let my hardness tease whatever flesh it came up against. Finally she said, "Be inside me Jason, do it now." It was urgent and I took my cock in hand. I put it on her small hole, and with the aid of her lubricant, I pushed in. 

The swollen head opened her puckered ring and it allowed me to enter her ass. There was a long whine in the form of an "Ohhhhh..." as I forced the shaft up into her tight passageway. She called out, "Jason," loudly, as I began to stoke into my mother's ass. As I drove deeper into her, I heard that sound, the noises and the yells that I'd heard so many years ago. It stopped me for a moment and mom said, "Jason, do it, do it." I stroked again, harder this time, and I penetrated the tight but yielding flesh. My mother was crying out, but it wasn't the sound of pain that I once thought I had heard coming from my mother's mouth, it was the sound of a woman being pleasured beyond her normal boundaries.

I'd heard people say that they were turned off by anal sex, mostly those who never had it. And I can imagine what they would have thought of a son having anal sex with his mother, but that was the best sex I'd ever had in my life. Mom was driving me on with her cries of "JASON, YES, YES...OH MY GOD, YES...DON'T STOP BABY..." I gave her all I had and I could see how stretched she was around the pucker which was now fully opened and grasping the width of my cock. Each stroke was an exquisite entry that would have gripped my shaft fast, if not for the lubricant.

I knew I had found the love and lover of my life as I came closer to orgasm inside my mother. I held onto her hips and went into a pace that had to bring release. I wondered if mom could come that way. I'd had experience, but nothing prepared me for what happened next. Mom started to come. She cried out, "Ahhhhiiiieeeeee..." and it echoed off the walls. Fluid began to squirt from her pussy and I was so taken a back that I almost stopped, but mom said, "Fuck me Jason, fuck meeee..." It may have been the first time I heard that word from her mouth and it spurred me on to orgasm. 

I said, "Yes mom...I'm coming...inside you, inside you..." I have no better word than 'Exploded,' for how I came in her. I can't imagine how far that first cord of cum would have flown if I weren't in her. 

She said, "YES, yes, yes..." when she felt me coming inside her ass. The juice lubricated her tight hole even more and I was able to give her the full length of my shaft unhindered. I remember thinking that nothing could feel that good, as time and again I went into her to release my cum. I don't know how long that orgasm lasted, but just when I thought it was over, my mother pushed back one more time and I had one last intense release that left me depleted, and left her filled with the proof of the love and desire I had for my mother.

When we were in each other's arms, mom said, "Only one person has ever done that to me..."

I said, "I know mom." 

She smiled, "I guess you do baby...but I never came that hard, or that way...it was incredible."

I said, "For me too mom."

It's been ten great months since that night when mom laughed and said; "I think I'm going to have to give up my title after what you did with that lethal weapon; from now on, I'm going to call you - "Killer."