New Years Eve (couples, wife swapping)

It's not uncommon for cops to marry each other. We work a
nasty, unforgiving, thankless job with pressure from all
possible sides. We try to do what's right most of the
time but somebody is always coming down on us. Our
suspects, obviously don't like us and often curse us. We
can live with that.

Their victims, often enough, also curse us a lot. I can't
count the number of times I've arrested an abusive
husband for beating the shit out of his wife and then had
the wife in question verbally or even physically attack
me for doing so. You LEARN to live with that.

Our citizens, the one's we're sworn to protect, are
afraid of us, the best of them just avoiding our
presence, the worst of them writing angry editorials to
the newspaper about our alleged power abuses. We learn to
live with this also.

The media, it goes without saying, loves nothing more
than to slam us for something, taking comments out of
context, interviewing outraged family members that were
not present at the incident in question and presenting
those interviews as if they were the gospel. We learn to
cope with and protect ourselves to some degree against

Even our administration; that collection of captains,
deputy chiefs, and the chief himself; people who have not
been street cops in years, if ever, who are more
interested in public relations than the morale of us poor
line slobs, will burn us in an instant regardless of
whether or not we're right. We learn to protect ourselves
against this too.

We persevere. It's the nature of most of us. But it's not
surprising that we're perhaps the most xenophobic group
of individuals on the face of the earth. We have a
divorce rate that is right off the chart. I know cops,
both male and female, that have been married four times
and still haven't learned the lesson. Marriage with
civilians just doesn't work. They don't, they CAN'T
understand what we go through, what motivates us, what
frustrates us, what things we know about our fellow human
beings. A wall of uncommunicativeness inevitably develops
leading to antipathy with each other, infidelity, and
eventually, hatred.

There are many cops of the old school still around that
think allowing women onto the department was the worst
mistake ever made. I beg to differ. For one, a good many
of them make descent or even outstanding cops if they
make the effort to fit into what had traditionally been a
man's world.

After all, bulk and muscles are not what gets the job
done but words and the projection of authority most of
the time. Cops are the greatest bluffers on earth.

Second of all, there is now a group of females in
existence that DOES know exactly what we go through
because they go through the same thing. We can now relate
to someone. The divorce rate for inter-profession
marriages is remarkably low, lower in fact than the
national average of all marriages.

I'm one of the smart ones. I began dating Stephanie
shortly after the Seattle Police Department hired her six
years ago. At the time I was a two-year veteran, just
becoming comfortable with the job and just getting bored
with the life of a single cop. I'd had my fill of night
shift waitresses, dispatchers, clerks in convenience
stores, and other forms of cop groupie and was ready to
settle down a little.

She was a cute brunette assigned to one of the training
officers on my shift. We often ran into each other on
calls and hit it off pretty well. We began dating once
she was released for duty on her own. A year later we
were married and proceeded to pump out two kids, girls,
both of them, twenty-two months apart. We now have a nice
house in suburban Seattle (two civil service incomes
combined is a comfortable salary that qualifies for a
NICE amount on a home loan).

Like most cops, we choose not to socialize with civilians
in our off time. Such relationships just don't work. The
civilian will feel the need to vent about his or her
encounter with what he or she considered a rude cop. Or
they'll express their opinion about the latest damning
editorial they'd read in the paper. At some point,
they'll get a speeding ticket or something and, after
complaining about the heartlessness of the cop that had
issued it, will ask if you can "fix" it for them. It's
best to just avoid those kinds of relationships. But
still, we have the need to socialize and to fulfill this,
we naturally turn to other cops.

Stephanie and I are very close friends with another pair
of married cops; Mark and Michelle Lacy. Mark was hired
the year after I was and had been assigned, once his
training was complete, to the same district as I.
Michelle, a big-boned blonde, not quite large enough to
be considered chunky, was hired the year after Stephanie
and had met Mark in a manner similar to the way I'd met

They married within a year of meeting and they too
proceeded to pump out a couple of kids. Mark and I became
friends early on when we found ourselves frequently
assigned to calls together. Our get-togethers on mutual
off-nights began shortly after the birth of Mark and
Michelle's first child.

