Another boring morning in traffic court. One of the tickets I'd written--45 in a school zone--was being disputed. Plenty of cops don't show up for disputed tickets, but if I wrote a ticket it was for a reason, and I certainly wasn't going to let some metrosexual on a cell phone go 20 miles over the limit and then get away with it because I didn't feel like going to court. I was talking with my buddy Kevin, another cop, when she walked in.
"Jeeeez," I leaned over to Kevin. "Who's the idiot who wrote her a ticket? He must have been either blind or gay."
Kevin was panting like a dog in heat. "I know, man. If I pulled her over and got a look at that body, I'd forget how to write a ticket. Hell, I'd be lucky if I remembered where I left my squad car."
She was 5'8", with legs that went on forever. Thick black hair that hung in waves halfway down her back. Gorgeous dark brown eyes and perfect olive skin. Luscious breasts that really stood up and said hello. And her ass, oh, her ass . . . Let's just say that if she stood next to Jennifer Lopez, you'd say, "J.Lo? J.Lo who?"
My case was called early, but I hung around, watching her work as she waited for her case to be called. She had some papers out and was marking them with a red pen. I couldn't see exactly what or why.
"Miranda Diaz," the bailiff called. The goddess stood up; the officer who ticketed her didn't. Case dismissed. The judge was about 80 years old and he was probably popping a hard-on under his robe.
I'd stepped out the minute her case was called, so I met her in the lobby. "Ms. Diaz, I hope you won't see this as forward, but I'd like to take you out to coffee. No pressure," I said, handing her my card. "I'm officer Jake Sirroco," I said, showing her my badge. "I promise won't follow you around giving you tickets if you say no." She smiled. We went for coffee. Six months later we were living together. Bada-bing, bada-boom.
On top of being drop-dead gorgeous, Miranda is smart and funny. I'm not the best looking guy on the force, but at 6'2" and 200 pounds, I keep in shape from the job and the gym. Miranda told me she liked that I didn't come on with the typical Latino machismo, that I could actually talk about my feelings, although that wouldn't be something I'd want spread around the precinct.
The sex was hot, right from the beginning, but one night it got a whole lot hotter.
I'd gotten home from a shift a little late and Miranda had dinner warming in the oven. I normally didn't like to eat in my uniform--I didn't like to bring work home--but she told me the meal would be ruined by the time I showered and changed. As we ate the delicious Cuban meal she'd made, I caught her staring at me. The first few times, I looked down, thinking I had spilled food on myself or my fly was hanging open. Finally, I just came out and asked her what was up.
"Remember how I told you about the time I almost got arrested," she said, not looking me in the eye, but focusing on my belt. I had come straight to the table without even putting away my handcuffs or any of my other gear. The only thing I had stashed was my gun.
"Yeah." Her car had matched the description of a getaway car driven in a robbery earlier the same day, with a dark-haired woman at the wheel. She'd been cuffed and stuffed in the back of a cruiser before the officer was able to verify she'd been at work at her job as a Spanish-language magazine editor for hours before and after the crime.
"Well, there's something I didn't tell you, Jake," she said, staring intently now at her food, but never glancing up at me. "When the officer cuffed me and patted me down, it really turned me on. I mean, he wasn't even good-looking, but I got all, what's the phrase, hot and bothered. Even in the back of the car, the feel of the cuffs against my wrists, the idea that I was helpless whatever he might do, it was so exciting."
I'd bet most cops have had the experience of getting turned on patting down a suspect. I know I have. A few creeps even go over the line and do things they shouldn't. Luckily, they usually get caught and wind up fired or in jail, depending on how far over the line they went. But here was the woman I loved, giving me the green light to live out a fantasy we both apparently shared.
"Look at me, Miranda. I'm totally into this," I told her. "You have no idea how into this I am, but you have to promise me, if you get uncomfortable, or if something hurts, you'll tell me. You have to give me a word or a sign. Yell out libertad, okay?"
"Okay," she said, finally looking at me.
I was on her in a second, using the voice I used at work but had never used on her before.
"Put your hands up, up where I can see them!" Her hands shot up. "Now stand up, slowly, and put your hands on the wall." She walked to the dining room wall, her hands still above her head. I got right up behind her. "Spread your legs! Wider! I want them farther apart than your shoulders." I kicked her ankles with my foot, pushing her legs apart. "Do you have any guns or knives?"
She nodded her head no.
"Shaking your head is not an answer. DO YOU HAVE ANY GUNS OR KNIVES?" I yelled.
"Any needles? Anything sharp that could stick me?"
"What's your name?"
"Miranda, Miranda Diaz," she said breathlessly.
