An Angie Story - #4 Angie Goes Undercover


Caution: This Humor Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Coercion, Mind Control, Drunk/Drugged, Humor, MaleDom, Rough, Gang Bang, Harem, Interracial, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, .

Desc: Humor Sex Story: Our lovely California beach babe with extra tittage and not much common sense goes to work undercover for LAPD Vice. Of course she handles every problem with her own style

This story is a work of fiction, and friction, any resemblance to living, dead, or undead people is merely a coincidence. This story may not be used for wrapping fish or any other commercial endeavor without the author's expressed permission.

Deputy Sergeant Applegate pursed her full lips. She had to make a decision. Angie had been promoted to deputy sergeant from the outstanding work she had done while on temporary duty. She had been offered sergeant after successful completion of a voluntary undercover assignment. The job would require temporary duty with the vice squad in Los Angeles. It wasn't something she had been trained to do, but Lieutenant Frost told her that she was a natural. Angie was to report to the vice squad division of the L.A.P.D. She had been advised to report in her normal uniform, two inch heels, silk stockings and no bra. She had decided to wear black thong panties just to make a good impression.

Angie strode into the L.A.P.D. headquarters building with confidence. This confidence made her feel that she was ready for anything. It also made her big boobs bounce wildly. She strutted up to the desk sergeant and smiled at him. The uniformed police sergeant couldn't keep his eyes off of her tantalizing tit flesh and choked on his donut. He might have died had not a passing prostitute come to his aid with the 'Breath of Life'. Angie was watching her technique, about to offer some helpful suggestions.

She was approached by a thin, white dude wearing jeans and a 'Kiss' T-shirt. "You Applegate? Follow me." He led her to a door and opened it so she could enter. Angie noticed that the printed "Vice" on the door was almost faded out. Some joker had painted a picture of a vice squeezing a hooker below it. Angie was ushered past a gaggle of prostitutes loudly proclaiming their innocence.

The thin man introduced Angie to the men that were sitting at a table drinking coffee. "Angie this is Theodore Bear", an older looking plump man with a bow tie; "Skiff on loan from the Narcs", a small nervous looking man that looked like he was about to jump out of his own skin; "Sonny Barker", a tall black man who looked out of his permanently silted eyes. Then there is "California", who is new to Vice, a blonde surfer looking dude; "Cotton, another plant for Narcs", a short black man with a scruffy patch of curly hair and a cheap cigar clamped between his teeth. "Boys, this is Angie, our latest undercover volunteer. My name is Carl, by the way." Some nodded and the greetings of 'Welcome aboard', 'She'll do' and 'No bra, get used to it honey' were heard. The only one who met her gaze and held out his hand was 'California'. As soon as their hands had met, Carl bustled her off saying, "Gotta see the L.T. No time to dawdle."

Carl knocked on a door that was ajar and led Angie in, without waiting for a reply. He sat her down in a chair and left the small office pulling the door shut behind him. A man was sitting at the desk reading a report that he held in front of his face. After a couple of uncomfortable minutes, Angie heard a sigh and saw the man put the report down on his desk. The man was a tired looking, middle aged Hispanic with graying dark hair and very large hands. The knuckles on his hands were scarred, as if he had been punching a brick wall. "You must be Deputy Sergeant Applegate, I'm Lieutenant Hernandez. You'll be working for me as a 'honey treat' dangled out in public trying to attract the attention of Viktor Rostovitch. He is the leader of the local contingent of the 'Sevastopol Twelve'. He's the weakest of the twelve Russian bosses. Your job is to get close to him and find out about his organization. You'll be monitored, so we will know what you find-out and you'll be guided by vice detectives on what you should and shouldn't do. They will be in constant communication with you, so just listen to them. You should appear available, but be unattainable and you should not have to put-out. You'll be briefed further by vice officers. That'll be all, you can go."

