The Codini Case
Copyright© 2026 by Paul Darkblue
Chapter 1
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A tragic car accident hides secrets and untold truths. Emma and her team will have a hard time understanding what’s behind it. Meanwhile, life is going to throw a major change at her in the new city where she is living now. Is Emma ready to take it, or will she run away just like she ran away from Milano?
Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Crime Analingus Oral Sex Safe Sex
Commissario Emma Rizzi – July 1st, Saturday Morning
I’m Emma Rizzi, a Commissario in the Italian Police Force. For a few months, I had my moment of notoriety as the chief of the team that caught the Scarlet Letter Killer in Milano. After that, due to a heartbreaking, failed love affair with a married man, I asked to be transferred here to Perugia, this lovely city in central Italy. That was almost two years ago; I’m 41 now.
Here in Perugia, I lead a new team, and for almost a year, I dated a man from the public prosecutor’s office. I thought he could be the right one for me; I had never been married or long-term committed before. Unfortunately, things changed. I was practically waiting for a ring on my finger, but we both realised there was no future; no “we.” Sadly, it happens. I can’t say if it was him or me; there was no cheating on either side, nor any other weird situations, just a fading of feelings. I can say it now: better sooner than later. It was hard and sad, but it was a consensual breakup, just a couple of months ago. We still have a good relationship as friends and value each other when we work together on cases, but nothing else.
That morning, the work phone rang at around 6:15 AM and woke me up in my bed alone, as always for the last few months.
The problem was that the night before, I had slept no more than two hours. I had spent the rest of the night fucking a guy whose name I didn’t remember clearly; maybe it was Paolo, or was it Gianpaolo? I met him in a bar. I was drinking a beer alone after a long day at the police station, spent working with the team on some open cases. I was dressed in my plainclothes work outfit, tight jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt.
The guy approached me using the classic line: “What is a beautiful woman doing all alone here? Can I buy you a drink?”
Initially, I was a bit annoyed. Why don’t these guys use a bit more imagination to hit on women? But the guy was nice, very handsome and confident, maybe in his early thirties. He was six feet tall, fit, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes, and well-dressed in a white shirt, blue trousers, and a sports jacket, all luxury brands. And mostly, I hadn’t had sex since my breakup. Well, I don’t count my toys as sex; they only help me scratch an itch. Otherwise, I’d risk climbing the walls when the need for a cock inside me drives me crazy.
So yes, I accepted the drinks, and after a little talking, we ended the night at my place. As soon as we stepped through the door, I didn’t waste any time; I was too horny and eager. I stripped out of my office clothes, pushed him against the wall, knelt down, opened his trousers, and took his cock in my mouth. The guy was well-endowed, not the biggest I’ve had in my life, but above average anyway. I love to suck cocks; it gives me a sense of power over men. A man will do anything for a woman when she has his cock in her mouth, and she is licking and sucking it with passion and enthusiasm.
After some sloppy sucking and deep-throating, he was ready to cum. He tried to move me away, but I kept going until he emptied his balls down my throat. I swallowed all the cum, then squeezed and licked every drop leaking from the head of his cock.
Have I told you that I love the taste of cum and pre-cum? Some are really tasty, some not so good, but I’m in love with that taste. It’s my aphrodisiac; it turns me on more than any other foreplay. I got lucky that night; the guy was clean, and his taste was on the sweet side.
He returned the favour, eating me out as soon as we reached the bedroom. Within a few minutes, feeling his skilled tongue and mouth on my labia and clit and his fingers inside my dripping pussy, I was grabbing the sheets and coming hard right in his mouth.
He was hard again. ‘Lucky choice tonight, Emma,’ I told myself. As soon as I caught my breath, he put on a condom, aligned his cock in front of my slit, and kept rubbing his cock head between my soaking lips and clit.
I begged him, “Fuck me now, boy. Stop playing.” I couldn’t waste any more time.
With a single thrust, he pushed his cock fully inside me. I almost came right then, but I didn’t last long, anyway. As his thrusts went harder and faster, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands grabbing his ass, pushing him even deeper until I was overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure, my legs trembling. Without mercy, he rolled me onto my belly, mounted me, spread my legs, and continued fucking me from behind. I found myself pushing my ass back to meet his cock. The waves of pleasure kept going as I moved through an uninterrupted sequence of light orgasms, until I felt his breathing growing faster. He pulled out, removed the condom, and came on my back, collapsing over me. A final wave of pleasure shook me, and we both started to relax and catch our breath.
After that first primal, wild sex, we took a short break. Fully naked, I served him a glass of wine in bed. I kissed him, mixing the taste of alcohol with the taste of his cum and my juices. While he was still sipping his wine, I took his cock in my mouth again. The guy was good; within a couple of minutes, he was rock hard again. The night went on and on, and we fucked relentlessly. After all, I had lived like a nun for months, and a woman has needs, right? He came two more times, while I lost count of my orgasms. He also tried to get into my back door, but I refused. It’s not that I’m a virgin on that side or that I don’t like anal sex, but that is something I reserve for very special occasions, and definitely not on the first date with a stranger.
It was around 3:30 AM when I asked him to leave. I don’t like waking up with a stranger in my bed; I feel uncomfortable, and I really don’t like small talk early in the morning. We didn’t make plans for future nights. After thanking me for the evening, he asked for my phone number, but I refused. I told him that if he was lucky, maybe we would meet again at the same bar. He left. I showered and tried to sleep until the phone woke me up two hours later. I recognised the calling number.
