Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The sound of the old rickety metal bedframe banging against the wall brought Officer Gordon, or Emily temporarily—very temporarily—to her senses. A bead of sweat ran down her face and hung precariously on her chin for an instant before dripping down to melt into the damp, stained sheet flimsily covering what barely passed for a mattress in this rathole of a motel. The force of the next thrust knocked her forward off her elbows, leaving her face buried in the bed. She could feel the springs below the mattress pressing against her cheekbones. From behind her, she felt only pressure—his pressure, the filthy, sweet pounding of his cock in her ass. Her eyes rolled back as she felt his cock pulsing, throbbing.

Emily gasped as he withdrew his wonderfully thick and long erection from her asshole, and sobbed gently as it was replaced briefly by his tongue. He slid it slowly around her aching hole, teasing her with gentleness and mercy. The slap of his hand on her bare ass was a sharp contrast to the wetness invading her, and the sensation left her moaning in ecstasy that she should not feel. She knew that this was only a delay, that he had pulled out to allow his throbbing cock to regroup before assaulting her body again. She struggled to free herself from her own handcuffs, which bound her to the bedframe as surely as day follows night, but to no avail. The metal chafed her wrists, and the struggle only tired her arms further, leaving her even more powerless to resist him. No, Emily was his for as long as he wanted. Why had she called off backup?

How did I even get here? The thought wandered idly through her mind as lay she there in the heat of the night, ass in the air, being devoured. She replayed the night in her mind, searching for the answer, wondering if she had wanted this. Knowing, somehow, that she had. The knowledge caused her to almost involuntarily thrust her ass backward, leaning into his tongue, which was now running up and down her asscrack, leaving trails of slickness that ran down the back of her inner thighs. Her pussy was next, she knew. The thought made her shudder and moan as she retreated into memory.


The sun had gone down, but the temperature hadn’t. The night was sweltering—oppressively hot in the way that reminds you that air is really a liquid waiting to drown you. Emily accelerated down 8th Ave, piloting her squad car back to the station to clock out. Thomas had called in sick and the department was short staffed, so she was rolling out solo this August evening, but it hadn’t mattered. It was a big small town, lots of people but rarely any crime. Everybody knew each other or at least knew of each other. Emily wanted more, she wanted danger. This job wasn’t what she had signed up for, but it paid the bills and kept the air conditioner running—in her apartment, at least. The squad car was ancient, and the compressor had blown last week. Her window was rolled down to relieve some of the heat, but her blues were damp with her sweat. No amount of warm breeze would change that.

A cool bath was in order tonight, and she resolved to take her time with it when it arrived. She daydreamed briefly about shedding her uniform, bra, and panties and climbing slowly into the tepid water, feeling the wetness creep up her legs until…

Fuck, she thought, and said aloud. It had been too long since she’d been properly laid. It was causing problems, almost, creeping into her thoughts at every waking moment. Distraction was not a beneficial trait to a rookie police, especially not to a woman, but it was what it was. Until she found time to fuck someone—and for that matter, someone who would fuck her properly—this was her lot. It would have to do.

Seven blocks from the station, the radio crackled to life.

“All units be advised, 10-31, 1446 Eighth Avenue, Conley Inn. Possible Break-in. Male suspect seen fleeing around the rear of the building, possible 10-32, Over.”

Emily ran her fingers through her pixie-cut hair, deliberating. Crime in progress, male suspect. May have a gun. Fuck, Thomas, she thought to herself. Why today of all days? The one time something fun actually happens and you’re laid up in bed leaving me with no backup. She shook the thought out of her mind, evaluating it as useless. The only other car out this late was Dean and Anthony’s 38 car, and it was all the way at the city limits dealing with a domestic as of about 5 minutes ago. She was close, and this was her chance for a thrill. “10-4 dispatch, this is 26. Will respond, over. Hold backup until advised.” As she released the radio communication, the thought briefly crossed her mind that she may have made an error in judgement, but again she dismissed the thought. More useless distractions.

Her foot pressed more urgently on the gas.


She shook her head, clearing the memory briefly from her mind. What had come next was the key part, she knew. She could have stopped this, could have apprehended him, but she had been careless…or had she? Perhaps not. Maybe she was right where she wanted to be.
His cock plunged into her glistening, wet pussy, and she gasped.


When she pulled into the Conley’s parking lot—that was what they all called it, “The Conley”, since it had been around since the dawn of time and there was no mistaking it for some different Conley—she parked in the shadows near the end of the last row of rooms. The parking lot was poorly lit, which of course was to be expected for the seediest motel on the worst side of town. She had come in lights cold to try to assess the situation and maybe get the drop on the perp, and it seemed to have worked nicely. There was no sign of movement anywhere. She eased out of her squad car, lowered the volume on her lapel radio to a whisper, and closed the door gently.

One hand on her Kimber custom, she crept toward the back corner of the building. There were rooms back here, she knew, but they weren’t used more than once a year when the Renaissance Fair was happening outside of town, and even then these were the last rooms in town that anyone would want—dirty, musty, dark, and hot.

As she rounded the corner, a faint noise from the second room on the left aroused her attention. It was a rustling of sorts, the type of noise made by someone who was looking for something. Peering into the window, she saw the beam of a single flashlight, and by its dim illumination she made out the silhouette of a man searching under the bed.

