17 comments/ 8427 views/ 2 favorites Hate Crimes Inc. Ch. 01 By: NOIRTRASH All characters are adults. ***** The first time I collided with Janet Douglas I was in my car parked in a space beside the Come & Go store, with a cup of coffee and a Crispy Cream Donut for supper. Janet strolled over, leaned on the door, and kinda stuck her head and tits in the window. I put down the file I was reading. "Gotta light?" She asked. It was eleven o'clock, eighty degrees and muggy, and a rock band was raising hell across the highway at a popular bar. I guessed Janet had been at the bar. I don't smoke but carry lighters in the car for those that do. I handed her a lighter. "Thanks," she said, lit her cigarette, exhaled, and added," You want some company?" "Get in," I replied. "Mind if I smoke?" She asked. "Go ahead," I said. "So many people got a problem with it anymore," she said. "You don't smoke?" "I quit," I replied. "Any problems stopping?" "Not after the first five years." She giggled. "I need to get me some of that stuff they sell on teevee. What did you use?" "Nuthin," I said. "I'm Janet." She wore a wedding band . "I'm Cole," I said. "You gotta job?" "I'm a cop," I replied. "Oh! Maybe I picked the wrong guy for a new friend! I don't need no cop trouble." "Relax," I said. "I don't want no trouble." "What do you want, and how much do you want?" I asked. "I normally get a hundred," she replied. "It's something I do on the side." "You live in the trailer park behind the store?" It was a better park than the shit holes the welfare queens called home. The trailers were newer, all had late model cars, and all had teeth. I handed her two fifties. "Uh huh, can you wait a minute while I get some cigarettes?" "Sure," I replied. Janet had teeth. Nice teeth. She was a wholesome looking matron and looked like a mom, soft and full-figured, but dressed in a short skirt and a tight top with buttons. Older than me by ten years or so. Alcoholic and bored. The bar was handy for a bus rider forced to walk at night, but the bar crowd wasn't the team she played for. She looked like a school clerk. She was back beside me in no time. "If you want something to drink you need to stop at the ABC." The ABC was a chain liquor store up the street from the Come & Go. I went there first. I bought her bottles of vodka, gin, and rum. I took her home. Home was a newer single-wide trailer in good condition, clean, and furnished well. Her son, Scott Jr, lived with her. Scott Junior was in jail at the moment, as was his daddy, Scott Senior. Janet was the principal of Riverhills Middle School. Scott Senior worker there, too, before he got arrested and sent to prison. Janet went to the bathroom to pee as soon as she hid her purse and unbagged the booze. I parked my ass on the sofa. Janet returned dressed in a baby doll nightie. Its top was lacy and sheer enough to see her dark nipples clearly. "Want a drink?" She asked. "Rum and Coke," I replied. She went to the kitchen. Her's was gin and tonic. "You sure I'm not going to jail for this?" "I'll put the cuffs on you if you want." "Really?" "Sure." Females are all about feeling secure. They're either in control or outta control, and outta control often works quicker to make them feel secure. I put the cuffs on her. She then straddled me, draped her cuffed hands around my neck, pressed her body against me, and wanted to smooch. I cupped her ass cheeks and pulled her closer. Then I carried her to the bedroom, tossed her onto the bed, got undressed, stretched out on my back, and guided her cunt to my face as she took my cock into her mouth. She acted like she was starved for cock. I finger-fucked her till she was ready for some cock between her legs. I guided her aboard and she braced herself gripping the top of the headboard with her fingers. She was drunk and snoring when I left at 3am. I stopped by the Come & Go for coffee and a fresh donut. I then sat outside to devour both. A car pulled up and two niggers went in the store. They wore long coats. Before they came out I pulled my car close to the pay phone on the lot corner, and let the engine idle. When they came out and left I followed them. They robbed the store according to my radio. I was there. Hadda be them. I followed them twenty-five miles to the interstate where they stopped at the rest stop to piss. Nothing to rob here.. They went in the restroom, I followed. I went inside a stall behind them, waited for the tinkling, then opened the door and popped them. I put both in the same stall, one on the throne, one on his knees, and left. I kept their money. It wasn't a lot. Not enough to die for, but enough for some pussy. I left and drove home. I saved the county a ton of fuggin money. What I saved was enough to educate a classroom fulla rug-rats. Most of these shitbirds get tagged thirty, forty times before they do any hard time. Plenty use jail to fix their teeth and sexuality while the bleeding heart pols fuck the working stiff. Plenty of lawyers would never smile again when my wares were found, I had robbed them of millions. Ditto all the MDs treating faggots; AIDS virtually vanished from this county after the police department hired me. After I awoke and went to work, I needed to close one of my investigations I was never gonna solve in a million fuggin years. I don't send anything to the cold case file. I close it however I can. The easiest way to do it is to set up your piece of shit for some attention from a jealous husband. Geronimo Jackson was one of these assholes. Geronimo had like forty-two convictions for lotsa work, mostly drug busts and aggravated assaults and batteries. Mostly against his baby mommas and homies. He was at the top of my list for a drive-by killing in the slum. I bided my time for an opportunity. Geronimo never stayed in jail long. Then one day opportunity knocked. I saw Geronimo with a cute redhead named 'Marilyn.' Marilyn's old man was a union iron worker, and outta town a lot making Marilyn plenty of money. Frankie Banaszek was the biggest white man God ever made. Sitting on his ass in a chair he was taller than most people, and I never seen a nigger to match Frankie. People called him 'Frankie Bananas.' Marilyn was about half Frankie's size. Apparently she needed some action weeknights when Frankie wasn't around. So I kept tabs on Marilyn, got a good idea when she fucked Geronimo, and sent Frankie a note via his local union hall. The note had all the necessary info Frankie needed. Frankie came home, caught Geronimo and Marilyn together, and Geronimo looked like the jigsaw puzzle, of the old song, minus a couple of essential pieces, when Frankie was done with the man. Geronimo loitered in life for a few days, departed for a better place, and I closed my case and put Marilyn on my list of gals to fuck. Sometimes I just make shit up about my people, talk the shit to Godzilla, and let Godzilla surprise them. Godzilla don't know who's fucking his old lady, me neither, but I hang it on Chuckie Chump if he won't make a deal with us. I don't threaten anyone for their cooperation. Once or twice I was the guy fucking Mrs. Godzilla. Strange shit happens. A while back a guy I work with, Brad, got tagged to go to Afghanistan with his National Guard unit. He was an MP, military police sergeant. So he catches me one day, to talk. What the fuck. I know him but not intimately. He tells me he's going off to the war for several months and wants a favor. "What?" I ask. "I want you to date my wife while I'm gone," he says. "Take her out to dinner and dancing and whatever. Do whatever she wants." "Lemme think about it," I replied. Brad didn't know I fucked his wife, Dolly. She was a waitress at the diner where I caught most of my meals. I stopped at the Night Owl Diner for supper. The server was a gal named 'Dolly.' "The usual?" She asked. She meant sliced roast beef on white bread, with gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a Hawaiian roll. "Sure," I replied. She was back in less than ten minutes. "Busy Friday?" "Brad told me he's on his way to Afghanistan and asked me to look out for you while he's gone. Told me to keep you happy." "What did you tell him?" "I said I wanted to think about his offer. I suspect he wants me to make sure you don't get hurt playing too much. Be your chaperone with benefits. My question is: do you need me to save you from your friends while the cat's not around?" "Like call you if I have any trouble?" "Be your personal bouncer and crisis hot line." "He doesn't want me calling 911. Can I call you?" I had no idea Brad knew his old lady was a hot wife. But plenty are, I fuck them all the time. The Salt Springs Police Department operated out of a tuberculosis hospital built back during World War II. About 1980 the government gave the building to the city. The building was five stories high and around six hundred feet in length. The first floor was used for all the city agencies citizens used: health department, water and sewer, police, etc. An auditorium, employee cafeteria, and conference rooms filled the second floor. The city hot shots filled the top floor, and us detectives used half of the third floor. The place scared plenty of people, late at night, when the building was empty. If you needed to be there at three o'clock in the morning, you were probably alone with the rats. Our secretary-clerk was a gal named Malaysia Brown. Our boss was a Jewish woman named Judy Assner. Malaysia Brown looked twenty-two or three. Lotsa white in her blood and she coulda passed for an Indian Desi or one of the Kardashians. Long black hair with small tits. I guessed she weighed a hundred and fifteen pounds. She didn't talk like ghetto trash and I never got the idea she was. Malaysia didn't have Kim's big ass or hips but they coulda passed for