The further adventures of a well endowed pizza delivery guy.
The blaring techno-pop music jarred me awake. I hate techno-pop, that's why I use it force myself out of bed in the mornings. I lunged across my bedroom and stabbed at the off switch of my sound system. The relentless thumping bass cut off and I sighed, wiping the palm of my hand down my face. The bathroom was my next stop. I made sure that my half-hard dick was pointed at the toilet and cut loose. It doesn't take me long to piss. I might have an otherwise unremarkable body, but I'm hung like a horse. Even if my bladder is full to the point of aching, it gets emptied in a hurry. A girl once told me that it sounded as if I was emptying a bucket of water into the toilet.
In the kitchen, I ate a bowl of cereal and set the coffee maker to work. Then it was time for my shower. I journeyed back to the bathroom and started the water to flowing. Taking off the string pants that I sleep in, my cock arched away from my slim frame, steadily growing longer and thicker. It knew what was coming. I have to empty my balls three or four times a day, otherwise I walk around with a constant, painful hard-on. And I usually start the day with a hand job in the shower. I lathered up and while I let the warm water rinse off the soap, my thoughts went back a week to when I was taking a shower with three young ladies. I had delivered a pizza to the trio and one of the girls had seen my cock in action earlier in the evening. We had all ended up in the shower together where I brought two of the sexy teens to multiple orgasms. My hand traveled up and down the length of my massive penis as I remembered the feel of those pink pussies on my cock head. In just a couple of minutes the pressure at the base of my dick became unbearable. I aimed my dick at the two inch wide tiles on the far side of the shower and centered one with a pencil thick shot of cum. A dozen more tiles became my targets as I emptied my huge balls. The torrent of semen wound down until the last two blobs of cum fell with a splat to the floor of the shower and washed away down the drain. With that chore accomplished, I dressed, poured my hot coffee into a travel mug and headed out to face the day.
I hopped into my Mustang and started for my first class. I know that it says "Pizza Guy" at the beginning of this story, but I'm mostly a college student who only delivers pizzas on the side. I was sipping my coffee and following the line of cars headed for the college when a blue light began to flash in my rear view mirror. I got that sinking feeling that you get when you're caught at something, although I couldn't figure out what I had been caught at. I certainly hadn't been speeding, but I pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and awaited my fate.
I watched in my side mirror as the officer emerged from his car. He appeared to be over six feet tall with neatly trimmed hair, broad shoulders and he had a waist that even a skinny guy like me could appreciate. His uniform was immaculate with razor sharp creases. His shoes and equipment belt were so highly polished that they gleamed in the morning sun. He had a craggy face and one of those chiseled out of granite jaws. He pulled off his sunglasses as he reached my car, and I looked up into piercing blue eyes that seemed to be staring at the back of my skull.
"Is your name Jack?" he asked in a crystal clear baritone.
"Yes, sir," I managed to say without stammering.
He stuck an immaculately manicured hand in my window and said, "I'd like to shake your hand, son. That was a nice piece of work you did last week."
Last week there had been a robbery at the pizza place where I work. I had managed to follow the crooks back to their lair. Well, actually it was a cheap rental unit with crack-house decor. I put the local cops onto the robbers and became a mini-hero.
I shook the man's hand. "Thanks, deputy," I said, and then I managed to read the perfectly squared-up name tag on his chest, "sorry, I mean Sheriff Vaughn."
The relief I had begun to feel disappeared like a wisp of smoke in a hurricane. You see, I had been banging the sheriff's wife on a regular basis. I hadn't known that she was the sheriff's wife at first. All I had known was that her name was Ginger and that she was a pizza delivery guy's dream come true. When Ginger's husband was out of town, she would call for a pie and I would deliver pizza along with a heavy dose of cock.
After the cops had captured those crooks, I had gone to the county court house in order to give a statement. There, I had run into Ginger who was working as an emergency dispatcher. Ginger had been pissed at her hubby, and before I could leave the court house, Ginger had me spraying cum all over the sheriff's office. I guess I had been in denial to think that the sheriff wouldn't find out who had coated his office with cock spunk. Now I didn't know if he was being sarcastic or actually congratulating me.
