Inspired by local news item about a crash and “unusual” situation the coppers found. No details were given, so I made the story up on that premise. That idea led to the others, all fictional and imagined
“Remember that incident down the Biddesley road last September?” chuckled WPC Dawn Bloomfield, off duty in the Rumsey Police station.
“Christ Yeah! That carved the area up for hours,” responded WPC Julie Dunn, as she sat and pulled her black skirt up above her knees. She spread her strong legs and enjoyed the freedom of air filtering round her stockinged thighs.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t the road closures, she’s on about Julie,” said WPC Janet Woods, joining them in the staff room with a steaming kettle. “It was what we found when we got there. We were first on the scene.”
“Oh I haven’t been first on an incident yet. Must be terrible,” said Julie, pouring milk into large mugs. “Especially a fatal one.”
“Oh some of them can make you sick. I haven’t seen many but that was a cracker,” chuckled Dawn.
Janet poured some builders tea for them all, sat down, kicked off her flat black shoes and loosened her uniform. Tie first, then the two top buttons of her regulation shirt. She ran her hands through her very short black hair and rolled her shirt sleeves up to reveal several tattoos on muscular forearms. She took off her trendy rimless spectacles and cleaned them on the edge of her shirt.
“This new fucking bra is killing me,” Dawn muttered, pulling her shirt from her waistband and sticking her hand up.
Her colleagues watched the groping trail of the tall, voluptuous, dirty blonde’s hand as Dawn fumbled at the under wire of her new 38DD white bra. It was nipping some of the ample pale flesh of her huge knockers.
“So what did you find?” asked Julie impatiently.
“Ooh! Can’t tell you that. It’s our secret,” shrieked Janet before sipping her tea and dunking a chocolate digestive biscuit in the near boiling liquid.
“Janet, how can you do that?” moaned Dawn. “That’s disgusting.”
“Not as disgusting as what you did with that fella on the Biddesley road” Janet retorted. “Anyway Julie, it was like this...”
The white patrol car eased gently along the lane with the two female constables gazing intently all around. They had seen the speeding 4 x 4 SUV turn off the minor road they travelled, it’s wavering passage and pace suggesting drugs or booze. It was a damp misty night and Dawn had just groaned to Janet that they were already late back at the station to sign off the shift. Janet had retorted that if they hadn’t parked up in that side road and enjoyed a little play, they wouldn’t have been late. Promising each other a nice warm bath, some mutual massage and a sexy night in with the new double dildo, after a takeaway curry and some lagers, they felt obliged to check and apprehend the car driver.
“Look - lights Dawn,” muttered Janet pointing across some open scrub. “Still fucking shifting ... Shit!”
Her partner who was driving, slammed on the brakes as they saw the headlights shoot into the air, carving the mist, like wartime searchlights for seconds before they became shrouded amongst undergrowth and reduced to a glow. The two WPCs glanced at each other until Dawn gunned the police car to the junction and down the next lane. It was easy to find the crashed vehicle. The tail lights glowed brilliantly red.
Dawn carefully parked, put out a blue sign, both donned high visibility jackets, grabbed torches and made their way to the vehicle. They could see one headlight still working pointing across a ploughed field. The car’s engine had stopped, but the whole thing ticked with heat. They split up and walked round each side, picking their way over mangled branches and piles of earth torn up by the vehicle’s traverse through a hedge to end up wedged front end into a massive oak tree.
Steam, not the flames they all dreaded, filtered from the front, where the engine lid was fully open. Janet covered the passenger side and as she peered through the side screens, she saw no one was in the back. The forward side screen was smashed but the door was intact and she tried it. It swung open remarkably easy, the interior light flickering on and she gasped at the sight in front of her.
“Oh my God!” she remarked.
Dawn had to clamber over a large log to approach the other side of the 4 x 4 and heard Janet’s comment. Intending to open the driver’s door, she grasped it, gearing up for the mangled mess of human limbs and blood she expected to find and wrenched at it. It was stuck, but she placed her hefty size nine boot against the pillar and heaved again. It opened with a metallic graunching creak and she too gasped at the sight. She swiftly turned the car ignition off killing the head and rear lights. Her eyes then scanned beyond the shattered body of the young man, catching Janet’s wide eyed stare at the opposite side. Janet’s eyes were indicating that Dawn should look closer at what was in the passenger seat.
