Officer Taylor

"I couldda lasted longer if your poon wasn't so tight, white girl."

"Fuck! Shit!" Taylor hissed as she straightened her dress and tried to smooth out the new wrinkles. "Where the fuck are my panties?!"

"Right here," Jerome said, swinging the lacy things around an upturned finger.

"Hurry, give 'em here!"

"Nope. I'm keeping these as a trophy. No one's gonna know you're commando at your wedding, Ingold."

She sighed resignedly and gathering up the sides of her gown hurried from the room.

* * *

Taylor arrived huffing and puffing in an anteroom in the hotel garden. Her tuxedoed father was waiting impatiently for her.

"Being fashionably late is one thing, my dear, but to your own wedding?"

"Sorry, papa. I got lost on the way here," she gushed, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Your mother and sister were very worried about you. They have already taken their seats."

Taylor's father made a silent gesture to one of the wedding ushers, who in turn signaled the organist, who began the wedding march.

"Shall we?" Mr. Ingold said, offering his arm to his radiant daughter.

Taylor and her father began the slow walk down the carpet roll to the minister, Ronny and his best man.

"My God, she's positively glowing!" came a whispered voice from the seated guests.

"She looks like an angel."

"This must be the happiest day of her life."

Archie Reynolds turned to a fellow officer in attendance, "Look at them jugs jiggle," he whispered.

Taylor smiled and nodded to the guests as she trekked down the aisle. Then, a shadow of concern spread over her face. From her gaping cunt Taylor could feel a huge ball of cum leaking down her white lace-topped stockings, soaking into the material and drifting slowly down her leg. With each step it seemed like more of Jerome's massive load was surrendering to gravity and cascading down either leg.

It was on her ankle before she had reached Ronny. Her long wedding gown would hide it from the guests while it was on her legs, but not if it hit the red carpet.

Taylor let her eyes drift upward. Oh God, please! I know I don't deserve any favors from you, after what I just did with that boy, but if you could find it in your heart. . .

Finally, thankfully, she was at Ronny's side. He looked resplendent in his rented tux.

Taylor passed her bouquet to Michelle Ramirez, her bride's maid, and took Ronny's arm in her own.

"Friends, family, we are gathered here today to unit these two in holy matrimony . . ., " droned the minister. But Taylor wasn't listening. She was concentrating on the oozing, slimy wetness traveling down her inner thighs, knees, calves and angles. She could feel Jerome's spunk pooling in the soles of her high-heels. Beyond that she could only imagine. Her cheeks were burning red in guilt and shame and humiliation, but the assemblage mistook it for a blush of innocence on the face of a young bride.

She was barely aware of the minister's words. She looked out of the corners of her eyes and spotted Jerome standing with other waiters at the table with her huge wedding cake. Unseen by all but Taylor, Jerome swiped his finger up the side of the cake and licked the white frosting off his long, thin black finger.

Taylor suddenly felt angry, not at Jerome, but at life. She felt like she was being cheated. She was about to say, 'I do' and be joined to this small-dicked white boy Ronny for life. It was unfair. Not when there was pleasure untold hidden behind the thick material of Jerome's trousers.

". . . and do you, Taylor Ingold, take this man . . ."

Taylor gritted her teeth and spat, "No. I do not take this man."

Taylor wheeled about and before the aghast faces of her wedding guests strode defiantly and with determination back up the aisle, leaving a trail of foamy white liquid on the red carpet in her wake.

The audience sat in stunned silence, ashen faced.

Jerome murmured to the waiter next to him, "Now, that's what I call a wedding!"

* * *

Michelle and Jose Ramirez were on their way home from the wedding, if it could still be called that, in their SUV. Both were in a funk over the events of that day and they rode in contemplative silence.

Michelle's cell phone broke their reverie.

"Hello? Taylor! What the fuck happened? Where did you go? Where are you?" Michelle demanded.

"Slow down, Mic," Taylor implored. "I'm at my parents right now, but I don't want to stay here. Can I crash at your place awhile? Just until I figure out what I'm going to do."

"Well, sure, Tay. You're always welcome at my place. Do you need me to pick up any of your stuff from your condo?"

"Naw. Not right away, anyway. I'll be over this evening, okay?"

Taylor Ingold arrived at the Ramirez' fashionable home in San Verdugo at about eleven that evening. It was apparent she had been crying. Michelle handed her a beer as the blond sprawled on the living room couch.

