Episode 8: CZECHered FLAG

“I AM NOT riding in any pink car.”

“Come on Mostly...”

“Mosley!”

“Right! Mosey! Boy you’re a slowpoke.” Detective Calliope Cruz jabbed the well-dressed detective Andre Mosley in the abdomen. “Your spare tire must be a Goodyear.”

“I do not have a spare tire. I work out at the gym six times a week.” Grumbling, he realized he didn’t even have a vehicle anymore now that the terrorist Gabriel blew it up in the department parking garage. Now he needed five spare tires. Well, and a chassis, an entire body, expensive cologne in his glovebox. The giant of a black man at 6’5, 280 pounds was not in his usual good mood. No nonsense much like Burgundy Jones, he very rarely smiled outside of his eyes. Today they were furious but knew he couldn’t get too unruly, or it might get taken out on him. “Fine! Give me your car keys.”

“Yay!” She patted her paws-- er-- palms rapidly. “Batman wants Catwoman’s Pussymobile. Wait until you see what I’ve done to the Kitty Cave since the last time you dropped in.”

“I’ve never dropped ... in.” He swallowed dryly as Calliope aka Babee Ramirez left hints, or at least Dre being a man, presumed she was. He was almost the only daytime officer in their precinct that hadn’t fucked her. Against her wishes or not. Mosley did admire her for endurance. What she committed her life to be was a noble sacrifice when it came to saving innocent lives. Burgundy Jones sucker punched into being the latest Detective Pornstar whether she wanted to or not added to the frustrations in the department. Now Burgundy, she was more his type. He liked bite that he could tame. Andre was definitely the dominant and found the ruffian method of subduing his lovers more in his squealhouse.

With her car windows down Babee played dumb on the opening of her door and leaned into the window, her perfect ass reared up in the air as she attempted to crawl through into her bucket seat. Behind her by five feet Dre got a good hard look at her cunt and gloriously winking butt pucker. A silent whistle by tightening his lips he looked around for prying eyes. The only prying eye was that pucker. “Sweet Jesus! As serious as all this Gabriel crap is ... I like this part of his style. Sooner or later, I’ll be forced to tap Cruz too. I have to keep my cool for her sake. I know she’s only showing off like a dumb bunny bimbo because that fucker orders her into Babee mode every second of the day. The minute I get flirty or physical in any way he’s going to blow that fucking horn and make me destroy her.”

“Help! Babee is stuck in a dryer!” She kicked her legs, her stiletto heels becoming deadly rapiers. Rolling his eyes, he moved in beside her left hip and opened the door swinging it wide. In seeing him better now, she looked up at his magnificence as if a doe in Subway train lights. “Alll aboard!”

“Get in the fucking car, Cruz.” Instead of backing out she continued crawling through the door until her hands were down on the curb. Heels hung up on the window frame she thrashed about until the car radio came on by itself. Gabriel was laughing his ass off.

“ISN’T BABEE PRECIOUS, MISTER MOSLEY?”

“Yep! Housecat on heroin.”

“SHE WILL NEVER DO DRUGS! THAT WOMAN MUST BE A GODDESS AT ALL CRIMES.”

“Times!”

“DO YOU NEVER SMILE, DETECTIVE MOSLEY?” Looking about Dre discovered a camera on the street pointed right at them. Daring to cooperate Andre shot the camera a cheesy grin. “AHH! THERE IS MY JOKER.”

“Rather be Batman, thanks!”

“See? I knew you were Bruise Wayne in disguise.” Babee escaped her prison and rolled so as not to scratch her new car with a stiletto. “I think I need kneepads. Do those count as clothes Gabey?”

“I WILL CONSIDER THEM. SINCE YOU SEEM TO FANCY HELLO KITTY, PERHAPS A NICE CAT TAIL BUTTPLUG.” Come on dude, we all know she’s not a cat, Sanrio said she was a girl. Do your research Genius!

“How about one of those flashing light butt plugs?” Andre growled! “Save on our car batteries when running the cherries. She can just stick her ass in the windshield.”

“A DELIGHTFUL IDEA! A PACKAGE WILL BE WAITING UPON YOUR RETURN. GOOD LUCK ON YOUR CASE DETECTIVES.” The radio went silent.