“What the fuck... ?’ Dawn grunted. “Wow! Er, check the pulse first Janet. Only two isn’t there”
Janet scanned the rear seat and confirmed a lack of rear passengers and then leaned in and grabbed the wrist of the young girl, which was all she could reach at the time. As she searched for a beat she took in the rest of the scene. Dawn reached for the neck of the man in the driving seat and waited, all the time gazing at the lower portion of the patently dead person.
“Zilch!” they both remarked almost in unison.
They grimaced in sadness tinged with inevitability.
‘Yeah! Bound to be with this impact and no seat belts thth,” tutted Dawn, glancing at the mashed head of the man that had impacted against the screen and then slid sideways onto the dash towards the door. The girl’s head was crushed against the dash and equally mashed.
“Young too,” said Janet. “Will they ever fucking learn?”
“They’ve obviously learned something,” chortled Dawn, with a dirty grunt, nodding downwards.
“Yes - up to it while driving too. Naughty ones,” added Janet. “Can’t blame him though.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Dawn as her eyes again slipped below.
“Well she is very attractive from where I’m standing,” giggled Janet, tracing her fingers over the warm exposed crotch of the female. “I mean you and I wouldn’t mind a piece of this beauty Dawn. And a gorgeous little bum”
Dawn watched her partner’s hand disappear over the twin hillocks of the dead girl’s buttocks which faced the passenger door and then turned her attention to her side.
“If you could see what I can Janet ... well maybe you wouldn’t appreciate as much but ... well this young fella was her dream come true alright, ‘ murmured Dawn, rimming the man’s knob end with her finger tip.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw as beautiful a piece of young tender pussy as this one ... er no offence darling,” Janet murmured to Dawn. “But you are thirty five.”
Dawn frowned across at her team mate and lover, but didn’t react. Janet was right.
‘Can you see her pussy?” she asked, getting a nod and a smile. ‘Got to have a look.”
Dawn scrambled round the vehicle, snagging her leg several times on sticks and thorns before joining Janet at the open passenger door. She gulped and stared for a few seconds before crouching nearer.
“Oh yes. See what you mean. They must have been having a mutual wank while driving, the stupid bastards. See where his hand is. How old you reckon she is?” Dawn asked, spotting that the man’s hand was trapped between the girl’s right thigh and the seat.
“Bit of a guess but if you look at the gear – no more than twenty,” answered Janet. “I mean she is slim, long legs...”
‘There’s a bag there. Must be some papers. Check it out,” suggested Dawn, her eyes fixed on the rear end of the girl, which was raised up in a kneeling position.
The girl’s crotch was open to view, originally in the doggy position, black lacy edged panties down her left leg caught up in the top of thigh length leather boots. Her right leg was jammed up on the seat, whilst the left one was down in the foot well. Dawn gazed at the girl’s exposed cunt with it’s light scattering of fair pubic hair curled round a slender slit which was obviously wet. Above was a neat gathering of fair haired wrinkles that puckered into the crevasse of her anus. Licking her lips, she touched the peachy twat gently, peering into the delicate folds that glistened with intimate moisture. Meanwhile Janet rifled through papers in the cheap leather handbag and found a Burton Perrins college ID.
“Gemma Jackson, born 15 April 1986. Fuck she’s only ... er! ... seve ... no sixteen. That’s right - sixteen and a half,” added Janet. “Pretty girl from the photograph.”
“Not any more,” grimaced Dawn glancing at the ID as she smelt her fingers. “Pretty pussy though. You were right and very ripe. Come and see what the fella is packing. We need to find out who he is.”
Reluctantly Janet followed her colleague to the other side and gulped at the scene from that side as Dawn felt in his jacket pocket. A wallet was found, containing several bank cards, business cards, various slips of paper, postage stamps, a bundle of cash and helpfully, a driving licence.
Meanwhile Janet glanced at Gemma’s face, or what was left of it, down near the man’s left thigh and held back a vomit as she took in what was held in Gemma’s right fist. A very large penis stuck upwards into the mist swirling round the cab, with a bulbous knob glistening in the interior light.
