Officer Taylor

The shower in the bridal suite was an elaborate affair, with jets of water from various locations on the walls. To Taylor's delight Otis got hard again during their shower, and she did her best to suck him off, considering how little of his cock she could actually fit in her mouth. When he came it was less prodigious than their earlier session, but still much more than the poor girl could manage to swallow. Great sheets of cum hung from her mouth and chin as she gently milked his shaft and balls for the last drops.

Freshly bathed and dressed, the two left the room after Otis hung out the "maid service needed" sign on the door knob. Taylor was slightly bowlegged from the pounding Otis had given her and from her own swollen pudenda.

In the lobby they were again the consummate professional. "I think I have everything I need for the report, Mister Washington."

"Very well, and thank you, Officer Ingold."

They shook hands and parted, the desk clerk smiling at their charade.

Taylor found sitting in her cruiser uncomfortable, her bruised and battered cunt protesting at the pressure of the seat. Down, girl, Taylor thought. You know you liked it as much as I did.

At six AM Taylor arrived at the stationhouse to turn in her paperwork. The other officers going off duty were bleary-eyed and exhausted, but Taylor was smiling and bright and bubbly.

"I guess working the report car agrees with her," remarked the sergeant.

* * *

Sergeant Ronny Jones sat at his desk in the traffic division of the San Verdugo Police Department. As a traffic officer he had little formal contact with the regular patrol force, of which Taylor was a member.

Even now he felt the shame and embarrassment of his farcical wedding. He had to endure the jokes and snide comments from his coworkers. He was sure they said worse things behind his back. Any cop who couldn't hold a woman was considered less than a man. It was just part of the cop culture.

He had tried to contact Taylor for some explanation, some reason for her erratic behavior just before and during the ceremony. But she had successfully avoided any contact with her former fiancé. He had heard talk that Taylor was staying with Officer Ramirez, but the petite Hispanic officer had denied it when he asked her. Since Michelle Ramirez and Taylor were longtime buds he was confident that the little officer would lie to protect her friend.

Ronny Jones doubted that another man had been involved. Taylor seemed too sweet and loving to cuckold him with another man. And she had always seemed enthusiastic during their love-making sessions. He was sure he had been taking care of business on the mattress with Taylor. He could drive her absolutely wild when he used his talented tongue on the gentle leaf-like folds of her pale pussy.

It was early September when, by chance, Ronny ran into Taylor outside the evidence room.

"Taylor," Ronny said softly.

"Ronny. How are you?" she asked guiltily.

"As good as could be expected, I suppose. Listen: we need to talk."

"Not now, Ronny. I am just not ready and I am very busy." She brushed past him and headed out into the station corridor. Ronny followed.

"Tay, tell me what happened? Did I do something wrong? Something to offend you?" the sergeant pleaded.

By now the two had attracted the attention of their fellow employees, who craned their ears to pick up any juicy gossip. Some even abandoned whatever task they were doing and followed the two down the hall, keeping within hearing distance yet trying to look disinterested.

"I can't deal with this now," Taylor growled with increasing annoyance.

"If not now, when? It's been weeks. I think you owe me some explanation!"

Taylor broke into a trot, leaving Ronny standing alone and helpless in the corridor.

* * *

"Jose and I will be gone a week, Tay. We are going south to visit Jose's parent in Mexico. You'll have the house to yourself. Just feed my bulldog, will ya?"

"Sure, Mic. I'll watch the house for you," Taylor said, her mind swimming with images of inviting Otis over for a more home-style fucking.

* * *

Otis arrived at the Ramirez' residence just after dark. Taylor met him at the front door wearing a see-through negligee. His face brightened at the sight of her jutting breasts beneath the gossamer material, her fragrant bush forming a perfect triangle at her crotch.

Otis was dressed in his off-duty mufti, shorts and a tank top. Taylor snickered into her knuckles when she saw that he was still wearing his dress shoes and black socks.

"Are you the repair man, sir?" she asked.

Otis hesitated, then picked up on the fantasy. "Yessm, I be dat. Whatcha got that needs fixin', pretty white lady?"

