Sex Lies and Lamborghinis Ch. 07

"Quit your moaning, Mick," I admonished. "I'm horny as fuck and I need to cum. I didn't get my daily heart-starter this morning. My boss called me up and sent me to the scene of a crash, some wanker had parked his Lamborghini half-way up a damned eucalypt."

Mick's moaning had stopped. He'd realised what the hot, dripping wet thing on his cheek was, and I had his full attention.

"And I've tried, Mick," I went on. "I've tried, all through the day, to get some satisfaction. But when I miss my morning heart-starter, there's just no pleasing me! I fuck and I suck and I take it, hour after hour, from man and woman alike, but I just can't get enough!"

I heard Mick groan again – a new groan, one of heavy pleasure as he rolled to shift my cunt onto his mouth.

"Yes, Mick," I moaned in reply, as his tongue lashed me expertly. "Mick – make it up to me. Give it to me Mick. Give me my heart-starter... give me my orgasm... make me cummm, Mick," I implored of him, as his lips formed a perfect vacuum-seal on my snatch, as his tongue lashed at my gorging clitoris and plunged deep, hot and rough into my dripping hole.

"Make me cum, Mick," I whispered, as I reared backwards, stretching my arms up to run my hands through my hair. Mick took his cue and grabbed my bare breasts, the cold chain of his handcuffs brushing thrillingly against my hot bare skin, running his thick manly fingers over my tingling breasts, rolling my nipples roughly and tweaking them hard, just how I wanted it.

"Mick, make me cum..." I begged of him, as he moaned and groaned with his own pleasure, and I reached back and there it was: his long hard rod was in my hand. I gripped him roughly through his jeans and pulled at it, tugging hard and making him moan again, and I quivered as the vibrations of his lips were amplified a million-fold by the incredible sensitivity of my swollen cunt-lips, my engorged clitoris, and I could almost feel my juices streaming out of me as I built to incredible heights...

"Make me cum, you son of a bitch," I told him. "You bastard. You cheating, lying shithead! Make me cum, damn you!" And I gripped his cock hard – too hard. He cried out in pain, knowing it was no accident. I had him, I had his cock in my hand, his head pinned between my knees, I had him and I'd take him as rough as I pleased.

"Make me cum!" I cried again as he kept working. He knew he couldn't stop. I'd just as soon murder him if he dared deny me my pleasure.

"Make me cum!" I yelled, as my pleasure doubled and folded upon itself.

"Make me cum!" I roared, as he pinched my nipples ever-harder and I wrenched his cock harder still, as his tongue flew across my clit and split my cunt asunder, as he moaned and groaned and lolled at the depravity of it all and I threatened to crush his skull with my weight as I pressed myself into his face.

"MAKE ME CUM!" I cried, even as I came, as Mick finally made me cum, made me holler, made me scream as my juices squirted hot and hard and fast all over the back of his throat, as I squeezed the sides of his head hard with my thighs and drove myself ever-harder down on him, as I dissolved into shuddering screaming madness and came and came and came.

Finally I started to descend from the high, and through a probable lack of oxygen Mick's ministrations began to subside – but I was not yet done. I scrambled down his body and tore his jeans off. He tried to rise, but a swift punch to the abdomen brought him crashing back down again with another groan of protest. His shorts were gone shortly thereafter, and before he knew what I was doing, I had his cock held steady with my hand, I had my cunt lined up and – bam! – I plunged down on him, swift and hard.

Even as he remained winded from my punch, and deprived of air from my having sat on his face too hard and too long, I saw his eyebrows rise in surprise – and I beheld him with a mad, hot glare.

"Yes..." I hissed at him. "That's my cunt on your cock. That's a copper's cunt. Have you ever fucked a policewoman's cunt before, Mick?" I enquired of him.

He shook his head dumbly.

"Well here's your chance, Mister Millions," I whispered into his ear. "Fuck me. Fuck my cunt. Fuck my copper's cunt with your big rich cock. Fuck it. Fuck it!" I repeated, as he gladly obliged, pumping his long hard rod deep into me, out and back in, out and back in. "Fuck it. Fuck it! Now stop!"

I dismounted him quickly, spinning about-face and plunging his cock deep down my throat, deep-throating him quick and sudden and earning a huge moan of surprise from him.

I sucked long and hard, starting from the bottom of his shaft and pulling up, and up, letting his cock slip bit-by-bit from my mouth and savouring the taste of my thick, heady juices upon the meatiness of his rod. "Mmm..." I moaned as my lips reached his bulbous, purple head, and I felt him bucking slightly beneath me, against the incredible pleasure wrought by my vibrating lips.