“How is he turning that radio on without the key in the ignition?”

“It’s the Pussymobile it can do anything.”

“Ejector seat?” Standing now, CC looked over her car seat and did notice something she hadn’t before. The seats themselves did have a zipper on them. Bending over in front of Andre she unzipped it. Low and behind, a hydraulic dildo lie hidden within. Jaw drooping, she sat in the seat giggling. “Great! A Jack in the Box.”

“Maybe you are the Poker.”

“Joker! And no, I am not.” He closed the door on her once she had her feet inside. Stepping around the car Andre waited for traffic and a distant news van that had been ordered beyond a certain point by the mayor to drive by. Camera in the window recording him he sneered and opened the pink door. It took three attempts just to climb inside he was such a large man. He had to recline the seat and move it all the way back just to drive. At least he knew his Jerk in a Box would not pop up under him. Once settled in he sighed over a squad car with two officers across the street laughing their asses off over his predicament. Removing his gun from his holster Andre showed it to them and they quickly drove off. Neither of them wanted to change a flat. “This is just plain humiliating.”

“Sowwy, DRey! Babee wish she could make you feel better.”

“Stop right there, Cruz! We are not going down that road.”

“Hershey Highway?” She wagged her brows.

“Definitely avoiding that off ramp.” Firing up the car to a roar Babee’s seat began vibrating beneath her. Hormones immediately escalating, she flared her eyes at Mosley. Without touching any switches, the siren rang once, then a song took over. Peter Gabriel’s old classic Shock the Monkey. “Gabriel! Go figure he’d have to rub it in.” In gear Mosley headed into traffic.

Beneath Babee that small hydraulic toy began jabbing her between her thighs. Repositioning just right the short dildo found her butt pucker. Yelping over it she reached behind her to escort the toy inside her anus. Once it sank within, she settled back and took off her stilettos so that she could place her feet up on the dash. “Oooo! ThROBIN is losing his virginity.” She snickered!

Noting the hula dildo wagging on the dash Andre quickly snatched it up detaching the suction before tossing it into her lap. “Here! It’s illegal to have anything obstructing the view.” He then tried to turn off the song, but it refused to end. While he fiddled with the radio Babee delicately shoved her dash dildo up her cunt. He missed her sucking on it with a deep throat technique to moisten it. His loss! Fucking herself Andre eventually found himself peripherally staring at her DP delivery. His already massive cock was bazooka ready beneath his slacks. At eleven inches limp, you can imagine his torment. She had never once checked out his night club scene until now. That log was over halfway to his knee. Yikes!

Her escalating moans had his nerves shot. While Babee enjoyed her morning Bumbelle exercise Mosley mulled over their assignment. This wasn’t his normal kind of case file, generally homicide investigation was his cup of blood so to speak. Chasing down street racers was the furthest from his career profile. As massive as Miami was, finding sites to pull off those Fast and Furious rejects covered a lot of territory. Calliope’s instincts yesterday combining the missing Lamb and Ferrari could easily be linked. Chop shops were hidden away in the most unexpected of places. Whoever was stealing them was professional, they knew how to deactivate onboard GPS trackers and make the vehicles disappear in record time. Sucks to be filthy rich. There was always someone wanting to drive that money train.

“Any thoughts on where we start looking?” He watched traffic as best he could. Repositioning in her seat with her back to the door not an easy task, Babee managed without her hydraulic dildo looking for her anal cavity, still rising to the occasion if not awkward looking. Right foot on the dash, left foot on Mosley’s shoulder she hammered her cunt with a messy delivery. He could not resist taking a look. “You’d make one hot checkered flag waver Cruz.”

“Maybe the next race will let me play checkers. As illegal as that is I think it would be fun. My bet is on Dom! I like Dom’s!” Andre grumbled under his breath that he was dominant. Fuck that pansy ass Toretto. Her left foot moved down to his lap to tease the length of his cock sheath.

“Kindly remove your foot.”

“Kindly give me your foot.”

“Not going to happen Cruz. I know you don’t mean that, you’re just keeping up your roleplay for Gabriel. Either way, I respect you, Cruz. You definitely don’t deserve to be treated like a whore.”

“But I want to be a whore.” She pouted and clamped her toes over his monstrous crown. “King me! King me!”