sisters. She had a wedding band. Her old man was a sissy boy professor at the college. His family had lotsa money. I don't know for sure, but I suspect Todd married Malaysia to meet the dark meat he preferred, and I aint talking about her. She was cover. Judy looked like a forty-something Carly Simon with blonde hair and blue eyes, but walked like John Wayne. Judy wasn't married. "I live at home, alone with my pussy." Is how she put it. Judy liked cats. So one night I stopped by the office after the place was empty. It was nine o'clock or so. In my office I heard faint, strange sounds coming from somewhere. I went to the hall and listened. It was from the office next to mine. Back in my office I stood on the table next to the common wall, moved the ceiling tile outta the way, and quietly lifted a tile over the other office, to take a peek. My light was off. What I saw was Malaysia atop the desk with Judy's face buried in her snatch. A pint of vodka and cups were close by. "Happy hour," I thought. Hmmm. I hadda brain fart! And left the office to sit in my car and wait for Malaysia to drive away. I supposed her old man was still at school with an evening class. About nine-thirty she got in her car, cranked it up, and took off for home. I followed and pulled her over several blocks from work. The breathalyzer score was a cunt hair above the legal limit. She was upset. I said to her," You're over the line, so make me an offer I can't refuse, or let's go to jail." "What do you want?" She asked. "What you got?" I replied. "Me," she suggested. "Tomorrow night?" I asked. "Thursday," she offered. "My husband is at school Thursday." "Do you need my address?" "No. It's on the Rolodex." "Seven o'clock work for you?" Malaysia kept our date. I got her drunk, then got down to business. In no time her hand moved down her skirt and touched my cock. I was nearly rock hard by now. She moaned, "Mmmm, I need to get Todd one of these for his birthday." The booze did its job and her inhibitions were outta sight and outta mind as she impatiently unfastened the buttons of my shirt. Some buttons flew off. Then she grabbed at my belt buckle to unleash my cock. I undid it for her. She then moved her fingers to my zipper and jerked it down as she knelt on her knees between my spread legs. Grabbing the waistband of my pants she tugged them off my hips and down my legs to my knees where she paused to pull off my shoes and socks. That done she pulled my pants to the floor and off. She hurled them to the side of the room to get them out of the way. Then she looked up and saw my cock. Rock hard. I go commando so there were no boxers to fuck with. She acted pleased at what she saw. She moved her face close to it as she slowly gripped it with her fingers, one hand near the base, and one near the head. Her thumbs and fingers couldn't touch. The booze and her pussy talked her into putting her mouth over the head. She ran the tip of her tongue down my cock to my scrotum. She licked and kissed it. I reached for the zipper on the back of her dress and drew the zipper pull down to her ass. Then I grabbed the dress and hauled it over her head. She let loose of my cock to raise her arms and let the dress pass over her head. She then sucked my cock as I fucked with the clasps on her strapless bra. One at a time, I unhooked the three clasps. Her tits fell out of the bra as I pulled it away. She looked down and saw him throw the bra to the side and felt and went to work fondling her tits and squeezed her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I wanted to get rid of her panties asap and be inside her hot Nigglette pussy. I grabbed her, lifted her in my arms, and flipped her onto her back atop the opposite side of the bed. I looked down upon her, then grabbed the front of her panties, and yanked them hard. Her abdomen rose slightly, until the panties came apart at the seams and I ripped them away from her body. She lay, naked and exposed. "I'm not on birth control," she said. Her legs were spread apart. I got between her spread legs and felt the tip of my cock touch her wet labia. She whispered, "Baby, I'm not on birth control! You can't cum in me!" "Too late, enjoy the ride." Dazed by her excitement and the alcohol, she moaned, "Well, just fuck me then." Propped up by my arms, I shifted my midsection until the tip of my cock settled into the folds of her cunt then shifted my midsection until the tip of my cock settled into the folds between her soaking wet labia, which looked swollen. She placed both hands against my chest, and kissed me as I made a tentative push and slipped through her slippery wet folds. She gasped softly. I pulled back a few inches and pushed in again. Well oiled by her juices, I went in for more. She reached between her legs and gripped my cock. "I can't take it all," she whined. "Hold tight, here it comes," I said. I pulled back and thrust again. The tip of my cock found the back of her pussy. She stretched to make it happen. While she flinched with each stroke, I moved in and out of her as her pussy stretched to take it all. With one strong push, I was in and my balls lightly touched her ass. She took it all. Hungry pussies always take as much as there is. Beginning with slow strokes, I went in and pulled out. She squirmed and moaned, "Faster!" I did. Soon she arched her back and cried out. She squirted. And then I filled her with hot baby juice. As it seeped out I pushed it back in her with my finger. "You gotta girlfriend?" She asked. "No," I replied. "Buy some protection." A week or so later I followed Marilyn Banaszek to a bar. Frankie was on the road again. And the guys avoided her, cuz they knew about Geronimo. I knew more, and took the bar stool beside her. It was a Thursday night. She looked bored. I refreshed her drink and we talked and I refreshed her drink another time or two then took her to a booth. "Want some stiff cock?" I asked. "Know where I can find one around here?" She replied. I put her hand on my hard-on. "My husband will kill you." Her fingers explored my crotch. I put two hundred dollars under her drink. She looked at it. I followed her home. As a rule females are as detached and pragmatic as mafia hit men. With them it ain't ever personal, it's always business. Never forget that her purse is a hole that needs filling, too. Marilyn was a small woman. Five feet tall, maybe. One hundred pounds, maybe. Red hair. I tongued her face and neck and tongued her tiny tits, too. I licked her stomach down to her navel and licked her pussy. I found her vagina and found her clit, I licked both thoroughly but spent more time licking her clit. She moaned softly. I put my head between her spread legs and dug my tongue deeper into her wet gash. She held on to my cock and put it in her mouth. She sucked me until I wanted to mount her. She moaned some more. It was time for fucking and I got atop her. Marilyn spread her legs and I opened her pussy with two fingers while she guided my cock to the right place. She was tight, and yipped from pain a few times until she felt confortable. Then she cooperated by humping her cunt in time with my pushing-and-pulling. She chattered obscenely. I wanted good contact against her clit. Her clit wanted it, too, especially a good massage by the soft head of my dick. Her tight cunt embraced the head for the sweetest satisfaction. Then she wanted it faster and harder, and lifted her legs off the mattress. She entwined her fingers in my hair and held on as she crossed her elbows over my back denying a space between our bodies until I spurted streams and gobs of semen where it needed to be in her pussy. She moaned. My fucking stopped while I ejaculated, but I got back to work when my balls emptied. We fucked another time or two before she made me leave about four o'clock. Hate Crimes Inc. Ch. 02 Chapter 2: Welcome to the jungle All characters are adults I knocked on the door. "Come in!" An unseen voice erupted from inside the home. I opened the door, stepped inside, and let my eyes adjust to the dark. I heard grunting and other noises but couldn't see anyone till the light revealed Sandy on the sofa with Gaynelle's boyfriend fucking her from behind. "Want me to come back later?" I suggested. "Sit down baby, Eddie's almost done, I can feel him, oh yes!" She groaned and said, "Whew! It's too hot to fuck but sometimes you feel like a nut!" When Eddie pulled out he nodded howdy-do at me. They finished their business soon enough. Eddie got up and wandered off to the back of the trailer; to pee, I guessed. Sandy pulled her tee shirt down over her ass, sat up, and pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the end table beside her. "Gotta light?" She asked. I fished a lighter outta my pants pocket, flicked my bic, and pressed its flame against the cigarette. Sandy inhaled, exhaled a cloud of smoke, then wiped cum off her leg with the hem of the tee shirt. "Eddie's a worthless fuck but he's all I got at the moment. When I'm ready to crawl the wall from horniness he's enough. I'm thinking what I need is a friend with benefits who's handy. Mmm a handyman with all the right tools. Know anybody with some nice tools who might be interested?" Sandy said Eddie was Bobbi's "husband." Bobbi being Sandy's daughter. She wandered out of a back bedroom and joined us. Bobbi was called The Goth Girl because she played the part with Lady Gaga style blonde hair, pinafore, maryjane shoes, and blackened eye sockets. The hair bow was real. I guessed she was nineteen or twenty. Eddie's IQ was maybe seventy, Bobbi hadda be a chronic case over at Mental Health Daycare. "So what can we do for you?" Sandy asked. "Your daddy is stealing banana cakes from the store on the corner, and they're gonna prosecute if you don't keep him home and