Officer Michelle

Michelle

Whereas some people have a skill at art and others have a skill at music, Michelle had a natural God-given talent for fornication. She was a maestro between the sheets, or on the couch, or on the carpet. If there had been an Olympic event in fucking Michelle would have taken the gold and silver medal at the same time.

Not that Michelle was overly proud of her abilities in the sack. They had been a source of embarrassment most of her adult life. Not so much her abilities at screwing, but her willingness to do it often and with a multitude of partners had caused her some social stigma. You might not even call it willingness—it was more of an inability to say the word 'no' in matters romantic. But Michelle just wouldn't spread her legs for just any stud. The stud had to ask her to. That always seemed to do the trick for her.

She had a curious penchant for bedding guys she didn't even like, or guys she actively hated.

You see, Michelle wanted to be liked by everyone. She wanted to be popular, and respected for her professionalism and hard work. But when you are a female in the male-dominated world of law enforcement your job performance was seldom enough to garner one the respect that Michelle craved. Instead she opted for the one time-tested approach that women had used since the dawn of time—sexual receptability.

Her vulnerability to seduction has seldom, if ever, won over any of her coworkers. Quite often it has the reverse effect. She would lose what little esteem she held in the eyes of her coworkers by giving into their carnal desires. But that did little to sway her from her inborn, instinctual impulse to jump every willing boner in the department.

You might not think this of her when you first met her. She was, on the surface, an innocent and somewhat pious girl cop. Her angelic face and Minnie Mouse voice, how she refrained from profanity and social vice, her business-like attitude about her profession would all project a picture of chaste virtue. On the surface she looked like a reluctant sex kitten, curvy, petite, with cantaloupe-sized jugs on a five-foot frame. Her dark flashing eyes and olive complexion, her raven black mane, hanging to her narrow waist (and usually tied up in a girlish pony tail or tight conservative bun) oozed sensuality. Her looks and her outward behavior seemed an odd match.

Locker room gossips about sexual conquests of Michelle spread like wild fire in the police department and Michelle's one defense against slander was her convincing and persistent ability to lie about her sexual peccadillos. When confronted with a rumor that she had slept with so-and-so she could feign offended horror at the notion, and righteously denounce the rumor as an abject falsehood. She was so proficient in her prevarications that she almost convinced not a few of her past sexual partners that they had never ever done anything of the sort.

Her defense mechanism against sexual slander worked best on her husband, Jose Velasquez.

Jose had heard some of the rumors (by no means all of the rumors) about his wife's past and current dalliances but his trust in his spouse was absolute. He attributed the stories to professional jealousy and wishful thinking on the part of some of Michelle's male coworkers. Still, it troubled him that people would target his lovely wife with such a campaign of slander.

In fact, Michelle never had to refute an accusation of infidelity to Jose because he would never directly ask her about a rumor or gossip. He felt he would be diminished in her loving eyes but such an inquiry, and since the rumors were fatuous in and of themselves denouncement was unneeded.

Michelle had started as the police department as a single, wide-eyed twenty-year-old police dispatcher fresh from parochial school. She had led a somewhat sheltered life, being an adored only-child of two loving parents. She had never intended on making a career out of law enforcement but had planned to work at the department as a summer before going on to college.

But as often happens on the job police work was addictive, even for a police dispatcher. The frequent adrenalin rush was as addictive as opium, and the more one was exposed to it the more one craved it.

It was during her tenure as a dispatcher that she met Sergeant Jesus Cordova.

Cordova was not anyone's idea of an irresistible lothario. Short, squat, dark, with an unremarkable face. He looked more like an illegal immigrant field worker than a police officer. But Cordova had a definite gift of gab, and was practiced at wooing the women of the department. He always seemed to say just the right thing, at just the right time, and had an uncanny ability to tell women exactly what they wanted to hear. This skill had netting him some juicy conquests during his years at the department. Another ability Cordova possessed was a ridged sense of discretion. Unlike most swordsmen Cordova could keep a secret. He did not engage in sexual braggadocio, and this trait made him seem even safer and more desirable to his frequent bed mates, particularly the married ones.