The get-togethers were not as frequent as we would have
liked. Since none of the four of us were particularly
fond of day-care we each sacrificed time with our spouses
in order to minimize the amount of time the children were
not in the presence of one or the other of the parents.
To do this, we worked opposing shifts from our spouses.

Mark and I both worked weekend day shift, he in Central
Seattle (not nearly as glamorous as it sounded, downtown
Seattle, once away from the high-rises, was a pit), me in
South Seattle, a lower-class residential area. Michelle
and Stephanie both worked the same division and shift;
East Seattle, another crime-ridden ghetto, on the weekday
swing shift. It was rare indeed when all four of us had a
day off at the same time, but we'd made a point, a long
time ago, to take advantage of such opportunities when
they arose.

Usually, when we DID get together, we would watch the
children, who were becoming fast friends with one
another, play together. We would barbecue something, make
a nice dinner. We would play cards or Pictionary or some
other board game. We would talk shop, getting calls off
of our chests, bitching about management, that sort of
thing. But always we would drink. Cops are voracious
drinkers of alcohol in our off time. Why not? It is

As for driving under the influence, we could do that with
near impunity. As long as we didn't actually get into an
accident, we were safe. If another cop, even one from
another agency, pulled us over for erratic driving or
something else, a simple flash of the badge would bring
the encounter to a quick end. You can call it corruption
or professional courtesy, or whatever else you like, you
can think it right or wrong or just an interesting perk
of the job, but it's a simple fact. Off duty cops, in the
matter of driving infractions, definitely live above the
law. Don't ever let any of them tell you otherwise.

Thanks to the alcohol consumed at these functions, quite
an intimate rapport had developed between the four of us.
We could say things to each other that would have caused
other invited couples to storm out of the house in
outrage. For instance, I could say how nice Michelle's
tits looked in her new sweater and then make a snide
comment about how much I'd like to squeeze them.

Neither Mark, nor Michelle, nor Stephanie would be the
least bit offended by this, though they would usually
laugh outrageously at the observation. Michelle, who was
proud of her tits, might even cup them for a moment as
emphasis. Similarly, Mark could point out how Steph's
ass was looking extremely tight in those jeans she was
wearing and speculate on the firmness of the individual
cheeks and what they might feel like with his cock in
between them.

This offended me not the least bit, nor did it Steph or
Michelle. Many a discussion had centered on the
possibilities of wife swapping. We joked about how it
would be perfectly safe since both Mark and I had been
vasectomized and we were all free of dangerous diseases.
These discussions always produced good laughs.

Now there are fundamental differences between women and
men. I knew and Mark knew that both of us were not fully
joking when we talked of wife swapping. And we both knew
that the other knew this. We're males and the instinct of
a male is to strive for variety in his respective sex-
life, no matter how attractive, pleasant, or skilled his
spouse is in the bedroom. We knew that if the wives were
to suddenly agree to this, it would not take more than a
minute or so to convince US that it was a good thing to

We also both assumed that the wives WERE joking when they
discussed it. Women's sexual desires and needs are
different than those of a man. Women did not strive for
variety for the simple fact of experimentation. Or so we
thought. Until New Years Eve.

We always made it a point to get together on December
31 of each year. Usually it involved one or more of us
taking the night or next day off, but New Years eve,
though it paid holiday overtime rate, is not a pleasant
shift to work anyway. In fact, it's our busiest day of
the year, what with all the drunken revelry and the
inevitable domestic disputes that result from it. Throw
in all of the calls for "shots fired in the vicinity
of...", and you have an ugly ten hours of work that
usually turns into twelve or thirteen.

When you had the seniority that the four of us did, and
if you asked for that particular day off far enough in
advance, it was usually granted. This year was no
exception. I was scheduled to work at 6:00 AM New Years
Day but a time- off request submitted way back in October
had neatly taken care of that. The rest of the crew, by
luck of the draw, was already off.

Our house was the chosen locale this year. Mark and
Michelle showed up about seven o'clock that evening
bringing a couple of marinated steaks and a bottle of
tequila with them. Their two children, Jason and
Alexandria, followed them inside where they greeted us
and our two children, Sarah and Jessica, enthusiasti-
cally. They weren't there five minutes before the first
batch of potent margaritas was whirring to completion
in our blender.