“John Upham, Assistant Sales Manager for Hawkins Garden Centre, East End, age ... er! ... ah yes here it, clean licence too ... er! 21 - 2 –1982. Twenty and a bit... 24 Pussfield Road, Eastle ... hang on - I know his sister. Oh fuck!” she exclaimed.
“Oh I’m sorry Dawn,” said Janet thoughtfully.
“Nah! It’s OK. Right cow she is. Came on strong to me about two years ago, before you transferred to Rumsey. I was still very Bi in those days. Gave her a couple of good nights out and in, know what I mean and then she dumped me for some fucking Polish barmaid. Cow!” Dawn spat.
Janet chuckled and patted Dawn on the shoulder, thinking that her lover in the police force still had the odd leanings towards men when she felt like it.
“Lives up to his name - Upham,” she added, tapping John’s knob end with her forefinger. “Certainly up now and was probably intending to be later with sweet Gemma.”
“Yeah superb cock Jan,” murmured Dawn licking her lips. “Not that you’d be interested. Surprised you even touched it like that.”
“Wouldn’t normally. Yeah! You’re right - not me, but I know you would Dawn with your varied tastes. Still like a cock now and then don’t you darling? Gemma’s more my type, lovely ripe young cunt,” said Janet glancing at Gemma’s mashed face and shuddering.
“Still stiff too. Lovely ain’t it?” asked Dawn gleefully. “Rigor Mortis wouldn’t set in yet, but he is surprisingly hard still. Have a job putting him in a coffin like that,” she giggled.
“Will her hand come off it?” asked Janet.
“Lets see shall we?” said Dawn.
“Didn’t mean now Dawn. Just thinking ahead. We can’t touch them,” hissed Janet reproachfully.
“Tell you what, you go and have fun with little Gemma’s pussy and I’ll enjoy myself here, then we tidy up and radio in ... easy!” suggested Dawn, her fat hairy snatch already juicy with the idea.
‘We can’t Dawn,” gasped Janet, aghast.
“So I gobbled him and frigged my self while she sucked the girl and frigged herself and everyone was happy,” screeched Dawn. ‘They were still lovely and warm.”
Julie sat stunned in her chair as the tale spilled out. Her huge pink lips dropped wider and wider apart as Dawn and Janet told her all the gory details.
“Didn’t anyone notice anything?” the black girl asked. “I mean how long was it before the medics and forensic came.”
“Can’t remember but so what? It was easy. We’re pros Julie, don’t forget,” added Dawn. “Turned you on a bit though didn’t it?”
Her glance at Julie’s crotch distracted the one ethnic policewoman in the area from her questioning. Julie looked down as the others did and shyly extracted her hand from up her skirt. She nodded and blinded the other two with her full Caribbean style smile.
“Even got some pics from the photographer of Gemma’s cunt and bum. She’s one of us that’s how,” added Janet to Julie’s interruption about the photographer. “Sounds like the new shift coming in. Right - that’s the end of story time in the nick. How about us three go home and get undressed and fuck?”
“Well I couldn’t resist. I mean she had an idiot proof camera lying there on the table and she was the photographer who fucked up our Deborah’s wedding shots and gave her a measly five percent off the bill. I felt I owed her one,” added vice squad DS Rob Fairfield to his assistant DC Nigel Martin in a quiet suburb of Rangewood, a small market town in Hampshire.
“You will like some of those especially.” said Rob.
Nigel chuckled when he was handed the photographs and gasped in astonishment at what they revealed. Even though their biggest case some months ago had completed a successful raid through to conviction of a porno ring in town and the two had a liberal share of the magazines and videos seized, they had never seen quite such scenes as illustrated in the shots now being viewed. Through their various cases and investigations they had found they had a mutual liking for the bizarre things in sex. They had both gathered up lots of the animal features, gleefully noting the dog, horse, cow, pig, goat and donkey features amongst the pile. Rob had also gone for the bizarre water sports, vintage stuff and older women features with Nigel collecting some S&M stuff. Since then they had bonded and attended several underground parties where free sex and porno to their taste was available. A recent case they had followed through to successful convictions was that the gang were mainly dealing in child porn and they didn’t like that. Also the gang were East European immigrants and muscling in on the local scene in Southampton and Portsmouth, both major ports, which Rob and Nigel did very well out of, both financially and pleasure wise.