"I only wish that we had more good citizens like you," he said as he pumped my hand with a manly grip. The sheriff looked around as if he were afraid that someone might overhear his next words. His voice lowered to a confidential level. "Listen, that night at the courthouse, did you see an unusual number of deputies, or any sort of group of men?"
My spirits came unstuck from my shoes and started to rise once again. Obviously, he was investigating the source of the cum that coated office, but just as obviously, he didn't think that it came from skinny, little me. "I'm not sure how many would be unusual," I said innocently, "but I think that I saw five or six guys that night."
The sheriff nodded, and then looked as if he were considering something. "Hang on just a minute," he said, and walked back to his cruiser. When he returned, he was carrying a small black plastic case which he handed to me. "I have a favor to ask. I have a surveillance camera and recorder at my home and I have to go out of town for the weekend. My wife just loves those pizzas from where you work, and I was hoping that you could be the one to deliver the pizza. While you're there you could change the tape in the recorder for me."
It was all I could do to keep the look of complete and utter amazement off my face. I stared at the sheriff for several seconds and then managed to say, "Couldn't your wife or one of your deputies change the tape?" I asked.
Sheriff Vaughn cleared his throat loudly. "I'd rather that my wife didn't know about the camera. It would just make her nervous. And I don't want to involve a deputy. It's sort of a security thing," he finished lamely.
"Well, I guess that I could give it a try," I said. I didn't really want to do it, but how could I say no? Clearly, the sheriff was suspicious of his wife. I had to consider myself lucky. He was like a farmer begging a fox to keep an eye on his henhouse.
"Good man," said the sheriff, beaming. He told me where the recorder was hidden, and then praised my good citizenship until I was at the point of cringing.
My odd conversation with the sheriff stayed on my mind most of the morning. But warm weather at a college campus means tons of coeds with bare, shapely legs and breasts thrusting at tight tee-shirts. By noon my cock was ready for more action. Since it was Friday, I had a free hour in my class schedule from noon until one, which just happened to coincide with the office hours of my faculty advisor.
I tapped on the door frame to Ms Paplakis' office. True to her Greek heritage, Angela Paplakis, my faculty advisor, had dark, straight hair framing a handsome face. She was tall and slim and always dressed conservatively. Today she had on a dark gray, knee-length skirt with matching jacket and a black blouse. A thin, silver necklace was around her neck.
She looked up at my knock and smiled. "Hello Jack, how are you today?"
"Do you have a few minutes?" I asked, knowing very well that her next class was at one, just like mine.
"Come on in, and close the door," she answered.
I closed the door and made sure that it was locked. I had barely turned around before I had both arms full of warm, perfumed female body. Angela had removed her jacket and her bare arms went around my neck as she pressed her breasts to my chest. I responded by giving the inside of her mouth a good tongue lashing.
"I was hoping that you would come by today," she said breathlessly when our kiss ended.
My dick was already throbbing inside my jockey shorts. "I'm just glad that you're not busy."
Angela checked her watch. "Well, I do have a twelve-thirty," she said with an apologetic smile.
"We better get to it then," I said as I kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants and shorts to the floor. My cock swung out and up, jutting from my groin like another limb. Angela skinned out of her panty hose and neatly laid them along with her skirt on the back of her desk chair.
"Come here baby," she cooed to my dick. She ran her hand up my cum tube and was rewarded with a palm full of clear, oily fluid. "Let's get you all slicked up." She proceeded to smear the stuff all over my dick, paying particular attention to my doorknob sized head.
She playfully flicked my nose with a cum-wet finger and announced, "I think we're ready." She led me by the dick over to her desk, where she braced herself with one hand and pulled the head of my cock against her pretty, pink pussy lips. I eased about nine inches of rigid dick into the depths of her cunt. There's nothing like the feeling of that hot, moist flesh. I put my hands on my hips, spread my feet apart and proceeded to fuck Angela like a machine.