We started dinner right away, finishing it and cleaning
up the dishes by 8:30. We were all pleasantly buzzed by
then, our discussions animated and mostly centering on
work. The kids of course wanted to stay up until midnight
and we told them that they could but the oldest, Jessica,
was only four and a half, and by ten minutes after 9:00,
all of them were sound asleep on couches or floors. We
carried them to waiting beds and returned to the living
room where the REAL drinking soon started.

We began by playing TABOO, a board game in which you have
to have your partner guess a certain word by giving
clues. The catch is that the most obvious clues are
usually on the list of taboo words. It's fun, all the
more so because a member of the opposing team is required
to sit next to you to make sure you don't say any of the
forbidden words.

Since the married couples were natural teams, this meant
that Michelle and I were sitting next to each other as
were Steph and Mark. As we played we drank more and more
margaritas, taking turns getting up and making each new

Soon we were all pretty squiffed. I particularly enjoyed
the way that Michelle leaned into me whenever she needed
to read over my shoulder. Her balance was off and her
large breasts pushed pleasantly into my arm each time. I
certainly didn't complain, nor did Stephanie who couldn't
have helped seeing what Michelle was doing.

In fact, I noticed, she was doing the same thing to Mark
when she read over his shoulder. I began to get aroused.

At about 10:00, we had just finished up the last round of
TABOO. Michelle, still sitting next to me, was telling a
joke. "And so the Pope looked at them all." She said,
giggling already. She jabbed her elbow into my side in a
friendly manner, indicating that this is what the Pope in
her joke did. "And said, 'you motherfuckers are all

We began laughing. It WAS a pretty funny joke, made all
the more so by our current level of intoxication.
Stephanie, in a fit of girlish laughter, accidentally
knocked her quarter-full margarita glass over. The green,
icy liquid sloshed across the table and poured into
Mark's lap, causing him to jump up, startled. This caused
everybody to laugh even more.

"I'm so sorry." Steph giggled, sounding anything but.
"Here." She said, grabbing a handful of napkins from a
pile on the table. She quickly cleaned off the chair and
discarded the wet ones. She then picked up another pile
and began wiping the wet spot on the front of Mark's
pants. Her strokes were firm, teasing, and not doing much
to dry him off at all. It was probably, in fact, making
him spring some wood.

He looked at me a little uncomfortably for a moment.
"Better be careful." He told Steph with a smile.

"Or it might suddenly get a lot wetter."

She chortled. "I'm good." She said. "But I didn't know I
was that good."

"Maybe you oughtta vacuum dry it." Michelle suggested to
her. "If you know what I mean."

This actually made Mark blush which served to make
everyone else spew laughter. After a moment, Steph
removed her hand and he sat back down.

It was Michelle's turn to make the next batch of drinks.
She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and
then came the sound of the blender grinding up the
concoction of ice, tequila (lots of it), and generic
margarita mix. When she returned, she unsteadily poured
herself a glassful and then set the blender down on the

"I'm too friggin' drunk to pour everyone's drink." She
said, slurring a little. "You can all just do it
yourselves. That way, if you spill the shit, it's your
own fault."

"I know a good place to spill it." Steph said, casting an
amused eye at Mark.

A look passed between the two women at that point. I
didn't know what it meant, not then, but some form of
telepathic communication took place. Michelle, on the way
to her chair, eased behind me. I felt the weight of her
substantial breasts pushing against my back. She paused

"You know Stephie." She said with mock indignation. "I'm
offended. You went and spilled a drink on my husband.
That's an insult in some countries."

"Oh yeah?" Steph grinned.

"Yeah." She answered. "I can't just let that go without
retaliation." With that, she stretched her drink arm over
my shoulder and poured about half of her margarita right
into my crotch.

"Jesus!" I exclaimed, jumping. Have you ever had icy
liquid poured onto your genitals? It's kind of like, well
kind of like having icy liquid poured onto your genitals.
I stood up so quick that my body threw Michelle, who'd
still been on my back, backwards. She stumbled and fell
to her butt on the floor, pouring the remainder of her
drink into HER lap.