outta the store," I said. "How in hell am I s'posed to do that?" Sandy erupted. "Call the state to come get him," I replied. We argued about the problem till I had enough and got up to leave. Detectives don't normally deliver messages. I went to my car and Bobbi followed. "Gotta job?" I asked. "I work at Duncan Donuts." "What shift?" "Overnights, mostly." "How long you been married to Eddie?" "He ain't my husband, he's my retarded brother, but momma don't want nobody to know." "What nights you get off?" "Monday and Thursday, mostly." "Wanna make some money?" "Doin what?" "Coming over to my house for a few hours." "Most of the time guys take me to the motel by Duncan Donuts." "Is eight o'clock Monday night good for you?" "Uh huh. Where you wanna meet me?" "At the Come & Go." I handed her two fifties. "I'll give you another hundred when I see you." "Okay." I left, went home, and took my shit to the laundromat. The neighborhood is old and a slum poised for urban renewal. The blacks left long ago. What remains are the homeless, transients off the interstate (it cuts through the middle of the area), flop-houses, soup kitchens, thrift shops, and a police station. The parking lot of a state social services agency is littered with shitty diapers, chicken dinner boxes, empty wine bottles, and discarded syringes. The city built a bus station here, several blocks from the downtown where people work, so bums sleep peacefully all over the place. Buses come and go but no one gets on or off except homeless wanting shelter and refuge. The laundromat was like every laundromat. Noisy, crowded with ugly women and an old man inside the attendant's office, and had a bulletin board filled with job offer cards. I bought a roll of quarters, two boxes of soap powder, and went to work. While my stuff churned in the washers, a squad of Mexicans walked in with baskets of wet clothes, then opened several dryers, pulled out the clothes in them, and put their stuff in. The affected customers complained to the old man but he did shit about it. Then a couple came to where I sat. The guy offered his pregnant wife to me for fifty dollars. She smiled. "You can use our car and I'll stand guard." Rosie and Yvette showed up about the time I was done drying my stuff. I met two whores, Rosie and Yvette. They came in around seven o'clock after the Sun set. Rosie's fat ass and tits were packed in a sundress with a halter top, Yvette wore a hot pants with a tube top; both had on high heels and carried purses. The first thing that happened was it rained like hell for an hour or so. Thunderstorms are a daily event at night in the summer. They left and took shelter in the car of two slum thugs, got robbed, and bitch slapped pretty hard when they resisted. They came back soaked, broke, and minus their phones. Rosie looked to be twenty-four and five feet tall, with two hundred pounds spread about her body, some of it on her ass, some on her tits, and some around her middle. Her belly was plump but didn't hang below her pussy as many guts do. She looked pregnant, not obese. Men like pregnant. Her black hair was shoulder length and about the same color as her eyes. Prolly Cuban. Yvette looked Mexican. Straight black hair bobbed like Louise Brooks, five-two, black eyes, one twenty-five pounds with small tits and a plump ass. Yvette looked older than Rosie. Thirty-something was my guess. "My name is Rosie, she's Yvette," she said, "For a hundred dollars we'll spend the night with you." They then bitched to me about the thugs and I took a description of the thugs and the car. "Wanna fuck in my car?" I asked. "Where's your car?" Rosie asked. "Out back." "Sure." We walked outside to my car. I got in the back seat and exposed my cock. Rosie pulled her panties off and straddled me, pushing her cunt down my flagpole as she supported her body by her legs and gripping the seat behind my head. It was a wham bam thank you ma'am fuck. Then Yvette got aboard. Occasionally I can get off twice. I did this time, and paid them. Nothing better than Spic pussy. Back inside some Mexicans came in the place. I counted five. Then they opened the doors of several dryers, pulled out the clothes, and dumped them on the floor. The old guys complained to the attendant but nothing happened. The tamale gobblers put their stuff in the empty machines. One machine was mine. So I showed my badge and demanded they show me some ID. Two had pot on them. I took it. I also took plenty of their money for my pussy fund. And then I told them to get lost for a while. They didn't like it but I had a gun. I finished drying my clothes and left. Monday night came soon enough, and I met Bobbi at the convenience store.I handed her the other half of her money and took her home. She tucked the bill in her wallet. At my home I offered her the pot. She gave me a look like I had offered her a shit sandwich. "You don't want it?" I asked. "You're a cop!" She replied. "Then give it to your mom." She took it. "I can't stay long," she said. "It won't take long," I replied, and handed her my cell phone," Call your old man and tell him you'll be home by ten." I undressed while she made the call, and she acted like she wanted what she saw. Large biceps and arms, heavily tattooed and muscled. Strong hands. A solid six pack of abs. Strong leg muscles and thighs. A firm ass. My hairy chest didn't harm my appeal, either. "Hi," she said, in the doorway again, now wearing only bra and panties. She was no beauty. But she was a cut or two better than plain, and nowhere near ugly. Now, after seven or maybe eight years of traumatic experiences— assorted abortions, fucking scores of married men— she was getting the kind of lines in her young face that polite people say show character. I saw the lines as too much age for too few years, giving her an air of having been taken advantage of emotionally, used once and thrown away like Kleenex. "Ready?" She nodded, undoing the scarf that tied her blonde hair behind her head, letting the shoulder-length mane fall free. "I'm ready, all right," she said, " I mean, the old mind really gets a workout waiting tables all night. It's a goddamn challenge." As she spoke, I watched bitter lines deepen in her face and then lowered his eyes to her breasts as she released them from her bra. The breasts were small and quite attractive. Her nipples were like rose-hued sand dollars. I went over to the bed and lay down. She came and stood by the bed and leaned over me, her breasts looked like swelling fruit. I touched her. She rubbed her hand over my chest, twining her fingers in its hair. She made an effort and got a wry smile going, then latched her thumbs in her panties and tugged them off. Bobbi was a crazy girl who fucked everyone and belonged to an older married man who pimped her. "No hickeys!" She warned me. So I licked her neck, breathed in her ear, pawed her crotch till she responded with heavy breathing and moisture, and moved her hand to my cock. She knew my cock would relieve the tension in her girl parts, and she jacked me till I pushed it inside her. She wanted it inside her first, then she'd suck it and clean me up. I helped her climb atop me, and helped her guide it in. She was wet and tight as she started fucking me. "I can't believe I'm so wet!" We made love, slow, grinding love, and it was good. I wasn't inside Bobbi five minutes before she felt her orgasm coming, "Baby I can't wait, I'm gonna cum. I'm sorry!" When she stopped floating she got off me, kneeled, and told me to dump my load in her mouth. It didn't take long, and my cum was flowing out her mouth, like warm syrup on hotcakes, over her lips, down her chin, and spilling onto her chest and belly and thighs. She swallowed as much as she could, cleaned her mouth with her tongue, swallowed a little more, licked her lips of goo, swallowed again, and licked semen off her fingers after she wiped the cum from her belly and tits. Semen was everywhere. I cleaned her with the bedspread. She looked like she got drowned by a super-soaker water gun. Then she climbed out of bed, slipped on her bra and panties, and got into the simple shift she wore. "You like cock as much as your mom," I said. Bobbi was 24 karat white trash. Prolly from Ohio or Michigan. I drove her back to the store. "Do you wanna see me again?" She asked. I gave her my business card. "Gimme a call if you want more of me." Sandy was asleep and snoring when Bobbi came home. Bobbi took a shower and covered herself with a thin robe before she went out to the kitchen to make a sandwich and get ready for her honey. I went to Duncan Donuts for coffee and a toasted coconut treat. The car I was looking for was there. Couldn't miss it. It was one of those 70s Chevy Impalas niggers love. Painted up like a Dreancicle, and larded with expensive wheels and other jewjaws every self-respecting jungle bunny gotta have on his wheels. Prolly run like shit. I waited for them in the parking lot. In a while they came out accompanied by two skanks. They all piled in the Chevy and left. I followed. We went here and there and to a parking area behind an old abandoned warehouse near the city limits. The guys got outta the car and walked toward me for a confrontation. I was ready for them. I shot both of them, backed up, and left before the skanks got a look at me. I returned to the donut shop. It's how I do things. I went home, showered, and went to bed. The doorbell rang about the time I was asleep. WTF? I went to the door and cracked it open. It was my friend Janet Douglas. She looked drunk. "I hope you don't mind," she said, and kinda pushed me outta the way to come in. I wondered how she got my address. "I got your address from a nice policeman." Question answered. "Scott, my son, got outta jail and came home. He got drunk