Bad Cop, Worse Cop, Worst Cop

"Yeah," I mused. I hadn't actually thought about that. Tori's hand was just about to haul my dick out when she stopped abruptly.

"Wait. It's Wednesday." She peered over at me. "Isn't this your night with Jack?"

"For another hour," I nodded. Tori's green eyes narrowed. "What? Relax. I needed to see you." I swished a fry through the aioli. "And, you know, I found a sitter..."

She stared a moment, and then threw back her head and laughed. "Fuck." She said it quietly; we did not need to be attracting attention. "You've got this chick over at your apartment right now?"

I shrugged. "She's really good with Jack. Puts him right down."

Tori shook her head. "And you were going to, like, cum right here for me?" She smiled at me a little sadly. "You're stupid, Michael. You need to be saving it up for her."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Twice in one night is no problem for me."

"Three or four times is no problem for you," she agreed. "But she's the one who deserves all four. Shit. The girl you're describing deserves five." She giggled. "I almost want to come home with you, just to see what she's got planned."

I pondered. "I'm not sure that'd be a good idea."

She laughed again. "Tell me about it this weekend; I'm sure I'll be back in town to soothe Dani." She ripped her hand out. "I can finish this another time." I wasn't sure whether she was referring to my penis or her French fries.

* * *

Jack was, of course, ready to go back to Roberta's when I got home. I'd known he would be, even though I was a tad early; it was critically important that I get him back there right on time, so I'd left very, very specific instructions to Emma when she'd arrived. "You will have him in clothes and shoes, ready to leave, the moment I walk in after dinner. If you don't, I'll stop this little arrangement of ours, make a call to your vice principal, and then you're on your own." I don't think she'd been ready for me to be quite so brusque, but I didn't care; where keeping Roberta's stained-ass self out of my life, I didn't mess around. "Don't fuck this up, Emma."

"I won't, sir," she replied, her big eyes wide and startled. She was looking her usual fetching self, in sensible shorts and with her tits on display beneath yet another v-neck, but I didn't even reach out for a squeeze; I was late, so it wasn't like I was going to stick around and flirt. There'd be time for that later, I hoped, and at that point I was looking forward to a rare date with the splendid Tori. We saw each other maybe once every six weeks for nice, civilized meals followed, invariably, by rough, bruising, caveman sex.

Only this time, Tori had failed me. She'd left me outside the restaurant with a solid, possessive kiss, a harsh grip of my ass through my pants, and a moist whisper in my ear. "Go punish her, Michael," she'd breathed. "Go treat her like a fucking whore." She'd let her tongue trace around my ear, wiggling inside like an enthusiastic fish. "Remember, she left you with blue balls the other night, and nobody does that to you." Her final squeeze of my cock had been a benediction. "Leave her limping, and then tell me about next time you cum into my snatch."

Phoah. "Well," I'd drawled, getting predictably amped. "If you insist." And so I'd gone barreling home, speeding dangerously and jabbing my little portable siren on when I didn't feel like stopping for lights; it's the kind of thing I do sometimes, whether I'm in a hurry or not. Passing plebs, hurriedly pulling over to look at me as I flew by, had that furrowed-brow look that told me they were proud of themselves for getting out of the way of a fearless and dedicated public service professional in obvious pursuit of some fiend. I chuckled as I thought about how they'd feel if they knew the only thing I was in pursuit of was pussy.

That goes on a lot more often than you'd think, citizens. I've never met a cop who hasn't done it, women included.

My tires chirped to a stop in my driveway, and I was on my way to the front door with the engine still running. Emma was startled to see me, lounging on the couch with Jack playing nearby. "Hi, Officer LaFratta," she stammered, and I scooped my son up with a serious Old Larry glare down at the girl.

"I'll be back soon," I growled. "Be ready, Emma."

She'd recovered already, making sure Jack was looking away before she gave me a very slow, very grown-up smile. "Of course, Officer," she breathed, sounding like Marilyn Monroe and arching her back. "Drive safely, sir."

Roberta lived maybe ten minutes away, so naturally I made it there in around seven. I'd never dropped Jack off so early. She came suspiciously to the door. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Mike?" she growled sarcastically as she looked at me through her shitty storm door. "Megan is here."