"Do you want to talk about it, Tay?" Michelle asked with real concern.

Taylor said nothing, but looked at Jose.

"Jose, take a hike for a while, okay, dear?" Michelle asked sweetly.

Jose grumbled and said he was going to bed.

"Okay, it's just us girls now. What the hell happened, Tay?"

"You'll think that I am an awful person, Mic. And what you think of me means a lot of me," Taylor pouted.

"Listen—as long as you didn't kill someone, or sleep with Jose, I don't care, Tay."

"I did something worse, I think. I told you about that boy from the high school a few weeks back. The one with the . . . um . . . large member. Remember?"

"Of course I remember. I've never met the guy but I thought of him a few times when Jose was lying on top of me. And it really made it better, let me tell you."

"Well, I ran into him at the country club just before the wedding and . . . I did something awful . . ."

"You had sex with him?" Michelle's face was aglow and her eye danced with evil interest.

"Yeah, a little, I guess."

"So, how was it, girlfriend?"

"Oh Mic. It was celestial, cosmic, euphoric. I had no idea sex could be like that. I felt things I've never felt before. I guess it's true: Size does make all the difference."

"What'd I tell you? So, this dude made you change your mind?"

"He changed my mind. He changed my pussy. He changed everything."

Michelle's nipples were tenting her shirt and Taylor could tell the thought was a major turn on for her little friend. The Latina wiggled her butt uncomfortably on the seat cushions and she unconsciously ground her thighs together. Michelle was a hot little Mexican slut, Taylor thought to herself.

"What are you plans now, Tay?"

"Well, I have two weeks leave starting today. It was supposed to be for my honeymoon, but it's just as well. I need some time to get my head together."

"What about Ronny?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Poor Ronny! I hated to hurt him like that, but I felt I had no choice. He's a perfectly decent guy. He deserves someone better than me for his wife. I probably did him a big favor."

"Well, you can stay here as long as you need. I know you won't be sniffing around Jose 'cause he's got a little pecker, so I can trust you."

"Thanks, Mic. You're a real friend. I guess I'll run over to the condo when Ronny isn't home and grab my belongings. He can keep the condo and the furniture and crap—I owe him that much. But let's keep it a secret that I'm crashing here, okay? I don't feel like explaining stuff over and over again to everyone who calls on me."

Taylor spent a restless night in the Ramirez' guest room. She tossed and turned the whole night, but sleep escaped her. Images of the hurt expression on Ronny's face and the look of lust on Jerome's face pervaded her thoughts. And the dull throbbing from her abused, stretched womanhood didn't help.

Taylor learned from Michelle that Ronny was back to work, on day shift, so Taylor took the opportunity to sneak back to their condo where she gathered up her personal items and clothing. She stored them in the Ramirez' garage for the time being. She dreaded a confrontation with Ronny and was not sure exactly what she would tell him. It certainly would not be the truth, whatever she finally came up with.

Daily, she had to resist the urge to meander back to the country club and seek out Jerome. He seemed to draw her like a magnet. It took all her will power not to revisit the boy. Jerome Washington, or more accurately, Jerome Washington's cock, was like an opium habit she had to kick cold turkey. She longed to be with him. He filled her thoughts night and day. But he was only eighteen years old, and she knew virtually nothing about him. They were strangers, linked by lust alone. And lust was little to build any sort of lasting relationship on. She reasoned that he would tire of her, since she was an 'old' lady of twenty-five.

After her two-week leave was over Taylor returned to work, trying to pretend nothing had happened. When she walked into the briefing room the tension was palpable. Every eye followed her to her seat.

The patrol sergeant entered the room to begin the briefing and even he was silent for a long while.

"Right. Let's begin," he said at length.

Taylor was back in blue, her time as a school resource officer over for at least the summer. It would be over for ever if anyone found out she boinked a student. Her career too, for that matter. She was back to being a harness cop, working a beat car, taking reports, and arresting bad guys.

When the sergeant called out the patrol assignments Taylor was assigned, as she had expected, to a report car, the least popular job on the shift. She would just be doing paperwork all shift. Taylor did not mind, since she would be working a one-officer car, and would not have to talk to the other officers all shift.

Things went on like this for another three weeks until one night she received a radio call, "Unit four zero Robert, theft report, San Verdugo Country Club. See the manager, Otis Washington."

Taylor gulped. "Roger, unit four zero Robert," she replied into the mic.

