Witness Protection Trophy Wives

"So, if there were no financial issues, and you still got to enjoy all the money your husband brought in with no restrictions, then you wouldn't have gone to the police?"

Maria had that look of smug amusement on her face. "Of course I not going to go to police if everything the way it was before. I do not care how Dmitry make his money or the crimes he and his brothers commit, all I know is that I want the money I entitled to and the lifestyle I deserve. Remember I always get what I want, whether it be my husband's money or some guy to fuck me. Like you, I want sex, you have sex with me, now I happy I get what I want."

In my career as a detective I had met some selfish, cold, heartless people in my time, but what Maria had said made this sexy blonde stunner one of the coldest and most calculating ever. I didn't think she had these attributes before, but after our conversation it was clear without any shadow of a doubt that Maria rated zero on ethics and morals. She was as bad as, if not worse than her estranged husband, and I had just gone against everything I should have done as a police detective with a protected witness by getting into Maria's knickers and fucking her.

Maria went to bed, and I returned to the living room, where the football telecast had just finished for the night. With Cassie still asleep with her migraine, I should have stayed awake but having such hot sex with Maria must have tired me out, and coupled with the persistent sound of the rain outside, before I knew it I had fallen asleep, and didn't wake up until the early Saturday morning, where it was still drizzling outside.

I mentally reprimanded myself for falling asleep on the job during nightshift. Some detective I was. Although falling asleep was one thing, fucking a criminal's trophy wife in witness protection quite another. Yawning and stretching, I stood up off the couch, and heard a door open and Cassie hurried in, looking quite distressed.

"Shane, I slept all night," she said, clearly dismayed. "Why didn't wake me up?"

"Well, you weren't feeling very well and I had things covered out here," I said, not disclosing that I had fallen asleep too and that was a very minor sin compared with what else I had gotten up to last night.

"Please don't tell our boss about this," Cassie said.

"Don't worry Cassie, your secret is safe with me," I said. "So, I hope you're feeling better this morning?"

"Thanks Shane, you're a really good friend," Cassie said, as we walked into the kitchen to make some tea. "I feel better today, just a bit light-headed like I always do after a migraine."

Cassie and I were soon joined in the kitchen by the third occupant of the house, a certain stunning tall blonde Russian who sauntered in wearing her oversized tee-shirt over panties, her feet bare. She opened the refrigerator to get herself a drink.

"Oh good morning Cassie," said Maria, her expression one of faux-friendliness. "Hope your head is feeling better today."

"Yes, thank you Maria," replied Cassie.

"You missed out on a lot last night, Cassie" said Maria, a teasing look on her face, while fear rose in the pit of my stomach.

"Really?" Cassie asked dismissively.

"Really," Maria affirmed. She then turned to me, and put a teasing tone in her voice. "Shane had a really good time, list night, didn't you Shane?"

I stood rigid like a statue, feeling hot and cold at the same time. What was Maria going to say?

"Why did Shane have a good night, Maria?" Cassie asked.

The feeling of panic got worse as Maria said, "Shane had a good night last night because his team won the football, didn't you Shane?"

"Yes, my team won the football last night," I managed to say, hoping they did, otherwise I would look pretty stupid.

"And I had a good night too last night," said Maria, a smart-ass look on her pretty face.

"Why did you have a good night, Maria?" Cassie asked.

Maria stared back at her. "Because I didn't have some silly dyke detective watching me and thinking about getting into my pants."

With an arrogant shrug of her shoulders, Maria turned and left the kitchen, striding for her bedroom on her bare feet.

Cassie fumed. "Is it wrong that sometimes I want Dmitry and his brothers to find out where she is?"

"Wrong, but understandable," I said.

.

I should have been feeling relief that Maria hadn't disclosed what happened to Cassie, but I could not relax. Maria was a selfish, cold-hearted and demanding bitch, and she had something to hold over me now. Would she use it to get what she wanted in the future?

My heart raced and my stomach churned with anxiety, and when Harry and Eddie arrived to take over I jumped into my car and raced away, panic surging through my body. I had to do something to relax right now and calm the fuck down. Initially I raced through the drizzle on the Princes Highway, making for the national park at the You-Yangs, the tall mountains that stood out on the Werribee Plains.

However, I was so distracted that I missed the exit and continued driving through the drizzle to Geelong. I had thought of driving out to the town of Queenscliff on the Bellarine Peninsula or perhaps Barwon, but was so distracted I didn't make a left turn on McKillop Street as I continued, and in fact was in such a panic that I didn't remember driving on Moorabool Street at all until I saw the light towers of Kardinia Park vanishing in my rear-view mirror as I sped through South Geelong to Belmont, a huge worry given this was such a busy road with many traffic lights, plus a railway crossing busy with goods and passenger trains most of the time.

Next I thought of going to the Great Ocean Road, to Lorne, Apollo Bay or one of the other scenic towns on the Surf Coast, but took a wrong exit and soon found myself heading inland on the road to Colac, trees, power-poles, farms, livestock, other vehicles and wind turbines flashing by as I drove at speed.