"Yeah, that's it, Jack," she moaned. Angela's forehead was on her desk, one hand stroked her nipples and the other tweaked her clit. After pounding her pussy for a couple of minutes, Angela had her first orgasm, and not long after, she had numbers two through whatever. I was beginning to feel the warm swell of blood in the head of my cock that signaled my own climax, when someone began tapping on the opaque glass of the office door.
I jerked in surprise, sending too much steel hard dick into Angela. She squeaked and gave me a hard look over her shoulder. I shrugged and grimaced in apology. Whoever was at the door, tapped again, only harder.
"I'm in conference," Angela managed to say in a loud but calm voice. I know, I know, she passed up the chance to use the old 'I'm cumming' gag, but of course she wasn't in the thralls of orgasm at that point.
"It's Dr. Jones," called an impatient, masculine voice from the other side of the door. Dr. Jones was Angela's boss, the head of her department.
She lunged off my dick as if it was suddenly electrified, and then she turned and looked at me in a panic. "He's my twelve-thirty," she whispered. "He's early."
I thought, what the hell. It's not as if he was going to break down the door. I gestured at my still petrified dick that was dripping pre-cum on the office floor. After all, she'd had her jollies, and now it was my turn. Angela grimaced and turned back to her desk. She plucked a half-dozen tissues from a box and clamped them over the end of my cock. Frantically, she began to jerk me off with her free hand. "Just finishing up, Dr. Jones," she called out over my shoulder.
I found the whole situation pretty sexy. Sort of like screwing your girlfriend while her father is watching television in the next room. I tried to hold back, just to tease Angela, but in less than a minute I was shooting my load into those tissues. I rocketed a dozen shots of cum into Angela's palm. Unfortunately, she wasn't using enough tissues so Angela ended up with a pulpy mess in her cupped hands. But several fresh tissues later, her hands were clean and we were busy getting dressed.
Angela gave a last tug to her pantyhose, flopped her skirt into place and took a seat in her desk-chair as I unlocked her office door. "She's all yours, Doc," I said as I bowed Dr. Jones into Angela's office. He gave me a hard stare as he passed me in the doorway. I stuck out my tongue to the back of his head, and gave the doctor a pair of horns with my fingers as he walked into the room. Angela was trying to stifle a laugh as I closed the door and left.
My last class wasn't finished until four, and when it was over, I threw my books into the back of my car and headed to work. It was Friday, and that's always a big night for pizza deliveries. There was the usual flurry of orders around the dinner hour and then things tapered off. Around seven I got a delivery to a local inn. That was a bit unusual since the inn had its own kitchen, and if the guests ordered out it was usually from one of the chain pizza places.
You never know what to expect when delivering to an inn or motel. Usually it's just a weary couple who don't want to hassle with a restaurant. Sometimes it's a fat guy in his underwear who can't wait to dig into the extra-large pie he's ordered. Sometimes it's college students who have the wild, screaming munchies and ask if I want to take a toke off a Cuban cigar-sized hunk of weed. And rarely, it's a shapely female who answers the door.
Bucking the odds, that's exactly who greeted me at the door to her room in the inn. Now I don't expect to screw every woman I deliver a pizza to, far from it. But that doesn't mean that I can't appreciate good looks. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair in that short, purposely unkempt style. She was wearing a red, sleeveless, knit top over white slacks that showed off her nice ass as she walked away from the door. "Would you put it on the table?" she asked.
I stepped into the room and saw that she was not alone. There was a brunette sitting on one of beds. She was dressed a bit more provocatively than her friend. She was wearing a white halter top that left a bare midriff above a pair of navy, hip-hugging capris.
"That's sixteen dollars and ninety-three cents," I said, giving the blonde a friendly smile. She turned to her purse and began the process of digging out her wallet.
The woman on the bed said, "Is your name Jack? Are you the delivery guy who caught those two robbers last week?"
I was surprised. It was a small time crime that didn't even make the front page of the local paper. My exploits had been eclipsed by a multi-car accident caused by a wandering cow. "I didn't catch anyone. I just pointed the cops in the right direction," I told the brunette modestly. "How do you know about it?"
