Chapter 9

Needless to say, Pulaski was just the beginning. The beginning of a parade of dicks in blue.

One thing that astounded me was the size of the cocks on the police force. Everyone of those cops seemed to have a cock bigger than his .38 special.

It just went on and on. Every night was farther out. I tried to be ashamed of myself for being the police department punch-board. However, the fact of the matter was that I loved getting my rocks off with these dicks in blue so much that I couldn't feel any guilt no matter how hard I tried.

At first I was still kind of shy, but by the end of the first week I'd thrown myself into it completely. In the beginning, I only gave blow-jobs, but on the last day of the first week I let a Patrolman Murphy stick his big, angry-looking dick all the way up my ass. He speared me so deep I thought I'd never stop wriggling.

Bored, in my apartment with nothing to do over the weekend, after the second week of police protection I made a list and counted ten different cocks that I had fucked or sucked. I got so excited just thinking about it that I raced to the nearest mirror and spread my legs and masturbated for a half an hour in front of it.

Police enthusiasm for sampling my charms was mounting, too. Not just patrolmen were coming in now. The word had spread to the brass.

First, the sergeant who'd started the whole thing, Stryker, showed up one Wednesday and came twice-once in my cunt, and once when I jacked off his huge cock between my tits. The next evening a detective ate my pussy to orgasm while I sucked his cock dry in a classic sixty-nine. And on Friday his lieutenant showed up and fucked me in a chair while I was still wearing my panties, sliding his dick between my thigh and the elastic of the leg hole.

By now I viewed any time off from the library as a waste of time-a loss. There were no available cocks in my apartment, and I wasn't bold enough to go out looking for any. My private life was zilch. The public library was where I swung.

When I went back to work on Monday of the third week of police protection, I was craving another sensational fuck-the more bizarre the better. I wasn't disappointed.

The library was empty again because it was another cold night, and also because I suspected the police were keeping people out. Whoever was supposed to be my police protection hadn't shown up yet, and I wondered if there had been a foul-up.

Then this middle-aged guy walked through the door looking like a doorman at some fancy high-rise. The front of his gaudy uniform was so covered with ribbons and brass that when the light struck him, I blinked from the glare.

When I looked at his face, I realized there was something familiar about the guy. I'd seen his picture in the paper.

Of course, I thought, putting the picture in the paper and the fancy uniform together. Commissioner Gordon!

The Commissioner was moonlighting to baby-sit with me at the public library. Needless to say, there could only be one reason why.

Used to being in charge, he didn't fool around. "Get down on your hands and knees behind the desk," he growled. "Pull up your dress in back, and pull down your panties, if you've got any on."

My mouth already watering in a mixture of intrigue and instantaneous arousal, I immediately did as he ordered. His harsh, commanding voice really turned me on.

I loved the thought of being fucked with real authority. Ultimate authority. The kind of maximum authority you could only get by being fucked by someone as powerful as the chief of police.

"What are you going to do to me, Commissioner Gordon?" I breathlessly asked, spreading apart the cheeks of my ass so he would have a perfect rear view of the hairy lips of my drooling pussy.

"Don't be a smart-ass," he barked. "I like my bimbos to keep their mouths shut. A closed trap and an open pussy, that's my motto. And it better be yours if you know what's good for you, slut." God, he was a brute. The kind of authoritarian, sadistic, degrading lover I had been creaming my panties for.

Gladly I shut my mouth and did my talking with my wet pussy. It must have looked perfect, flexing rawly from the rear between the parted cheeks of my bare ass. I took advantage of the seductiveness of its beauty, wiggling my hips so my cunt sucked at him, begging him to penetrate it with something long, hard and awful.

I was expecting his cock, but the billy club I suddenly felt sliding up my cunt was more than satisfactory. It was as smooth and thick as any prick, and twice as hard. Within seconds, it was fucking me with ten-inch thrusts, its head banging against the rear wall of my convulsing pussy.

My pulsing asshole was still unoccupied, and I fully expected his cock to shove into it immediately. Instead, I felt something cold and metallic tearing, not pushing, at my puckering rosebud.

His gun barrel abruptly tore into my anus, the sight ripping against my tender tissues. It hurt like hell, but sliding in and out of my shit-pit, the agony it produced provided an entirely new aspect to getting fucked in the ass.

The searing pain lifted me to an astonishingly higher sexual plane than I had been used to. An incredible anal orgasm suddenly seized my loins, turning the center of my body into a wriggling, undulating dynamo of raw sex.

"Now jack me off," he ordered. "Reach back and take hold of my cock and start pumping. And be sure and keep your fucking trap shut, or all sorts of strange things may happen to you."

To emphasize how much he meant it, he pulled back the hammer on his gun. The click sounded like an explosion in my ears.

I reached back for his prick. When I felt it in my hand, I immediately knew why the commissioner was willing to threaten to blow my ass to pieces just for uttering a word. I was astonished as I realized how self-conscious and sensitive this gruff, powerful man really was.

Commissioner Gordon had a cock that couldn't have been over four inches long, fully erect!

The only guy on the force with a small prick, and he was the chief. No wonder he was sensitive!

He was sure that if I opened my mouth I wouldn't be able to resist making fun of his tiny cock. Meanwhile, he tried to compensate for his physical inadequacy by fucking me in my cunt and ass with his macho cop toys-his night stick and gun.

