"Me-Too-- Fuck You!"

After that terrible experience Dora couldn't take police work anymore. She resigned with a disability pension and I asked to be transferred out of the drug squad. It was too much for me.

Those people were vicious animals. I wasn't ever going back to face that thin faced man with a few teeth and a skinning knife out in Riverside. I was lucky. I didn't get raped. Dora got the worst of it that night.

I tried to keep in touch with Dora but it proved to be too much of an ordeal. Every time she saw me it was as if she was relieving the tragic evening we had shared. Life ain't easy. I realized any plans we'd made were now shattered. The last I heard, she and her husband were still living together.

I had good news in the next month. I had passed the exam. Now I was working as a Detective 2nd grade. We would get tips from our perps about gambling parlors in Thai Town, China Town or Watts. We'd go in with our guns blazing. All the players would run out and we'd pick up the cash they'd left on the tables. It was a harmless way to make a buck. By the end of the year I'd picked up over $20 g's and used it to put a deposit down on a home in San Pedro, high on a hill where you could see the harbor.

Looking out at the harbor, I got this stupid idea of going fishing. I bought a deep sea rig for saltwater fishing at the local swap meet. I checked around for fishing on a charter boat. I found one that took off from Oxnard and went as far out as the Channel Islands. It was an hour drive. I got there early. I had had a full dinner. That was a mistake.

I bought a ticket and boarded the boat. There were about 20 Koreans on board. Where the fuck did they all come from? I had no idea. They were smoking like chimneys and between the boat's diesel fuel stench and the cigarette and cigar smoke, my gut got queasy.

When we arrived at our destination I was feeling dizzy. I sat quietly as the Koreans shouted, smoked and fished. An older guy sat down next to me, that was how I met Mr. K.

Mr. K was the Korean who owned several restaurant where many illegals worked. They brought them over on student visas to attend phantom schools. It was a real racket. I had heard that Mr. K was one of the crime bosses in Korea town.

I sat quietly through the trip. I hardly did any fishing as I was afraid I'd vomit if I moved around. I chatted with Mr. K. When he heard I was a detective he moved closer. The famous Mr.K was the guy indicted for putting snipers on top of k-town buildings during the riots of 30 years ago. His lawyers got him off on the grounds of his constitutional right to defend his property. If he had not done what he did the rioting crowds would have burned him and most of k-town down. Many of the black owned homes and businesses were destroyed. Korea town was not, the Koreans had worked hard to turn what was a slum into a thriving business area. They were not going to let a rioting crowd take that away.

He asked me a number of questions about police policy. We talked at length and I felt I could help him with some of his troubles. K-town was famous for keeping the bars open past the 2AM curfew. Also, the bars and resturants were open to party girls, escorts and prostitutes.

When the trip was over we left the boat together. As sick as I was I hardly did any fishing. The few fish I caught I gave away. Mr. K pointed at his chauffeur driven Rolls, waiting for him on the dock. Would you believe the Rolls refused to restart?

"I'll take you home," I offered. I drove Mr. K back to Korea town in my Caddy. This was the start of a long term friendship that lasted until his funeral 5 years ago.

I was called in to Mr. K's office the next month when the LAPD started raiding restaurants in K-town selling booze after 2am. Maybe Koreans don't tell time very well? Their brew temples were a big source of revenue. The mob owned most of the party girls who entertained the men.

Entertainment consists of flattery and teasing, just old fashioned Korean fun. On one recent occasion it got a little too crazy and a party girl was gang raped by drunken businessmen. I became a liaison for Mr. K. to the LAPD. I spoke to certain commanders and handed them those famous red envelopes. I got them to cut Mr.K some slack. The raped Korean girl was paid off and disappeared back to Korea.

As a reward, Mr. K arranged for me to be entertained privately by three party girls. It went way beyond anything I'd imagined. It is called a "Korean Pancake." First they showered you and washed you from your toes to your cock, from your head to your ass hole. They dried you with fluffy towels. On a couch, reclining on your side, one girl would start sucking your dick. The one in the middle would suck and massage your balls. The girl behind would lick your ass hole. If this didn't get you off, nothing will.

As a Detective, I was assigned a new partner. He was called Speedy Gonzales. Of course his real name was Jose with six or seven Mexican names tagged on behind it. He was dubbed Speedy with good reason. He made decisions lightning fast. Decisions that meant money in your pocket.