"Could we have a few minutes of your time to talk about the robbery, and you can keep the change." said the blonde as she handed me a fifty dollar bill.
I glanced at the bill with raised eyebrows and stuck it in my pocket. "I suppose I can spare a few minutes," I said.
"Please, have a seat," said the brunette as she gestured to the double bed opposite the one on which she sat. "You can call me Annette and this is Gidget."
"Just a couple of surfer girls," I said with a smile to let her know that I got the joke; they didn't want to use their real names. I sat and the blonde took a seat next to me. She sat close enough so that our bodies rocked together momentarily as she settled down.
"We represent some friends of the accused. You know they were just a couple of kids who got drunk and used some bad judgment," said Annette.
"They committed armed robbery," I protested.
"They used a starter's pistol, and it wasn't even loaded," said Gidget.
"Look, I'm not sure about the law, but I'm sure that will be taken into account," I said.
Annette went on to explain how the young men came from good homes. They'd left home for a fling, gotten drunk and then one thing led to another. The starter pistol was owned by one of the fathers who used it as he timed high school football games from his wheelchair.
I finally threw up my hands and said, "OK, OK, I'm officially sorry for those guys, but what can I do? I gave my statement to the police the night of the robbery."
Gidget put her hand on my shoulder and then slid it down my back until it was resting on my ass. "The boys' lawyer could come by and depose you on what happened. All you'd have to say is that you forgot to tell the police that you lost sight of the van for a minute. And that, no, you can't be absolutely one hundred percent sure that the van you led the police to was the one that you saw at the pizza place. Those boys won't be getting away with anything. Your statement will allow the lawyer some wiggle room during plea bargaining."
I'm sure that I looked indecisive and uneasy. Gidget slid her hand under my tee-shirt and I could feel her hot hand on my back. "We can make it worth your while to help us," she breathed into my ear. She probably thought that a non-hunk like me would be overwhelmed by the attentions of a good looking female. Well, she was partially right. I could feel the snake in my pants as it began to uncoil; and the issue of the two boy-robbers began to fade into a mist of hormones.
Annette scooted off her bed and knelt at my feet. She parted my knees with her hands and then moved them up my thighs. She unzipped my pants and put her hand on the base of my rapidly expanding cock. Gidget had stopped whispering in my ear; now she was sucking on my earlobe and running her moist tongue around the shell of my ear. She advanced to kissing my cheek and moved on to my lips. When we finally got around to swapping tongues, I pulled her down with me as I lay back on the bed.
With the weight off of my ass, Annette was able to pull down my pants and jockey shorts. "Holy shit," she gasped as my hunk of meat made its appearance. "Look at this," she said to her friend. She grabbed the lower half of my cock and flopped the upper half from one side to the other.
Gidget's tongue made a slurping sound as she removed it from the depths of my mouth. Her eyes went wide when she saw the mass of cock that Annette was heaving about. "Holy shit is right," said Gidget with awe in her voice. "That thing's huge."
As the two women watched, my dick continued to lengthen and fill until it Annette could no longer hold it in one hand. It finally came to rest on my stomach as both women petted it and ooh'd and ah'd at its size. "Why don't we all get naked?" I suggested helpfully.
The two women glanced at each other and in about one minute we had piled our clothes on one bed and our bodies on the other. I lay on my back in the center of the mattress with the ladies on both sides. "I found it so I get it first," announced Annette cheerfully as she straddled my hips. She had a nice, compact body with full breasts and hips.
Gidget propped up her head with one hand as she watched her friend rub my doorknob-sized cock head up and down her pussy lips. She rubbed her free hand absently along my chest and said, "You shouldn't have any trouble fitting that thing in your loose cunt."
Annette stuck her tongue out at her friend as she finally managed to work my cock head into her slippery pussy. "Oh, yes," she moaned as several inches of rock hard dick pushed its way in. I let her take as little or as much as she wanted. In a minute she was humping away, cupping her tits in her hands.