It was late. Maybe Jerome only worked the day shift. She doubted that Jerome had told his uncle about their encounter in the hotel room. It surely wouldn't be in his best interest to tell his uncle that they had spoiled an unrented room.

Taylor parked her black-and-white cruiser at the curb outside the lobby of the club and gathered her clipboard. "I'm looking for Mr. Washington," she told the pretty receptionist.

She was escorted to Otis Washington's office.

Taylor was taken aback by Otis' appearance. He looked like the spitting image of Jerome, only twenty years older. Trim, athletic, with just a hint of gray at his temples. Taylor felt her throat tighten in his presence and a familiar glow in her lower belly.

"Thank you for coming so soon, officer . . .?"

"Ingold, sir."

"Have we met before, miss?"

"Not that I am aware of, sir." Shit! Had Otis been around during her aborted wedding?

"I see. Well, someone has stolen some of the country club's silver trophies."

Otis gave Taylor the details of the theft as he knew them.

"May I see the display case, sir?"

"Certainly. It's in the ballroom. Come this way."

Taylor followed Otis down the hallways to the scene of the crime. She notice that he walked with an easy grace, with powerful, determined strides that forced her to almost run to keep up.

The ballroom was empty at that hour. The display case was unmarred, leading Taylor to believe it was an inside job, probably and employee or ex-employee. Otis sat in one of the lounge chairs and tried to recall the names of everyone who could have had access to the keys to the display case.

As Taylor was taking notes she studied Otis in more detail. She wondered if having a large crank was a family trait. She surreptitiously glanced at Otis' crotch. Sure enough, even though he was wearing loose formal dress trousers she could tell he was packing some serious trouser meat. She could feel her cheeks glowing. Luckily, her protective vest kept her naughty nipples from making an unwanted appearance.

"Your job here sounds fascinating, Mr. Washington. I would love to learn more about you . . . I mean, your job." Taylor could not believe how awkward and obvious her come on was.

Otis seemed surprised. "There's not much to tell. I got a job here as a bell hop after high school and took night classes at the junior college. I just sort of worked my way to the top."

"You must have to work some long and odd hours. Does your wife mind that?"

"I am a widower, I'm afraid to say."

"Oh, don't be afraid," Taylor laid a comforting hand on his muscular thigh. "I'm sure it must be a hard-on for you . . .I meant to say, it must have been hard for you. I mean losing your wife, not that other parts of you got hard. I'm sure that you can still get hard, I mean. Oh God . . ."

Taylor definitely had Otis' interest now, however clumsily she had attracted it.

Taylor was stammering now, her private parts smoldering with lust.

"Young lady, are you coming on to me?" Otis asked, one eye brow arched.

"Heaven's no! Not that I wouldn't come on to you. I mean, you are a very attractive man with an excellent position. What I mean to say, any position you'd be in would be good. By that, I don't mean, like, a sexual position. But I'm sure you're great in those, too. Christ! Maybe I should just stop talking now."

Otis smiled broadly. "Why don't I give you a little . . . tour, of our establishment?"

"That would be most erotic . . . excellent, I mean to say. Yes, excellent."

Otis told the front desk receptionist that he would be unavailable for a time. The young woman smiled knowingly and regarded Taylor with thinly veiled envy.

"Here we have our suites. Would you care to check one out, Miss Ingold?"

"Oh yes. They are quite plush. Or so I have heard."

Otis used his pass key to unlock the bridal suite. "This is our most popular room. If only these walls could talk!"

Taylor plopped her rump on the huge bed and bounced slightly. "Oh wow. This bed is just delicious! So soft, and so large!"

"You like large things, don't you, officer?" Otis grinned.

"Oh my, yes. You might say I am a 'large' freak."

Otis sat on the bed so near Taylor that their hips were touching. She could smell his manly aftershave. He could smell Taylor's rampant pheromones. He gently reached up and undid Taylor's bun, letting her hair flow down on her shoulders. She batted her eyes at him playfully. Their lips met and they kissed much more gently than Jerome had. Otis was obviously a more mature lover in many ways. There was nothing frantic about his seduction. He was measured, deliberate, and gentle.

As they kissed Taylor let her hand wander onto his lap and began to massage the lump at his crotch. She could feel it harden beneath her touch, straining to be free.

"You move pretty quickly, Miss Ingold."