"I'm going to search you now, Ms. Diaz. Don't move." I patted her down, much more slowly than I would have a suspect, running my hands down the full length of her body, taking my time as I felt up her chest, her ass, and between her legs. I could tell by her breathing that she was getting excited.
"Why are you breathing so hard, Miranda? I've been on the beat a long time, and the only people who breathe that hard are people who've got something to hide. Maybe I'm going to have to search you a more closely." I slid my hands up under her shirt, running them across her taut belly, just grazing the waistband of her skirt. Without warning, I pulled my hands out of her shirt, reached around and grabbed it with both hands and ripped it open, buttons sliding across the floor as they pulled loose from the shirt. Miranda gasped, but didn't say anything and kept her hands on the wall and her legs spread. I put my hands on her breasts, grasping one in each of my hands, running my palms all over them. "You got something hidden in here?" I hissed in her ear.
"We'll see." I pushed the bra down so the straps were still in place but all of the fabric was bunched below her breasts, pushing them up. I grabbed each nipple in turn, pinching them hard and pulling them away from her body. She moaned her approval.
"Why don't you just tell me what I want to know," I growled as I continued my assault on her tits. "Where is it hidden?"
"I don't have anything hidden," she answered.
"If you won't tell the truth, then I'm just going to have to find it myself." I slipped my cuffs off my belt. "For your safety and mine, ma'am, I'm going to have to cuff you." I pulled her arms down and cuffed them behind her back. "I'm going to check your mouth now." Grabbing a handful of hair, I yanked her to me, kissing her hard on the mouth. She kissed me back, passionately, her tongue thrusting its way between my teeth, her lips sucking hard on mine.
"Get down on your knees," I ordered her. "I've got another way to search your mouth." As she dropped to her knees, I unzipped my uniform trousers and pulled my cock out of my pants. I'm about seven inches long and much thicker than your average guy. "Open your mouth," I ordered.
Miranda hesitated. I grabbed her hair again and yanked hard, yelling, "I said to open your mouth." This time she complied, and I thrust into her, then pulled out, giving just a second to speak before I pushed in deep again. I expected to hear her say "libertad," but she just knelt there, her breasts heaving with her tits still exposed and pushed up by her bra.
"Open up again. I didn't do a thorough search." Again I thrust my cock in deep, holding onto the back of her head and fucking her mouth with my cock as she knelt handcuffed and helpless in front of me. I pushed deep, back into her throat, and felt her gag. I pulled out again. Still no plea for me to stop. I knew I wouldn't last long and I still hadn't even begun to use her the way I wanted, so I pushed my dick in her mouth again and went back to fucking her lips, warning her, "If there's anything in there, I'm going to flush it out in a second." She curled her tongue up so it rubbed up against the underside of my shaft. In seconds, I was blowing my load in her hot mouth. She swallowed every salty drop and looked up at me, licking her lips.
"I told you I have nothing to hide, officer," she whispered seductively.
"We'll see about that," I said, grabbing her and lifting her by the arms, then pushing her face down on the dining room table. I wasn't hard again yet, but I knew I would be in a few minutes. The sight of her, her bare, tanned back, no shirt, bent over and cuffed was causing my cock to stir again. "Are you a working girl, Miranda? Nice girls don't suck cock like that. Only whores do. Tell me, which one is your corner?" It was out before I thought about it, and for a second I thought I had blown it. Still, she didn't ask me to stop.
I knelt behind her, running my hands down her thin, toned thighs and gams, first outside her skirt, then under the fabric. Reaching up, I grabbed her panties and skirt and pulled them both to the floor, leaving her naked except for the bra that was so obscenely pushing her tits up. I slid my nightstick off my belt and began rubbing it between her legs, noting that she pushed back against it for more friction. "Spread your legs," I ordered. "Wider!" She complied. With her legs spread I could see all of her, the wet opening between her legs framed by her closely trimmed black pubic hair, and the tight brown opening I had never tried before that night.
"Now, where else might a little whore hide something she didn't want me to find?" My nightstick rubbed back and forth against her slit, bumping hard against her clit. She was moaning, rocking back to meet the nightstick, trying to ride it to orgasm. I put the end of it at the opening to her cunt. "Maybe, here?" I asked, twisting it as it slid slightly into her, coming out soaked with her juices. "Or maybe here," I said, pressing the wet end of the nightstick against her asshole. She tightened her ass cheeks against my intrusion.
Again, I was sure she'd call a halt to the whole thing, but she just played along. "I'm not hiding anything, officer. If you don't believe me, you can look for yourself." I uncuffed her arms from behind her back, cuffing them over her head and pushing her back down against the table.
"Let me see if I have another way of convincing you," I said, unbuckling my belt and pulling it loose from my pants. I rubbed the leather against her juicy ass cheeks, asking, "Are you sure there isn't something you want to tell me? Something you want to say to me?" I ran the edge of the belt between her ass cheeks and further down, brushing the leather against her cunt lips. She shook her head. "I can't hear you," I said, menacingly.
