The Two Faces of Betty Lovelace
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Coercion, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Crime, Workplace, Humiliation, Rough, Spanking, Interracial, White Male, Hispanic Female, Anal Sex, Analingus, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, First, Oral Sex, Safe Sex, Voyeurism, Violent,
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This starts like a cop story, but it is a story of duplicity and deceit. Twin sisters with different agendas and different attitudes about life, love, sex and all that comes between.
This story is difficult to believe in its entirety, but I assure you every word is true and right on the mark, at least to the best of my recollection.
It was a slow Friday night down at the station house with only an odd drunk here or there, but there was a certain spark in the air like we were all waiting around for something to go wrong and for all hell to break loose and rain fire and brimstone right down on top of our heads. The last time I felt like that was just before the ammo dump exploded in Danang, Vietnam on a quiet Sunday morning when only the boom-boom girls were stirring.
My favorite team of detectives, Mutt and Jeff, all fired up with plenty of Irish whiskey in their early night shift coffee, came busting in the doors of the homicide squad like they were ready to take over the section and put us all on report for writing dull and uninteresting reports about routine busts that fell far short of an actual homicide with a dead body and all, right there on the first page for everyone to see.
Our only female squad member, Trisha Goodyear was perched on the edge of my desk with her juicy cheeks only inches from my incorrigible hands that itched to get a nice feel of her pretty bottom. I was smart enough to not make that mistake because she would probably break one of my fingers before bringing me up on charges of sexual harassment on my way out the door making a fast exit from the field of law enforcement. In all honesty, I have to confess right up front that the petite redhead was in my field of admirers when we first met, but in my infinite wisdom, I managed to screw that up by getting caught by her screwing a “C.I.” (Confidential Informant) right there out in the open standing in the lady’s room obviously on the verge of blowing my wad and unable to stop even if my life depended on it. The
Mutt, the big guy, who was better known as “Mad-dog” Malone and that little prick Jeff whose real name was Jefferson Davis Jr. made up the kick-ass team known more affectionately as “Mutt and Jeff”. They were not the brightest pennies in the squad room, but they did know the procedures pretty well and you could count on them making a bust more often than not. In this instance, they were dragging a definitely reluctant presumed perp between them and slammed her down into the hard wooden chair before snapping the handcuffs onto the nearby pipe to make certain she didn’t make any sudden moves. The perp certainly didn’t look like one but that was not unusual these days what with college graduate serial killers and sweet young things that liked to use a straight razor to make their point. I, for one, appreciated their caution because there is nothing as disconcerting as being shot in the back by a person or persons unknown right in one’s own squad room.
I had learned from bitter experience to mind my own business in the “bull-pen” because a lot of times what you saw was not the full story and justice and good behavior were just words in the vocabulary when people losing their lives was the price to pay for being nice. This innocent-looking suspect was pathetic enough on the surface but God only knew what sins lurked inside that pretty shell of juicy female attractiveness. Trisha seemed a bit inclined to interfere with Mutt and Jeff’s game in a gender-supporting role, but I knew she would follow her gut and not her head because cops don’t fuck around with other cop’s business without knowing all the facts.
It was difficult, but I managed to suppress my pussy-hunting inclinations and buried my head in my bull-shit report using the spell-check to double check my content before posting it on the “case closed” board with “report submitted” underlined in red.
The redhead was sobbing uncontrollably now and she looked more vulnerable than a teenaged runaway seeing real life up close and personal right after falling out of the nest of suburban fantasy. You couldn’t see her private parts that had probably been used extensively by various saviors with only one thing on their mind. The story was an old one with the young girls being victims of the junkyard dogs feeding on their defenseless victimhood like beasts in a dark forest with no 911 to come to their assistance like knights of old times.
No, she got Mutt and Jeff to scoop up her ass at the “scene of the crime” with some already forgotten pimp bleeding out on the vinyl floor in dire need of a good wash. The floor and not the vic. She was looking around the squad room now taking in the witnesses of her downfall and not liking what she saw. I had an urge to get her a cup of coffee, but I knew with certainty, both Mutt and Jeff would resent my action and probably misinterpret it as frowning on their treatment of little Miss “Save-me” as being over the top. In a way, I felt like that inside but was willing to give the boys their slack because they generally got it right even though they took a little longer to get there than most of the other teams with better training.