Mark and Steph were both in hysterics, seeing this.
Though my crotch was numb I quickly found humor in the
situation and began laughing too, as did Michelle. I held
out my hand to help her up. She took it but when I
started to pull she gave a strong yank, pulling me down
on top of her. We fell to the floor, our chests and
groins pushing together.

"Gotcha." She grinned, her face inches from mine, close
enough so I could smell her breath. She ground her crotch
playfully into me. Playful or not though, my body
responded immediately to the feel of her wet crotch
rubbing against mine. Though we'd joked around before, it
was almost a ritual, this was the first time I'd ever
been in close, intimate contact with her body. It felt
nice, different than Steph's. It was a little larger and
a little softer. And her breasts were a lot larger.

"Careful." I said. "Your husband might get offended."

"Are you offended Markie?" She asked lightly, giving me
another grind.

"Nope." He burped. "I'm very inoffensable."

"You guys ARE getting my carpet all wet though."
Stephanie pointed out, giggling.

Reluctantly I pulled myself off of her, holding out my
hand once again to help her up. This time she stood in
the normal fashion.

"Gee Michelle." Steph said, looking at me. "I do believe
you gave my husband a boner."

I was shocked that she would say such a thing and opened
my mouth to deny it. But then, looking down at myself, I
could see there was nothing to deny. My pants, made
tighter than normal by the margarita spilled on them,
were most definitely bulging outward. I felt myself
blushing, the boner of which they spoke wilting in shame.
I wondered if Mark was going to kick my ass and felt
grateful that none of us were wearing our off-duty
weapons at the moment. But Mark was simply grinning,
shaking his head back and forth.

"She gives good boners, doesn't she?" He asked.

"But does she know what to do with them afterward?" Steph

"I've never had any complaints." Michelle answered. She
looked at me and ran her finger up the bulge in my pants,
both making me jump again and making Steph and Mark
laugh. "You better get your wifey to take care of that
for you."

"Oh no." Steph said. "You gave it to him. YOU take care
of it."

At that point the atmosphere in the room underwent a
change. Before, though we'd been admittedly more raunchy
than usual we could still tell ourselves that we were
only kidding around in a drunken way. That illusion was
about to end and we were about to cross over a line, from
friendliness to open sexuality. We stopped giggling and
became more serious, serious enough to feel the charge of
sexual electricity in the air.

If any one of us would have said anything, even jokingly,
to indicate that they didn't want to take part in where
this path was leading, it would have come to a stop right
there and we would have gone back to our usual sort of
party. But no one did.

"Well," Michelle said, issuing a joking statement with a
dead-serious voice. "If I must, I must."

Slowly she sank to her knees at my feet, so that her face
was even with my wet crotch. Seeing her do this and
realizing its implications, my cock sprang back to life,
becoming instantly, painfully hard. She licked her lips
once and then peered around the room, looking at each of
our faces for objections. It was still technically
possible to abort at this point. Nobody gave a negative
sign, either verbally or through body language.

In fact, Stephanie was showing the unmistakable signs of
arousal that I was so familiar with. Her face was flushed
and her brown eyes were shining. I could see that her
nipples were hard and poking through her bra and her

Slowly, Michelle reached forward and undid the button on
my pants. When she pulled the zipper down, causing the
pants to fall around my feet, leaving me standing there
in my BVDs, which were quite tented, the line had been
crossed. The going became much easier after this.

She pulled my underwear down with a single stroke,
revealing my cock to her gaze (as well as her husband's
who, I HOPE, wasn't that interested in seeing it). She
caressed it gently with her fingers and then leaned
forward, licking from the shaft to the head.

"Tastes like a margarita." She commented.

This broke the tension in the room. We all laughed for a

"It's margarita-dick!" Mark chided.

Michelle kissed the head a few times and then took it in
her mouth, giving it a little suck. She pulled her mouth
off and turned to my wife. "Hey Steph." She said. "I bet
I can make your husband come before you can make my
husband come."

"Oh yeah?" Steph breathed, very flushed now. "How much?"