“Knock it off we have a job to do.”

“YES, SHE DOES!” Gabriel chimed in over the radio. “WOULD YOU LIKE SOME HELP ON YOUR CASE, MISTER MOSLEY?”

“Help? You terrorize this poor woman, this city, state, entire country and you want to help us find street racers?”

“A NOBLE DEED ON MY PART AND YOU DENY MY HELP. SO BE IT!”

“Noooo! Help us Gabey! Help find Missy Carrera too.” Babee pleaded between rapid fire insertions. Mosley was weaving all over the road. “I NEED YOU GABBY!” Gabey, Gabby which was it for God’s sake? Both were annoying as hell.

“MUSIC TO MY EARS DETECTIVE. THERE IS AN ABANDONED AIRFIELD ON THE NORTHERN MOST OUTSKIRTS OF MIAMI. PERFECT TIMING I MUST SAY. A DAYLIGHT RACE IS NOW IN PROGRESS.”

“Any of those stolen cars there too?” Andre dared to cooperate. He then narrowed his eyes at Babee cumming all over her toys, squirting his arm as his right hand lay on the gear shift. A flipped tongue on her mischievous side of the car had him gnashing his teeth. “Stop rubbing your toes on my goddamned cock.”

“No can do, Mosey! Gabby demands that I be frisky.” A tap to her earpiece lured Andre into realizing that Gabriel had been speaking to her intimately all along. “Hit the interstate North Andy. GTA! GTA! GTA! Ooo! That can be my new gag reflex.”

“IF HER FOOT LEAVES YOUR INSEAM DETECTIVE MOSLEY I WILL CALL AHEAD AND WARN THE RACERS THAT THE COPS ARE ON THEIR WAY.”

“It’s just us, I haven’t called in the location. Not that I know any address.”

“ROUTE 85 NORTH, GATOR COUNTRY ROAD.” Just that fast the radio began playing Gator Country by Molly Hatchet. Oddly, Mosley started singing along. Born in upstate Florida he knew the Hatchet Boys well, they were Jacksonville, Florida rockers back in his grampa’s day. He hadn’t heard them in probably three years, so it was all coming back. It soothed the wounds of his destroyed SUV. If only for the duration of one song.

“Better call for backup Cruz. They hear any sirens they’ll be running for cover.”

“You can be my back up any lay.” Her toes were terrorizing his anaconda. “I’m busy, you do it.” Both hands were being used so that was no lie. Shaking his head Dre reached for the onboard CB and held the mic up to his mouth. “Code 2!” Meaning Urgent! No lights or sirens. “Gator Country Road off of Route 85 North, abandoned airfield. Tip suspected in the illegal street racing case. ETA ten minutes!”

“GTA ten minutes!” Babee blurted!

“That you Mosley? How’s the seating arrangement?” A male dispatcher chimed in. “Sitting in the trunk with Babee on your face telling you to drive between the lines?”

“Funny man, Caruso! Keep it clean. This tip comes from Gabriel, so we have no idea what to expect. If it pays off, then this is one less thing we have to worry about.”

“Are you listening to old Molly Hatchet? Man, you really are Flirtin’ with Disaster!” That was the next song in line.

“Not the time!”

“Sorry! Just giving you sheet.”

“I meant Babee.” Her toes were trying to pry his beast up from under his slacks. Left toes under it, right foot above it she was giving him one hell of a foot job. “I said knock it off.”

“You two have fun I’ll get some folks out there. Bye Babee!”

“Bye, Magic Mike!” Michael Caruso! “I’ll tip you when you dance for me. Unless you want Mosey too. He’s a HUGE tipper.” Toes on his crown he drolly cursed. One wrong word and Caruso would be dancing for Andre care of Gabriel. He had to bite his tongue. Hearing Caruso’s dispatched message to Northside police Andre placed his right hand on Calliope’s foot.

“Can we be serious until this is all over? We don’t know what we’re driving into.”

“My parking garage.” Babee pulled her dildo free of her trickling vulva and pried it apart. “ECHO! ECHO!” He nearly laughed but looked the other way. His offramp upcoming he took it without another word. She refused to leave his dick alone. A half mile from the airfield on Gator Country Road he pulled over and put the Pussymobile in gear. Lifting his lap, he unfastened his pants and pulled his monster cock free. Dildo tossed onto the floorboard Babee dismounted Jack and went to her knees. Prepping to crawl over him he stopped her by grabbing her by the throat. An intense glare from him she trembled.