and we got into a fight. I called 911, and here we are," she said. "Can I spend the night?" She didn't wait for an answer. She found my bedroom, found my bathroom, and returned dressed in the top of a baby doll nightie and a cigarette stuck in her lips. I don't smoke but don't object to cigarette smoke. In a nutsack Janet was around ten years older than me. I was thirty-five. She looked like what she was. A school principal, matron, alcoholic wife who sold pussy on the side. Medium height, plump ass, average tits that hung like fruit, long brown hair, hazel eyes. She was never Miss America or Miss Anything. She married a teacher twink who became a pedo-twink. Their spawn was a feral asshole. She finished her smoke and got in bed with me. "Don't eat me," she warned. "I was busy earlier tonight." That sort of thing rarely deters me from eating at the 'Y' but I don't play the cleanup position, either. But you never really know who's been on the play ground before you. Her missing nightie bottom was a nice touch. "Fuck me," she said, then "fuck me hard." I did. I took her home early, before the Sun came up. Scott Jr. was still in jail. I gave Janet a hundred. "You trying to get on my good side?" She asked. "I been on both of them," I replied. Hate Crimes Inc. Ch. 03 All characters are adults. ***** Making changes and keeping the change. It took me a while to do the math but I recently discovered women fuck around on their men (and women) to 'trade up,' so to speak. Often that starter fuck don't do the job nomore, and it's time to make a change and keep the change. I'm not clear about what happened to bring on the uproar but the Usual Suspects went apeshit and started a riot downtown. The whole police force turned out for the fun. In the event I stood behind my boss, Glenna Beck, formerly Glenn Beck. So there was screaming and yelling and pushing and shoving, and one of the assclowns got caught up in the fun and pulled out his shiv. Assclown was in front of Beck at the time, and bought an express ticket to heaven compliments of me. Jesus Fuggin Christ on roller skates! The knife fell outta Sambo's hand and vanished during the 5 alarm 911 clusterfuck that followed. Plenty of cops saw the knife but not one assclown or Beck, either. I went home for an unscheduled vacation while the great minds wrestled with the problem. It's when I met Darla. Darla Kilgore was a neighbor in the apartment next door to mine. She was married to Richie Cunningham or his twin brother. Darla worked at the Supercenter as a cashier, days. She was twenty-nine with shoulder length brown hair. Five-four tall, and over one-eighty pounds. Her average tits didn't yet sag, they and their fat nipples dangled. No kids as yet. She was your average plain jane, who wore thick glasses, and who found a husband. Richie worked at her store, overnights, stocking hardware. Maybe they met at the store, I can't remember what she told me. I was outside cleaning my car when we collided. She was toting bags of groceries into her apartment, and struggling with a large bundle of water bottles. Twenty-four pint bottles is twenty-five pounds or so. Good neighbor that I am I carried them inside for her. Richie was at his mom's house helping out. But I got a cheery thanks for the help, and I went back to my car. I got done a little before noon and went inside to fix lunch, a tuna fish sandwich with some chips and a Diet Coke. About the time I sat down to eat the doorbell rang. It was Darla. "Could you open this jar for me?" "Had lunch yet?" I asked. "I was making lunch. Tuna fish. But I can't open the relish jar." I twisted the lid open. "Fix yourself a plate, there's some sangria in the fridge," I said. We ate and talked about shit. She loosened up after a few glasses of the wine. "Mind if I ask you a question?" "Shoot," I said. "What do you think of the online date sites?" "You wanting to sell some pussy?" I asked. "We need the money, and a friend said it's a good way to make quick cash." "What's your old man say?" I asked. "He doesn't know," she replied. I pulled a hundred outta my wallet and put it by her plate. "Come see me if you ever wanna give it a whirl." "I thought it paid more than that," she said. "That's a deposit," I replied. "You get the rest after, not before." "Richie works tomorrow," she said. "C'mon over, if he is," I replied. "Mind if I smoke?" She asked. "Go ahead," I said. "Lemme go get em," she said and left. I used the time to fetch a couple of joints. She didn't return immediately but was gone fifteen minutes or so. She'd changed clothes. "Richie called and said he's be home later, his mom wants him to stay for supper." She pulled out a cigarette and I lit it. "Can I ask you a personal question?" "Shoot," I replied. "Am I too fat?" "Too fat for what?" "You know, too fat for men to find attractive?" "Depends on the man, Darla. Some men, especially the brothers, love big girls." Darla smiled and said "You're very astute." I cocked my head to the side and she smiled again, "I do get a lot of attention from black men. Dating black men is a fantasy. Do white guys like big women?" "Sure they do." "What about you?" "I'd like to sleep with you," I replied. She seemed pleased. But there was more. Her eyes betrayed a warmth. "Yuh really think so? Am I sexy?" " Hell yeah!' I added. "Don't flatter me," she said, then shifted position a bit and leaned forward. Her cleavage was more obvious with the top and I was looking down it. She knew it and showed me plenty. I felt horny. I looked at her legs and feet, and thought about the whole package. "I find you attractive now. I noticed her eyes boring a hole through me. I looked up and the next thing I knew she was looking at the swelling bulge in my jeans. I could not hide it and did not bother to try. She seemed pleased that my body was responding and not just my mouth. Darla fumbled for another cigarette. I handed her a joint and lit it. God help me, I luv the bottom feeders, and they're all bottom feeders when you offer the right feed. "Yeah Darla, you're hot!" She smiled and it looked like a tear welled up in the corner of her eye. I figured now came the bawling and the 'you're so nice, ' but Darla had other things in mind. She rose from the table and I studied her. Her shorts were tight. She had plump thighs and a really nice, bubble butt. Her loose tee-shirt was a couple sizes too large and the neck was old and stretched out so when she leaned over there was miles of cleavage inches from me. I stared at her tits as she displayed them for me. Seeing my reaction, the one on my face and the one in my jeans, she tossed her line in one last attempt to land her prey. "Do you really think anyone would want me for money?" In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought, then replied, looking her in the eyes. "Darla, you sold plenty of pussy before you met your husband." She smiled but didn't respond to the question. I rose, she took my hand in hers, and led me to the bedroom. "Get me stoned. I'm feeling depressed and wanna have some fun." I acted innocent. "I haven't had a buzz since I got married, and about now I think it's what I want most, besides getting laid." I produced the other joint from my shirt pocket. We sat on the bed next to each other. She giggled and kept up the sex questions as the pot took effect. Then "You wanna 'get naked' with a hot wife?" "Yes." She smiled at me, took another hit off the joint and said "You need to be careful." "Of what?" I responded. "The cop." "What cop?" I wondered. "They told me a cop lives here. I think they wanted me to feel safe." "I'm the cop." "You're shitting me!" "I showed her my stuff." "Oh my god!" I looked at her and she went dead serious on me. "What now?" She looked at me and studied my reaction to her question. "Wanna fuck?" Darla took my hand, looked at me and whispered, "Do you want me?" I did. I leaned over and we kissed and it was hot. She took my hands and put them on her tits. "God that feels good," she whispered in my ear as we explored each other's mouths with our tongues, and I kneaded her tits. She felt my cock with her hand. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Don't you ever breathe a word to anyone." We lay back on the bed and kissed passionately. I grabbed her tits and pulled on them hard and she sighed. She unfastened my belt, unsnapped my jeans, and pulled my zipper down. Then pushed her hand inside my underwear and gripped my fattening cock. "Oh my God, that feels so good," she huffed under her breath. She took the lead. "Take off my shirt," she commanded, and I did. Her tits felt nice. "Take off my bra, baby." I unsnapped the four metal stays, one hand mind you, and her tits fell free. Her puckered and swollen nipples were dark and hard and stood tall. I lifted first one tit, then the other, to my mouth. She placed one hand on the back of my neck and guided me to the right tit, all the while her left hand pulled at my underwear. I sucked a nipple into my mouth. While I sucked her nipples, she freed my cock and slid her hand under the bottom side of it, then gently pulled at it. "Goddamn baby, you're quite a big man there." I dropped her tits and pushed my jeans and underwear past my hips and slid off my sneakers, letting my pants fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and peeled off my tee-shirt, now totally naked before my hot aunt. She smiled at me. That done, I tugged at her shorts and had her naked in no time. Her belly was fleshy, but her snatch was pretty, and hairy in just the right amount. I pulled her naked body to me and pressed my mouth against hers, my tongue wanted to stroke her tonsils. Then she pulled me atop her, where I hovered over her and kissed her as she guided my cock into her wet pussy. "Oh yeah baby, fill