Who gave a shit? She'd been an exciting and highly competent little bitch in the sack, and she was the mother of my kid (the two were related, obviously), but I had no idea why Roberta thought her arrival would matter to me. "I got called in, Roberta. Can't stay and chat with you," I snapped. Might as well remind her what it looked like when a real cop was on his way out into the streets. Even though I wasn't. "I'll call about the next pickup."

"Megan wants to talk to you," she pressed. She didn't open the door, so I waited a moment and then reached out and did it myself.

"No time." Jack toddled through, happy enough. Emma put him in a good mood, which was unusual during drop-off. Roberta frowned down at him in confusion. "Love you, tiger!" I called. I glanced at Roberta, knowing Megan was probably listening somewhere inside. "She has my number," I shrugged. "It's always nice to see her. Tell her hi." I stayed a moment to let my mouth slide into a slow, cruel grin, just for Roberta, just so that she could think of me fucking her daughter. "See you later."

I was off, my car flashing up the road with Megan leaning out and waving at me in the rearview mirror. Hmm. That was unfinished business, there. It had been years since I'd fucked her, since a few months after Jack had arrived, but maybe she wanted another ride on the LaFratta sex train.

How was I supposed to know?

The curtains were drawn when I got back to my apartment. I was already semihard as I took the stairs two at a time and headed back along the anonymous line of my neighbors' doors. Even though this was my own fucking home, I felt like an invading enemy soldier. And Christ, did I ever have a battering ram.

I saw her long hair first, spread across the back of the couch like a banner hung over a baseball stadium balcony. The TV was on quietly, something involving scantily-clad twentysomethings dating each other. I closed the door loudly and locked it without thinking. I felt my mouth go dry. "You ready for me, Ms Kiley?" Not that her answer mattered; I was certainly ready for her.

And this was my game. She was just playing it.

I saw the head move, cocking to one side. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun, Officer," she said, low and confident. "Come on over and sit with me."

I took my time, savoring the anticipation; the payoff was going to be tremendous. "I'm pleased you seem to be making yourself at home."

"I wasn't sure how late I'd be," she said, and I could tell she was smiling. "I brought a change of clothes, just in case." And then I came around the corner of the couch and looked down at her, speechless.

"I can see that," I eventually managed, all raspy.

Every chick looks good in lingerie, but some chicks look better than others. Emma Kiley appeared to be one of the ones who looked better. The bustier was black and silky and strapless, cut just above her navel. I saw lace along the edges, right above that smooth, tiny waist, with more lace in panels along the sides, holding the garment together while her tits tried to burst it apart. They lay high on her chest, nestled in the shining black cups, like a pair of coconuts: luscious and inviting, the kind of flesh I could drown in.

I had a sudden urge to whip out my cock and jerk it all over her long, lean body, because there's nothing like the sight of cum on black silk, stretched tight over a woman's body.

She had a matching thong on, but from the way she was sitting, sideways with her long legs stretched out, you couldn't really see it. Black thigh-high fishnets completed the picture; maybe she'd asked some prior bitch of mine for my preferences, or maybe she'd just lucked into it, but nothing in the world got me going like a pair of legs in fishnet stockings.

"I brought a pair of boots," she confessed leisurely, enjoying the way my eyes roved across her body, "but I remembered you don't like shoes on the couch." She had a pair of slender black glasses perched on her nose. "I hope you approve, sir."

"Very good," I murmured, my cock like a tentpole.

"So, if you'd feel comfortable," she went on, laying her head back against the cushions as she displayed herself for me, "I was thinking I'd offer you another chance at one of my famous backrubs. I thought the foot massage went well last time; didn't you?" She looked fresh and fetching and innocent, or as innocent as a woman with a scandalous body can look while laid out in an expensive bustier. "I promise, you'll be very pleased."

I swallowed. "That'd be fine, Ms Kiley." She smirked. "Should I sit, or lie down?"

She frowned. "I like to start seated, but if you'd feel more comfortable I'd be more than happy to accommodate you in your bed, sir." She winked, her makeup obviously painstakingly applied; she'd been busy while I was gone. She flowed into a new position on the couch, swinging her legs gracefully to the floor and scooting far back until her body was crushed into the cushions. Looking up at me with pursed lips, her eyes huge and bold, she spread her legs wide. "Take a seat, Officer."

The thong was tiny; there was no way she had any hair down there. The slender black straps were low on her hips. I gazed at her pussy and strung things out a bit further. "I should probably remove my jacket, Ms Kiley; my shirt too, maybe?"

"Maybe," she agreed, husky-voiced and tempting. "Or I could take them off for you."