"No, officer," she said, her voice shaking slightly.
I rubbed my hand across one ass cheek and then the other, pausing for a second before I slipped out of my uniform, leaving me in only a t-shirt and boxer-briefs. I stood behind her, waiting for the tension to build, leaving her wondering what I was going to do next. I knew the panic this could instill in a suspect, and I was counting on her fear to drive her to greater heights of lust. My cock was rock hard again as I swung the belt for the first time, connecting squarely with her ass, a loud thwack ringing in the air. Miranda flinched, then shoved her ass out at me, taunting me. Thwack, thwack, thwack. I alternated my strikes on either cheek, leaving both sides pink and warm by the time the twelfth blow landed. Miranda's thighs were coated with her sweet juices.
"If you won't talk, I'm going to have to take you downtown for the full cavity search," I told her, playing along with the fantasy. "If you'll go willingly, I'll take off the cuffs."
"I won't give you any trouble, officer," she said. I pulled her roughly down the hall to the living room, then took off the handcuffs.
"Are you sure you don't want to tell me where it's hidden?" I asked. "This is your last chance," I said, giving her a hard slap on the ass for emphasis.
"I told you officer, I don't know what you are talking about," she answered.
I pushed her up onto the big leather arm chair, knees on the seat and her tits pressed up against the back of the chair. I pulled off my boxer-briefs and stood behind her. "Let's see if you are telling the truth Ms. Diaz, or if you are just another lying whore." Without warning, I slid two fingers into her wet slit and began fucking her with them. Just like with the nightstick, she came back to meet me, forcing herself hard down onto my hand. I finger-fucked her until she was moaning, then I pulled away, leaving her gasping.
"You could end this right now, Ms. Diaz," I said, my voice hard.
"If you are looking for something, maybe you need to look a little harder," she said. In a second I was behind her on the chair, thrusting my cock deep inside her. "This hard enough for you, you little whore?" I asked as I pounded her cunt. Sweat was dripping off of both of us as our bodies collided each time I sunk my cock deep inside her sweet cunt. I grabbed her tits again, pressing and twisting her rock-hard nipples as she moaned and ground her ass against my cock. I ran my finger alongside the base of my cock as it slid in and out of her, getting it wet with our juices, then went to work on her clit. She was moaning incoherently now, and as I sensed her getting close I pulled out and took my hand away from her clit. She tried to put her own hand between her legs, but I pinned them both with one hand.
"I don't think so, Ms. Diaz," I told her as she moaned in frustration. "I'm the only one conducting the searches here.
I had never fucked Miranda in her ass, but I wanted it so bad. I wanted to know what it would feel like to be buried deep inside that tight little hole. "There's one more place I need to check Miranda. Once I check there, I'll let you come . . . I mean, I'll let you go." I waited. No word. I slid two fingers into her again and she moaned, a moan full of longing. I fingered her asshole, rubbing circles around it before working my finger in, then slowly sliding in and out. I let go of her hands and began rubbing her clit, lightly, stopping now and again to make sure she wouldn't come without me, but with enough attention to keep her wanting it. My second finger joined the first in her ass as I rubbed her hard clit. She was slick front to back with her juices, my pre-cum and our sweat. She was rocking her body now, pushing her ass back against my fingers.
"Does the little little whore want to get fucked?" I asked her.
"Yesssss," she moaned.
"Does the little whore want to get fucked in the ass?" I persisted. "Tell me, Miranda. Tell me want you want."
"I want you to fuck me officer, I want you to see what I've got in my ass."
That was all I needed to hear. I slid into her wet cunt again, making sure my cock was lubricated. I knew she was loose from having my fingers in her ass, but the head of my cock was a lot wider across. I pressed up against her tight asshole, still rubbing her clit. It was so hot, so tight, but I felt it give as her sphincter opened slightly to let me in. She froze as the widest part of my cock passed into her, and I held completely still ass her ass engulfed my entire head, the muscles of her ass squeezing down on me. I kept up the pressure on her clit and kept talking dirty in her ear, saying "Okay, now let's see what the little whore has hidden up this tight little ass. You can't stop me now, can you?" until I felt her relax.
I started out slowly but once I was all the way in, Miranda was grinding on me. I couldn't take it. I slid my full length in and out of her back side, rubbing her clit viciously as fucked her ass with everything I had. Miranda loved it. She pushed back to meet me as my balls smacked against her ass until we were both moaning together, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." I felt her ass spasm around me just as I shot my cum deep into her ass.
We collapsed, sweaty and spent as I held her tightly to me. Let's just say I wore my uniform home a lot more often after that.