me up with your cock." Two shoves did it, our pubic bones were pressed together tight. She squirmed and put her hands on my ass to hold me close. I pulled back then pushed back into her till we touched again. She gasped for air after a few minutes. "Had enough?" I wondered. "No, baby, fuck me," she hissed in my ear and smiled. Darla let go of my ass while I kept the rhythm just right. She soon lifted her tits from the sides of her chest and held each up for me to suck while I pumped her. I licked, nibbled, and sucked on each nipple until she made moaning sounds. She moved her head from side to side and closed her eyes as her orgasm took hold. "I'm cumming baby, I'm cumming," she whimpered as she surrendered to the feelings. Her face turned red and her mouth opened from the the pleasure. I pumped her y harder and she came for me and soaked the bed under her ass. My balls felt wet and warm as she did it. I slowed and she lay under me trying to catch her breath. She still held one tit in each hand and I went back to sucking them. "Bite my nipples honey." I did and she orgasmed again as I kept the rhythm going until she sighed from her second nut. I lay beside her. "Get on me Darla. I want those tits smacking me in the face." I pulled her onto me, she mounted my cock, and slowly fucked my cock. "That's some cock!" She said as we fucked and talked. She came again and collapsed onto me. I put my arms around her then moved my hands to her ass, and helped her raise herself up on her palms to dangle her titties in my face. I licked and grabbed each one with my tongue and lips as she swayed them back and forth. "I'm gonna cum!" "Cum in me honey. Fill me up, baby. I've wanted you to make love to me for a long time sweetie. Give it to me." I grabbed her ass hard, she moaned "Yeah baby, grab my ass," and I began to fill her hot, tight, cunt with cum. She held herself upright on her palms and swayed her tits back and forth in my face as I filled her full. She slowed her pace and let herself down onto me when I was done. Then we kissed again. "Can I stay here a while?" "Sure." "I want you to come in my mouth and on my face before I go." My cock got hard again. "I need a drink of water." I pulled her mouth back to mine and licked her lips and chin before she got out of the bed. When she was back in bed I lit another joint we smoked together. Somewhere along the way we fell asleep. I awoke with my cock in her mouth. It was dark outside. "Lemme taste your cum." "I wanna lick your cum off my titties. God, you make me so hot! I can't believe we're doing this "Oh God. Fuck me. Cum on my face honey. Make me feel like the slutty woman I wanna be." "Get on your knees Darla" She crawled off of me and knelt on the floor by the side of the bed. I rose and stood before her. "I my cock and suck it." She swallowed me almost to the balls and looked up into my eyes as she sucked and Ied my cock. One hand held onto my ass as my cum built. "Oh fuck, I'm close." "Cum for me honey. Cum all over me. I wanna taste it and lick it off my titties. Wanna see me do that, baby?" I Ied my cock until I felt the semen on its way to the head. It felt glorious as I spurted onto Darla's face and dribbled onto her chin. The second shot hit her lips and nose, she opened her mouth wide, looked into my eyes, and said, "That's right, cum all over me!" The next wad hit her cheek, and finally all over her tits. She never let her eyes leave mine. Done spurting, she swallowed my cock all the way down. I felt her throat muscles massaging the head. Then she let my cock fall from her mouth and held up each tit to lick the cum off it. She sucked each nipple into her mouth. She did the trick with the right titty, too. I lay on the bed where she buried her face back in my crotch and sucked the head of my Clay. "Mind if I kiss you?" She was covered with cum. I pulled her to me and kissed her. She then kissed me and got busy cleaning cum from my skin when we were done. My cock got hard again. "You own my pussy, if yuh ever want to do this again." She leaned down, kissed me, and whispered, "Baby, as far as I am concerned, I am yours. You can do whatever you want with me or to me whenever you want." "Bull shit," I thought. I pushed her off of me, lay her on her back, opened her legs, and held them in my hands. I sucked her toes and licked the bottoms of her feet. I held her in that position as I pushed my cock in her again. We fucked for several minutes. As her orgasm built she moaned, "Fuck my horny pussy honey. Cum in my horny pussy. Fuck it baby. Fuck me." I did. "Now, I think a bath is in order. Wanna come over and bathe me?" "No. Don't forget your money." I handed her the second hundred. Two days later I was still at home on suspension. I wasn't bored, I have plenty of interests and a few friends. The wife of a work-friend called me, to stop by asap. Elizabeth Jones was 41 with short brown hair and gray eyes, five-six, 140 pounds, size 6. I thought she looked good in tight shorts. I parked on the street, another car, and my friend's car were on the driveway. It thundered but not close-by. I rang the doorbell and Elizabeth let me in. My work-friend, her husband, was on the floor dead. Another woman was present. Elizabeth was crying. "What happened?" I asked. After the tears stopped, and she blew her nose, the story continued: "I killed Clay," she said. Elizabeth wore a skimpy nightie beneath a quilted housecoat. "I hope I can trust you, because I can go to jail for a long time if you don't help me, I'll be ruined; do you understand?" She asked. I had a good view of her cleavage, and her knees weren't exactly touching. "Tell me what happened." "Clay went fishing and I invited Melissa over. Then Clay came home before I expected, and raised hell about Melissa. He screamed and told me to get out, and I shot him when he threatened to make trouble for Melissa." "You girls were in bed when he came in the house?" I asked. "I freaked. You gotta help me!" "Okay, so what's in it for me?" I asked. "You wanna fuck us is what you're after?" Melissa interrupted. "Sure," I replied. "Unless you got enough money to interest me. Besides, you might like it." I never figured Elizabeth for a carpet muncher. I never figured her to stray. "I will,"Elizabeth said promptly. "How often?" Melissa asked. "At least once," I replied. "Okay," Melissa agreed. As it turned out she wasn't my type. She was a girl only another girl could love. "I need one of you to follow and drive me back," I said. I took Clay to an abandoned quarry and left him there with his car. I kept the pistol Elizabeth used to kill him. To be continued. Hate Crimes Inc. Ch. 04 All characters are adults. Dear Reader, Keep in mind these tales are meant to push your buttons, good, bad, or ugly. The plan is to guide this series to a dramatic soap opera of life's losers. ***** CAST: Cole White: sociopath, cop, amateur boxer Elizabeth DuBois: Widow, alcoholic, bisexual whore. In her forties. Intelligent by virtue of disillusion. In love with love. She drinks because it provides her life with structure, she's a bisexual whore for the same reason. She hates to be alone, and people are always available for drinking or fucking. Both pasttimes are now habits. She did some hard time in group therapy after a DUI conviction, along with two or three crisis hospitalizations when her first husband left to fuck others. Second-hand Rose , she murdered her first husband when he threatened her status quo. Otherwise she cleans up well and handles 'drunk as a lord' with grace. She sips vodka from a water bottle. Elizabeth was once sexually attractive and popular but the alcohol is prying the bloom off her vine. Her pretty face is plumper and she now has a slight belly. Pouches are forming under her eyes. The drink and hint of madness in her eyes suggest she's good in bed, she is. She's no longer a slave to fashion and she wears expensive, old shoes. Camille DuBois: Elizabeth's slut daughter. Aimed to be Britney or Miley, from middle school, on. She had everything but talent and enough perspiration. She's 19 and thinks it's forever. Her ID says 21. Girls and married men are means to an end. She's a material girl, and your's if the price is right. Ruth Bankhead: Rich old cougar, not bad looking for all the miles. A broad over fifty with a lovely but incongruous sixteen-year-old Lolita face that cost her old man a fortune. Melissa Haus: In her late 20s. Over educated but high class. Warm, nervous, sad, and kind. Intelligent. A Quest knight for true love. She has terminal good intentions. She inherited a boatload of money and created an artsy-fartsy magazine that stays in the red but employs several fags. Sergeant Marisol Diez: Once heard to say women are hors-d'oeuvre, men are meat and potatoes. A Latina who eats plenty of meat and chicken. Her world is populated by angels and demons, she wants the one and needs the other. Her life is a roller-coaster, and you're welcome to ride it with her. Elizabeth and I had sex soon after she killed Clay, and plenty more sex since then. The case got assigned to a numnutz who never hadda clue. Before too long I started fucking her daughter, Camille. Camille lived at home and attended the local community college. It all began with a fistful of dollars. I knew Elizabeth wasn't home. She spent most of her time at work or drinking. Sex was punctuation in Elizabeth's world. I wanted a piece of her slut daughter so I went to see Camille. All in all, Camille was an attractive package. She wasn't obsessed with work or study or much besides a good time. Let momma take care of the bills. My impression. I rang the doorbell. Camille opened the door. "What?" I held up five, one hundred dollar bills. "Whats that for?" She asked. "A piece of your ass," I replied. She