Shit. "Personal service?" I replied, splitting the baby as I shrugged out of my jacket. It was leather, and smelly. I left it on the floor. "You can pick that up later," I added.

"Of course I will," she simpered, and the feel of her body behind and around me as I sat down was intoxicating. Her thighs pressed alongside my legs, and I smelled perfume and pussy; she wasted no time with her hands, hauling my shirt out of my pants and sending her fingers straight up along the skin of my back and sides. When she spoke, her mouth was whispering right into my ear. "Long day?"

"Long and hard," I murmured back, guessing she'd enjoy the double-entendre; I parted my own legs, daring her not to reach right down there and start things off with a quick handjob. She giggled.

"Like your dick?" she whispered. "I could see it when you came around the couch, sir." I heard a soft, insistent smacking noise and felt her tongue in my ear, stirring the saliva that Tori had already left there. "Are you sure that's appropriate, sir, a decorated police officer getting aroused by a mere teenager?" She kissed my neck, wet little smacks all the way down. Her fingers came around to tangle themselves in my chest hair. "I should call 911."

"Go ahead." I leaned back, and now I felt the warm, soft mass of her two tits pressing against me. "I know the dispatcher."

"Mmm." She moved her hands and arms, and my shirt was rising over my head, pushed from the inside. I didn't care what she'd think of how I looked. I'm not the world's biggest gym-rat, but I've never been a big eater. I had nothing to be ashamed of, bodywise, and who cared if I did anyway. She was substantially more than some cheap, sleazy bitch, but at the end of the day she was still just a cooze who I'd bailed out of a jam. I wasn't here to please her, though I'd be fine with it if it happened. "So my complaint wouldn't be taken seriously, you're saying?"

"I'm saying they'd tell you to talk to the officer in question, to see if you could come up with a satisfactory resolution." She was all over me now, her hands tracing and tickling. "I'm sure we can, Ms Kiley."

"Mm-hmm," she whispered again. I felt teeth on my earlobe. "Are you happy with your backrub, Officer LaFratta?" Horseshit. My back hadn't even been touched yet, really. Lips on my neck, fingers on my chest, with my cock aching against the inside of my pants, I laid my head back onto a smooth young shoulder, my world now bounded by that light perfume and the shade of her long, dark hair. I heard her laugh softly in my ear, her body spreading to embrace me with her arms and legs, and just like that the game was on.

Trembling, my own hands found the strong, sexy thighs beneath those magnetic stockings, running slowly around, underneath, to lift her knees. My head twisted sideways as hers came lazily around, her smile self-assured and her eyes closed, and then our lips met. She tasted like mints, like the red-and-white kind you get as you leave restaurants, and I felt the hot explosion of her breath in my mouth when my hands dug down, down into the couch cushion, working behind my body to clutch at her pussy.

She nearly bucked me off her, yelping in surprise even as she was gnawing on my tongue, but I held on tight. One hand gathered the front of her thong in a tight fist, while the other worked backwards, blindly, to jam two fingers into her slit. She was soaking. "Fuck!" she grunted as soon as she got herself untangled from my teeth. My fingers were pinching gently at her inner lips. I saw a wild grin and the widest eyes I'd ever seen. "You are happy with your backrub." Her hips were moving already, her legs tightening around me.

"Quit teasing, Ms Kiley," I panted.

She exhaled, her eyes huge and sexy. "If you say so, Officer." The words came out fast and breathless, but already she had her hands on my belly, working at my belt. By now I'd settled into her cunt, my fingers stroking surely and calmly at her clit; this wasn't my first time stroking a pussy, even one pressed into the back of my ass. The awkwardness, in fact, just made it all that much dirtier.

"Gimme," she whispered, now harsh in my ear, and then she was gasping in delight as she got into my pants. "Holy shit, Officer!" I felt fast, eager hands touching me, measuring, evaluating. She gave me a sharp, smacking kiss on the cheek, theatrically enthusiastic. "You're so hard. You're vibrating."

"Whatever," I groaned, not really listening, because I'll tell you what: no matter how many chicks I fuck, no matter how cynical I get about the whole thing, there's magic when a woman touches your cock for the first time. I feed off that shit; it makes the whole thing that much hotter, and she felt it when I added a third finger to her slit.

"Oh shit." She sighed, shifting herself behind me. "This is getting out of hand," she giggled, and then we were a tangle of arms and legs and skin and lingerie as we tried, by mutual consent, to get ourselves into a position where we could do some serious making out.