"Please call me Taylor, and I will call you Otis, if you don't mind. Hmmm . . . I think there is someone else here who I need to be introduced to," she said, giving his erection a squeeze.

Otis smiled and stood up and began to undress. Taylor was stripping as if her uniform was on fire, throwing the piece all over the room, while Otis was carefully removing his clothing, folding each piece and laying it on a chair.

When Otis Washington was down to his boxers Taylor was naked on all fours on the bed and staring intently, expectantly, at the pup tent in his underwear. She licked her lips greedily and Otis dropped his shorts.

"Goodness! You are glorious, Otis!"

Otis' full erection jutted out from his crotch majestically. He walked over to Taylor, his member swaying regally, proudly.

Taylor flopped on her back and spit on one hand and rubbed it roughly on her ruddy sex. "C'mon, big boy. Mama likes what she sees!"

Otis positioned himself between her legs and leaned forward, supporting himself on his muscular arms. "Put it in, babe," he suggested.

She grabbed his turgid penis and aimed it at her quivering woman flesh. Otis slowly lowered his hips until his bulbous cockhead made contact with the folds of her cunt. This caused the blond to coo and suck her breath in between clenched teeth.

Otis was surprised at the ease with which his cock entered the white woman. Usually white girls had a major problem accommodating his unit, unless they had given birth or were habituates of black men. From her firm, flat belly he doubted that Taylor was a mother, so he reasoned it must be the latter. Not that the thought bothered him.

Cautiously, he lowered himself onto and into the jiggling white girl. He met little resistance. Oh, Taylor was still tight, make no mistake. But she was far from a virgin.

Taylor's legs were tracing large circles in the air above Otis' back. She thrust her hips to meet his thrusts, and dug her nail into the cheeks of his ass to urge him on, to urge him deeper. At last she could feel his heavy, hot balls resting on the cheeks on her ass and she moaned contentedly. He began gentle thrusts, his balls slapping wetly on her upturned butt cheeks. Their eyes were locked as he pumped her. He had seldom seen such naked lust in a woman's eyes; she had never seen such domineering masculinity, tinged with tenderness, in a man's eyes before.

The tempo of his thrusts increases slowly, until he was jack-hammering her quim like a steam engine. Tiny moans and cries escaped her lust-swollen lips. Sweat cascaded down the black man's arms and chest and he growled like a lion mating his lioness.

Taylor's vision blurred and she saw small flashes of light dancing in her eyes.

Her orgasm came upon her suddenly, without warning. She screamed with primal abandon. She dug her talons into his broad chest, drawing blood. Still he kept up an inhuman, machine-like pace and tempo.

When he felt his own orgasm approaching he quickly pulled his penis from her churning vagina and raised his torso. He grabbed his throbbing cock in a meaty fist and gave it one or two more tugs and spewed a sudden gush of spunk on the woman's face, chest, hair. And on the bedclothes, and the bed's headrest, and the wall above it. Each jet of thick, hot semen seemed as copious as the one before it. Wads of viscous spunk summersaulted in the air, seemed to hang motionless for an eternity, then fall with dull splats on her steaming body.

Taylor had never had a man come on her deliberately, and she found the experience deliciously erotic, decadent, taboo. She laughed in her joy with the new experience.

After what seemed like a quarter hour the streams of jettisoned spunk slowed until there was just a single thick, knotted rope of jizz oozing from the purple head of his cock and pooling on her belly.

Taylor licked the gobs from around her lips and ran her finger in the pool on her belly and sucked the finger nosily. Otis sat back on his heels panting, drained and satisfied.

Taylor's belt radio crackled to life. "Unit four Zero Robert—status."

Taylor scrambled from the bed and searched the floor in the half-light until she found the handset.

"Unit four zero Robert—code four. Taking report at the country club," she panted into the radio.

"Ten four, unit four zero Robert," the dispatcher acknowledged.

She looked at her cum-speckled wrist watch. "On my—we've been fucking for almost an hour, Otis! What a stud you are!"

Otis chuckled self-consciously.

"No, I mean it. You are a real man! And you swing some real man meat between your legs! I would really like to get to know you better, in a big way, stud!" she gushed.

"I do okay, I suppose . . ."

"You know how to make a woman feel like a woman!"

"I know it's sort of backwards, but maybe we can get together for dinner and a movie sometime?"

"I would like nothing better! Now, do you suppose we can shower before we go out in public? I'm feeling like a glazed donut here."