let me in and I sat on the couch, laid my right arm across the back and watched her walk and talk for about fifteen minutes; I never wondered what the hell am I doing here and how much trouble was I going to get in? She finished her conversation, came over. I handed her the cash. She sat close to me, kind of leaning against me, I reflexively dropped my arm upon her shoulders and she took her right leg, swung it over and straddled me. With her arms wrapped around my neck, she gave me our first kiss with an open mouth and aggressive tongue action. I wasn't too surprised. Being a man, I figured I would just go with the flow. I quickly reached down between us and found that she was wearing no panties. I slipped two fingers into her. She moaned grinding her hips against my hand trying to get as much of my fingers in her as possible. Knowing that they weren't going to grow any longer, I did her a favor and added a third finger. She liked it, rising up and down, giving me a chance to fully fuck my fingers in and out. Her lips never broke the seal against mine and her tongue never stopped moving. She finally broke the kiss, looked at me and said, "Fuck me." Not being one to argue with a lady, I laid her down on the couch, and removed my pants. I rubbed her pussy a couple of times then pushed all the way in. She pushed back while making grunting noises against my mouth. To me she was just a piece of meat and I'm sure she felt the same way about me. After probably less than five minutes, I asked her "Where do you want it?" She said, "In me. I don't care." I took it out and put it in her mouth. She then sucked me as she bobbed her head and licked my shaft as she face fucked her self using my dick; I was only along for the ride. After a couple of minutes, I felt the pressure increase in my balls and flow to my dick, and I shot six strong strings into her mouth which she swallowed. I didn't know if she had cum or not, I didn't really care. That done I pulled her panties down to her knees and rubbed against the lips of her pussy. They were already wet. I collected some juice on my fingertips and rubbed her love hole, up around her clit, back to the hole, and followed the crack of her ass. Every time I rubbed across her clit or rosebud, she made a small mewing sound. Then I shoved my index and middle finger into her twat, and she groaned. I worked them in and out and rubbed her clit-rosebud a bit. After a while I heard her breathing becoming heavier, and decided to add a third finger to the party. And fucked them harder and a little faster in her tunnel of luv. Her mewing turned to groans as she got wetter; her juices ran down her thighs. I knew she was about to orgasm, and jammed one of my fingerst all the way into her ass. This sent her over the edge. Next she lifted her legs with her hands behind her knees, and exposed her cunt to me. I licked it for a few minutes and then added two fingers inside her. I twisted my wrist, to open my fingers wider to stretch that pussy. She was enjoying her self groaning and bouncing her ass as I played with her tits, sucking her tongue, and speaking softly to her. She screamed as a second orgasm hit her. After she calmed down and could breath well enough to speak I asked her if it was as good as it looked, she nodded 'yes.' I told her "I'll bet a fifth finger would be even better. Do you want to try it?" With wide open eyes she nodded 'okay.' After a few minutes she moaned, gasped, and writhed about on the sofa. "Just shove it in there" and I did, with one hard push. She cried out. I was in her up to my wrist." I fisted her without planning to. She breathed fast but denied that it hurt much. "I feel so full." I then pumped her slowly with my palm facing upward to try to hit her 'G' spot with my curled finger tips. It seemed to be working. I pumped slowly until she bounced her ass yelling "faster, faster" and she came a third time. Her body then became totally still, her legs fell down, and her eyes rolled back in her head. I then put my cock in her, fucked her hard, and left a thick gooey souvenir between her legs. A chip off the ole block. It occurred to me Camille got along in life lying on her back if the price was right. Days later Elizabeth wanted to talk about it. "Camille's not part of the deal," she made it clear. "I paid her good money for what I got, it was no freebie," I replied. "I didn't need to twist her arm, either." "She made it sound like you tackled her." "I did, and with lotsa cash taped to her ass to cushion her fall. I always pay top dollar for the pussy I get." A double standard. But I wasn't ready to bail, and it didn't get in the way of some pussy from Elizabeth. If she's horny problems can wait till later. A hot pussy has no ethics or standards. I notice shit, and saw two guys breaking in a car close to me. Most of us stand around and scratch our asses when we lock ourselves outta the car. We don't stand by the car door and make furtive glances over our shoulders, as one of the guys did. And I saw his companion kneeling and removing a hubcap. I didn't wanna get involved with the cops, so I got out of my car to stick my nose where it didn't belong. Kids! Don't try this at home. Hubcap man was now on the other side of the car, and the gawker was inside, lying on the front seat with his feet sticking out the door. It's easier to steal shit from Wally World, but I guess the guys wanted OEM audio and trim. I pulled the gawker out, but not gently, about the time the driver walked up and pulled her phone outta her purse. The burglars fled. The driver was my new best friend. When she got off the phone with 911, I explained what happened and put her hubcaps back on the wheels. She checked her car, and we traded cellphone numbers. Her name was 'Ruth." Ruth hadda turned-up nose, white teeth, long-lashed blue eyes. Platinum blonde hair and unreal, but beautiful in a plastic sort of way. Nice tits on a petite body. The best one-word description for her was "hot stuff," but she bore her appeal in an aloof, almost disdainful way. She dressed in a dark blue suit, a fuzzy baby-blue short-sleeve sweater caressed her bosom. She wasn't wearing a bra, as her nipples were showing through the fabric and it was like her tits were thumbing their noses at everyone looking at her. Her skirt was short. She had about her, a subtle hardness in the unlined face that let you know she was older than she appeared, that she was a broad over forty stuck with a lovely but incongruous sixteen-year-old Lolita face. I wanted her. "Call me if you need me," I said. And I left, went home, and went to bed. She called soon after I was in bed. We talked till dawn. Then she stopped by to see me, and climbed in the bed beside me. She smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, especially her hair. She started snoring almost immediately. In sleep the back of her hand found my cock. Ruth was on her side with her back to me. After I became erect Ruth pressed her ass against me and moaned softly. She seemed asleep but I wasn't certain. I thought of going out to the couch but when I started to pull away from her, she whispered something like, "Not yet," and placed my hand on her hip. "Are you awake?" I asked. She didn't reply, and I turned over to lie on my back. Then I decided to leave. As I lifted up to go I felt her fingers wrap around my dick, sensed her moving, and felt her wet mouth slide over the head of his cock. "Ruth?" She said nothing but started coating the head of my cock with gobs of saliva as she jacked me slowly. What's a guy to do? "A stiff dick has no conscience," I thought. "She won't remember this later." And it didn't stop me from fingering her. She didn't resist or say a word, and her hole was plenty wet. When I felt the ejaculation coming I tried to pull out of her mouth, but her fingers tightened around me and held me till I spurted. Then she licked me clean with long, languid wet strokes. Done, Ruth straddled me and pushed her wet hole down my cock, then fucked me hard with her strong pelvic thrusts till I felt her squeeze my dick with her pussy, tremble, and relax. After a while she snuggled next to me, resumed snoring, and that was it. When I awoke Ruth was in the kitchen, on the phone. I poured a cup of coffee and listened to the phone chatter. Halfway through my cup Ruth leaned over my shoulder, topped off my coffee, then touched my shoulder and the back of my head as she poured it. I smelled a hint of spunk on her. Nothing was said about what happened during the night. I decided to let sleeping dogs alone. A day or two later I came home late from a date with Elizabeth and found Ruth asleep on the couch. The tv was on and a bottle of wine sat open on the coffee table. She was snoring. I went to bed then awoke with Ruth's mouth full of my cock. I switched on the lamp. It wasn't a dream. Her mane of strawberry blonde hair concealed her face. I pushed it back, behind her ear, to watch her gobble my meat. Ruth looked at me and kept gobbling. "I'm gonna cum," I warned her, she gobbled harder till I did it, then raised up so I saw the cum in her mouth spill out and drool down her chin. "Fuck me," she whispered, and got on her hands and knees, with her ass in my face. "In your ass or pussy?" "I don't care," she replied. Ruth had nice tits. They looked average to my eyes but filled her bras and tee shirts. Her bush was red, too. Afterwards she lay on her stomach, her muscles contracting her pussy as she panted. Her pussy lips were swollen up plump. I fingered her slit for a while, till she crawled up beside me and went to sleep. Elizabeth called me around eleven o'clock. "Meet me for lunch," she said. We met at a Chinese place called MANIAXE BUFFET. "I came by last night but you had company," she said. "You want