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“So do you remember anything now? Any complaints at the Allentown PD about a double-dicked man terrorizing the female population?”
“Ah… ah… ah… NO!” he roars before ejaculating hard into my palm. Powerful gushes of white fluid splatter onto my fingers before dripping onto the floor. At the same time, Officer Lane pinches my clit hard before thrusting three digits into my vaginal canal, and the combined sensations push me over the cliff. My vision goes white as my toes curl, and I let out a throaty scream.
“Oooh!” is my squeal. “Unnnnh, yes! Yes yes yes!”
Of course, our cries of ecstasy are loud enough to rock the building’s foundations, but since this is an interrogation room, likely the walls are sound-proofed.
“Oh!” I shriek again as my pussy clenches on his digits, spasming forcefully as he fingers me through my climax. “Mmm, yes!”
Officer Lane pants as well, his balls pulsing as they empty themselves into my hand.
“Oh shit,” he gasps. “Shit shit shit.”
Finally, we’re able to speak once the climax has passed, and I look deep into those blue eyes.
“Not one complaint?” I ask, releasing his member. “Are you sure? There’s nothing about a double-dicked monster stalking these parts?” My fingers are sticky with his male fluids, but like a whore, I lick them lasciviously while maintaining eye contact.
“Not one,” Officer Lane rasps, watching me avidly the entire time. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty girl.”
“I am,” I mewl in agreement before hitching up my panties and straightening my clothes. Then, I flutter my fingers at him while making my way to the door. “You have my contact info, Officer Lane. If you hear of anything, be sure to let me know, okay? Keep me in the loop.”
Then, I open the door and step out into the deserted hallway of the police station. The duty officer at the front desk shoots me a suspicious glare, but I merely smile winningly in her direction.
“Thanks for your help,” I sing while sashaying out. “Appreciate it.”
With one last wave, I step into the bright sunlight of Allentown, no closer to solving the mystery of the double-dicked man hiding among our citizens. Where is he? Maybe there have been reports at the local hospital … and maybe there’s a handsome doctor with all the deets. With a skip to my step, I prance down the street, determined to find this man once and for all.
2
Killian
“Hi Daddy,” sings a musical voice from inside the house. “I’m home!”
My buddy Jimmy leans back in his chair, smiling like the doting father he is.
“Hi Leah,” he calls. “We’re out in back. Killian’s here today.”
I can sense her before I see her. After all, my friend’s daughter is gorgeous with the magnetic pull of a major planet. Leah used to be a round, chubby child, and the fact is that she’s still round. Except now, her curves are in all the right places and enough to make a man beg. Sure enough, the screen door opens, and Leah steps out onto the patio where we’re enjoying beers beneath the pergola.
“Oh there you are,” she titters. “Hi Daddy. Hi Killian,” she says with a sexy smile my way. I’m almost knocked off my chair because Leah resembles a movie star. Her smile is high-octane and she’s clad in a denim mini-skirt that shows off her shapely legs, as well as a v-neck t-shirt that clings to her big bust. Pretty pink sandals finish off the look, and my mouth literally waters upon seeing the beautiful girl.
But what am I even thinking? I’ve known Leah since she was a baby. Her dad and I are college classmates, and I was there when Jimmy married Caroline. Leah was born two years later, and I was there at the child’s christening. Hell, come to think of it, I’ve been at almost all of Leah’s childhood birthday parties, not to mention her Sweet Sixteen and high school graduation.
But something’s changed along the way because I’ve had the pleasure of watching Leah develop from a chunky kid with freckles, into a beautiful woman with lush chestnut curls and an enticing smile. She’s got the body of a seductress with big breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips that were made for child-bearing. Oh yeah, I want kids someday, and that’s something that my deceased wife, Marie, never gave me.
Not that I blame Marie. You see, we were happily married for more than a decade, and Marie was good to me. She was a loyal wife, a great homemaker, and had a sparkling personality to boot. Maybe we couldn’t have kids together, but it was okay because Marie more than made me happy. My woman was a smart cookie, and I left all the household accounting to her, including paying the bills, managing our finances, and even investing the money in our brokerage account in anticipation of retirement.
But a couple years back, Marie complained of pain in her groin. It wasn’t that unexpected because she’d had a bad fall the year before, and broken her leg. So we suspected that it was something related to that accident. Yet X-rays revealed a more serious problem. Evidently, Marie had a tumor in her coccyx. I had no idea what a coccyx even was until that moment, but evidently, it’s a small triangular bone at the base of the spinal column. It has no real function in humans, but there are a number of tumors that involve that particular body part, and Marie had the worst kind: a malignant teratoma.
We operated; we did chemo; and my wife got so many doses of radiation that she complained she was a Super Fund site. But it seemed to work because the tumor shrank, and at first, we thought everything would be okay and Marie would make a full recovery. But something went wrong along the way, and after a year or so of treatment, my lovely wife passed. I was in shock. I’d been married to Marie for almost a decade at that point, and losing her so quickly threw me for a loop.
I miss my wife, even now. Marie was smart, lively, and bright, and for a long time, I didn’t look at other women. She was my everything, and I couldn’t conceive of going forward without her. But in the last year or so, there have been stirrings of life once again. I suppose it’s to be expected because I’m a red-blooded alpha male. I need a mate. Or more specifically, I needtomate a female, and so I went out on the prowl in our little city of Allentown.
The experience has sucked, full stop. I’m not saying the women are terrible, or that I haven’t had success. It’s just that there’s no one like Marie. There’s no one sassy and outgoing, independent and yet demure too. Instead, the women seem to be mostly brassy divorcees with frosted nails and obviously-fake hair extensions. Trust me, it’s a fucking riot when you’re pulling a woman’s locks during sex, and an entire clump comes out in your fist. The first time it happened, I was horrified and aghast, but my date merely turned around and giggled when she saw the fist full of blonde hair clutched in my fingers. Then she turned back to face the front and wiggled her hips, encouraging me to continue.
“Just pretend I’m a horse,” she said before letting out a loud whinny. “Neigh! You just pulled out some of my mane.” Unfortunately, the scene wasn’t sexy at all. Not to me, at least.
But she wasn’t the only one with a head full of fake hair. There were at least two or three others with extensions taped-in, and some even had them sewn into their real hair, which made for the weirdest looking pattern on their scalp. I started having sex with these ladies in the dark because I didn’t want to see what a bright light would reveal.