"I need you to check out my plumbing, boy. It hasn't been behaving itself the past few days. Did you bring your snake?"

"Yessm, I got dat right here," he said, cupping his crotch with a large hand.

"Hmmm. . ." Taylor smiled broadly, and moved aside to let Otis into the Ramirez house.

They moved to the spacious living room. "Would you care for some refreshments, boy?" she cooed.

"I'll take some cheap wine, iffn you got dat, missy."

Taylor poured him a stout glass of expensive whisky instead. "Now, don't let this go to your head. I know you black bucks can't be trusted around us white women."

Otis drained the glass in one gulp. "Let's see dat plumbing problem, white lady."

* * *

In the darkness outside the Ramirez home Ronny Jones stood chain smoking cigarettes, trying to muster his courage to confront Taylor. He knew she was living in the Ramirez home—her Mustang was parked in the driveway. The Ramirez SUV was gone, but there was a mysterious white Cadillac in the driveway.

Finally, Ronny approached the front door. His knuckles were poised to rap on the door when he heard a curious sound from within the home. At first he thought that the TV was on inside, a little too loud, perhaps, but they he recognized the shrill sound of Taylor's laughter. There was a deep baritone male voice too, but Ronny could not discern the man's words.

Damn her! She does have a man! And he's in the house now.

Ronny made his way around the house to the backyard, almost falling into the darkened Jacuzzi. Light flooded the yard from the spacious windows of the living room, so Ronny secreted himself behind a hedge.

What he saw in the living room made his stomach turn and the bile rise in his throat.

* * *

"I think my pipes need snaking, boy," Taylor giggled, on all fours on an ottoman, her rump presented to the tall black man. She reached behind her and spread her cunt lips. "Do you think you can help me out here?"

Otis smacked his lips and clapped his hands. "Yessm, I gots the right tool fer dat job. Got it right here."

Otis unbuckled his belt and yanked down his zipper. To Taylor's delight he wasn't wearing underwear, and his rapidly inflating cock sprang into view.

"My, that's a big tool you have there, boy!"

"I figgers that you goin' need did big tool to clean out dat dere pipe, lady."

Outside, Ronny's eye bugged out when he saw the dimensions of the black man's cock. It swayed and bobbed from beneath his belly hypnotically. He was built like some professional porn star, and his dong was easily twice as long and thick as his own penis.

Otis spat onto his palm and rubbed the saliva over the head of his fully-hard prick. He positioned himself behind Taylor's wiggling, inviting ass. Grasping his wang near the tip, and carefully placed it against her gaping vaginal opening.

Taylor squealed with delight and dug her nails into the cushion of the ottoman to steady herself for the pounding she knew was coming.

Otis eased himself into her wet, hot plumbing.

"Oh lawdy! I do belibe I be fuckin' dis pretty white girl! I sho' hope de Klan don't find out 'bout dis or I be hangin' from a sycamore 'fore mornin'.

"Gracious! I am being ravished by a black buck! Whatever will the society ladies say?! I am surely a ruined woman!"

"Maybe ruined for any white boy, I 'spects. After dis dey's tiny cocks will feel like a broom stick in a trash can when dey tries to stick dis thang."

The tempo and thrusts became more vigorous, more violent. Otis grabbed fistfuls of Taylor's fleshy ass to hold her to him as he jabbed deeper and deeper into her womb. Taylor lost hold of the ottoman and her torso slid forward, the top of her head brushing the floor. She was now like an inverted 'V' with her shapely ass pointed heavenward. Otis repositioned himself so that his thrusts were still effectively and fully deep into the blonde's cunt.

Ronny was growling with rage, and yet he found the whole scene subconsciously hot. He was vaguely aware that his own pecker was throbbing hard in his jeans. He cursed his body for it's betrayal. He nervously fingered the butt of his off-duty revolver in the waistband of his pants.

Taylor was getting fabric burns on her knees from the ottoman. Her arms hung limp, useless, spread on the hardwood floor. She tried to think of some witty response to Otis' ersatz southern banter, but she was past speaking. His massive organ was battering the underside of her diaphragm so that she could not even control her own breathing. Her breaths came in short gasps, synchronized with the black man's massive thrusts.