“So were there any suspicious circumstances?” asked Nigel, tensing his dick at a couple of the photos.
“Nah! I mean we just stumbled on the case as part of another investigation but it was natural as it happened, although unnatural as most folk would say,” chuckled Rob. “The thing was she was a decent bit of mature tail, so I thought why not. It’s my scene, the older woman and it was free,” he laughed manically.
“Were you alone when you found her?” asked Nigel.
“Nah It was a couple of years ago remember,” Rob told him. “ I was just a DC like you and I was with DS Ancram, an old hand who never got past the sergeant stage. We were so short handed then. We called at her studio, right on the dot at five o’clock as arranged and it was open and deathly quiet. We called out for her, Carmel Mold was her name, foreign type ... you know. I mean we were on business, seeing if she had school shots of a bogus teacher that had got away with posing as math teacher for over a year and then abusing girls at the school.”
“It was like this...”
Ancram and Rob glanced at each other. The photographer studio was intensely quiet. They were surrounded by cabinets and displays of the examples of work carried out by Carmel Mold. The two policeman wandered round the shop, Ancram impatiently whistling through his teeth. The door bell had clanged as they entered. No one came, yet they had an appointment. They both called out, Ancram at the bottom of some stairs and Rob through the curtained screen at the back of the shop. No replies came although Rob thought he heard some noise out back.
With growing suspicion, Ancram climbed the stairs and found a storeroom, neatly stacked with shelving of stock and cartons. There was no one there and no where to hide. Rob went through the curtain, calling the proprietor’s name, finding himself in a laboratory workroom with all sorts of equipment, lights, boxes of film, cartridges and tanks with taps. There was no one in the room as Rob turned to see Ancram following him. Another door led off and they assumed it would be into a rear entrance hall, which it did but also with another flight of stairs. They called out, Rob hearing some sort of reaction but faint.
They climbed the stairs after checking the fact that the one other door did indeed lead outdoors to an alley which was deserted. Ancram took over as they topped the stairs onto a landing with two doors. One door was checked revealing a bathroom with a toilet and no occupant. The older copper opened the other door and Rob followed him inside to a fully furnished cosy lounge with a single bed and other furniture.
“Fuck me, just look at that,” Ancram murmured.
‘Shit!” Rob exclaimed.
Slumped arse up on a cushion was a person. A woman actually, as they both had clear views as they walked round. Her skirt was up round her waist, a pair of black silk and lace knickers hung on the arm of a chair, her black silk stockings and suspenders were in slight disarray. Her upper torso which was furthest away from the two policemen was supported on a comfy old armchair, her thighs hard up against the chair. She was in the classic doggy style of fucking, her head resting comfortably on her forearms and Rob thought she looked quite tasty with nice rounded buttocks, spread legs and a lovely fat hairy pussy which was partly open showing pink and glistening moist.
The grizzled old detective cleared his throat noisily, but she didn’t stir.
“Excuse me madam,” said Rob loudly, again getting no reaction.
Ancram approached her and put his fingers to her neck. After a while he shook his head gravely at Rob who grimaced.
“Still warm too, so recent,” grunted Ancram.
Ancram then peered intently, and very closely at the woman’s exposed snatch, just checking if anyone asked, before cocking his ear, putting his fingers to his lips and touching Rob’s arm as he too heard a noise through a part open door. Stealthily they approached the remaining door. Rob pushed it open and Ancram stepped in to be greeted in the small kitchen by a large, friendly black Labrador dog. No humans were in sight. And there was no other ingress to the apartment. After calming the fussy dog, they tried the only window which was locked.
“Lets check the whole place out again Fairfield. It’s fucking weird this,” muttered Ancram.