me to move in with you so I'm available?" "I want you when I want you." "So think about it, and when you got a direction you wanna go for, lemme know." "I hid chunks of me from Clay for twenty years. He cut me plenty of slack with the drinking and some other weaknesses, but I have needs and Melissa pushed him over the edge." "I'm confused. What I hear you saying is you want me to sleep in the same bed as you most of the time, and sleep on the sofa when your friends drop by. Did I miss something?" "You make me seem like a fool." "I don't know what you want from me. I said what I think you want. If I got it wrong straighten me out." "I do want you in my bed, and I do want others occasionally." "Most people sneak around or someone sleeps on the sofa every night, is how the rest of the world does it. So think about it and lemme know what works for you. I don't care if you smoke and drink and fuck around. I just don't want what you do and who you do to make my life shit, but I don't object to any of it in principle." I moved in and the fun began. I recognized Marisol Diez the instant I saw her on the bed with Elizabeth. Diez was a patrol sergeant where I worked. I had no idea she was a carpet muncher. We weren't confidantes. Diez was a bbw Latina, around two hundred pounds. Black hair, white pasty skin. Bright, bold paint. Her ass and thighs carried the weight. Her belly wasn't extreme but you could sure as pinch an inch anywhere. It was mid afternoon. I had been to my apartment to collect a load of shit to move to Elizabeth's home. Her doors weren't locked or nuthin. I walked in the door, went to the bedroom with a box of stuff, and there they were. Diez shit, I was cool. "Hello Sarge," I said. "Lemme sit this down and I'll gi,ve you some privacy." I put the box on the floor and left, closing the bedroom door behind me. Diez got dressed in a New York minute, came outta the bedroom, and said, "Can we talk?" Elizabeth put on a robe and followed her out to the kitchen. "I stopped her for DUI, and here we are. Is this gonna be a problem?" She asked. "Mi casa es su casa," I replied. "My lips are sealed. I never saw you. What happens here stays here. I'm okay with whatever the two of you wanna do. Look! Go home, have a drink, soak in the tub, and when your trauma goes away give Elizabeth a call if you're still interested," I said. "Cole I don't trust you further than I can throw you!" Diez replied. "It could be opportunity knocking on the door! Relax and think it over," I said. She and Elizabeth looked at each other. "Call me later," Elizabeth said. "Okay," Diez said and left. "I got pulled over and one thing led to another," Elizabeth explained. "I told you it's not a problem. So relax," I replied. "Later, we'll go get your car." I was thinking I might get some of Diez's pussy if I played my cards right. Elizabeth got a call, and so did I. My call came from a police cell phone. "Hello?" I said. "Meet me at your apartment later." It was Diez. "What time?" I asked. "Eight o'clock," she replied and hung up. To be continued Hate Crimes Inc. Ch. 05 All characters are adults. ***** Cast of Characters: Ruby Sparkman: An appealing American woman put together on an assembly-line and mass produced for men across America. Detective Dodie Hilton: She looked like a plump poodle with a sweet face. Her husband ran off with a Jehovah's Witness long ago. She lived alone with a cat though she never lacked for cock. Her associates called her a serial slut. She gave me plenty of her plump pussy. ***** Elizabeth took a nap and awoke sober. I took her to get her car, then I went to my apartment to see Sergeant Diaz. Diaz was dressed casually and drove her Chrysler Sebring. She came to the door after I parked and opened the front door of the apartment. I turned the air on and made me comfortable. She joined me. I'm no inquisitor so I waited for her to speak her mind. "You're coming back to work and assigned to me, she said. "I fought it but that's how it is." "It sucks to be us," I said. I wasn't surprised I got demoted from detective to road patrol. I wasn't consulted for an opinion but they didn't have any legal grounds to fire me outright. The whole deal was political because the stiff was a Usual Suspect known to all. My pay and bennies remained the same, and prestige means shit to me. Diaz knew what she had with me. I'd get the job done and piss everyone off doing it, because I'm deaf, dumb, and blind when it comes to kissing ass, and that's how it is. "Sarge, drop your drawers and I'll kiss your sweet ass with gusto, but I ain't getting in bed with your bosses to win hearts and minds. Homey the Clown don't play that game." "I hope you don't try and use what happened with your wife to fuck me." "I plan to use cash with you. I already told you what happens at her house stays at her house. She isn't my wife, and if you wanna get in her pants it's okay with me. I'll be the last person to kick you outta our bed." "You don't care?" "I don't care lots. I mean I want some of you, too, and I plan to get some, but it don't piss me off when someone else gets some, too. And I'm not too proud to turn down a charity fuck if you ever change your mind about me." "Anything I need to know about Elizabeth?" "She's a drunk, but you already know that. And she doesn't know the meaning of fidelity, if what you're feeling for her is love. Just keep your eyes open when you're in her bed feelin' luv. Enjoy!" Diaz beat me to Elizabeth's place when I stopped to do my boxing workout. I became a boxer because it's the most honorable way to be me. All the other ways involve something else giving you permission to be whatever. Usually booze or drugs or madness or your partner or some pip squeak in the main office or city hall. Boxing lets me make the other guy hurt like a bastard, too, when he wallops me. You can't kick a whisky bottle's ass. My work out place is a stall at a storage place. The equipment is simple and inexpensive: A jump rope, and two punching bags. I do it the Rocky Way. But at thirty-five I'm an old fuck. A boxer hits his peak at twenty-seven, by thirty-seven he's sitting in a rocker. Back home, I saw Marisol's Sebring parked out front along the curb. I went inside. The bedroom door was shut. I put my boxes of shit in the garage, showered, and left. I went to the Come & Go for coffee and was warming a bus stop bench when Tyrone Mohammed Islam Jackson came out of the store. Tyrone was wasted, and giggling with his companions. I stared at Tyrone. Tyrone saw it. "What you lookin at, fool?" Tyrone's aspect changed to a hard frown. "I'm watching you," I stood up. "I'm curious to see if you can run across this busy street without getting run over. What do you think?" "I think you're fulla shit," Tyrone said. "Then come on over here and let's see," I said. "Kiss my mutha fuggin ass!" Tyrone replied. "Come on over here, man." "Mutha fucka you better get your tired ass down the road before your luck dumps your ugly ass." I pulled out a pissant pistol I carry in my pocket. "C'mon over here, Tyrone. I'm gonna count three and shoot your skinny ass if you're not here by then. One! " Tyrone walked over to me. "That's a good nigga. Now stand on the curb facing the street. That's right. When I say GO you take off for the other side as fast as you can. OK? I'm gonna fill your ass with caps if youre still here after I count to three." I smiled at Tyrone's friends. "Ready, Tyrone?" "Fuck you mutha fucka," Tyrone snarled. "Go!" I said without warning. Tyrone jumped onto the pavement, dodged the first car, and the second, and was hit by a truck when he crossed the center-line. I then waved the pistol around the scene to chase away witnesses, it was time to leave. Ruby Sparkman looked out the window of her Cadillac at me. "He needed killing," she said. "Where you headed?" "No where in particular," I replied. "Then get in the car." I got in beside her. She cranked up the Cadillac, backed out of her spot, and we were off. On the highway she pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it, then cracked the window to exhaust the smoke. "You mind?" She asked. "No," I replied. "That's what I like about you, Cole, you don't make everyone crazy with self righteous bull shit." She took a drag from the cigarette. "I won Miss Congeniality back in the 1955 Miss America Pageant." "Really, I thought you were a lot younger than sixty." "I am, but if Bruce can be a girl I can be old." We passed shops and bars and parked cars and kids and winos on the way to wherever in hell we were headed. "You gonna embarrass me where we're going?" She asked. "I don't even know where we're going." "We're gonna mingle. Mingling with folks goes with my job, and I ain't dragged nobody off to a bedroom so far. So put a cork in that, too. You'll be first to know if I change my mind. And take it easy on the booze!" "I don't drink," I replied. Ruby Sparkman looked forty-something, stood 5 foot-five with bobbed auburn hair and green eyes; 160 pounds stuffed into size 12 pants and a small blouse. An appealing American woman put together on an assembly-line and mass produced for men across America. She worked for Jack Grant, a member of the Salt Springs City Council and owner of Sparky's Heart O' Dixie Trailer Park. Ruby owned a miniscule piece of the property, and lent her name to it. Friends called her Sparky. We went to a soiree some fucking where. For all you Harvard grads reading this a soiree is like getting together for a playoff game where all get drunk listening to faggots recite their poems, or listen to old lezzie perfessers brag about their chaste pussies. But even the self respecting queers skeedaddle to bedrooms when the hostess isn't looking. Ruby fled to a bathroom for a smoke asap. Ruby was desperate for a