Angie exited the lieutenant's office and left the door ajar. She was called over by Sonny and 'California'. Sonny briefed Angie, "We have rented an apartment for you near the beach. You'll move in tomorrow. Your cover story is something you can relate to, you were attending Saddleback College going for a Criminology degree. The story is that you got kicked out of college for cheating. Your step-mother, who wants you out of the way, made the most of it and had you cut off. The apartment belongs to an old friend of the family. The only money that you have is a few hundred dollars. You don't want to have to go to work, especially with fast food, which is about all you're qualified for. The only other job would be on your back and you can't even think about it getting that bad."

Sonny held up a locket on a chain and a pair of matching earrings. "Wear these always. The locket contains a microphone and the left earring has a tiny speaker. The mike and speaker are always on, you don't have to activate them. For your sake and ours, I hope you don't talk in your sleep. 'California' and Cotton will be your day-time shadows, Teddy and Skiff at night. Carl and I will be your 'floating' support, as needed. Teddy has a lot of experience, listen to him." He gave her a business card. "Take a bus here from Saddleback College tomorrow morning. Carry your stuff in a small suitcase. Don't take very much and remember, your source of ready cash has been cut off.

Rebecca gave Angie a long kiss the next morning and sent her on her way. She had agreed to back-up Angie's cover story if anyone inquired. Angie got off the bus at the Wind Chime apartments. The apartments were laid out as an oval of individual bungalows around a small outdoor park. Angie was wearing a pink halter top, which exposed her flat tummy, and white short-shorts with two inch open toed sandals. She went to the office and soon had her own apartment. Angie glanced at her watch as she unpacked her small suitcase; it wasn't even ten O'clock yet. Angie hummed a pop tune to herself as she finished unpacking and slipped into a bright orange thong bikini. A gruff male voice yelled in her ear, "Stop humming that tune; you've got 'California' singing it now. If he keeps singing, you're gonna be left alone with out back-up until the next crew comes on duty." Angie wisely stopped humming out loud, but now she just couldn't get that tune out of her head.

Showtime! Angie walked across the street in her bikini and sandals. She had left her watch back in her bungalow, but wore the earrings and necklace. Angie was carrying a net-bag with a beach towel and a bottle of suntan oil. A couple of yahoos or hobos hooted at her bare ass as she strutted across the street and strolled onto the beach. Angie's two inch sandals were not the best for walking on sand, so she kicked them off. She carried her sandals in one hand as she walked, her toes digging into the hot beach sand. She wandered down the beach until she was near a fenced-in area with some free weights and benches; the Russian equivalent of 'Muscle Beach'. Angie spread her towel, stolen from the Radisson, on the sand. I've spent so much time on this all-over tan; it would be a shame to ruin it now.

Standing next to her towel, Angie slid her top off, over her shoulders, freeing her bodacious boobies. The few men lifting weights didn't seem to notice her stripping, so she slid her thong down her legs and stepped out of it. Angie then sat down on her towel and spread suntan oil over her front. She took extra time on her ripe breasts and her womanhood. Angie stretched out on the towel and let the warm sun wash over her. Once she had spent some time on her back, Angie decided it was time to flip over and toast the back a little. Angie needed someone to oil her back, and thought this might be a great way to meet some Russians, maybe Victor. She walked naked over to the chain link fence. Angie noticed Victor from a photo that the vice cops had shown her. He was bench pressing an enormous amount of weight. Wow! Lieutenant Rodriguez had said that Victor was the weakest of the twelve crime lords. They must really workout a lot if they're stronger than Victor.

Leaning her large, oiled tits over the fence, Angie held up her bottle of suntan oil. "Can anyone of you muscular studs take a few minutes off and oil my back?" She smiled and without waiting for an answer walked back to her towel and lay face down. She didn't have long to wait. A minute later Angie felt a pair of strong hands massaging oil into her back. "Make sure you get my ass really good stud, I don't want to burn down there." The hands dutifully rubbed her buns, and then one finger slipped into her wet cunt and began to play with it like it was payment for the oiling job. The hands walked away and Angie suntanned in relative privacy. She flipped over two more times to finish her line-less tan. Angie got dressed in her orange thong bikini and walked home. The next two days went basically the same and she wondered if she was making any headway toward meeting Victor. Her nights were uneventful, but that was about to change.

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