"First choice of patrol cars next shift."

"You're on." Steph said, pointing to a spot on the carpet
next to her. "Get over here." She told Mark. He didn't
have to be told twice.

Steph undid his pants and dropped them, along with his
underwear. Soon his cock was out in all of its glory.

"On three." Steph said.

"And you gotta swallow." Mark put in. "Or it's a

"Who put you in charge of our bet?" Michelle asked.

"Somebody's gotta be a judge." He told her. "Just to make
sure it's done fairly. Spilling indicates poor technique.
And poor technique shouldn't win such a vital contest,
don't you agree?"

"Oh shut the fuck up." Steph said, grabbing him around
the base of his cock. "One, two, three."

With that the two women dropped their heads and began
orally copulating. I have to say, in all fairness, that
my wife sucks cock better than Michelle does. Unlike many
married women, she actually LIKES to give head and does
it frequently. But that's not to say that Michelle was a
slouch at it. She'd obviously had a cock in her mouth a
time or two before. She mouthed and tongued me, jacking
me with her hands, occasionally licking my balls or
fondling them. Her hands caressed and squeezed the cheeks
of my ass.

That fact that this was not my wife also added a lot to
the experience, as did the fact that my wife not only
knew about this and consented to it, but that she was
less than five feet away doing the same thing to someone
else. The whole thing felt nasty to me, but nasty in a
good way. The alcohol was doing a nice job of keeping
those nagging second thoughts from surfacing, those dirty
little things that had ruined more than their fair-share
of good times.

I looked down at Michelle's head bobbing up and down on
me. It was so strange to see a blonde head between my legs.
While she slurped away I looked over at Mark and Steph.

Steph, I could see, was intent upon winning her bet. She
was going no holds barred at his cock, bobbing, sucking,
and jacking all at the same time. Mark glanced over at me
for a moment and our eyes met. This was a man that I'd
worked with on the streets, that I'd gotten drunk with in
cop bars, that I went hunting with every October. My wife
was sucking on his cock. Groovy. He grinned at me for a
moment and then gave me a thumbs-up sign.

He then closed his eyes and leaned his head back,
dropping his hands into my wife's brown hair.

Steph won the bet handily. I heard a grunt and a groan
from Mark's mouth and looked over just in time to see my
wife swallowing frantically. She slurped him dry, not
spilling a drop and then pulled her head out of his

"Winner!" She proclaimed proudly.

Michelle took her mouth off of my cock for a moment.
"Well ain't that some shit." She said. She looked up at
me. "You let me down."

"It was close." I said weakly, telling the truth.

"Yeah? How close?"

"Go back to work and you'll see." I said.

She smiled up at me and then dropped her head to my cock
again. I kept my eyes closed while she sucked, knowing
that we now had an audience and figuring that seeing them
watching would distract me. It took about two minutes of
work before the spasms started in my groin. My hips began
bucking and I shot a huge load between her lips. She too
swallowed every drop.

The sound of applause made me open my eyes. Steph and
Mark were grinning at us. Mark, I saw, had kicked off his
pants, socks and shoes at some point. I began doing the

"Hey Mark." I said, sitting on the floor to complete the
job of clothing removal. "I bet I can make your wife come
before you can make my wife come."

He chuckled. "How much?"

"A dollar." I said.

"You're on." He answered. "Mouths only for the purposes
of the bet?"

"Mouths and fingers." I amended. "For the bet."

"Don't we have any say in this?" Michelle asked with
false huffiness.

Mark and I looked at each other. "No." I finally said,
and patted the ground next to me. "Lie down."

Michelle sat down on the carpet. To my right, Steph did
the same in front of Mark. I reached out and stroked her
face lightly, making her smile.

"I can't believe we're doing this." She said softly,

"Me either." I told her, running my hands down her jeans
to her feet. "But it's fun, isn't it?"

"Yes." She said. "It is that."

