tagMind ControlLa Chinga Muerte Ch. 02

La Chinga Muerte Ch. 02

byDecayed Angel©

My friend finally convinced me to go to the police, which wasn't easy for me. I mean I've never fucked around on my wife ever before and I'm certainly not proud of the fact that I did that night. It was just so strange, I knew what I was doing and I knew I shouldn't be doing it but I just couldn't help myself. And so, before I had any idea what was happening I was watching her slide up and down on my cock. Thank God she made me put on a condom otherwise there's no telling what kind of trouble I might be in.

Telling my wife I had to go into work early to clean up after the Christmas party I worked the night before, I went to the police station instead. When I began talking to the police officers about what happened they immediately showed a lot of interest, calling together a number of other detectives in to listen to my story. They were sympathetic about the problems I would have if my wife found out what happened, but they weren't able to promise anything.

The group of detectives listened to my entire story, throwing in a question or two, but for the most part letting me take my story to the end. Once I finished one of the detectives asked where I worked.

"Mariott Gateway, on Twelfth Street," I replied.

"Do they have security cameras in the banquet areas or near the restrooms you passed."

"I'm not sure, they have cameras, but I don't remember if there are any near the banquet rooms," I replied as the detective nodded to a younger man who rushed out of the room.

"Do you remember what you did with the condom?" he then asked.

"No... wait, there was a small trash can there, I just wanted out of there, so I tossed it in. I didn't come, so it was relatively clean," I replied. Two more of the police quickly stood up and grabbed their cell phones. I heard them saying something about "securing the crime scene" and "banquet area and restrooms." "Oh hell," I thought to myself, "My boss is really going to be pissed if the police shut down the banquet areas."

"Okay look, we need to check some things out and then want to talk to you again. If you want to go home and come back later, that will be fine," one of the detectives said as the rest quickly hurried out of the room.

"My wife thinks I'm at work, it will be hard to explain going home and then leaving again. How long will you be?"

"I can't be sure, but you are welcome to wait here at the station. I'll see if I can find a room for you to wait in," he said, leading me down the corridor. "Look, this is an empty interrogation room, the door locks automatically, but I'll but this chair here to leave it open. If you need something to drink or need to go to the bathroom you are free to go. I must ask that you don't talk about this case with anyone until I get back with you. You okay with all that?" he asked, putting a chair between the door and the door frame. I nodded to him.

Sitting in the interrogation room I thought about the evening before, trying to recall anything that might help the police. It is odd, when I think of it, I don't remember that many details about her. Auburn hair, where did that come from? What made it strange is that I've never used the word auburn when describing hair before, I mean it was red, just like on her pussy, but all I remember about the hair on her head was that it was auburn, and she wore it up, and two strands curled down the back of her neck.

I think I remembering trying to see her breasts and then of course, I remember her pussy, but no, I don't remember her pussy, I remember her red pubic hair and how it looked enmeshed with mine. Enmeshed? That's another word I normally wouldn't use, I just don't understand it.

After about an hour, the detective who set me up in the interrogation room said, "They were able to recover the security tape and they did find a condom in the trash can. Hopefully this will help us a lot." I then mentioned what I had been thinking about, the words I used in the description and the officer replied, "Look, I can't talk about it with you right now, but let us sift through the information when it gets here and I will tell you more about what we believe is happening. Do you need to call home or something?"

"We have caller id at home, I don't want her to see I'm calling from the police station."

"We've got a line that has no caller id information."

"No, she'll expect to see the hotel name on the id."

"Okay, suit yourself, please make yourself comfortable and we'll get in her as soon as we can," he said. "You know with your information and the video, we may be able to break this case."

I leaned back in my chair, wondering just what in the hell I had gotten myself into.

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