BANG BANG BANGBANGBANGBANG.
Maria pounded the plexiglass window on the storm door at Lillian’s house. Rosa, the housekeeper, appeared at the door with a concerned look on her face expecting there was a fire emergency or something. It was just Maria, wearing a navy track suit, huge smoky sunglasses, and her hair pulled up in a fierce ponytail.
“Where’s Lilly?” Maria demanded when Rosa answered the door. As Rosa was about to ask ¿Qué diablos está pasando? Lilly strode into the den from behind Rosa, herself wondering what the hell this was all about.
“What the hell is this all about?” Lilly said from behind Rosa, who scuttled off to let these two have this argument.
Given Maria’s violent knocking and furious expression, no way was she invited into the house. Lilly instead came out into the carport to talk with Maria, whose eyes were blazing with fury.
“What is the reason for this … rampage?” Lilly said indignantly.
“You leave that boy alone,” Maria said immediately, stabbing a finger at Lilly.
Lilly was taken aback, to say the least.
“I — what? How do you … I saw —“ Lilly stammered, trying to piece together what Maria’s interest was in this controversy. Obviously, it concerned Allen jerking off on the roof of his house that morning.
“I’m a licensed mental health professional,” Maria said, “and what you just did could cause serious harm to that young man’s development and his acceptance of himself.” That was all bullshit, except for the part about being a mental health therapist.
“You are way out of line to shame the boy that way,” Maria said.
Lilly could not believe her ears. Now just one minute, hold on, she thought. The next-door teenager is masturbating on the roof of his house, a vile act, in full view of everyone. Yet somehow Lilly was the bad guy here?
“I’ll ask you to leave and not speak to me again,” Lilly said, drawing herself up primly.
“I’ll ask you to leave Allen alone, God dammit!” Maria said.
Lilly was utterly bewildered by Maria’s angry interest in the masturbation incident. The only thing she knew to do was to slap some sense into Maria, which she did. Maria, recoiling from the attack, lunged at Lilly and got her in a headlock. Rosa was in the kitchen now, calling 911 to get the police to the scene.
“I … want … to watch him … jack off … you old dried-up bitch,” Maria grunted, raining closed-fist blows into the top of Lilly’s head like it was a baseball fight at the pitcher’s mound.
Soon, two cop cars rolled up with lights and sirens blaring. Allen was trying to finish himself off in his bedroom to Miss March 1987’s centerfold when he heard the commotion.
He thought for sure Lilly had called the police and now he was going to jail for masturbating on the roof. He quickly threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. But the cops weren’t coming up his driveway. Instead they were in Lilly’s.
From the kitchen window Allen looked into Lillian’s yard. She was holding an ice bag to the top of her head while one officer, a woman, talked to her and Rosa, taking notes. Further up the driveway was Maria, talking to the other cop, a man. She was stabbing her finger into the air, stomping her right foot, and making really angry gestures.
What in the goddamn fuck is going on? Allen wondered. He turned and skittered back to his bedroom, slamming its door, to play Nintendo and try to forget about this whole humiliating debacle. But after another fifteen minutes, there was a loud knocking at his door.
Oh, shit! he thought.
For sure, it was the cop. The lady. The other cop had left. Allen’s mouth went dry as he answered the door.
“Hi there, I’m Officer Leah Sinclair, with the Springfield police department,” she said. “May we speak inside?”
“Uh, sure.” Allen said. Officer Sinclair entered and went to the den couch. Allen turned off the baseball game that was playing on the TV and sat down on the couch catty-corner to hers.
“I understand you put on quite a show this morning, young man,” Officer Sinclair said. “You want to tell me about it?”
Allen was trembling with fear and on the verge of breaking down crying, but he didn’t say anything.
“Look, sir,” Officer Sinclair said soothingly, “it’s OK. No one’s getting arrested. We’re just checking everything out for the report.”
A report? Allen thought. Oh, Christ!
“Those two ladies got into quite a catfight because of what happened this morning,” Officer Sinclair said. “But we’re not pressing charges or making any arrests because this is a pretty, um, sensitive situation, especially as you’re a high school senior, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Allen croaked. “I will be.”
“A rising senior then,” Officer Sinclair said, somewhat provocatively. She stood up, removed her cop hat, and shook out her hair bun. Then she sat down next to Allen on his couch and placed her hand on his thigh.
“I know young men like you have needs, but you probably should find another way to express them, other than on the roof of your home where everyone can see,” Officer Sinclair said, rubbing her hand along Allen’s thigh.
Holy shit, is this cop actually coming on to me? Allen thought.
Officer Sinclair, in her late twentiess, was knockout gorgeous. Huge boobs, really fit, a long blonde mane, and of course that cop uniform made everything she was packing even sexier. Allen felt himself getting hard underneath her hand.
“I can help you express those needs, if you want,” Officer Sinclair said, smoothing her hand over Allen’s dick, which had now shot all the way down the right leg of his sweatpants.
“Uh huh,” Allen nodded, stupidly. He was a combination of terror, arousal, and confusion. Officer Sinclair could have told him to jump off the Empire State Building and he probably would have done it. She leaned in and licked along his neck up to his ear, nibbling on Allen’s cute earlobe. Allen turned to her and returned a long, clumsy, tonguing kiss into Officer Sinclair’s mouth. Her hand was now fully clasped around his balls; his cock tented his sweatpants straight up.
“Have you ever had a blowjob, Allen?” Officer Sinclair asked, her half-open eyelids heavy with lust and eye shadow.
“No,” Allen said nervously.
“Well then,” she said, “let’s see how that goes.”
She slowly peeled his gray sweatpants down to his calves and kneeled in front of Allen. Then she took his ramrod-straight cock into her warm, wet mouth and started slurping up and down its length. Allen was in heaven. He had never felt anything like this before.
“Mmmf, mmmm, mmmuh, mmmf,” Officer Sinclair murmured as her head bobbed up and down.
Allen grabbed for the back of her skull, like the porno dudes do it when they’re getting blown, but she quickly swatted his hand away. “That’s rude,” she said softly, moving his hand to her left boob instead as she continued sucking Allen’s dick.
It felt like an hour to Allen, but in three minutes his dick spasmed like one of those grease guns at the quickie-lube place. Having been frustrated in two attempts to cum that morning, Allen was primed for explosion. He pumped what felt like a quart of hot, teenage semen into Officer Sinclair’s panting mouth. As she opened it and breathed along his cock, her spit and his cum mixed into a huge mess that puddled around his shaft and balls and dribbled onto the couch cushion.
“Oh fuck, oh my God,” Allen panted, reeling from his orgasm and the sheer improbability of what had just taken place. “Jesus, that was incredible.”
“Thank you, sir,” Officer Sinclair said. “Now, are we all good here?”
“Yes,” Allen gasped. “Yes, we are.”
“Good boy,” Officer Sinclair said. She actually pulled a compact and lipstick out of her utility belt and freshened her lips, which had been smeared raw by the blowjob she just gave. She snapped the compact shut and put her hair back in a bun with a hair tie. Putting her cop hat and mirrored shades back on, Officer Sinclair said, “I think I can close this report.”
Wait, Allen thought, still sitting there in the messy oral creampie, there's still a report?!
You see, Allen was the son of the local newspaper’s publisher. Their cops reporter, Jane, cleaned the police blotter every day. For sure Jane would see this, and then Allen’s Dad would find out.