Gidget was back to swabbing my tonsils. I had the feeling that she was getting a little horny. She was taller and thinner than Annette. She had the legs of a runner and looked as if she spent time in a gym. Her tits were average, but as the old joke goes - more than a handful is just a waste. She mewled into my mouth every time I tweaked her nipple with my finger and thumb. "You're not going to let her have all of that delicious cock, are you?" she asked between moans of pleasure.
"There's plenty to go around. How would you like to sit on my face for a little warm up?" I offered.
"Oh, baby," said Gidget as she maneuvered her fragrant slit over my lips.
I spread her vaginal lips and speared my tongue right to her clit. At this point I didn't think that she was too concerned about loving caresses. In moments, Gidget was leaning against the wall at the head of the bed. She was humping her puss around on my face as I fought to keep my tongue on her little joy buzzer. Meanwhile, back at my dick, Annette was bouncing around like a kid riding a toy. She was having orgasms - lots of them according to feel of her rippling pussy on my cock. She was doing her best to get me off as well, but I wanted to give Gidget a turn, so I just concentrated on eating her slick cunt.
Suddenly, I felt a painful wrench at my groin. Annette had fallen off her toy. My cock bent sideways and then sprang free of her clinging pussy, slinging pre-cum and pussy juice all over the place. "My turn," said Gidget, tapping me on the top of my head. We rearranged ourselves across the bed. Annette was content to lie at the foot of the bed and watch as Gidget got on her back, her legs spread wide.
I stuffed my swollen cock in Gidget's pussy. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," panted Gidget. She had her legs over my shoulders and I was shagging her as fast as I could go. The girls had been popping orgasms like a string of firecrackers, and now it was my turn. The head of my cock swelled, and then I was pumping out waves of cum. I planted a half-dozen blasts in Gidget's hot pussy, and then I pulled it out. I don't know why. It wasn't like I was finished or anything. I spewed cum all over Gidget's tits and tummy. Then I turned to Annette and gave her a rope of creamy stuff right in the face. With a shriek of laughter, she turned her head, catching more of my load on her cheek. Cum was dripping off her hands onto the sheets before I was through.
"Look at all this shit," said Giget with disgust as she rubbed at the cum on her tits. "We're going to get cleaned up." She and Annette headed for the bathroom.
I used a bed sheet to clean off my softening dick. I got dressed and grabbed my pizza carrier. I was almost to the door when Gidget stepped out of the bathroom and threw her arm across my path. I sensed that she had just been waiting to make a dramatic move. "Nice fuck, Jack," she said with a tight smile, "now how about our deal?"
I was hoping to get out of there without committing to anything, but Gidget was back to all business. Even naked, she looked cool and intimidating. "Let me think on it," I said hesitantly. "Tell you what, I'll come back tomorrow about this time. We'll split a pizza and talk it over."
She peered into my eyes, and then she reached out to straighten the collar on my shirt. "OK," she said as she patted her hand on my chest. "Just remember that all of our discussions stay strictly between the three of us."
"Absolutely," I said, trying to sound as reassuring as I could.
Gidget lowered her hands and stood aside. "Don't let us down," she said in a level tone as I went out the door.
I'm hardly a deep thinker, but it was pretty obvious that changing my account of the robbery could have consequences. On the other hand, not changing my story could have its own consequences. Those two women looked as if they could take care of business in more ways than one. I figured that they were willing to track me down and beat me into submission, and I don't mean beat in the masturbatory sense of the word either.
When I got back to the pizza place, my other problem reared its ugly head. Ginger had ordered a pizza and it was ready for delivery. As I drove to her house, I tried to think this one through. Her husband had a surveillance camera on her, and I was supposed to help him out by changing the recording tape. Where was the camera? Would I give myself away by saying something to Ginger? Of course my most important decision was should I give up a hot fuck by just handing the pizza to Ginger and running away?