They checked out every room and doorway finding nothing untoward. Ancram made sure the front street door was locked, intending to secure the place as they did a thorough search as Rob checked the till. Cash and cheques seemed intact and he counted well over two hundred in notes. He opened a substantial cupboard below the till and found a collection of expensive cameras. Just then Ancram’s mobile trilled. He talked sharply and at length, finished the conversation and spoke to Rob.
“The super wants me particularly on the spot at a double murder scene. Some bigwig’s family who has friends in high places and it seems we have men just about stretched everywhere tonight. No point in explaining we had an odd case. You deal with this. You know what to do, forensics, photos, local interviews etc. Call in and get assistance and you’ll get back to the station OK, ‘cos I’ll take the car. Be good experience for you. I’ll help in every way of course. I mean she has just been fucked or was getting ready to be. Her fanny was wet ... spot that? Eh? Yes you did. Thought so. Think about the fact that there is something strange as she is still warm but very dead yet no one around, no forced entry and nothing taken at first glance. Who would want to fuck that, beats me. Bit of an old bag isn’t she? Not my scene, I like them young heheh,” chuckled Ancram patting his young colleague on the shoulder before letting himself out to the darkening street.
Rob, fully gloved up from when he and Ancram had no replies to their calls, made sure he was locked in, checking to see if the door had been forced as he saw the police car pull away. He checked the whole downstairs again, then the front upstairs store and made his way through the back. The rear entrance was locked and hadn’t been tampered with or forced. The one real question in his mind was that if she had been expecting their visit at five, why was she in this extremely bizarre situation. Still puzzling to himself he climbed the back stairs and heard a peculiar scratching sound.
He pushed open the lounge door where the sound emanated and gasped at the view. The scratching sound was the Labrador’s rear paws on the bare floor boards as it struggled to keep upright as it mounted the butt of the woman. It’s haunches were going hammer and tongs at her rear end and Rob stood and gazed fascinated and captivated by the scene. His greatest sexual fantasies revolved around bestiality. He had seen - even in his few years in the police force, various book and videos of such scenes but never in person. He guessed that she must have been indulging in the canine sex act before he arrived with Ancram because the dog obviously knew what to do.
He strolled round to the side and knelt down. The dog ignored him, it’s ears flapping wildly, it’s tongue lolling wetly and eyes bright. Rob could see the dog’s bright red cock shafting into the woman’s sluicing cunt and he found it very exciting. She was dead for fucks sake, but what an erotic scene.The dog’s front paws were tangled up in the woman’s skirt on the chair. Her top half was clothed in a black tight fitting top, but large breasts could be seen being squashed under her rolling body. Rob peered round the front, down into the depths of the chair and saw her bleached blonde, thick hair. Tentatively he lifted her head to view her face, the dog intent on mating and totally ignoring his interference.
“So Carmel,” Rob muttered. ‘You’re not a bad looker for someone who likes the authentic doggy style.”
Her eyes were heavily but expertly made up. Her hair seemed in good condition and she smelt nice. Thick eyebrows carved over heavy hooded brown eyes, a fairly large, slightly hooked nose and a full lipped mouth. She matched the reference photos and certificated photos on the studio walls downstairs.
“You’re no old bag are you. Stupid old copper Ancram. Doesn’t see beauty and sexy attributes in mature ladies like I do. Just might indulge myself for a moment or two,” he continued, after gently closing her eye lids.
The policeman checked his watch and gazed round the room. He saw several cameras on a shelf and investigated them. Choosing a loaded idiot proof, aim and shoot, high spec digital version he returned to Carmel’s still torso. Thinking about his personal collection of porn, this would be a nice addition. He switched it on and the camera flashed several times as he worked round the shagging dog. He got further close ups under the dog’s legs. He then realised he had a raging erection.
Rob shoved the whining dog off and took more quick shots of it as it walked away and then lay down, with it’s thick wet dick wobbling grotesquely before it until it was enveloped in strenuous licking. With slight wondering on the sense – hygiene wise, of following a canine cock, Rob never even thought about the ethical situation. He dropped his trousers and pulled out his stiffy. He knelt behind the woman and thrust his dick at her sloppy open minge. Easily, his six inches slid deep inside and he felt the heat and wetness her canine lover had created. As he started to fuck her, his mind suddenly clicked in that she was intending to or had been getting a length from the dog when she popped her clogs. There were no injuries, she was in the passive position, no one could have propped her there except herself. Unless if someone had been in, an accomplice, a lover, whatever, where were they now? Had they fled and left her because she died? But the dog knew what to do as it had mounted her between Ancram and his first discovery. It must be a regular occurrence.