“Wrong entrance into the garage.” Releasing her throat, he went to the back of her head and drew her down until her mouth wrapped around his fist sized crown. “Onetime thing, Cruz! You started this, not me.” Nodding with her mouth full Babee slobbered that footlong like an insatiable whore. Dashcam tilting on its own noticed by Dre he flipped it off.

Gabriel had thought of every detail when getting No Cigar Autobody to paint and install gadgets. Enduring Babee’s passionate blowjob she lifted away from it without his hand forcing her scalp and licked down over his foreskin with her tongue to engulf his scrotum. Boxers in the way she had to sound greedy as if tearing them out of her way. Dre had a hunch by her eyes looking up at him that her earpiece was speaking to her. Gabriel wanted to witness the gentleman’s monster for himself. Hmm! Either Gabriel was bisexual, or he was into the whole voyeur responsibility. Jerking him as she fed on his balls Dre dropped his head to the headrest of his seat and let her do her thing.

By the time he was ready to nut her mouth was back over his urethra and begging for lunch. Brunch! Hearing her gag reflex chanting “GTA! GTA! GTA!” in a garbled chorus he busted up laughing. Detonating like a CRUZ missile Babee found the largest load in her mouth that she had ever accepted. A gallon of milk perse! Drooling all over him upon retreat his produce poured over her lower lip and down her chin. “Does a booty good, Babee!”

“Yeth it dos!” She giggled, lips frothing until she tilted her head back to face the dash cam. Showing Gabriel her pool of semen the speakers of the car resounded with clapping.

“WELL, DONE! YOU MISTER MOSLEY ARE QUITE THE PORNSTAR YOURSELF.”

“Don’t get any wild ideas, Gabriel. We have a job to do. It’s difficult enough teaming up with the former Miss Puerto Rico without dealing with anything more.”

“FOR NOW! YOUR ENTOURAGE HAS ARRIVED. THE SECOND RACE HAS STARTED. THE FINANCIER AND FOUNDER OF THE RACING CIRCUIT IS PULLING INTO HIS LANE AS WE CHAT. I WOULD MOVE IN NOW IF I WERE YOU.”

“Better to surround all exits first. If we tip them off, we’ll be chasing nitrous.” He palmed Calliope by her left breast and forcibly guided her back into her passenger seat. “Buckle up Babee.”

“It’s the law!” She whispered and huffed into his face, capturing the scent of his nut and penis on her breath. “Let’s do me partner.”

“Do THIS partner.”

“You just told me to buckle up. Make up your mind.”

Cop cars in his rearview approaching fast Dre Mosley put the car in gear and squealed the tires, Babee Ramirez holding on for dear strife. You would have thought Andre himself was given the Ready Set Go! Leaving burnt rubber marks he took the lead, hearing engines roaring in the distance and hundreds of cheers the closer they got. At least Gabriel ceased the music over the car’s PA.

The race was on! “Go Go Speed Racer!”

Babee’s verse!

Fifteen minutes earlier!

Across Miami, the pairing of Burgundy Jones and the obese detective Glenn Roper aka gROPER was going over fabulously. “Eyes on the road Roper, not me!” She like Babee resorted to the passenger seat, the fat ass struggled to avoid looking at her sweet chocolate goodies. Each time she tried to cover her chest or cross her legs she received a jolt of electricity through her newly acquired choker. Blinged out just as Babee was she was understanding what Babee had to endure. Nipples proud and loud by force she sat up straight and obeyed Gabriel’s behavioral lessons through her tiny earpiece. Motherfucker!

“I’m not apologizing Jones. I’m a man. We’re nearing the college campus now. We can chat up Missy Carrera’s roommate and see if there’s anything she might have missed now that she’s had a day to think. There has to be some clue as to where she might have disappeared to.”

“Campus cameras saw Missy walking into the Quad then lost sight of her. No other cameras saw her leave, enter, or meet up with anyone. It’s like she vanished off the face of the planet. I hate cases like this.”