I turned off the public road and stopped at the end of Ginger's drive. I pulled the pizza box from its warmer and scribbled a note on top. Then I drove on to her house. Ginger met me at her back door. She was wearing her usual frumpy bathrobe and slippers. My dick gave a lurch. It knew that under that robe was one willing body.
"Pizza, ma'am," I said loudly, holding out the box and thumping my scribbled note lightly with my thumb.
Ginger gave me a look, but then she saw the note. She read it as she turned and put the pizza on a counter just inside the door. Then she kicked off her slippers and led me twenty feet away from her house into her backyard. "What do you mean, I'm under surveillance?" she asked in a severe tone.
I told her all about my conversation with her husband, the sheriff. "Where's the recorder?" she asked when I finished.
I looked around and pointed at a shed that was at the end of their drive. The sheriff had figured that I could slip in there as I turned my car around to leave. "It must be in there," I told Ginger.
She strode off across the lawn and I had to hurry to catch up. The shed had a rock foundation with wooden walls and a tin roof. We stepped inside and Ginger flipped on a light. There were the usual garden tools and a workbench with a couple of electrical outlets. A power cord went from one of the outlets to the back of a wall cabinet. "He said it was in this cabinet," I said. I opened the door and saw the dark boxy shape of some electronics behind a couple of paint cans.
"Let me see," she said. I stepped aside and she moved the cans. She pushed at a couple of buttons and a tiny TV screen glowed into life in one corner of the recorder. Looking at the screen, it took me a second to understand the perspective, but then I recognized the bed in Ginger's bedroom. She grunted and said, "I guess that's to be expected."
"Do you think that's the only camera?" I asked. After all, Ginger and I only used her bed when we weren't bent over some other piece of furniture in her house.
"Yes," she said with an exasperated sigh. "The county has only the one camera and recorder. I know because I'm the one who got it from the feds. She turned to me and grinned. She took off her robe to reveal a lacy, navy teddy that showed all of her legs and provided some fantastically erotic support to her tits. "Don't worry, I can take care of my husband."
Thoughts of her husband flowed out of my brain as the blood flowed into my cock. She put her hands on my cheeks and drew my face near. A second later her tongue was swabbing the inside of my mouth. I responded by caressing her ass and pulling her hips hard against my growing meat. Our tongues fought it out for a couple of minutes. My face became wet from nose to chin, and my cock became an inflamed hunk of iron in my pants.
We parted and Ginger began to tear at my belt. "In here?" I asked in a husky voice.
She grinned at me. "Why not? We've done it everywhere else."
I couldn't argue with that logic, so I simply watched as Ginger pulled down my pants and shorts. My cock swung up and out, eager for action. It was long and thick, and on my skinny frame, it looked absolutely enormous. She drew the head of my cock against the sheer, smooth material of her teddy and ground her flat tummy against the sensitive underside of my twitching dick.
"Oh, babe, that feels like heaven," I moaned. I pulled down the cup of one of her tits just enough to expose the nipple, and ran my thumb over the rough, erect surface. Now it was her turn to moan in pleasure.
The slick material rubbing on my dick was maddening. "If we keep this up, I'm going to hose down that nice piece of lingerie," I panted.
"We better get to fucking then," Ginger said with a laugh. She turned and bent over, steadying herself on the workbench. She waved her tight buns at me as she pulled aside the thin strip of material that covered her pussy. It seemed to be my day for doing it doggie style, but I certainly didn't have any complaints. A well timed dollop of lubricating precum washed over the head of my doorknob sized cock head. I bent my shaft down to the required angle and eased my first nine inches into Ginger's cozy cunt.
"Mmmm, I never get tired of this," said Ginger as she whipped her hips back and forth. I hardly had to move. Ginger frantically humped and twisted around on my cock. She managed to have a couple of orgasms before my balls gave up a generous load. There was a puddle of cum and pussy juice between her legs by the time my cock emptied.
After cleaning up, Ginger became all business. She had me retrieve the spare tape that the sheriff had given to me. I placed the fresh tape in the recorder and left the old one on top of the machine. By the time I walked into the kitchen, Ginger was pulling hot pizza from the microwave. "I closed the bedroom door so we can talk," she said as she poured two glasses of wine.