The moral and certainly taboo aspect of necrophilia shot through his brain, but Rob’s cock was his brain at this precise moment and he didn’t care. The fact that he had stumbled on a female engaged in bestiality and an attractive, mature and he thought, foreign female, excited him. The fact that Ancram didn’t know about the dog fucking was a bonus. He shagged her hard, varying his pace, not wanting participation, reaching under her and pulling her top from her waistband and finding no bra. He found the large warm handfuls of her tits and grabbed them, squeezing them hard, tweaking the large prominent nipples. He just wished he could remove his gloves and experience he feel of warm elderly flesh.
His jism started to bubble and amazingly his brain clicked into police mode. If he came inside her, it would be a bit dodgy forensic wise. Time of death could be established and a post mortem held for certain. In her found position, her vagina would certainly be examined for alien fluids. Ancram would remember the time of discovery. Rob shagged until the explosion felt imminent, then he pulled out and shot his load onto his handkerchief, just avoiding smearing the olive coloured globes with his prodigious cumming. He gasped in ecstasy as he spent and shuffled back.
Evilly – like an animal in the forest, he dropped to his knees and licked at her anus, knowing the dog hadn’t penetrated her fundament. He smelt the musky odours of her ring piece, cleaning it with his tongue as he fingered the sloppy hanging flaps of her soaking twat. Satiated at last, Rob lifted his head and plucked a pubic hair from his tongue with his fingers. He liked the smell of her ripe pussy on his gloved fingers but the film smell soon overcame the odours,. He sorted out his clothing and grabbed the camera ... Rob took several distant and close ups of Carmel’s genitals, joyous in finding a large, very prominent – almost cock like clitoris and then shut down the camera, stuffing it in his jacket pocket. That wouldn’t be missed he thought to himself and I can download all this onto my computer at home.
The dog started to snore noisily, jolting Rob back to his professional approach. He glanced at his watch. Merely fifteen minutes had passed since he entered the room. He opened and rifled through some drawers near the single bed and found a selection of underwear. Choosing a black pair of French knickers, he carefully and thoroughly cleaned her cunt flaps, her buttocks and her sphincter using the gusset of the garment. That went into the pocket with the camera.
Rearranging the corpse was done with meticulous care, his almost photographic memory serving him well in positioning her in the way him and Ancram had first seen her.
He had a bit of difficulty getting her big tits back under her and her clothes tidied, but finally Rob was satisfied and he called up to report the incident.
“And no one suspected?” asked Nigel incredulously.
‘Nah. Not a thing. I even reported the dog fucking her, Ancram agreed that it could have done although he didn’t witness anything and they checked her cunt and it showed up in the fluids, you know, dog jism or something,” said Rob.
Nigel nodded and shook his head.
‘Staggering really. Who would have imagined the circumstances. What time did they give for her actual death, it was her heart you said, wasn’t it?” queried Nigel.
“Yeah. About an hour before. No one had been to the studio either, in that hour before five. No other prints apart from mine and Ancram’s on the upper doors and the stair. She must have forgotten to lock the door, silly old cow. Incredibly no one had gone in. We conducted quite an exhaustive interview session with the other shop keepers in the area and two people in upstairs over shop flats in the street, but no one reported anything suspicious,” said Rob, chuckling at the photos Nigel handed back.
“No one even asked about you or the camera?’ asked Nigel.
“Not a thing. Carmel was divorced about eight years back, no family and an independent trader and well thought of in the photography world, wedding stuff - although not in our family,” grimaced Rob. “Our Debbie couldn’t believe it when the wedding stuff was fucked up.”
Nigel nodded sympathetically.
‘How old was er ... Carmel then?”
“Forty eight. She was smashing though Nige,” grinned Rob. “I could have fucked that for ever. Nothing like a mature woman’s ripeness.”