"Get up there," I urged, tight and strained, with a handful of her solid, warm thigh. I was shoving her, getting a sudden flash image of her head hanging low as she searched for a place to perch her knee, her eyes wide and breathless. I knocked her off balance as I windmilled my legs, trying desperately to get my pants off, and she landed with a squeak on top of my dick.

"Jesus," she gasped. "I'll just wait off to the side while you get undressed. Sir." She stood, her whole body heaving with her breaths, her hair starting to get all tousled. "This seems unsafe, Officer."

"Fuck you," I snarled. "This wouldn't be happening if you'd done what you said." The fucking pants were hung up on my toes, my other foot scraping down at the cloying denim. She raised her eyebrows, her weight cocked to one side with her hand on her hip. "You said you'd take my clothes off."

She was looking with amusement at my struggles, studying my penis with interest. "I said I'd take off your shirt and jacket," she corrected, her voice thick. "Your pants are your problem." She hesitated, then moved a hand gracefully toward her cunt. "Well, while I wait..." She eased two experienced fingers into her panties.

"Goddammit." I am not at my best when I'm getting cock-blocked, still less when I'm the one doing the blocking. "There!" The jeans went flying across the room, knocking over one of last night's empties. I lay there on the couch, sweaty and naked, and I reached brutally out to wrap a hand around the cheek of her ass. "Get on me, Emma."

"Yes, Officer LaFratta," she winked, and then those two gloriously jiggling breasts, the nipples showing now as they migrated out of the cups of her wilting bustier, were on final approach, swooping toward my head as her legs twined within mine. "Suck, sir."

I did not need to be told. There are only so many likely responses when a hard-cocked man is presented with such fleshy perfection, and my lips were closing on her nipple before she even got the command out. "Yesss," she hissed, pushing her body onto mine. I felt her strong thigh plant itself firmly under my balls, her hand wrapping crudely around my dick, and then everything was a smacking, splattery thrill for me. Her tits, as I roved from left to right and back again, tasted of salt sweat and the fresh earthiness of young skin, the responsive nipples reaching into my mouth like a kid reaching into a soda machine.

She smothered me, both my hands kneading and squeezing with abandon; I'd grabbed bigger tits, but none with Emma's combination of size and weight and firmness. Instinctively her ass fell, grinding her cunt against my thigh, and her passage left a sticky snail-trail in the hair of my leg, even through her thong.

We settled in like that for a few minutes, both of us growing hot and sweaty, our hips moving in slow, even motion against each other. Her tits glistened with my spit as they dangled above me. "Been wanting to touch those for awhile, huh?" she taunted softly, her thumb resting lightly on my piss-slit. "I knew what I was doing when I flashed you in your office."

"Hell yeah," I crowed, finally pushing her up and off me; she was straddling my waist, her skinny abs moving in rippling circles, her tits all the way out with the bustier bunched forgotten over her hips. I savored the sight of her young body rising so sweetly above me. "You're one gorgeous bitch, Emma," I said, my voice low and throaty.

She moved her hips experimentally, feeling my cock trapped underneath her crotch, right up against her cunt. The thong, never quite big enough, was already sagging to one side; I saw a bare, glistening slit peeking out. "Shit," she marveled again, her voice trembling, looking down. "You're so hard."

Uh-oh.

She pushed one finger alongside her pussy lips, bright red and weeping, to land tentatively on my angry purple head; I looked up at the expression on her face and cursed to myself. Holy fucking Christ. I looked away. "No way," I said, my hands sliding down her slick flesh to rest on top of her wrecked bustier. "No way."

"It's okay," she soothed, looking worried. "I want you to do it."

Goddammit, this was the last thing I needed. I'm no fan of deflowering virgins. I hate it, actually. Sex is supposed to feel good; I didn't need it to be the emotional minefield it always was when a chick was getting banged for the first time. Hell, I still remembered my first bitch; I'd never been comfortable with the idea that I'd ever be anyone's lifelong memory. Plus, I didn't need to be cleaning blood off my couch. I frowned. "Baby, Emma," I stuttered, not quite sure how to turn her down, "I just... no. Just no. I can't do that to you." Even as I said it, my head fell back in stifled need; her pussy was furnace-hot against my dick. I reached up and cupped her left tit, hefting it again. "You deserve better," I told her, and I was surprised that I meant it.