Confessions of a Private Dick
Chapter 4

Copyright© 2016 by harry lime

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - This is the story of the adventures of a female PI with a loose set of morals. She is ready to take the easiest road to success no matter how degrading and humiliating to her sense of dignity.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Coercion   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cheating   FemaleDom   Spanking   Light Bond   Humiliation   Group Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Sex Toys   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Analingus   Violence   Workplace  

I kept my date with cop detective O’Malley just as I knew he was certain I would do as I promised. I hoped he was more than just looking for a quickie with some fresh meat to keep his rep as a pussy hound intact.

It would be easy to lie and say that he took me to a nice restaurant with a romantic atmosphere to get me in the mood.

Of course, it turned out to be booze haven of a cop’s bar with fish and chips and little else to eat unless you were into pussy and had a date with a yen for the wild side. I didn’t expect O’Malley to be eating me out anytime soon because he just didn’t look the type. I think he was more the “pull her hair and slap her ass real hard” kind of guy and in all honesty that wasn’t completely out of the question as far as I was concerned because it was right up my alley when the moon was full and I had that sort of feeling that you get when anything is good news as long as it wasn’t boring or might leave you crippled for life.

He pumped me pretty hard and deep.

I wish I could say it was just what you were thinking, but he was looking for information on the three dead stiffs down in the morgue with the coroner still shaking his head at the sheer waste of two male and a female body with obvious great potential in the carnal sweepstakes of life.

I had been fairly up close and personal with all three of them on one of those days when the job was not the only thing on the agenda. I had enjoyed my brief fling with all of them and I hoped they were headed in the right direction in the next life, if such a thing really existed.

My short visit with them was rift with the amount of drug use items I saw all over their home pad like trophies of a forgotten spree breaking all the rules of normal behavior. I knew it was not quite kosher but I liked to look in the other direction when I was following a lead that was not related to the sins of the general public right in my face and that should have been reported without hesitation to the right office for a follow-up.

My early years were filled with a hundred and one reasons for not blowing the whistle on wrong doers and I had no urge to go down in the books of the ordinary criminal element as a rat or a stool pigeon with loose lips and a zero tolerance attitude better suited to a monastery or a convent and not inside a police station or even a private dick office filled with pricks that thought all pretty little things were only good for getting the coffee first thing in the morning.

I knew that wasn’t me and I was not at all uptight about it because I knew with great certainty that wasn’t the way to solve a case or find a bad guy without getting one’s ass handed to you on a silver platter.

It was second nature to me to play out a role undercover pretending to be someone I only made up in my mind. I was enough of an actress to convince most people I was real and sincere. I didn’t lie to myself and pretend that my shameful urge to use both men and women for my own selfish pleasure was in any way a plus side to my inner character. I just accepted it as a part of my somewhat confused lifestyle that demanded me to be sincere when I was merely pretending and to be honest only when it suited my own purposes.

I wasn’t dense enough to pretend that love was lust or vice versa, but sometimes I was so horny that it didn’t make any difference to me and I simply moved on to the next guy to keep from crying myself to sleep to forget my weakness of the flesh.

A few years ago, right after my divorce, I went through a lengthy period of abstinence and even went to church each morning much to the surprise of the elderly priest who was used to only seeing much older faithful that early in the morning. I even got to decorate the church and making sure the altar had fresh flowers that I handpicked down in the central district market like some angel of good works. I finally arrived at that point where I didn’t really care about sexual matters and seldom dressed in a way that would attract the attention of anyone in a physical way at all.

Of course, that all stopped the day that I got all hot and bothered about being a “detective” or a “dick” as my dad used to say all the time. I had grown up with his stories of “Dick Tracy” and the way that a detective would always solve the crime. It was exciting stuff for a young girl and it sort of stuck with me like it was part of my real personality.

I had worked hard to get my license to practice as a real registered Private Investigator and my card in my purse signified my authority to carry a handgun for defensive purposes. That was normal in my line of work but sort of odd for a female because female detectives were kind of rare in law enforcement circles unless some department was making a statement for diversity and trying to boost the current “in crowd” in city hall to getting re-elected by the voting female populace.

I knew that my being a woman gave me an advantage in certain departments and I think that I would also like to be dark-skinned, Hispanic or even a Native American to get more points on the table when selections came around for a better job.

I might be a “dick” but I didn’t have a “dick” and I certainly didn’t want one at this stage of the game. On the street being called a “prick” or a “cunt” was almost like the same thing because it didn’t really refer to any gender thing or one’s sexuality. It was more an expression of dislike because the person in question was either a “by the book” personality or one that just grated on the nerves like a dog barking in the middle of the night.

Now I was smack dab in the middle of a triple murder investigation and I knew as soon as my bosses at the agency became full aware of that fact my job tenure would be quite shaky indeed. They would drop me like a hot potato and deny me like Judas three times before the sun rose in the morning.

 
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