Finally I reached my destination of the pretty town of Colac, and parked my car, hurrying into the Botanic Gardens that overlooked the vast expanse of Lake Colac, and tried to calm down and gather my thoughts in the relaxing setting.

I reprimanded myself for getting hot at the memories of the hot sex with Maria last night and thought about how foolish I had been. What if Maria opened her big mouth and blabbed? She certainly wasn't trustworthy. I had made a serious error of judgement, and would now be on eggshells until the trial, when Maria would give evidence and hopefully that would be the end of the matter? What was going to happen in the meantime? Would Maria blackmail me? Would I get found out? It was all my own fault, I was an adult who had made bad choices in sleeping with a wife in witness protection, and would have to face the consequences if this ever came to light.

*

To my immense relief, Maria never said a word of what we did that rainy night, nor did she ever mention it again, much less hold it over me to get what she wanted. The trial arrived, with Dmitry, Alexie and Ivan along with some of their associates now facing murder charges after homicide detectives were able to find enough evidence to make the murders of the crooked dive shop owner and the female politician stand up in court.

Maria gave her evidence of the illegal activities of her husband and his brothers, and when Dmitry, Alexie and Ivan along with the other members of the gang were found guilty of all charges they were jailed for life, never to see freedom again.

As for Maria herself, she vanished off into the big wide world under a new name and identity. I wondered how those who organized this managed such a feat -- a six foot three stunning blonde Russian girl isn't exactly easy to hide, but still Maria wasn't my problem now so what did I care?

Maria herself for me was now just a memory. One a cautionary memory of how as a police officer I needed to think with my brain and not my dick and never screw around with a protected witness ever again. And two, masturbatory fantasies to be relived in bed at night as I engaged in solitary vices.

So twelve months later in the year 2013, what was I doing now? Well, today I was at work in another non-descript house in the beachside suburbs between Chelsea and Frankston that nobody would ever notice. It was a hot and sunny Melbourne day outside, and Eddie was doing some paperwork in the front room.

I was at the rear of the house where there were three doors, the doors to the bathroom, the toilet and the laundry. While the bathroom door and laundry door were open, the toilet door was closed, and from inside I could hear the occupant advancing the roll of toilet paper, the holder rattling.

To this I paid little attention, until to my utter astonishment the toilet door was flung open, and I was confronted with the sight of Trish, a tall, slim, attractive young woman aged 28, with her long dark hair cascading down past her shoulders sitting on the toilet. Her swarthy skin and deep brown eyes gave away Trish's South American origins, as did her voice when she spoke.

"Shane, I run out of toilet paper halfway through, you need to get me some more tissue," she said, pointing at the toilet roll holder that showed an empty cardboard tube.

I was too shocked by suddenly seeing a pretty woman sitting on the toilet to react properly, and instead stood there staring which wasn't polite, but I could hardly help it. On her top half, and due to the hot weather, Trish wore a strappy white top which showed so much of her big mocha-colored tits and the pink bra that she tried to restrain them with that she might as well have gone topless.

On her bottom half, and pulled down around her ankles, Trish wore a pair of denim shorts and a pair of pink bikini-style panties, and she was barefoot, her toes poking out under her lowered shorts and underpants. Trish's pink double-cotton panty saddle was facing upwards, and I could clearly see the creamy colored feminine stains from between her legs on her pants.

And I could clearly see the part of Trish's body responsible for these stains. Trish sat on the toilet with her legs wide apart, showing me a dense forest of dark pubic hair all over her feminine mound and her pussy, Trish's pink vagina visible amongst all her pubes. She made no attempt to close her knees, despite showing off her hairy pussy to me.

So distracted was I by the sight that I sort of spaced out, and it was only Trish snapping her fingers in my face that brought me around, along with the smell of poo that entered my nostrils for the first time, and reminded me exactly Trish was doing on the toilet.

"Sorry Trish?" I stammered, moving my glance from Trish's pussy initially to the floor, but as I could see her pants I looked upwards, seeing her big, barely-covered tits first and then managing to look Trish in the face.

"Shane, I just said, I ran out of toilet paper and you need to get me some right away so I can finish having my poo," said Trish, indicating the empty toilet roll. Again not bothered by the fact that I was male and she was female, Trish farted into the toilet and I heard her feces splashing into the water, Trish's toilet smell immediately getting worse.

"Right away Trish," I managed to say, turning around to go and retrieve some.

"Oh and Shane, I need you to get me a sanitary napkin too," said Trish.

"Sanitary napkin?" I said, again looking into the toilet with Trish on the loo and her legs still wide apart.

"Yes, a sanitary napkin, a period pad," said Trish, impatience in her voice. "When I wipe my bottom, I notice spots of blood from my vagina on my toilet paper and there small clots of menstrual blood in toilet, so my period start a day early this month. My pads are in my underwear drawer."

"I'll um, go and get one for you as well as some toilet paper Trish, just sit tight and I'll be right back with you," I said.

Trish snorted in derision. "Well I cannot go anywhere, I am stranded on toilet in mess with no paper to wipe my bottom, and I am on my period. Hurry up so I can finish and get off the toilet."