“Yes I know you keep telling me. You know that new Custody woman that’s transferred over to the station. Are you going to move in on her? Right age group,” Nigel suggested.
‘Definitely not. The ethnic thing doesn’t interest me especially those coal black birds,” snorted Rob. “Fucking out and out racist me.”
“Well she must be in her early forties and I like a bit of black,” chortled Nigel. “ Might have a go at her.”
“She might fuck monkeys with her background,” giggled Rob. “If you get some photos I’ll be interested. Coming for a pint?”
“In the fucking coffin? In a funeral parlour?” asked Sgt John Dyke. “Jesus Christ!”
“Yes - but not in a coffin you twat. On a table ready for the coffin,” chuckled Inspector Andy Gravell.
“She would be cold then?” said John.
“Well originally, but young Horace Peace, the undertaker’s assistant helped me. He owed me big time. It was easy. He’d had a shot at her too you know. It wasn’t just me, he fancied her too - obviously,” argued Andy.
“Yes but you had a gripe to settle, I can understand that,” grinned John. “Jesus - these are amazing.”
“That one was the one I felt like sending to her family, but I didn’t of course. These are dynamite John.” Said Andy, leafing through the photographs. “And you say nothing about them eh?’
“Shit no Andy. I owe you big time. You know that,” responded John meekly.
“Yeah big time, but you’re a good copper John and I like you. Anyway you or anyone would never find these. Not in a million years. I covered for you on that case with the kid and you’re clear and as you showed me your little souvenirs I’ll show you mine hehheh!” chuckled Andy.
“Er! Thanks. I only took a few of her, you’ve got a fucking album here,” giggled John.
“Yeah but yours are classics. A ten year old girl sucking your knob and riding your dick. That’s dynamite.”
“So how did this come about? I mean it was before I transferred here,” said John.
“It was like this...”
Inspector Gravell arrived at the funeral parlour at about six on a Monday evening. Late October’s darkness settled over the market town of Owlresford in Hampshire with an air of foreboding. Storm clouds grouped and clustered to the West. Andy glanced at the sky and shuddered. It had been a hard day with meetings, a dismissal of a constable on perjury charges, a town centre disturbance with racial overtones, a major incident on the bypass and his wife Judith bitching about him not being back in time to say goodbye to her mother. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Maureen his mother in law. Having left her that morning after sneaking into her room and having a last feel of her juicy pussy, then sucking his finger as she played with his long dangling cock, they considered that to be their farewell following an extremely sexy weekend - two fingers to Judith...
Ostensibly visiting to look after the kids for the weekend, due to Andy’s fabricated heavy workload and Judith’s need to attend a two day course, it had worked extremely well. The kids - Danny and Kelly, had virtually disappeared for two days, nothing unusual so Maureen and Andy had the house to themselves and had fucked, sucked and shagged in every possible combination at leisure.
The fact that Maureen was sixty one, widowed, wealthy, elegant, very slender, coffee coloured and hot about Andy since the day he and Judith had met had considerable bearings on the way they planned their liaisons. His considerable height, bearing and arrogance had charmed her, as it had her daughter. The new attitudes in the force had allowed Andy to consider taking a half caste woman as his wife and her lovely light brown skin, dark smouldering eyes and busty yet shapely figure had captivated him.
The other fact was that Judith had gone to seed since Danny’s birth and had immersed herself, working her way to the top - in welfare and charity work adding to Andy’s social round as he was expected to accompany her to functions annoyed the hell out the self centred and ambitious copper. His consolation was that he regularly got to shag the living daylights out of the sublimely gorgeous mother of his wife and grandmother to his two kids.
As he arrived at the funeral parlour, Judith had just finished brow beating him on his mobile in her whining voice that took on West Indian overtones when she got aggravated. As he parked - he thought of her fat waddling body, her permanent sweat and her delight in wearing the most revealing of clothes that did nothing to help her vast body. It did nothing for his or her image, especially since he had just gained promotion.
Andy entered the establishment, opened by young Horace Peace the son of the owner Paul Peace. The young man looked terrified to see him And was sweating profusely.
“Er! ... Ggggood evening Inspector Gggravell sir,” stammered the gaunt and pasty faced eighteen year old.