I suppose it was pathetic, but the truth of the matter was that Commissioner Gordon's secret was safe with me. All I cared about was that I already had my two main fuck-holes stuffed with pumping hardness, and I was about to get a bonus of jacking off an erect cock. Who cared how long his prick was as long as it was there for me to whack? Hot sperm gushed out of a small dick as much as it gushed out of a big one.

I took his dick in both my hands and rubbed it against my palms. Rolling it like a cook flours a piece of meat, I felt it grow in my hands-maybe not much, but enough to tell me that if I really worked at it I could get the Commissioner's prick temporarily up to a reasonable length. It would do wonders for his self-esteem, and be gravy for me.

Sliding my palms along his root, I felt his cock throb in my grip. Pulling the foreskin completely over the head, I would next abruptly pull it back down his shaft, ripping nearly down to his balls.

Then I clutched his prick, squeezing it with all my fingers. The pressure caused it to swell. I'd get his cock fat if it killed me.

The more I worked on his tool, the more excited the Commissioner got. By now he was pumping his night stick and gun barrel in and out of my cunt and ass respectively with ferocity, reaming them out.

In my colon I could feel the shit oozing into a ball, attracted almost magnetically by the steel barrel of the gun. My bowels spasmed, contracting like an inner cunt.

My pussy had tied itself into a virginal knot around the billy club, reacting to it exactly as though it were a pistoning prick. Clutching it with slimy tenacity, my pussy lips were rubbed raw by the repeated thrusts. I suppose I should have been frightened of splinters from the club's wooden shank, but the truth of the matter was that I welcomed the searing possibility.

I wanted to moan in agony. I wanted to cry in tortured glee. I wanted to tell Commissioner Gordon how fantastic it felt to be fucked in my ass and cunt simultaneously, with a stiff dick in my grasp as a bonus. But since he had ordered silence, I showed my appreciation silently, using my writhing, undulating body to transmit my message.

God, how my ass wriggled. My pussy clutched. Handling his cock like my hands were glued to it, I stroked it wildly, coaxing it into greater and greater erection.

Sensing that his prick had grown at least an extra two inches, I twisted my hands around it, wringing it like a washrag. Delirious over the success of my cock-building enterprise, I was panting for him to spray the air with cum.

The night stick and gun barrel had turned my two fuck-holes into volcanoes. The thin membrane between my cunt and asshole appeared to melt, causing the two prongs to seem to function as protuberances of the same terrible implement of torture.

In this case the implement was a human being. The sweating, panting, groaning man in blue, who also happened to be the widely respected chief of police. Who was quoted in the paper at least once a week denouncing the loose morals of today.

I couldn't believe how fast and hard he was making me come. The hidden pleasure points in the inner depths of my ass and pussy were being struck with astonishing regularity by Commissioner Gordon's police-issue dildoes. I felt like a pinball machine being played by an expert, bells and chimes ringing in my head as score after score was tallied in the sexual machinery of my body.

Then, in my hands, his cock jumped an extra traction of an inch. I knew what it meant and licked my lips in anticipation.

With a spasming jerk, the milk and honey suddenly spewed from the end of the commissioner's dick. Cum coated my forearms, 'its thickness and volume even more than I had anticipated. It spread across my skin, dripping to the floor in its unbelievable excess.

Rabid from his coming, the commissioner went wild with his gun and billy club, shoving them deeper than ever in my twin fuck-canals. Sure that he would rip me apart, I wanted to scream with terrified joy. But, realizing that such an outward display of emotion might cause him to pull the trigger up my ass, I stifled my urge to cry.

"Oh, bitch... oooooh, bitch," the commissioner moaned when he'd finally stopped coming, his dick reverting to normal size in my caressing hand. "Ooooooooh, bitch... you filthy bitch."

I wiggled my ass and squeezed his cock to show him how much I appreciated his raw words. Normally humiliating, the idea of being called a bitch just added to my euphoria.

He could tell by the way I moved my body and played with his cock that I liked being degraded. "Ooooooh, you filthy tramp," he continued, making the tone of his authoritarian voice even more contemptuous. "You rotten whore. Only a whore would do the things you do. I ought to run you in, lock up your ass, and throw away the fucking key."

Overwhelmed with the pleasure of being put down, I wanted to cry, "Please do!" Instead, I responded as usual, silently shaking my fuck-wracked body as though it were Jello.

My hand slid around his slippery dick, slick with cum. My cunt and anus respectively drooled from the orgasmic flow each of them produced. My whole body sang with the joy of coming in the most thrillingly degraded circumstances possible.

Finally, the commissioner stopped his three-pronged attack. The cock in my hand shriveled to insignificance, my fingers powerless to coax it into further adventures. In my ass and cunt, the two prods stopped moving and stabbing. As the night stick slipped out of my cunt on a river of pussy juice, and the gun barrel pulled wetly from my ass, I heard Commissioner Gordon breathing so hard it sounded like each gasp would be his last.

Suddenly fearful that something might go dreadfully wrong and get me in more trouble with the library brass, I looked around to see if there was anything wrong. Commissioner Gordon's face turned red, white and then blue right before my eyes.

Before I could do anything he toppled to the floor, unconscious. I was sure he was dead of a heart attack.