The door was ajar slightly, and Emily thought to ease her way in and take the man by surprise. But as she pushed on it, a loud creak erupted from the old unused hinges, sounding as loudly as a siren in this isolated corner of the motel. She tugged on her firearm, but the holster wouldn’t release. The man swung to face her, the beam of his flashlight swinging around as well, allowing her to briefly catalogue his features before he was on her. He was tall by comparison to her, approaching 6’3”, with short brown hair. He was older, middle aged, maybe approaching forty. He was ruggedly handsome, she thought somewhere in the deepest part of her mind where thoughts move at light speed. He was dressed all in black, ever the ensemble of the criminal, ever pitted against the blue of the law. Yes, he was handsome—and he was fast.

He was on her before she could do anything, pinning her to the wall with arms as strong as iron. She struggled, but couldn’t make a sound, her will to raise an alarm overcome by the will of the man accosting her. He turned her around, pressing her cheek to the cool plaster wall, and held her hands behind her back with only one hand as he casually discarded her sidearm with a flick of his wrist. Her radio was the next thing to fly across the room, landing in the corner with a soft thump. She was powerless, overmatched, helpless. She felt him jerk her handcuffs from her belt, and knew what was coming. Unbidden warmth rushed to her pussy, shocking her. The cuffs clicked around her wrists, and she was flying through the air, landing face down on the mattress. He was working with her belt again, this time pulling her other pair of cuffs free and using them to secure her to the bedframe. Everything was happening so fast, and he was so strong. She wanted to cry out but couldn’t bring herself to, she was screaming in her own mind but she could feel that warmth intensifying, yearning to be satisfied.

“Girl cop. Mmmmh. And a cute one, too. Let’s see what’s down here.” His voice was deep and scratchy. He ripped her uniform bottoms off, revealing her thin black thong. She tried to struggle, but in the end wound up doing little more than wiggling her pale ass in the air. The smell of her pussy filled the damp air, and the man chuckled. “I see, lady. I see it very well,” he said. “Let’s give you a look at me…but not without this first”. There was a *click* as the light turned on. “I want to see what I’m doing”.

A few moments later, he had maneuvered in front of her face, his ass resting on the pillow, his pants noticeably absent. His cock, about 5 inches long but only still half erect, dangled between his thighs. His hair was trimmed, and the sight of his manhood made Emily whimper with desire and yearning. This was the cock she needed, she knew. The one that she wanted. The one that would make the thoughts disappear for a while. And with that knowledge, she looked him in the eye and parted her lips.

His cock fit nicely in her mouth, its length reaching to the back of her tongue but not yet her throat, it’s girth causing her mouth to widen. She knew it would grow, she would make it grow. But for now it was nearly perfect. He pumped his hips and held her head, giving no thought to her comfort; this moment was about him, and his need to fuck her beautiful face. And her face was pretty, all the cadets at the academy had thought so, anyway. She had seen them all looking as she walked through the campus, just as she had seen men looking for the past however many years since she had begun to bud. But none of them had looked at her this way, with complete and utter lust in their eyes and their cock down her throat—and it was down her throat now, as the blood rushed to it and it firmed in her mouth. He was raging hard, in fact, as he pulled his dick out of her mouth and rubbed it all over her face for visual effect. She moaned and licked his shaft as he brushed it first over her nose, then down over her lips to rest on her chin. Long, stringy lines of Emily’s spit ran from her mouth to his cock, which he smeared onto her face. He’s fucking up my makeup, she thought, hating him all the more for it. He slapped her on the check with what was now eight inches of dick, and slid back into her mouth for a few more pumps.

“Now let’s give you what you need,” he whispered.

She heard the curtain being drawn and the bolt on the door being thrown. She was glistening with sweat, every part of her was damp. He was ripping off her panties, laying them right by her face where she could look at them while he fucked her, a reminder of the slut she was.
He licked her ass, an odd beginning to the act, she thought, until she felt the tip of his cock press against her asshole. She finally screamed as he pushed inside her, but to her astonishment it was not a scream of fear or even pain but one of unbridled pleasure. Her boyfriends had never done this before, had never dove straight in to her ass, had never denied her pussy the release it needed first. But he didn’t care about her or what she wanted; this was going to happen his way or the highway, baby, so get on board. And get on board she did.

After he had used her ass, he rimmed her gently for a few minutes, leaving her shuddering with pleasure. Her pussy was absolutely throbbing with warmth and wetness now, and he knew it as well as she did. He plunged deep inside her, and she had never been so well stuffed before. She was fucking him now, rocking back against the constraints of her handcuffs, taking his cock inside her like she had been poisoned and it was the antidote. She was so slick that his girth slid in and out easily; she came within a minute, and again, and again. She had never been fucked like this. She needed it, she had to have it. Her knees went weak and she laid flat on the bed, the soft sounds of his hips against her pillowy ass cheeks the only disturbance in the night. She moaned as she felt his breathing become more rapid. His dick was back to throbbing inside her. It felt like it had swelled to twice its size. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back, and started thrusting as hard as he could. She quivered, she shook. She lost all control and came on his cock again. As her muscles tightened around him, she heard him moan and felt him release, shooting his cum deep inside her. She wasn’t on birth control, hadn’t taken a pill in months, but she didn’t care; she squeezed his cock and milked every drop of his seed until he was spent.

He didn’t say a word, but slid off of her, leaving her laying in a puddle of sweat and cum, his and hers. He dressed silently as she drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness, lost in the swoon of brutal and satisfying sex. As she finally passed the barrier toward sleep, she saw the door open and he flipped the key to her cuffs onto the bed, landing it right on top of her thong.

“Sweet dreams, girl,” he quipped as he passed into the night. Everything went black.