Cordova was not even remarkable as a lover. He was sufficient on the mattress, little more. But he always made a woman feel as if she was the only woman on earth for a short while, and made them feel totally and genuinely loved, and they ate it up.

Cordova's association with the young Michelle had started as harmless flirtation on slow graveyard shifts in the communication center of the department. Michelle had never experienced the awestruck attention of a male before. She felt flattered at his fawning attention and sly glances and sexual innuendos. Before long she was anticipating his appearances in the dispatch room with a girlish infatuation.

Michelle's shift ended at 2 AM one night and Cordova asked her if she wanted to go with him on patrol, on a ride-a-long. Such ride-a-longs were common, where officers took citizens with them in the cruiser for a period of time to show them real police work. Great care was taken not to put the citizen rider in any real danger. Michelle jumped at the chance. It was a slow night and she would get a chance to chat with the object of her infatuation more privately in the comfy and intimate confines of a patrol car.

Cordova asked Michelle about a boyfriend and she embarrassingly admitted that she was not currently involved and, indeed, had never had a serious relationship with a boy before. She was quite shocked when Cordova asked her if she had ever done 'the nasty' with a man before. Afraid to admit that she was a virgin and inexperienced, Michelle just laughed off the question without a definite response.

Cordova confided that he had recently broken up with a long-time girlfriend, and was quite lonely and despondent over his situation. He carefully appealed to the young woman's maternal instinct with his tale of woe, how he had loved this woman but that she had left him, through no fault of his own. He told the beaming dispatcher how he was looking to get into a stable long-term relationship and was marriage-minded, with an eye to starting a family someday. By the time Cordova was done with his delivery Michelle was positively wet with desire. She longed to make Cordova happy, and could picture herself in an idyllic setting as the new Mrs. Cordova, bouncing little Cordovas on her knees.

When Cordova suggested they stop by Michelle's apartment for coffee she immediately sputtered her consent.

They never got around to the coffee. Cordova had the winsome young woman stripped for action within a minute of their entering the door to the small apartment. Michelle was quite nervous; this being her first time, but Cordova was very gentle and instructive.

Michelle lay back on her second-hand couch, her palms covering her large breasts, her knees locked tight and drawn up slightly to hide her nudity as best she could.

"There, there, Michelle, just relax. I will be easy with you," Cordova reassured her in a deep, lust-thickened voice.

He gently removed her hands from her jugs, revealing her large, dark areolas and her prominent, erect nipples, each as wide as a dime and jutting out her heaving chest. He gentle kissed each breast, sending ripples of energy coursing through Michelle's body. His practiced tongue glided over her plump nipples, taking each one in turn into his hot mouth and pulling on them gently with his teeth. Michelle closed her eyes and reveled in the talented attention Cordova gave to her boobs. Slowly, his kisses trailed down her flat, firm belly until he reached the upper margins of the thick bramble of her public patch. A little more forcefully now, he smiled reassuringly at the quivering Latina and pulled her knees apart, revealing her musky twat with its dark, lust-swollen labia.

Cordova teasingly kissed her pussy lips and tickled them with the firm tip of his tongue. Michelle cooed and moaned uncontrollably, running her fingers through his wiry hair. It all seemed like a dream to the young woman. She had often pictured her deflowering in her mind, and her visions were never quite so nice as this reality. It seemed all so perfect to her, the room lit only by the clock on her stove, Cordova's husky breathing, the thrill coursing through her loins and the thumping of her heart.

Cordova found the swollen nub of Michelle's clitoris and was surprised at how prominent and distended it was. It rose almost a quarter inch beyond the apex of her vulva, pulsating gently with each beat of her heart. He playfully nipped at the bud with his teeth and tongue.

The quivering Latina lazily threw one leg over the back of the couch and let her other foot rest on the carpet. She instinctively tilted her pelvis to lend her lover the greatest possible access to her hot love pot. Cordova was making disgusting, wonderful slurping sounds as he delved deeper and deeper into her quim with his tongue.