We worked out of a special office in midtown. We had a few female secretaries. It was a game to see how long it took to have sex with them. One Chinese girl resisted. We took her out for her birthday. Speedy slipped some date rape drug into her coke. After she passed out we took turns fucking her in the back parking lot of the Coyote Restaurant over on Beverly. She never spoke to us after that night but continued to work for us but always looked down in our presence. We thought we'd heard the last of it till recently.

The other office girls were easy marks. After a few beers, they didn't object to being two timed. I liked to go first, but sloppy seconds means a well lubed pussy so it ain't so bad. We gave all of them good reports. That led to early promotions and raises. They should have remembered that when they started me-tooing us to death.

One of our street informants tipped us to the location of two bank robbers. We drove to a small apartment in Brentwood. We staked out the place for16 hours. We were looking out for "One Eyed Finnegan" and "Fat Chung" also known as "Chung King." He looked Chinese but was Thai. When the two bank robbers finally arrive and opened the metal security door, Speedy charged in.

The three of them fought on the curb. Once I got to them, I knocked out Chung. Speedy and I beat up Finnegan. We dragged them inside. Speedy tied them up with some telephone cords he ripped out of the wall. He was determined to get their bank loot.

He twisted Chung's arm so far I could hear it snap, but Chung would not talk. Knowing he was next, Finnegan broke down when Speedy took a spoon off the desk and said he was going to remove Finnegan's good eye.

Finnegan told us the money was hidden in the upholstery of their black Lincoln parked outside. The car was packed. They had expected to drive to Mexico that very evening. Instead, we booked them downtown and they spent the evening in the clink. My partner and I split up the $135,000. We reported we'd recovered only $5000.

The press and TV made us look like heroes. We weren't, we were thieves. We stole their loot. No one cared. The two crooks knew their sentence would be the same if the loot was recovered or not. We told them to say they gambled away the loot and we'd put in a good word for them. That worked. They were given a reduced sentence as they had not injured anyone.

We decided we merited a week off. Speedy and I took a well deserved vacation and flew down to Mexico City. Speedy knew his way around. We booked into a fancy hotel with superb eats. It was also 100 yards from the best bordello in the city. We ate all night, drank tequila and wine and fucked a different whore each night.

The nice thing was you could go anal or vaginal. They were clean, young and pretty and didn't care as long as they were well paid. A good time was had by all. Some of these girls enjoyed being fucked. That was really nice. When you are fucking a whore and she is enjoying being fucked, it makes it real nice. That was our impression based on their moans of pleasure.

Oh yeah Sonny Boy, I should tell you that there was a house specialty in this bordello. It cost a little extra, but oh, was it worth it. They had a wheel like apparatus that the whore mounted and she centered her vagina or ass over you. Someone would lower the contraption that began to slowly spin. You'd fuck her as she spun. Believe me, no one would last very long. What a fabulous fuck!

We finished up our vacation and flew back to Tijuana. We stopped to eat at La Casula, a terrific seafood restaurant run by a Taiwanese couple. Speedy knew them. They took us in the kitchen and asked if we could deliver a package to their cousin.

What was it? A kilo of cocaine. Speedy said we'd do it for one half of the package. They thought a while and said, how about a third and the dinner was free. We agreed. They cut the kilo right there and rewrapped it.

We had left our car in a bonded garage, just on the US side of the border before we flew to Mexico City. Now it was time to reclaim it. With our police ID we walked right through customs, no problem. We picked up our car and headed home.

On the way outside of San Diego we picked up a hippy girl who was hitchhiking. She was good looking. Dark hair, a bit of a nose, but a great smile, all shiny white teeth. She was wearing a tan leather jacket with fringe, a halter top that just about kept her big titties together and cut-off jean short shorts that nicely showed her butt cheeks and promised more.

The shorts were so short I think I could have fucked her while she was wearing them. She said her name was Lorraine. She had just graduated from a state teacher's college. She had been down in Mexico practicing her Spanish, that was her major. She had some guy's name tattooed on her left breast.

"You boyfriend," I said, letting my finger rest on her breast.

"Oh that, I got drunk one night and when I woke up there it was. My pussy was pretty well lubed, so something must have been going on."

