Detective Constable Miller was in uber-macho mode, lewdly describing to the other male detectives in his team a recent escapade. Detective Sergeant Roberts and young D.C. Bishop were all ears.
“Then I bent the slut over a chair, and, while standing up, fucked her from behind, in front of a tall mirror. Her huge tits hung down wonderfully. She loved seeing them like that in the mirror. She moaned uncontrollably when I squeezed and pulled her erect nipples. Her cunt was unbelievably wet, and became more so as I thrust my hard cock into her with increasing force and speed ...”
He curtailed his description fairly abruptly as the door burst open. Their chief, Detective Inspector Marcella Rossi, crashed into the room and slammed the door noisily behind her.
D.I. Rossi was far from happy. She had just sat through a stunningly boring admin. meeting with several stuffy superior officers. The meeting had concluded with the Chief Superintendent’s advice that Marcella’s team was way down on several critical KPIs. She hadn’t appreciated the boring old fart’s implication that this under-performance was likely due to Rossi’s gender and youth (she was the district’s youngest D.I. and the only female).
Roberts, Miller, and Bishop sensed they were in for a bollocking. Their unease was enhanced by uncertainty regarding how much of Miller’s noisy, crass description Rossi had heard.
Marcella banged her keys and bag down on the table, and, standing over the trio, launched into a tirade.
“I’ve had it up to here with you useless, lazy bastards,” she began. “You’ve only done half the houses in the door-to-door for the rape case; you’ve only interviewed one of the three suspects for the aggravated burglary; you’re all miles behind with your paperwork; and you sit around relating supposedly raunchy stories like a bunch of soft-cock wannabes.
“Roberts, you’re supposedly the supervisor. Make sure these lazy cunts are at their desks at seven-thirty every morning for the rest of this week. Now get out of my fucking sight, the lot of you.”
They slunk away, all somewhat rocked by Rossi’s forceful remonstrations.
D.S. Roberts was particularly unsettled. He was cruising along, close to retirement. In his private life, he was quite devout, doing a little lay preaching at his local church. He was shocked that a female superior, of Latino heritage, some twenty years his junior could use such vulgar language when speaking to the group.
He resolved that he would no longer fantasise about Rossi when his frigid wife gave him his monthly fuck, or when he occasionally masturbated. He had only started to do so when he had copped a decent look at her more-than-adequate cleavage when she wore a low blouse to a meeting. Italian slut. Roll on retirement pension.
Marcella went to her desk and reached for the bottom drawer. She poured herself a very small glass of single malt to sip while she made a couple of calls, and replied to some emails.
She had soon sorted everything essential and was ready to head home. She was still extremely stressed and tense. What she needed was a couple of glasses of her favourite wine and a bloody good fuck. She’d had no sex for a couple of weeks - far too long to go without.
After a moment’s hesitation, she called her newish young lover, Rory. As she waited for him to pick up she visualised his lovely hairy thick cock, and felt herself moisten.
“The usual wine bar in twenty; then on to mine,” she told him. She deliberately lived on the other side of town, well away from the station. She strongly wanted her private life to remain so.
As she drove across town Marcella distracted herself from her current work stresses with random thoughts about her favourite previous cocks.
There was basketballer Geoff in late high school. She had loved doing handjobs on his lengthy, thin, uncut dick. Marcella could still clearly recall his guttural groans as he climaxed on her bare tits.
Then in her early twenties, she dated German IT guru, Hans. He was long and thick. She could still remember the unique pattern of veins on his shaft. She had loved tracing the pattern lightly with her tongue as she worked up to giving him a blow job. She’d had a couple of wonderful threesomes with Hans and his equally-hung flatmate Ulrich. They had introduced Marcella to the exotic joys of the spit-roast.
Her very favourite cock had been that of Jake, a very tall muscular black African she had met on a residential sergeants’ course. His gigantic dick, with its lovely mushroom knob, knew just how to please her every orifice, especially her anus. His stamina was incomparable - he could go all night.
Her hotel bedroom walls had been far from soundproof, and her raunchy mate Gina, who had been in the adjacent bedroom quietly fucking one of the course instructors, later teased Marcella mercilessly whenever they met, recalling Marcella’s penetrating shrieks with each climax - and there had been several.
Marcella arrived at the wine bar first and found a quiet corner table. Rory arrived soon after, and Marcella experienced a lovely gush of moisture as he crossed the room towards her. He was tall, with short blond hair, and archetypal penetrating blue eyes. He had a broad chest, bulging biceps, and more importantly a lovely bulge in his tight denim jeans.
They had a couple of glasses of Marcella’s favourite expensive Riesling, which she always found to be of aphrodisiac effect. They chatted about mundane matters - books, music, movies, etc. - but Marcella’s mind kept wandering back to mental images of cocks, especially Rory’s.
After the second glass, Marcella said to Rory “Just give me fifteen minutes start,” and headed off to her nearby apartment. She had a quick shower and slipped into something more comfortable to welcome her young lover - crotchless panties and stilettos.
Rory tapped at the door and entered, to find Marcella standing topless at the bench, pouring some more wine. There was a glimpse of her thick black bush, visible through the slit in her panties. Her breasts were beautiful- large, but not grossly so, with sizeable dark areolae backgrounding her lovely provocative erect nipples.
They took their glasses to the sofa. Rory leaned across to kiss Marcella, but she resisted momentarily. “Take your shirt off, darling,” she murmured. “I want to feel your chest against my tits when we kiss.”
After some passionate kissing, Rory went to work on Marcella’s engorged nipples, squeezing and kissing them in a way that made her writhe obscenely.
Marcella undid Rory’s belt and pulled his zip down hungrily. She groaned at the first glimpse of the head of his cock, and leaned forward to slip it into her mouth. Marcella loved the rigidity of Rory’s shaft. She cupped his balls enthusiastically, and squeezed them gently, making him moan ecstatically.
Then it was time for Rory to enjoy Marcella’s lower attire. The notion that Marcella had worn crotchless panties to facilitate access was in itself incredibly arousing.
Then, actually slipping his fingers through the gap in the panties was an absolute joy. Marcella’s clit was erect and responsive; her pussy was soaking wet and entirely welcoming.
They fondled each other’s genitals passionately for a while. Then Marcella led the now trouserless Rory to the bedroom, his cock proudly erect.
Marcella said to Rory, “Now you are going to bend me over that chair in front of the tall mirror. You are going to fuck me from behind, while I enjoy the way my huge tits hang down. I will love seeing them like that in the mirror. I will moan uncontrollably while you squeeze and pull my erect nipples. My cunt will be unbelievably wet. You will thrust your erect cock into me with increasing force and speed.
“That is an order, Detective Constable Miller.”