I did as Trish told me, hearing her cursing in Spanish as I went on my way to her bedroom. Retrieving her a new sanitary napkin from the packet in her underwear drawer, I then retrieved the stranded South American girl a new roll of toilet paper from the laundry cupboard.

Passing them to Trish, I said, "I'll just leave you to have some privacy Trish," and went to leave, only to be stopped by Trish snapping her fingers at me again.

"You are not going anywhere, Shane," she said as she changed the toilet roll. "It is nice day outside, my husband Carlos, his brother and their stupid friend are on remand in prison, but I not allowed to go out of this house to go for walk on beach and enjoy the sunshine or have walk around shopping center in Frankston?"

I sighed. "Trish, we've been through this before. It's just too dangerous, your husband has a lot of connections outside of the cartel who don't want you to testify."

Trish leaned forward on the toilet, unwrapped and unfolded her sanitary napkin, pressing the period pad into her panties and wrapping the wings around before straightening up again. "So, I give valuable information to police about major drug smuggling cartel operating between Australia and Venezuela, and not only do you send my no-good criminal husband to jail, you put me in this prison too."

"It's all for your own safety, Trish," I said, but Trish cut me off.

"My own safety, my own safety, I hear it 100 times before and I fucking sick of it," Trish sneered.

I had obviously been in debates with people before, but the debate that took place over the next 10 minutes or so was the most bizarre I had ever been in, and hard to believe what was actually happening was real. Still with her legs wide apart showing off her pussy now with visible menstrual blood on her fanny flaps, Trish debated me about the way she was being treated in witness protection, and how she was fucking sick of it.

She also had no qualms about slagging off her husband Carlos, revealing that the reason she informed on him and his family to the police was because she caught him in a compromising position with her younger sister Juanita -- who Trish described as a selfish and spoiled home-wrecking brat -- with the 21-year old sister having her skirt up around her waist and her panties down around her ankles as Trish's husband ate out her hairy and according to Trish smelly pussy. The whole situation sounded like some really bad soap opera from Latin, Central or South America.

The whole time, Trish continued pooing on the toilet, not caring at all that I could see, hear and smell everything she was doing, not to mention her getting toilet paper to wipe her pussy and her ass. At one stage Trish urinated in front of me, her pee tinkling into the toilet, me thinking that was strange as she would probably have had her piss when she first pulled her knickers down and sat on the toilet, but evidently she didn't. She wiped her wet pussy, and went back to having her poo and chastising me

Finally, Trish was done. Still sulking about not getting her way, Trish stood up off the very smelly toilet and flushed it. She went to pick up the empty cardboard tube from the first toilet roll as well as the plastic packet and peel-back strip from her sanitary napkin, but dropped the cardboard tube on the floor.

Cursing in Spanish, Trish turned around with her shorts and her knickers still down around her ankles to pick it up, bending over and showing me her buttocks in the process. The cheeks of Trish's bare bottom spread as she bent over me with her ass in the air, showing me not only her pink vagina amongst all the hair but her tight pink anus too, which contrasted with her sultry, South American skin.

Turning back around, Trish pulled up her knickers and adjusted her period pad in place between her legs so it was comfortable and in the right position for her pussy to bleed into, then her shorts. She again adjusted her panties around her bum and her box through the denim, and strode out of the toilet on her bare feet making for the bathroom on her bare feet, stopping only to dispose of the empty toilet roll and the feminine hygiene wrappings in the bin.

As Trish washed her hands with plenty of soap and warm water at the sink she said to me, "So, that's just it, I have to spend all my time in this crappy house until I testify against Carlos and the others and get new identity in witness protection?"

"That's about the size of it," I said.

Trish turned off the taps and dried her hands on a towel. "Great, legal system in Australia so fucking slow, and I have months of months of having to put up with grumpy old bastard, the Kiwi, the lesbian and the homosexual babysitting me?"

"Who's the homosexual?" I asked.

Trish glared at me with her big brown eyes. "You are Shane. You look like a homo, you talk like a homo and you act like a homo, or poofter as they say in Australia, so therefore you are homosexual. Why else you think I let you in bathroom while I sit on toilet having shit, and menstruating too? You think I do that in front of straight man?"

Again, Trish glared at me in derision, then turned and walked off on her bare feet, heading for her bedroom, and the door slammed shut. I shook my head. That was a new thing, a protected witness, or indeed anyone thinking I was gay. At least if Trish thought I was a homosexual, she wouldn't let me get into her panties and I wouldn't give in to temptation and repeat the same mistakes I had with Maria last year.

Still, even though it was weird seeing Trish using the toilet while on her period in front of me, she was still an absolutely stunning and sexy South American siren. I had obviously seen her with bare feet before today, but now I had seen her with her knickers down, and her hairy pussy, swarthy bare bottom and bright pink vulva and anus. As for Trish's tits, her top and bra left very little for me to imagine.

And I would be imagining Trish a lot when my shift finished, and I got into bed tonight with plenty of tissues handy. My fantasies about Trish would be just that, fantasies, but my thoughts of Maria while pleasuring myself tonight would be memories, combined with a little fantasy about Maria and Trish in witness protection together, perhaps?

THE END -- PLEASE RATE AND COMMENT...