cigarette, and hadda pee, to boot. After peeing and flushing the toilet, she washed her hands, applied hand lotion, adjusted her black thigh-highs and tugged at her dress. It was short, tight, and strapless. She checked her cleavage in the mirror. She wasn't a girl anymore, but didn't need a bra. Then she touched up her lipstick, and lit up a cigarette. At about the same time Jack Grant, her boss, lured the housekeeper into a bedroom for a quickie. Cleo Flores was an illegal, everyone knew it, and she bought favors from benefactors, on the installment plan. Mostly men, but not always. Cleo's room was dark but for the patches of moonlight on the bed and floor. She and Jack laid on the bed in the moonlight, Cleo atop him, her black hair loose; they tongue kissed, she impaled on his cock, riding it with her thighs and bottom as he steadied her hips with his hands. She whispered lewd observations and desires into his ears. Strings of spit fell from her lips upon him. "I toll you your mama and wife gonna be very mad when they see us together, why you always love me when they around?" C;eo whispered. "You tired of my cock, querida?" Jack asked. "No, baby, I love your cock in me, but if we caught making love we can no fuck no more, because the lady get rid of me, you understand?" Cleo explained. "You fuck me too much, baby, maybe you wanna put a baby in Cleo, is true?" "You want a baby, mi querida?" He asked. "Maybe. My worthless son of a bitch maricone husband no good for making babies," she said. "Ooo that feels good, querida." Cleo breathed hard, then sighed, then opened her eyes and lifted her bottom off Jack. Jack watched his cum ooze from her hole and flow, like thick white wax, down his hot candle. "I need to clean myself and go downstairs before the lady looks for me." "No, lie back and I'll take care of you," he said. "What nasty woman teach you to do this?" Cleo cooed. "Want me to stop?" He asked. "I no say stop, I say who the nasty woman that make you do this?" She whispered. "Do you like it?" He asked. "Si, but it nasty," she said. Lynn Pepper, the hostess, missed Ruby soon enough and timed her absence, then made a mental note that Jack, too, was missing in action. She got another drink and waited. Thirty minutes later Jack re-appeared, with his zipper down. Cleo went to the kitchen. Lynn got another drink and brooded. Ruby waited a few minutes after Jack and Cleo left the bedroom before she went down stairs, too, just in case they might see her in the hall; and showed up five minutes after Jack did. Cloe had one blouse button open. Lynn saw it, so did her husband, Herb. "Did you have a nice fuck with my maid?" He asked Jack. "What!" Jack said. "Are you drunk?" "Herb! You're talking nonsense! Stop it," Lynn said, gripping his arm with her fingers. Herb pulled her fingers loose. "Bull shit! I saw both of you leave together, and return about the same time. Romeo's zipper is down, and her blouse is unbuttoned! See for yourself." Then he slapped Cleo and tried to punch Jack, when someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him away. Herb pulled loose, staggering. "Fine," he said. "You want her? You're welcome to the cunt." Then he left. Cleo sobbed. Carol Mahoney sat on one side of her, Lynn Pepper sat on the other side. Both women were blondes. Carol was a friend from work, and the real boss over all the clerks and assistants at city hall. Carol was married to a cop named Mickey and wearing a short red dress, white thigh-highs, a Santa hat, a necklace of bells around her neck, and red lips. Her hem was too high, and she sat with a hand between her thighs. Her three-inch red heels accentuated the muscles in her calves. Pepper was a circuit court judge. She and Ruby were friends for many years, ever since Pepper hired Ruby as her judicial assistant. Lynn met Herb, a lawyer, at law school long ago. "C'mon outside, sweetie; at least we can smoke out there," Carol suggested. "Let me freshen our drinks," Pepper said. A Chevy pulled up behind Herb and activated its emergency lights. Herb turned the wheel and drove up over the curb before he stopped. The cop flooded the scene with his light bar. Another police car with lights flashing approached the scene from the opposite direction, and pulled up behind the first cop after making a u-turn. The first cop was at least six-four and 200 pounds. The other cop got out of his car and looked about as solid as the first. Herb lowered the Cadillac's window. The 2nd cop monitored Herb from the passenger side. "License, insurance, and registration, please," the first cop said. Rubber neckers slowed to see what was happening. The 2nd cop was wondering where the 'Uh-oh' Squad was, when a black kid on a bicycle rode up and stopped to check it out. Within two minutes an old guy wearing a beret joined the kid, and at the end of ten minutes a dozen people stood watching the show. The cop put Herb on a line painted along the side of the street, told him to start walking, and Herb headed off into someone's yard. The cop cuffed him and asked dispatch to send a tow-truck, so I heard. This was more fun than I wanted. A gal took my hand and led me away, outside to her Mercedes. I didn't know her from Adam. She took me to an old hotel in the slum. Andrea Siple looked forty-ish with her soft skin and droopy tits. Her red hair was shoulder length. Her eyes were green. After she undressed I saw her small tits with their dark, fat nipples, and her trimmed pubes. I estimated she was five-six or so and around one-forty. The skin around her belly had old stretch marks. She was Jewish. She sat on the mattress and I joined her. "Did you bring protection?" She asked. "No," I replied. "That's okay, I like to play with fire; I get cinged occasionally." "I noticed," I said. "I want you to burn me, will you do that?" "If it takes all summer," I spoke softly. "My husband likes it when I come home smelling like a fuck swamp; I like it, too. He really loves when I get a baby bump." Them white boys get more cock than the white women these days. Andrea chatted and sighed as I moved my tongue around her gash. "Maybe the three of us can get together some time," Andrea suggested. "Ooo that feels good. Would you mind if my husband filmed us?" Detective Dodie Hilton came inside the Palafox. The Slum was part of her district and I was a suspect she wanted. Dodie Hilton was thirty-something with short, bobbed, blonde hair. She looked like a plump poodle with a sweet face. Her eyes were hazel. She was stout and robustly built with sturdy legs, wide hips, thick arms, ample breasts, and two rings of blubber around her middle. Two hundred-something pounds packed in size 20 pants. Her husband ran off with a Jehovah's Witness long ago. She lived alone with a cat though she never lacked for cock. Her associates called her a serial slut. She gave me plenty of her fat pussy, because she knew I like her fat pussy. The lobby was quiet and the clerk was no helpm she heard intermittent familiar sounds coming from somewhere in the building, and went looking for the source of the sound. After shaking door handles and pushing dead elevator buttons she found the bar, then the staircase, and went upstairs. She checked all the rooms on the 2nd floor but saw no one, then went up the stairs to the 3rd floor. It sounded like someone, a woman, was in trouble in one of the rooms. So Dodie followed the hallway to our room, peeked through the door and saw Andrea's mouth filled with my cock. Andrea looked like Jessica Rabbit with tiny tits, and looked good with her red hair draped over me. I stood beside the old bed, Andrea sat on her legs working my cock like she was Cool Hand Luke chopping high grass along the road, panting and cooing, "Gimmee that cum!" Then she turned around, on hands and knees, and spread her legs so I could push my cock into her wet place. Neither of us saw Dodie, our eyes were closed, but Dodie's pussy noticed us and itched, and both women wanted cock filling their wet holes. Dodie's cunt itched just like when she started college and fucked married grad students and perfessers down in the basement of the library. The basement saved her ass a lot. Andrea soon noticed Dodie but said nothing until after my nut was safely inside her. Andrea turned her head around and spoke to Dodie, "Don't be shy, c'mon in." I then looked at Dodie, too. Dodie looked at my cock in Andrea's moist, creamy bottom and slowly pushed the door open and came in the room. Andrea got out of bed, walked over to Dodie and unbuttoned Dodie's blouse. Dodie let her handbag slip off her shoulder, down her arm, to the floor, as Andrea pulled down the zipper on Dodie's skirt. The skirt fell to the floor. Dodie stepped out of it and followed Andrea to the bed where I removed her bra. We sexed her up then took care of business as we dressed. "The word is you killed Tyrone," she said. "Tyrone who?" I played dum. "Tyrone the piece of shit thug boy," she replied. "All I gotta say is, you won't find any caps in his ass, or my finger prints on his throat. Maybe God dropped a house on him." "That's what happened. I'm told you were there when it happened. Lotsa folks wanna know what happened. Your car is at the scene." "My car is at the store, I am here, and my friend brought me to this place from a party across town. The press humping your leg?" Dodie collected her info and we all left. Andrea took me back to my car. I gave her my number. Diaz was gone when I got home, Elizabeth was atop our bed in her WALMART baby doll nightie that didn't hide much of the good stuff. "Hey, sailor!" She said. "Your next best friend go home?" "A little while ago. You shoulda joined us." "I didn't see the welcome mat by the door when I got home." "You were missed. Next time don't be shy." To be continued