“Evening Horace. Early I’m afraid. Catch you having a sleep then?” responded Andy with a grin. “So dad’s not around?”
“A deceased up at Roopley. Complicated, reckons he will be an hour or so.”
“Ah well, just a few things. Did he put the papers and things out?”
“Yes, it’s all ready in the office. Hope this will be the end of it ... er ... it’s through here sir,” said Horace with concern.
“It’ll be quicker if we pop through here,” said Andy indicating a door from the reception. “I know my way around.”
“But that’s the laying out room sir?” whined Horace nervously nodding.
“No problem. Been in a few times and seen a few stiffs in my time heh heh!” chuckled Andy. “Let’s go.”
The mayor Rosemary Jane Head, known as Rosie to her confidantes, had been killed in a road accident and Murphy’s law was that an off duty police car on a personal mission and a hearse of all things were involved. The furore was tremendous as she was the youngest Liberal Democrat Mayor ever appointed, possibly in the country. Loads of publicity had come her way because of that but also because she was a stunner, loaded and very high profile.
Her parents, the immensely wealthy taxi, car rental, fleet operator and scrap dealer Don Head and his wife Grace - who in her own right was an A-list show business agent and years back had been implicated in a call girl racket, had created a stink with the Superintendent and Chief Constable and Andy had been delegated to sort it out. The fact that Andy had undercover people working on the Head empire, by arrangement with the Metropolitan force was unknown to both of the said police hierarchy. The suspicion of drug dealing in a big time was gaining momentum and Andy was hopeful of great strides in his career if the Head empire crashed with his help. Don and Grace lorded it big style over their empire and anyone who came into contact with them and Andy hated their guts.
“It was her fault wasn’t it sir?” ventured Horace as he followed Andy into the laying out room where the Mayor’s body temporarily resided.
“Yes it was son. And luckily nothing to do with your vehicles. One of your competitors wasn’t it?” said Andy walking to the corpse.
Horace looked impatiently and apprehensive as Andy peered at the deceased Mayor. He nodded.
“Yes from Guildford. And not your officer I believe?” Horace asked nervously.
“Precisely. That’s why it’s nearly sorted out. Do you know she wanted to be my lover?” Andy chuckled, shaking his head. “Nice looker, isn’t she. Even cold.”
Horace looked aghast and gulped, shook his head and then nodded.
“I met her at the scouts presentations sir. She was gorgeous yes. Very nice,” he added, knotting his hands together nervously. “Shall we go to the office sir?”
Andy peered closely at Rosie, his sharp eyes scanning from her feet, up the unorthodox position of her legs under the sheet, the large bulges of her tits and the pale, but carefully featured face of the corpse. His eyes slid back to her legs and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Funeral tomorrow?” he asked, studying the covered corpse.
“Er ... yyyyes sir. That’s right. Ssh.sh ... shall we go to the office, all the stuff is there for you,” chirped Horace nervously, twitching at the Inspector’s arm.
Andy glared at the lad’s impudence in touching him and the hand fell away to be knotted with it’s twin again in nervous gestures.
“She’s not right somehow. Mind if I take a look?” asked Andy lifting the sheet without the answer.
Horace squeaked and tried to grab Andy’s hand but it was too late. The sheet slid away to reveal Rosie’s beautiful cold stiff body. Andy gasped with surprise, letting the sheet fall to the floor as he stared at her crotch. Her legs were apart, her crotch was greasy and there were bruises round her pubic mound.
“What the fuck... ?” Andy gasped as he stooped and peered into the gap between her legs.
He looked at her cunt which was open and glistening wet, her labia hanging large and prominent amidst the carefully trimmed but thick patch of hair. “This isn’t how she died, being fucked. What’s going on?”
“Er nothing sir. Just doing some last minute work on her. Haven’t quite finished,” said Horace unconvincingly.
“Obviously not Horace. Just what were you doing?” asked Andy carefully, his mind whirring.
“Er well ... er ... Fff ... Well ... er! fluids drain out and you have to clean you see. That’s it. I was cleaning her,” Horace answered hesitantly and then too quickly for Andy’s sake. “Don’t do that si...”