“I hear you, BJ.”

“Not you too!” She lowered her head and hissed. “Just because it’s my initials I don’t need the sexual connotations of it. It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to go streaking on campus in GoGo boots. There is no preparing for the wolf calls Glenn.”

“I get it! While I’ll never apologize for sneaking glances at your sweet ass Jones, I do feel for you. Luckily for me nobody would want to see my 300-pound blob naked.”

“Don’t count your chicken nuggets Groper. I never saw it coming.”

“If Gabriel wants to torture me his best bet is to tell the fast-food drive thru to not serve me. I’d pull my gun to get a Big Mac.” Burgundy actually smiled over his remark.

“YOU DO REALIZE I COULD DO FAR WORSE DETECTIVE ROPER.” Their radio came alive.

“Hey! If you’re going to yell, do it in the drive thru. I can never hear the cashier anyway. I got no family, no pets to run over so whatever you need to do good luck with that.”

“AS YOU WISH!”

Burgundy bulged her eyes as her collar began shooting voltage into her body. It had enough juice just like a taser to send her body rigid and convulsing in her seat. Looking over at her spasm, Groper hit his brakes and watched her dancing about as if having a seizure. Looking at him with eyes like daggers Glenn Roper sighed. “Alright! You made your point.”

“HARDLY! I MUST AGREE WITH YOUR ENTIRE PRECINCT. YOU ARE A PIECE OF WORK MISTER ROPER.” Burgundy’s voltage ceased fire and she cursed like a banshee.

“Takes one to know one Hornblower.” His car sputtering, its automatic ignition shut down in the middle of a busy campus side street. Students walking on both sides of them, cars behind him, and oncoming looking at him like he was crazy Glenn began to sweat. “Stop interfering in police business. We have a missing person here.”

“MISSY CARRERA IS QUITE SAFE.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know where she is?” Burgundy found the energy to speak.

“PERHAPS! I AM VERY KNOWLEDGEABLE.”

“Then work with us not against us.” Glenn huffed!

“NOT UNTIL YOU HAVE LEARNED HUMILITY. DETECTIVE ROPER, YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES TO STEP OUT OF YOUR VEHICLE, DISROBE IN THE STREET AND DANCE LIKE A MALE STRIPPER. OH, AND DO BEAT OFF UNTIL YOU EJACULATE.”

“And if I decline? You going to flash fry Jones here?”

“YOU WOULD NEED FRIES WITH THAT BIG MAC.”

“Sorry Burg! I’m not making a fool of myself.” He sighed her direction. Like Calliope Cruz had to deal with, a drone swept in out of nowhere and hovered over his car hood. A clamp bomb that was the size of a hockey puck was dropped onto the metal and magnetically glued to it. A flashing light on top of it with a counter shared ten minutes. “What the fuck?” Glenn immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and abandoned his car, a passing motorist nearly taking his door off in the process. At 300 pounds getting out of his vehicle was a process. Closing his door, he ran to the sidewalk and started yelling for people to run. Nobody took him at his direction even when he flashed his badge.

Looking back, he found Burgundy trapped in the car the doors refusing to unlock. Gun in her hand she was ready to shoot out a window until Gabriel insisted, she holster it. His cell ringing Glenn answered it. “What you nutcase?”

“EIGHT MINUTES, FORTY-TWO SECONDS TO DISROBE OR MISS JONES DIES.”

“Motherfuck!” He literally tossed his phone into the grass and took off his coat, shoes kicked off in the process. It took him another two minutes to lose his shirt, tie, slacks and boxers. Socks remaining he stood in all of his ballooned-out glory. Not only did his belly droop way over his lowest point of his abdomen but a tiny three-inch penis could barely be seen beneath. Gripping his penis, he worked on getting himself hard. Not easy under pressure but he did have Burgundy with her tits pressed into his driver side door window for inspiration.

Students immediately busted up laughing until all of their cellphones in a one block radius began playing Queen’s song Fat Bottomed Girls. The laughter was contagious. People recorded him as he awkwardly danced like a fairy stroking himself awkwardly as ordered by overriding cell speakers interrupting the song until he understood. As if an obese ballerina Glenn Roper danced in the middle of the street and even tried twerking his fat ass.