Her first orgasm took her by surprise. A sudden wave of muscle contractions began in her belly and spread throughout her body, causing her to shake uncontrollably and whimper. Her ears filled with the thundering swish of her blood and her mind seemed to go blank, as if the only part of her that was real was her gapping vagina. She reflexively grabbed her lover's head and ground it into her crotch as her back arched off the couch cushions and she let out a low, almost-animal scream. Wave after wave of sensation pulsed through her small body until, at last, she fell back, totally limp and satisfied.

But Cordova wasn't satisfied yet.

He hastily stood up and undid his duty belt with all its equipment. It fall to the floor around his feet with a loud thud. He frantically fumbled with his pants belt buckle and zipper and jerked his uniform trousers and boxer shorts down in one motion. The half-light in her apartment revealed his fully erect manhood, tall and proud, jutting out from the thick jungle of his public hair. She marveled at the size of his pecker (it was only later that she learned, through experience, that Cordova was quite ordinary in that department). She tentatively reached out to touch it. It was unbelievably hot under her fingertips and hard beyond her comprehension. She gently ran her fingers up and down its length, feeling it throb under her touch.

Fear gripped Michelle. She knew that nothing so large could fit in that tender place in her body, which heretofore had felt nothing larger than her own finger. But she was determined to try--to accommodate his massive member in her wildly pulsating vagina.

"Are you on the pill?" she asked.

A new fear gripped Michelle. She knew she was not taking birth control, but equally knew that she had to have him inside her quickly, whatever the risks might entail.

"Yes," she bit her lip and lied.

Cordova positioned himself between her spread thighs, leaning over her. His cock disappeared from her view as she locked eyes with her new man. She could tell that he was reaching between them to aim his cock with his fist.

She felt the bulbous head of his tool make contact with her yielding, hungry pussy lips. The feeling was ecstasy. She could picture in her mind's eye the round penis head spreading her cunt lips, already copiously wet with her own juices. Then the very walls of her vagina spreading, stretching to allow him passage deeper and deeper into her belly. Her pussy seemed to have a mind of its own, sucking his organ into her body, pulling him in. She marveled at the way nature had equipped her for this moment, how her body seemed to take control away from her conscious mind. It was as if her body was on auto pilot, reacting primally, mechanically to this intruding organ. As if by reflex her legs wrapped around his hips, her calves applying pressure to his ass to urge him on, to urge him deeper.

His breath was hot and humid against her ear, his gentle grunts filling her with new levels of wanton lust.

When his turgid organ had reached its maximum depth, he slowly withdrew it partially then thrust in back in. Over and over, rhythmically, he moved his cock back and forth in her tight pussy. She could feel his hot, damp balls bouncing against her puckered anus with each thrust. Each splat of his balls on her ass made a sharp, wet sound.

"Oh, God!" Michelle exclaimed, relishing the feeling, the experience, of her first fucking.

Cordova grunted in response.

"Fuck me, Jesus. Fuck me good!" It sounded like someone else talking, using such base profanities. Michelle had never used such language before, and did not know where it sprang from. It was as if her intoxicating lust had momentarily given her Tourette's syndrome, yet the sound of her own sacrilege only served to heighten her pleasure.

"Fuck me with your big cock! Ewww, it feels so fuckin' good!"

On and on Cordova sunk his shank into her softly yielding body. Time seemed to lose its meaning to the young woman, only the ticking of their two hearts seemed to have any relevance.

Her man's body went suddenly taut. He arched his back, lifted his head and gave a last mighty shove into her twat. He seemed to hang there, suspended, his body shaking as Michelle felt his organ violently twitch and jerk in her cunt. It pulsated wildly and she could feel his semen flooding her canal. Pulse after pulse shot along the length of his manhood.

The feeling and thoughts of what was happening pushed Michelle over the edge and she thrashed about with her second orgasm. She ground her pelvis against his twitching cock, moving her ass in a circular fashion against him, milking his for every drop of his jizz.

Finally, he collapsed on her body, his still-clothed chest flattening her soft breasts. He panted rapidly in her ear.

They lay like that for what seemed like an hour to the Latina. She murmured little terms of endearment into his ear in Spanish.

Slowly, Cordova began to rise and she was conscious that he was pulling his pud from her cunt. She tightly locked her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and shoulders. She dug her nails into his back. She did not want him to leave her. She wanted to stay locked in this carnal embrace for eternity.