I didn’t have a partner any longer because my last one was a picture on the wall. She was well-liked by one and all including me but I always had this gut feeling she was too soft-hearted for our line of work and it would eventually catch up to her when she least expected it on a night when her partner was busy feeling sorry for himself at losing the beautiful Trisha’s compliant female parts.
The junkie was one of those ones that couldn’t be trusted because the lure of a fix was the only thing on her mind. Since Barbara was the only obstacle between her and her “ice cream” she did the only thing that made sense to her screwed up mind. She sliced poor Barbara’s neck so fast that I almost didn’t see it until my partner was well on her way to the floor with blood spurting out to decorate the doorway with Christmas red in the middle of July. Now, everyone looked at the picture of Barbara on the wall and then threw a glare at me because I was the screw-up partner that was looking the other way when she bit the dust. What really made matters worse was the fact that I had already lost a partner over in Vice Squad and now had a reputation that precluded any “partner” applicants from the thought of sitting on the other side of my desk. At least Marty was not a female and not that likable a person all things considered. He enjoyed dressing up as a schoolgirl truant and rounding up the perverts that preyed on them with the intent to introduce them to the world of sodomy and degradation. His last target was one of those gender confused perps that took great umbrage at Marty’s less than stellar performance and shot him with both rounds of his double-barreled derringer right in the solar plexus with no chance of medical intervention to save his risk-taking life. The fact that I had cautioned Marty several times to call for back-up when things got hot and heavy didn’t matter when my partner body-count was on the rise.
I sensed that the perp was telling the truth when he defended his action by stating unequivocally that he had no idea old Marty was a cop and was in fear of his life because he thought he was the serial killer trying to rid the streets of perverts and gang members. Of course, I kept my mouth shut and they threw the book at the creep with little chance of him ever getting out of his incarcerated status for the remainder of his misbegotten and pathetic life.
The only reason why I finally stepped in and released the tear-streaked redhead from the pipe was because her plea of needing to use the bathroom was too realistic to be an act. They just stared at me with their customary blank looks and I smiled just to throw them off the scent that I felt they were “over the line” in suspect handling right in our own squad room.
She followed me like I was the Pied Piper leading her to the Promised Land and didn’t object when I went into the ladies with her leaving the door open to prevent any falsehoods about my screwing an innocent perp in a place reserved for female use only. I had learned my lesson with my scheming C.I. Teresa who pressed her bare bottom into my helpless groin with panting approval of my oversized equipment finding familiar respite in her soft and yielding flesh. It was all fun and games right up to the point when my Trisha walked in the door with wide-eyed disbelief at my cheating ways.
You would expect me to say I never did Teresa’s ample bottom again after that disturbing event but I have to be honest and tell you that I did her backside fairly regular because we were “mucho simpatico” in such matters and I felt it would be disloyal of me to push her away because my romantic entanglements made our close working relationship any less beneficial in any respect.
I should tell you that Teresa had a young daughter called Maria and that she was the spitting image of her mama although far too young for any reflections on possible contact in a physical sense. I had a sort of father-like feeling for the pretty young thing and I hoped she was managing to keep pure although that might be too optimistic for a beautiful young thirteen year old in a “barrio” of illegality. I knew she was aware of her mother’s relationship with me because we were far less than silent in the midnight hours when Teresa spooned into me with a hunger that ignored her daughter on the other side of the room with her face turned into the wall. I felt bad about her knowing I was happily humping her mom but she never let on that she knew of our carnal relationship and we all pretended it was as normal as could be and kept our thoughts locked up inside our minds like whispers of some complicated play on a stage that had a whole series of curtains to hide the truth.
When Teresa got caught up in an anti-crime task force, I did my level best to get her off without a jail time but the prosecutor was a real prick and insisted she serve at least a year and a day just to keep the record straight. Of course, there was nothing I could do about it because I was still on the shit-list for my ladies room escapade and I had no support from my “blue-line” buddies tired of my partner consuming ways.