Wrapping his muscular arms around the girl's waist Otis picked Taylor up like a rag doll. He held her back to his broad chest and began to bounce the limp woman up and down on his vertical cock. Taylor's legs flayed around in front of her, bouncing with each thrust. She could only grunt now, her head lolling from side to side, her tongue jutting from her gaping mouth. Otis moved unsteadily towards the couch, fucking her the whole way.

He flopped back on the couch, his hands locked around Taylor's narrow waist, and began to bounce her up and down on his cock.

Taylor was facing the bay windows of the living room, giving Ronny a perfect view of her lust-flushed face. She had never lost herself so completely when she was with him, Ronny thought. He could see Otis' member, shiny wet and ebony, jamming in and out of Taylor's splayed cunt, the black man's huge balls churning and writhing with a building blast of seed.

Finally Ronny could stand no more. He found the sliding glass door unlocked and burst into the living room brandishing his revolver.

"Ah ha! I've caught you now, you shameless slut!" Ronny bellowed.

Looking from around Taylor's torso, Otis froze in mid stroke.

Slowly Taylor's eyes came into refocus and she saw Ronny, panting with rage, his revolver pointed at her heart.

Then Taylor did something that was totally unexpected to Ronny. She began to bob up and down on the black man's cock, seemingly unaware of her peril or past caring.

Taylor sped up her bouncing, her tits jiggling on her chest.

". . . cock . . .more cock . . ." Taylor groaned.

"Listen, you bitch! I'm about to shoot you in your cheating heart. Stop that this instant!" Ronny blubbered.

Taylor looked like a mad woman, a zombie. She continued to wiggle and bounce on Otis' turgid organ, oblivious to any danger Ronny posed to her and Otis. At that moment only two things existed in the world for her—her hot cunt and Otis' ridged cock. Nothing else was of consequence.

"I'm warning you, Taylor! Stop fucking that nigger and listen to me!"

". . . cock . . . more cock . . ."

In spite of his terror, Otis could feel his orgasm building. He tried to hold it back, but it was useless.

With an animal grunt Otis lifted his hips off the couch and gave a mighty upward thrust that would have thrown Taylor off like a bronco buster had not Otis' grasp around her waist still be firm and strong. Otis' body went into overdrive and he thrust upward again and again, causing Taylor's eyes to roll back in her head. Foamy white spew began to seep from around the snug seal of her pussy on his cock, pouring down his pulsating shaft and cascading over his tight balls.

At length, Taylor sat limply on Otis' lap, drenched in sweat and jizz, quivering in her afterglow.

Slowly, drunkenly, she lifted her head a regarded Ronny through the strands of damp blond hair that covered her face.

"Oh, Ronny. How long have you been here?" came her slurred inquiry.

She noticed the shaking gun in Ronny's hand for the first time. Taylor lifted herself off Otis' slackening pole and sat demurely beside her lover on the couch.

"What are you doing, Ron?"

"I'm about to kill you and that filthy nigger you've been fucking, you lousy whore!"

"Why, Ron?"

"Why?! Why?! Because this bastard stole my wife!"

"Ronny, let's be reasonable. I hadn't even met Otis before our wedding day. He didn't have anything to do with our breakup.!

"Liar! Then why did you leave me?" the crazed police sergeant screamed.

"That's why I left you."

"What? Huh?"

Taylor extended her hand and pointed to Ronny's crotch. "That little thing made me leave you."

Ronny looked at his crotch. He had a full-on chubby and a large spunk stain was spreading over the tip of his small pup tent.

"But . . . but it always seemed like it was good enough for you," Ronny blubbered.

"Oh, dear, it was, believe me. It was up until I found something better." She smiled and patted Otis' now-limp but still formidable cock, sleeping contentedly between his thighs.

"Listen, man, if I may interject," Otis finally found his voice. "Some women are just into size, brother. This type of woman won't ever be happy with 'average' or 'normal'. Believe me, I know the type."

Defeated, Ronny lowered his gun.

* * *

The evening wasn't a total loss for Ronny Jones. Before he left the house Otis gave me three free passes to the Country Club golf course.