I wolfed down three slices of pizza while Ginger nibbled at her lone piece. I took a long drink of wine and said, "Look, it's none of my business, but what's going on between you and your husband?"
"He thinks that I'm having an affair."
"You are," I said with a leer.
Ginger gave me a condescending smile and said, "We're having lots of fantastic sex, but it's not an affair."
I couldn't argue with that. There was a ton of lust between us, but not an ounce of romantic love. "The other day you said that you thought he had something going on with one of his female deputies."
She shrugged. "He's all good looks and charm, and he can't help but flirt with every woman he meets. Some of those women flirt right back, and then one thing leads to another. I just ignore the stuff that goes on out of town, but that little deputy thing pissed me off. That's why I had you spraying cum all over his office the other night."
"I almost had a heart attack when he stopped me this morning," I said.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I can't believe that he asked you to change that tape. How did he know that you wouldn't run to a reporter with that story?"
"You know," I said, "your husband looks like he belongs on a recruiting poster for law enforcement personnel, but you talk like he's not very bright."
"Oh, he's average I guess, but we have political ambitions - using my brains and his charm - and we need to be a team," Ginger said.
"So how did you two get together?" I asked as I reached for another piece of pizza.
"Well, I was with the FBI and met Dirk when he was an officer in a small resort town. I think we both knew that we we're going to end up in bed from hello. I was based in a nearby city, but we would get together at a motel - his uncle ran the place - whenever we could."
Ginger swirled her finger over her clit, as Dirk pounded his cock into her wet pussy. She leaned forward and let her breasts brush over his heavily muscled chest. He's built like a Greek god, Ginger told herself not for the first time. With her weight off his hips, Dirk increased the speed of his fucking until his cock was a blur of motion.
Ginger shuddered through her orgasm. She buried her face against his shoulder and reveled in the highly erotic smell of cologne and sweat. When the spasms in her pussy subsided, she straightened up once more and put her weight above his plunging cock. Dirk was reduced to shoving her weight into the air on every stroke.
"Bitch," he growled at her. She stuck out her tongue at him. He sat up suddenly, wrapping his arm around her back and grabbing her ass with his free hand. She squealed and laughed as he bounced her up and down on his dick like a live, warm jack off toy. Grunting and straining, he spent his load in her tight puss, and then he collapsed back on the bed. Ginger swooped down and sucked his cock into her mouth before it could even begin to get soft.
"Enough woman," moaned Dirk. He brought his wrist up and looked at his watch. "Three times on one lunch hour is enough."
Ginger let the limp dick fall from her lips. Even she didn't think that he was going to get it up again. But there was no harm in letting him think that he couldn't wear her out. She rolled over on her side and watched as he dressed back into his dark blue uniform. He had the chiseled body of an athlete and the rugged good looks of a matinee idol. He could be awfully sweet. His charisma made him a natural leader, even if he wasn't the brightest guy in the world. Ginger figured that he could be the next police chief of this little berg, if he put his mind to it. She rolled off the bed and picked up her panties from where she'd flung them an hour earlier.
"Two-five is ten-eight" she heard Dirk say into his radio, telling his dispatcher that he was available.
Ginger looked over her shoulder and saw that Dirk was once more completely dressed, neat as a pin and checking his watch. "How do you do that?" she asked, sounding annoyed.
"Look like you just stepped off of a parade ground," she said.
Dirk looked down at his clothes. "Well, I didn't toss them all over the room to begin with," he said as he gestured at her clothing that lay scattered over the bed and floor.
"I think you sort of missed the idea of acting with wild sexual abandon," she mused. "Where's my other shoe?"
"Here," said Dirk. He picked up the sensible pump and tossed it across the bed to her. He was about to say something else when his radio came to life. The dispatcher rattled off codes and other information too quickly and softly for Ginger to understand, but she saw Dirk stiffen in surprise. He acknowledged the call. "There's a robbery at Blue Mountain Trust, I've got to roll," he said moving to the door.