"By God I taste so good on your cock," I told him, having reached the end. "My cunt, Mick... my cunt tastes so good on you... why aren't you eating me?" I asked of him, waggling my gaping, exposed pussy before his face. "Have you had your fill, Mister Millions?"

"Well–" Mick began, probably embarking on some smart-arsed reply. I pounded him in the guts again for his trouble. "Aww!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" I barked. "Eat me!"

Mick obliged, and we lashed at each other in the classic sixty-nine position. I plunged his cock deep down my throat, again and again, and he took to my cunt once again with his perfect lips and expert tongue. I could see his balls twitching, I knew I had quickly brought him to the brink – so I laid off him, I pinched him hard at the base of his cock and he groaned painfully again, once again making me squirm deliciously against the tremors coursing through his lips.

"Don't you cum on me..." I warned him. "Not yet. I'm going to blow your mind, Mick Worhurst... I'm going to bring you to the brink, again and again, and you're going to go completely mad."

Mick gave no reply, having learned that speaking out of turn would earn him a blow to his rippled, muscly abdomen. I pulled my pussy off his face and spun about, lining him up and skewering myself with his huge veiny rod once again; we both lolled against the incredible pleasure of it, the tightness of my box and the huge filling sensation as I sat back with his cock deep inside me.

I tore his shirt open and ran my hands across his strong, muscled, hairy chest. I leaned down and kissed him, deep and hot, lapping the taste of my own juices up off his tongue and stopping to lick him roughly and rudely all around his mouth, his chin, his nose – licking up every stray drop of my essence.

My steady, driving rhythm upon his cock, the kinkiness of licking my own nectar off his face – it must have brought him to the brink again. I could see it in his face and feel it in the twitches and pulses of his cock. He wanted to blow, he was ready, he wanted it so bad the fucker was practically gagging for it. But I pinched it off again, I pinched him hard, right at the base of his scrotum from where his cock takes root. The pain, delicious and exquisite, splashed across his face but he took his cue and settled down, allowing himself to drop back away from the brink, letting his orgasm subside.

We continued on, bucking and fucking each other as the paddy wagon lurched over bumps and leaned into corners in the road. I kept us both just below the boil, building and easing, building and easing, alternating between the skewered-cowgirl and sixty-nine positions – all the better for painting both his long rod and face with my never-ending juices, and then licking, drinking them off him afterwards. He rose to the brink again and again, forced to hold it back by my merciless treatment – pinching him at the perineum, stopping the flow, watching his balls twitch dangerously, teasing out the slow stream of precum from the tip of his cock...

A quick whir of the siren was the agreed signal that we were nearing the end of our journey, and I knew it was time to go to town. I was atop him once more; now it was time to finish it.

I rode him faster now, pumping up and down with renewed purpose, grasping his deep-buried cock tighter with my cunt, riding without mercy. He sensed that the time had come, and he began to meet my thrusts. We were fucking each other now, I rode into him and he plunged into me. We held each other's gaze, steady and unblinking with both our mouths slack, hanging open as though surprised at the sheer, overwhelming pleasure. This fuck had been long anticipated; though it had scarcely been a day's pursuit I felt I had been chasing this guy all my life.

"I'm going to cum," Mick murmured in warning.

"Cum for me," I intoned. "Cum in me. Fill me up with your hot, white, wadded cum, Mick. I want it. I need it. I need you to fill me up..."

I watched as he renewed his thrusts into me, biting his lip, going hard. I realised I was moaning now, soft and high-pitched, surprisingly feminine...

"Cum for me," I heard Mick whisper. I looked and saw it in his eyes, the need to please me. He needed to see me cum to get his own full pleasure. "Cum for me, Detective Sergeant Cara Jennings..."

That did it – my name and rank, he used my name and rank, with a mixture of awe and fascination and respect. He was fucking a policewoman, a detective, he was fucking Detective Sergeant Cara Jennings and he loved it.

That did it, I was brinking now. I was nearly lost to the world. My moans had turned to shouts and screams as I pitched back, arms behind my head, his enormous hands all over my upstretched breasts and neck and caressing my face as I sat back and let him take control, as I simply rode the bull as he bucked and plunged into me from below...

And I was cumming, I was cumming now, hard and fast, wild and abandoned, gnashing and screaming against my pleasure as he plunged his rock-hard cock deep and hard up into my squirting juicy cunt...