We though that was pretty funny.

Loraine, like most hippies back then, was into drugs. She asked us if we'd like to party on the beach. We pulled over around Oceanside, it was pretty deserted. The moon was full. The tide was coming in with loud cresting waves. There were no tourists there on the beach. The girl had some marijuana and we rolled a big dooPorschebie and we passed it around. She was obviously sexually liberated because she took her blouse off as soon as the smoke hit her.

Speedy asked her if she ever had a cocaine hit in her cunt, she shook her head.

"What is that like?"

"Well, for one thing it prolongs the sex," said Speedy.

"Honey, you will want us to fuck you forever."

"That sounds good," said Loraine.

Next thing I knew Speedy had whipped out his big uncut cock. The foreskin was so long it looked like his dick had a beard.

"Here honey, suck this for a minute to get it wet."

Loraine leaned over to suck Speedy's cock. I got out of the car and cleared off the back seat figuring that would be the best place to fuck her. When Speedy's cock was all wet, he took out a pinch of cocaine from our stash and sprinkled it onto his dick.

I shifted Loraine into the back bench seat. Now she was nude. Without any foreplay Speedy climbed on top and just shoved his big cock inside her. She went bananas. He must have fucked her for about 20 minutes, then he pulled out with her shouting "More, fuck me more."

I was ready to go. I climbed on top and even though her cunt was filled with his spunk and the powdered cocaine her puss was well lubed. I slipped inside as easy as putting a Porsche into 6th gear.

"Fuck me, you fucker," Loraine started to yell.

I followed suit and did my best. I tried to prolong the act. The cocaine has that effect. Finally my hair trigger was pulled and I shot my load. I just stayed inside her as she humped my dick. I looked up and there was Speedy with his arm around some beach bum who'd wandered past and was watching us fuck Loraine.

As I pulled out, Loraine saw the guy, a rather disheveled homeless type who looked like a Jesus.

"You, fucking Jesus, you gotta fuck me too," said Loraine. "I need a good cock inside me to get me entirely off."

I didn't want the guy in our car, he smelled, so I helped Loraine out and she lay tits down against the hood of the car with her long legs spread. The homeless guy's cock lit up like a stop sign, all red and beefy. He got to work slipping his cock between her ass cheeks and into her wet pussy.

Both Speedy and I were high from the cocaine. The homeless guy didn't know her sperm filled cunt was loaded with cocaine dust. He kept fucking her and then started to hallucinate. Finally he shot his load and just keeled over backwards. Speedy caught him just before his head hit the sand and laid him down. Jesus was muttering and crying and trembling all at the same time. Maybe he was talking to the God Father?

Lorraine slumped forward and seemed to have passed out. We carried back and placed her in the back seat. She seemed very quiet. For all intents she seemed dead.

"Did we kill her?" I asked.

"It can happen," said Speedy, who felt her carotid artery to see if there was a pulse.

"No, she aint dead, at least not yet. But we better walk her around or she might kick off."

So we pulled her out of the car. The homeless guy was out of it, laying in the sand mumbling. We stepped over him and the two of us started walking Loraine, held under her arms, up the beach towards a dank abandoned bathroom. We wet her face down. Speedy tried to wash out her vag. It was a fucking mess. Finally she came too and started babbling incoherently.

We walked her back to the car and sat her up in the back seat. I got in to drive, most of the drug seemed to have worn off. Speedy kept saying he was seeing flashes of pink and blue light.

We passed an all night tattoo parlor on the way out of town and Speedy though she should have something tattooed right next to her cunt as a memento. She nodded her approval. We thought to have our names tattooed but the tattoo guy said there wasn't a lot of room. In the end we agreed and had "Coke" with an arrow next to vagina with a tiny stick figure Kilroy leaning over her labia sticking his hand into her cunt. For most of the return trip, she was passed out. In two hours we were back in Los Angeles.

We dressed Loraine, got her tits covered and dropped her off at the L.A. Bus station. We left her there, kinda groggy but awake. Three black guys spotted her and were crowded around her when we walked away to grab a coke. We took off. I've always wondered if she ended up being fucked or being recruited by the pimps. Isn't fucking what hippy chicks like to do?