Fortunately, I was hitting on a sweet thing in the Families and Children Services called Tammy and she managed to get me a temporary sponsorship of Maria until her mom was released from jail. Maria was already sixteen when her mom was incarcerated and would be just past seventeen when she was to be released. For reasons that I will explain in chapter two, that never came to pass because of unrelated difficulties in the incarcerated environment.
I have to say that the inclusion of Maria into my household was a complete turn-around for me because I really cut-back on my pussy-hunting ways and stopped my drinking because I didn’t want to give young Maria the wrong impression at the beginning stages of her life. I did my best not to make a wrong move with Maria because she looked so much like Teresa, her mom and she was a real “hot number” with a glow of innocence and virginal attitude that made me nervous to be alone in the room with her after the sun went down. I know you might not believe me, but I behaved appropriately with Maria at all times and did my best to insure she was not robbed of her virginity by one of the punks at her school with nothing but pussy on the brain and little else to qualify them as a viable “boyfriend” with means of support for a new family.
She came into the squad room now and then to remind me about lunch money and other emergencies and I could tell most of my “friends” didn’t believe we were guardian and ward even if only on a temporary basis. In fact, sometimes, she was mistaken for her mom, Teresa from time to time as her breasts developed quickly like an accelerated boob job by a covert surgeon with skilled hands.
Trisha talked to Maria more than once and I knew she believed me because Maria always told the truth no matter how it hurt your feelings. I think she wanted to be the opposite of her mom in that respect because it was like a fetish to her and I could not think of any reason to tell her to change her attitude.
The redhead was booked and then released because I had convinced the prosecutor she would be my replacement for the loss of my C.I. Teresa. As long as I was feeding them cases of almost certain success in the courtroom, they were happy with that.
The girl’s name was Veronica, but I called her Ron to confuse anyone listening to my conversation on the phone. It made it difficult to determine if my informant was a male or a female and the use of the name “Ron” helped to convince them of just the opposite.
Ron proved to be an oral little thing. She was into getting on her knees for the slightest excuse and after a short period of adjustment, I was entirely comfortable with that because it was the best way to cement our relationship without getting into any “romantic” bullshit that would require long-range planning. She was a wealth of information and when she knew I needed something of a specific nature, she would use her oral skills to get the details without arousing suspicion from any of the gang members with dirty business to tend to in the dead of night.
Mutt and Jeff saw me with her a couple of times and they only threw me a suspicious glance. I figured they had something to hide with the girl and felt it was better to let sleeping dogs lay without making a fuss and stirring up hard feelings likely to cause irreparable harm unnecessarily with no benefit to parties concerned.
Eventually, Ron opened up to me in more ways than one and I enjoyed the tightness of her youthful channel of lust whenever we were able to steal a private moment for the action. She particularly like getting it standing against a wall with her hands held high and her backside jutted out for receiving me with grunts of pleasure. I have to admit it was an intriguing position and she loved having me jerk down her undies like she had just been captured and had to submit to my will in complete surrender.
I was shocked to discover that my “Ron” was actually a schoolteacher from Dobb’s Ferry just outside the city limits and that she had a twin sister called Elizabeth. Unfortunately, her twin sister had spent several years in and out of mental institutions because she was subject to numerous neurotic episodes that bordered on almost complete loss of logic and the whims of fetishes and fads that ruled her every movement. In fact, Ron was an heiress of sorts with access to untold riches and owned residences in several different States and even foreign countries. It was certainly hard to believe that the erotic sister Ron was so well-connected in social circles but she showed me her portfolio and I knew she was telling me the truth.
I hadn’t met her twin sister Elizabeth yet but Ron told me they were so much alike it was difficult to tell them apart. She showed me her little birthmark of a half-moon in the hairline at the back of her neck and told me,
“This is the only way you can tell us apart. Elisabeth doesn’t have a birthmark like this and she hates to get down on her knees, if you know what I mean?”
I certainly did understand her and I thought it odd for more reasons than one.
Apparently, Elizabeth was to come home to Dobb’s Ferry on Christmas and I was invited to stay for the entire week and get acquaint with her and the other people in Ron’s life when she was outside the city and away from the criminal element.
It promised to be an exciting Holiday season.