And now he was cumming too, there was no missing it as with one huge pump that made him arch backwards and lifted me clear of the floor, he came in me, and I could feel his white-hot load painting me high and deep as he shot long, hard and continuous. His cock settled back into a rhythmic series of pumps and surges in time with his thrusts, cumming and cumming and cumming within me, filling me and finally giving me my satisfaction.

We settled down into a heaving, panting mess, sweating and naked on the floor of the paddy wagon. It shortly came to a stop, and I found Mick's eye one last time. "Well: here we are," I said, simply.

Mick looked like he could hardly speak, having settled so deeply into a heavy afterglow, drowning in sheer exhaustion from our exertions.

"Best get your shit together, Worhurst," I added, in a more business-like tone as I rooted around for my clothes. "It's time to face the music."

"Aww, come on now," Mick managed, still panting and shiny-faced as he too began to redress. "I know I've been a bit dodgy, hiding my money from my family. But have I actually done anything illegal?"

"Well: leaving the scene of an accident is what we'd hold you for," I told him. "Not to mention tripling the speed limit several times during our little chase this arv'. But as it happens: today I've decided to drop you off at a different court of law."

Mick blinked in alarm, not liking where the conversation was heading. We were dressed – well, dressed enough; Mick's shirt-buttons had flown off during my frenzy, and who knew where my undergarments had landed throughout the day – so I knocked on the wagon's cell door and it was unlatched and opened.

Mick followed me out apprehensively, and positively paled when he realised we had dropped him in front of the small suburban cottage where he kept his wife and five children.

And lo and behold: there was his wife standing at the kerbside, arms crossed, looking utterly implacable.

"Prue..." Mick began, stopping dead on the road.

"Thirty million," she said. I had been keeping her informed through the day, and she was well up to speed. "Thirty million. Plus shares. And property. And a Mercedes, a Porsche, a Ferrari, a crashed Lamborghini... and a slut on the side."

"Honey, honestly, I can explain—" Mick tried, but he was interrupted as Prue clocked him hard upside the jawbone, with enough force to spin him back and bounce off the side of the paddy wagon before tumbling stunned to the ground. "Ah! Not the face!" we heard him cry.

"You and I are through," she informed him, seething quite impressively. "I want half of it. Half of all of it, all you've been hiding from me! And if you try to fight me, I'll take it to the press and I'll fight you for three-quarters, you lying withholding cheating son of a bitch."

She turned on her heel and stomped away, leaving Mick to call after her. I decided I'd seen enough for my satisfaction so I strolled shortly up the road, where Trish was pulling up.

"I assumed you meant 'this' red one?" she quizzed me, from the driver's seat of the Ferrari.

"Yes I did, Trish," I nodded, with a grin. "Yes I did. Scoot over."

As Trish shuffled across and I moved to take the driver's seat, I saw Mick had given off his pursuit of Prue and was stumbling towards us.

"Hey," he called. "Hey!" he yelled again as I gunned the engine, revelling in the other-worldly sound of the highly-strung Italian V8 nestled just behind our shoulders.

"Yes, Mick?" I enquired of him.

"That's my fucking car!" he spat. "That's my fucking car, and my fucking girl! You can't take them from me! That's theft!"

"Mick, Mick, Mick," I chastised. "I'm merely 'borrowing' the Ferrari."

"And you don't own me, shithead," Trish added. It was becoming apparent that some of my moxy was rubbing off on her. I wondered if perhaps 'moxy' was a key ingredient in a woman's cunt-juices, or otherwise sexually-transferrable? An interesting concept, to be sure.

But Mick was still there, and still raving. "I'll have your badge, woman!" he bellowed at me. "I'll report this car as stolen!"

"Feel free to lodge your report with the sergeant and constable down there," I nodded at the paddy wagon, where Ramkin and his anonymous offsider stood and grinned to watch the display. "I'm sure he'll get right on it."

"You can't do this!" Mick roared. "You bitch. You've ruined me! And that's my fucking Ferrari! You won't get away with it! I'm gonna DESTROY you, you fucking slut!"

"Detective SERGEANT Fucking Slut, thank you!" I replied. And with that, I executed a howling U-turn right in front of his house, showering him with atomised rubber as I planted the gas pedal – and kept it planted, riding that Italian Stallion off into the sunset, my girl in the passenger seat and my hand in her crotch.

Just another day in the life of Detective Sergeant Cara Jennings.