"I'll be right behind you," said Ginger, hastily buttoning her blouse.
Dirk was roaring out of the motel parking lot in his patrol car just as she emerged from the room. She sprinted to her own car and threw open the trunk. She grabbed a bulletproof vest with FBI emblazoned on the back it in bright yellow from the trunk and put it on. Reaching back into the trunk, she pulled out a twelve-gauge pump action shotgun and worked a shell into the firing chamber. Then she hopped into her car and took off. She drove more slowly than Dirk had. After all, she didn't have all the lights and siren that he was using.
Blue Mountain Trust was only a half-mile away, and she would be there in just a minute, but Ginger used the time to go over what she knew about the small bank. And small was the operative word. The bank consisted of one thirty-foot trailer that sat on a narrow piece of land next to a four-lane highway and perched above a narrow creek. There was a small parking lot next to the bank, and from there customers could enter the front door, or there was a ramp for the disabled to use on the side of the trailer that faced the creek. Effectively, Blue Mountain Trust had a back door. One that a thief might use if the cops showed up earlier than he'd planned.
Ginger was only half way to the bank when she braked hard and swerved her car left across a bridge and onto a narrow residential road. This road paralleled the four-lane. In a minute she had parked in front of someone's vacation home. She ran around the house and through a patch of woods that sloped down to the creek. She knew that she was roughly opposite Blue Mountain Trust. She stopped to look around. To her right the ground from the trailer was steep and rocky, but to her front and left there was a gentler slope. She figured that if the robber or robbers had ducked out the back of the bank, then they would come her way. Ideally, cops approach bank robberies silently. They want the robbers out of the bank and in the open before they attempt an arrest. But Dirk had gone tearing down the road with his siren wailing. She just hoped that he hadn't created a hostage situation.
Her speculations came to an end when she saw movement in the trees across the creek. The lone man moving furtively through the trees couldn't have looked more like a bank robber. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled down low and sun glasses. He was carrying a bulging canvas bag in one hand and a pistol in the other. Ginger crept a few paces to her left and stopped behind a broad oak tree where she could follow the robber without being seen. She stood frozen in place as the robber hesitated only briefly before he stepped into the shallow water of the creek.
On TV and in the movies people are constantly waiting until just the right dramatic moment to chamber a round into their weapons. The writers, directors and whoever seem to be in love with that menacing, mechanical noise. In real life, only an idiot would wait until the last second to be able to fire his weapon. On the other hand, the click-clack of a shotgun being charged can definitely have a psychological effect, and Ginger knew it.
She stepped out from behind the tree, ratcheted another shell through the shotgun and yelled, "FREEZE, FEDERAL AGENT," all at the same time.
Faced with the prospect of receiving a chest full of steel balls, the robber tried to stop in midstream. Unfortunately for him, the slick rocks in the creek-bed didn't cooperate. His feet flew into the air. His gun arced away in one direction, and the bag of money flew in another. The back of his head hit the rocks in the creek with a thud, and he lay groaning as the shallow water flowed around his sprawled body.
"Ouch," said Ginger in mock sympathy. She heard footsteps and raised her weapon, but it was Dirk who appeared on the other side of the creek. She was satisfied to see that he had collected at least a few specks of mud on his shoes.
"I forgot the back door on the bank," Dirk said with an I've-screwed-up-again look on his face.
Ginger thoughtfully propped the butt of the shotgun on her hip. She studied Dirk for a few seconds and said, "You didn't mess up. In fact, with brilliant foresight, you sent me down here to cover that back door."
Dirk looked back at her with a quizzical smile on his face.
Back in her kitchen Ginger said, "After that, I mentored Dirk through his election to police chief and then the bigger job of county sheriff. I quit the Bureau and we got married a few years ago. I have the local politicos all set to back him in a run for Congress."
"Wow," I said. "You're a regular power behind the throne kind of gal."
"I know," said Ginger with a smile. She stretched out a bare foot and massaged the cock in my pants with her toes. "I wonder why he doesn't trust me?"