"I have to answer that, Michelle," Cordova grunted close to her ear.

She only then became aware of the crackling of his portable radio from its case on his duty belt.

With extreme reluctance she allowed him to remove his cock from her cunt. The sudden void in her womanhood felt sadly unnatural. He sat up and reached for his radio. He acknowledged a call from another officer for a meeting in the field.

"We've got to go, Michelle. Reynolds needs to ask me something or tell me something."

Michelle frowned, then sat up. The movement forced a large spit of semen to spurt out of her sore vagina and land on her couch.

"Oh my, I am leaking!" she exclaimed.

Cordova quickly pulled on his pants and fetched a paper towel from Michelle's kitchenette. She dabbed at her swollen pudenda, wiping the gooey viscous material from the folds of her cunt. Her thick bush was caked with the congealed liquid.

Michelle sat demurely next to Cordova in his police cruiser. She kept her knees firmly together and hoped that any remaining spooge in her gizmo didn't soak through the wad of tissue paper she had placed in the crotch of her pantyhose. In this position, it would surely leak through to the seat of her tight uniform skirt and leave a big wet spot over her shapely ass for the whole world to see.

Cordova was parked next to Officer Reynolds's unit, driver's door to driver's door. Reynolds face was lit only from his dashboard lights but she could see him clearly leering at her.

Michelle had not liked Reynolds from the very first day. He spoke carelessly in front of the female employees in a language that would make a veteran sailor blush. It was just disrespectful, she felt.

Reynolds was droning on about some union issue to Cordova, a union representative. Business done, he called to Michelle, "How do you like riding Cordova's unit, Michelle?"

"Oh," she grinned sheepishly, "It has been most enlightening. I never knew how you guys worked."

"Maybe tomorrow you'd like to go on a ride-a-long with me, then? I'll show you how everything works."

Michelle was sure that Reynolds speech was laced with dirty double-entendres and innuendos, but she could not see them.

"Thank you very much, Officer Reynolds, but no thank you. If I go I think I will go with Sergeant Cordova again. He's been a big help showing me around the job."

"Just how 'big' is his help?" Reynolds chuckled.

Cordova was sitting in annoyed silence, but finally said, "Knock it off, Reynolds. Treat her with some respect."

Michelle's heart fluttered. He's defending me! What a knight in shining armor.

"Sure thing, sarg. I am sorry, Miss Michelle," Reynolds grumbled.

Michelle rode with Cordova for the remainder of his watch. At six AM they left the department together and he took her to a coffee shop for breakfast. Michelle only ordered toast, showing her boyfriend was an economical and cheap partner she could be.

They spent the morning in her apartment fucking. Then fucking some more. And then fucking again. Finally Cordero pleaded with Michelle to let him sleep. He had to work again that night and needed his rest. His balls were throbbing painfully from the repeated drainings and his cock felt sore and raw. Michelle reluctantly let him drift off to a deep sleep, but she stayed awake several more hours just gazing at his face and the gentle rising and falling of his chest. He had made her feel so alive, so vital, and her euphoria replaced any fatigue in her mind. Her brain raced with images of their happy home, a huge family, growing old together and, of course, fucking each other silly through the years to come. She reached down to massage her swollen womb and eventually drifted off to sleep.

That night, when Michelle's shift ended at 2 AM again, she eagerly awaited for Cordova to pick her up in the department parking for another ride-a-long. She could scarcely stand still when she saw his cruiser pull into the lot.

"Do you want to come to my place for another cup of coffee, mi amour?" she immediately asked upon taking a seat in his patrol car.

"It's pretty busy so far tonight. I am not sure we can set aside another hour for 'coffee' like we did last night, Michelle," Cordova said, regret dripping in his voice.

Michelle pouted silently for several minutes. Could he be tired of me already? Isn't that how it goes with men?

Cordova did receive several radio calls that first hour. Nothing big, just drive-by's requested from some closing liquor stores.

Around 4 AM the volume of calls suddenly decreased and the radio fell largely silent. Cordova pulled the patrol unit into an abandoned oil field and shut off the engine.