I untied her shoes and removed them, setting them aside
and then pulling off her pink socks and putting them
inside of the shoes. The bet was just a facade, I didn't
really care about winning it. I'd imagined making love to
Michelle before, it was only natural male instincts, and
I wanted to make it good for her, not fast. I leaned
forward once her shoes were off, running my hands up the
outside of her thighs to her waist, pressing my chest to
hers. I kissed her gently, sucking on her bottom lip a
little before inserting my tongue between her lips. Her
tongue reached out to touch mine, tentatively at first
and then with more aggression.

I grasped the bottom of her shirt and, breaking the kiss
and leaning back, pulled upwards on it, revealing her
stomach and her bra-clad bosom. I pulled the shirt over
her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts were barely
restrained by the brassiere she wore. The straps had to
be biting into her shoulders and back. I ran my hands
softly over the cups, feeling the hardened nipples
beneath. Her nipples, I could tell, were bigger than

I trailed my hands downward, over her the flesh of her
abdomen, which had an array of stretch marks on it, the
mark of childbirth. Steph had a similar pattern on her
own stomach. Kissing her again, I reached behind her back
and found the clasp of her bra. As I undid it, I began
kissing her neck and bare shoulder. She cooed softly as I
did this.

Once the bra was released, I leaned backward again,
letting it drop. Her tits sagged downward due to the
sheer weight of them, but they were still impressive. Her
nipples were standing out firmly. I ran my hands over
them softly while she tossed her bra aside, squeezing
them a little.

As I pushed gently on her, forcing her to her back, I
heard a groan from Steph and Mark's direction. I spared
them a quick glance, seeing that Mark was moving a lot
faster than I was. He already had her naked, his mouth
attached to her left breast, his fingers plunging in and
out of her black bush. Steph was lying on her back, eyes
closed, seemingly enjoying herself.

I turned my attention back to Michelle, pausing for a
second to remove my own shirt, which left me naked. I
kissed her gently again and then began to lick and suck
my way down her neck, onto her shoulders, and finally to
the top of her breasts. I kissed all around them, working
my way to her nipples but avoiding them for the time

Finally I took the left one into my mouth and began to
suckle it like a baby. Her hand came to the back of my
head and began running through my hair. I switched to the
other breast, suckling it for a while, and then began to
work my way south, planting strategic kisses on her
stomach and flank. I licked across her belly button and
then reached the waist of her jeans.

Slowly, deliberately, I unbuttoned the snap and slid the
zipper down. The panties beneath were white with little
Santa Clauses printed on them, obviously left over from
Christmas. "Cute." I remarked, making her giggle. I
grasped the waist of her pants and pulled downward. She
lifted her hips, allowing them to come free but leaving
the Christmas panties in place. I slid the jeans off
of her and tossed them aside. Her legs were full but not
flabby at all.

Like Steph, she ran at least twenty miles a week and her
calves bulged with runner's muscle. I slid my hand up and
down her pale legs a few times, liking the feel of them.

Another groan caused me to look over at Steph and Mark
again. They were going for broke. Mark had his face
buried between my wife's widely spread thighs and she had
her hands on the back of his head, urging him on.
Michelle looked over at them too.

"I think you might lose your bet at this rate." She told
me, smiling sexily, seductively.

I shrugged. "I guess I'll be out a dollar then. Hope I
can cover it."

With that, I dropped my head down to her left knee and
began to kiss it. Her legs opened as I went to work,
affording me a view of her panty-clad crotch. Her
panties, I saw, were absolutely soaked with secretions.
Like a wet T-shirt, I could see right through them to the
flesh of her vagina. My dick, which had begun to harden
again the moment I touched her breasts for the first
time, now let me know that it was firmly back in the
game. I licked and sucked my way up her legs, treating
each equally (us cops are champions of equal rights you
know), until I came to her panties.

I could smell her now, the scent of female arousal, the
most powerful aphrodisiac known to man. She smelled
different than Steph, not better, not worse, maybe a
little stronger, but different. This turned me on

I planted kisses on the outside of her panties, right
above her vaginal lips, sucking her juice from the cotton
of her underwear. She sighed in a frustrated way. Hooking
a finger into the elastic, I pulled the crotch aside,
getting my first unimpeded view of her vagina. It was
swollen and wet, just begging for a tongue to enter it.
The hair surrounding it was light brown in color and very

It had been years since I'd seen a blonde bush and I
stopped for a moment, just drinking in the sight of it.
Finally, I leaned forward and ran my tongue across her
puffy lips, lapping up her taste and making her draw in a
sharp breath.