“Hello, deputy. What’s the problem that you have to wake me up so early?”
Lisa Baldini is my deputy and best friend. She was the one on duty that Saturday.
“Chief, I’m sorry to disturb you so early in the morning. A prosecutor required us to check on a car accident. The officers who intervened at the scene say that something doesn’t add up. The prosecutor asked for you personally.”
Lisa always calls me “chief” when we talk about work stuff, and I call her “deputy.” It’s our joke. Outside the office, we use our real names. She is two years older than me, married, and has two kids. I liked the sharp, committed woman the moment I started working with the new team. We clicked immediately. She had an excellent service record, so I recommended her for the promotion to deputy.
“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes, deputy. Bring a service car and pick me up at my place. On your way here, don’t forget to buy a takeaway hot cappuccino and some pastries for me. I won’t have time to sit down for breakfast,” I told her.
“Holy shit, chief, I’ll definitely bring you something. I know you’re in a bad mood when you don’t get your breakfast. I can’t stand dealing with you like that,” she replied.
“Nah, this morning I’m actually in a good mood, just starving, deputy.”
“Got laid last night, huh, chief?” she replied, laughing.
“So, what if I did? I bet the dick I got was better than whatever your lazy husband gave you last night, deputy.”
“Ah, chief, don’t you know that a lazy, big husband can make your pussy leak like a broken tap for hours? I’ve got nothing to complain about, and I bet I’m much better filled up than you. Let me get moving; I’ll be at your house in twenty minutes.”
I knew that she was deeply in love with her husband and that they still shared a strong passion. I envied her a bit, actually.
We ended the call. I was smiling, and I could hear her laughing loudly on the other end.
The Car Accident
The car was upside down in the river, five meters below the road. Only the wheels were visible, but beneath the clear water we could see the driver still buckled into his seatbelt, the airbag fully inflated against his face. Poor man; he must have fainted after the impact and drowned.
The car had been spotted early in the morning by a guy driving to start his work shift. He immediately called the emergency number, but nothing could be done. The driver was long dead.
At the scene, a new guy was leading the forensic team, giving instructions to carefully extract the driver’s body from the car. I approached him. “Hello, I’m Commissario Emma Rizzi. Are you the new chief of the forensic team? What do we have here?” I knew the old chief had retired, so I assumed the replacement was him.
“Hello, Commissario. I’m Marco Ghidelli. It’s an honour to meet you. I have heard a lot about you,” he said. “And yes, I’m the new chief of the forensic team. It’s too early to state anything for sure. It looks like he was driving too fast and lost control of the vehicle, missed the right turn, and went straight into the river. Based on how flooded the car is and the engine temperature, I think the accident happened late last night, before midnight. This is a hidden spot along the river, barely visible from the road, so no one probably spotted the car until early this morning.
“The problem is,” Ghidelli continued, “there are no brake signs, wheel tracks, or any other evidence suggesting he tried to save himself. Maybe he was drunk, under the influence of drugs, or maybe he suffered a micro-sleep. We should figure it out during the autopsy and toxicological exams. If not, it could be a bad mechanical or electronic failure in the car. We will check it out in our lab as soon as possible.”
From the documents retrieved from the victim’s body, his name was Alessandro Codini, forty-one years old. After checking his ID directly on our laptops at the scene, Lisa learned that he was a married manager at a construction company and the father of a little daughter. I figured out I would have to share the news of his death with his family. That’s the part I hate most about my job.
Eventually, the forensic experts extracted the body from the water and left for the morgue, while a team of firefighters started to recover the car from the river.
I was interviewing the guy who had spotted the car when a small city car stopped close to the tape surrounding the accident site. A very attractive woman dressed in party clothes stormed out, screaming, “Where is my husband? What happened to him?”
Officers stopped the woman, and I approached her. “Madam, I’m Commissario Emma Rizzi. How can I help you?” I couldn’t help but ask myself why this woman was dressed in party clothes in the early morning.
“Commissario, I’m Elena Codini. That’s my husband’s car. I phoned him this morning, but all my calls went straight to voicemail, and he never replied to my messages. I was driving home just now when I saw the accident here. What happened? Is my husband okay?”
“Mrs Codini, I’m so sorry to break the news this way. Your husband had an accident late last night and died in his car.”
She collapsed, sobbing and crying loudly. “Oh God, no, no, no! That can’t be. We were supposed to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary next month. What will I say to my daughter?”
I helped her to her car, guided her into the seat, and waited until she had composed herself a bit. “Madam, again, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know this is a terrible moment, but may I ask you a few questions? If you are not ready right now, we can visit you later.”
“It’s ok, Commissario, please ask what you need. I’ll try to answer.”
“Madam, do you know if your husband used drugs or had any medical condition that could have caused a blackout while driving home? Was he used to drinking heavily?”
“Absolutely not, Commissario. He is in great shape; he is a triathlete. And I’ve never seen him drink a lot, even at the wildest parties.” Unintentionally, she still used the present verbal form.
“Thank you, madam. This is very helpful. I’m sorry again, but I must ask this: where were you last night? Were you waiting for your husband at home? Did you call anyone when he didn’t show up on time?”
“Ehm, actually no. I wasn’t home last night. I ... I stayed over at ... a friend of mine. I had a company party; it ended too late, and I drank a bit too much to drive home safely. I only started calling my husband this morning to check up with him and remind him to pick up our daughter from my parents’ house,” she replied, embarrassed, looking down at her shoes.