I hope they didn't smudge the tat. We figured she'd manage. We never saw her again. We looked for her in places where the whores congregated. She either took off or they kept her chained up somewhere. So if you fuck a looker with her "Coke and an arrow" tatted on her cunt, please let me know.

I got Speedy home about 20 minutes later. He was still seeing bright flashes of light. I felt ok. After dropping him off, I grabbed a "tamale" at a Tommy's. It's not a real wrapped tamale, it comes in a paper box with a layer of corn meal over a meat pie. The medium hot pepper mole with a fragrance you could taste hours later. I went home to take a good shower and wash the Tommy mole perfume from my lips and fingers.

Our vacation was over. The next day Speedy delivered the goods to the designated drug dealer who also bought what remained of our part for a good profit. Speedy and I split the money between us.

Our next assignment involved illegal gambling. In Los Angeles gambling is illegal, but it's permitted if the police let you get away with it. We got assigned to bust an "Un-made" bookmaker, one not protected by the Mafia. A "made bookie" is "licensed" by the Mafia and protection is bought from the police. If he was "made"we would have left him alone.

The Mafia have deep links to the upper level of the LAPD. It turned out that this stupid Texan didn't know what was going on. He was muscling in on another bookmaker who had paid us protection money, not directly to me, but to the chief who spread it around among the detectives.

He was a rather young curly headed guy out of Waco, Texas. For some reason he thought he could just start taking bets in bars and he was doing pretty good.

We had dealt with the guy a few weeks before when we answered a complaint about his setting up shop in a local bar. We told him that he could only operate inside a designated bar where we knew the owner. The protection money was only $500 a week. He refused to pay. Said he'd stop taking book. But he was lying. That was a stupid thing to do.

When we were alerted by a mafia bookie that Tex was still fucking up his business we went to the crummy bar and waited. Yep, he was defying our dictate. We followed him that night and learned where he lived. He, his mom and some bimbo shared a cheap apartment over on Blake Street near the Dodger Stadium. We returned the next night to his home and waited. It was a dark night. Speedy crept up on the porch and unscrewed the light bulb. Tex showed up about 2:30 am in some pick up truck playing loud country music. We waited till he got on the dark porch.

We'd brought a tough recruit to give us a hand. Skiffle popped out of the darkness just behind Tex and hit him in the head with a sap. It was nighty-night for the cowboy for the next twenty minutes. We dragged him into the living room and tied him securely to the chair. We handcuffed his hands behind him. The two women were aroused from bed and as they staggered sleepily into the room to see what the commotion was about, we tied them up as well.

We didn't know Skiffle that well. Turned out the guy was kind of kinky. He took a fancy to the cowboy's mom. She was a good looking gal, big set of tits and a ripe ass. Probably about 42 years old, more like a sister to our captive than a mom. Skiffle put a gun to her head told her to suck his dick.

"If you think you are going to bite it it'll be the last thing you do before a bullet goes through your brain," he said.

Mom didn't waste any time and started in sucking. About that moment Tex woke up and saw his Mom sucking Skiffle big red cock.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Skiffle at that moment was ready and he pushed Mom back and spun around and let the guy have a blast of his cock juice right in the face.

That seemed to shut the Texan up.

"What do you guy want?"

"We offered you a deal but you were not smart enough to take it."

"I'll take it now, what was it, $500 a week?"

Sorry Bub, it's too late for that, you are packing out of here tonight. If you come back you will all end up in the graveyard.

"Come on guys, let me go."

"Oh we will, but we ain't done with you yet."

Speedy had grabbed the girlfriend, she was a good looking Hispanic girl with dyed blond hair and a complexion like a Swede. He spoke to her in Spanish and she laid belly down on the floor. Speedy took out his knife, lifted up her dress and cut her pink panties right off her butt.

"This one's for you," said Speedy, pointing at me.

"I don't mind if I do," I said.

I got myself over her. The Texan by now was crying "no, no."

I shook my dick out to its full length, it had already chubbed up. I got on top, her big ass felt warm and willing.

"Spread em bitch or I'll butt fuck you."

She spread her legs and raised up on her knees a bit. I slipped my dick right into her shaved honey pie. It didn't take me long. I filled up that sweet pussy like it was a thermos bottle. The bitch took the fucking like she was used to it, no sweat, but the Texan just cried his eyes out.