"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."