"Quit fucking around." She ordered in a deeper voice than
was her normal. "Get those fuckin' panties off and EAT

Instead of responding immediately, I planted another soft
kiss on her inner thigh, running my tongue over and
barely flicking her engorged clit.

She moaned almost painfully. "Now Goddamit." She

As I pulled her panties off and prepared to begin my
serious work, I saw that Steph was approaching orgasm. I
knew the signs well. Her pelvis was thrusting with an
erratic rhythm, her forehead was sweating, and she was
chewing on her bottom lip. It looked like I'd definitely
lost that dollar.

I tossed Michelle's panties aside and then spread her
legs wide. I put my face between them and began
immediately plunging my tongue in and out of her. She
groaned loudly as I lapped at her. I spread her with my
fingers to achieve deeper penetration (and to get some of
her thick hair out of my way-she was HAIRY) of my tongue.
I deliberately avoided her clit at first even though it
was about as swollen and inviting looking as a clit could
get. I flirted with the hood a little, running my tongue
in circles around it before returning to the licking and
plunging of her slit. I knew this would feel very good to
her but the clit is where it's at and if you want to
bring a woman to orgasm, you'd better know what to do
with the clit.

Just when she was probably starting to think I didn't
know how to eat a pussy properly, I moved north and began
licking the boatman with firm strokes. She let out a
squeal that was almost bovine in nature, mashing herself
into my face. I lost target for a moment but quickly re-
acquired it by feel. When I started to gently suck on her
clit I thought she was going to lose her mind. She
actually screamed loud enough for me to worry about the
neighbors calling the cops (that would've been
interesting, they undoubtedly would have been someone we
knew). Her pelvis began to move up and down, left and
right, in and out, making it difficult to keep my mouth
where it belonged.

When I DID lose contact with her clit she groaned in
frustration that sounded downright angry until I locked
back on. I grasped her legs firmly to keep myself in
position. When she came, she damn near choked me out. Her
legs tightened around my neck, cutting off my air supply.
Her heels dug forcefully into my upper back. Her hands
pulled my hair so hard that I actually felt some of the
strands being ripped free.

Finally the bucking and thrusting and screaming and
pulling eased up and her body relaxed. I was in shock.
I'd never experienced anyone come that violently before.
Did Mark find it necessary to put on his body armor
before he did this to her?

I raised my head out of her crotch, wiping her generous
secretions off of my face with the back of my arm. She
was panting, licking her lips, and had a mad glint in her
eye. I glanced to my right and saw that Steph and Mark
were now busily fucking. His butt slammed in and out,
Steph's legs wrapped around his back while he sucked her

"Get your ass up here and FUCK me, you bastard!" Michelle
commanded. My eyes widened in shock and arousal. It was
the same voice, you see, that she would have used when
ordering some dirtbag out of a stolen car at gunpoint. It
was a stark contrast to Stephanie, who preferred to be
dainty and feminine at home, offsetting the hard-ass
bitch she was capable of being on the job.

I climbed frantically aboard her body, nearly throwing
her legs apart. She grabbed me by the ears, pulling my
face down to hers and thrusting her tongue so deep into
my mouth I almost gagged. I positioned my cock against
her slimy vaginal lips and sank into her, making both of
us gasp. I started fucking her, not bothering with a slow
build-up. Again it was an experience of near-violence.
She moaned and cussed, scratched and pounded me as I
banged in and out of her.

She grabbed my ass cheeks and squeezed them together. She
slapped them loudly with her hands. She slammed her
finger into my asshole, which really gave me a start.

She sucked and bit my neck and shoulders. When she came,
she scratched me so hard with her fingernails that I
thought I might be bleeding. Not that all of this was
unpleasant; don't let me give you that impression. It was
very exciting and very different from what I was used to,
though I can't say that I'd want this treatment every

Finally I felt orgasm approaching. I groaned this out to
her and she became even more frantic. She began sucking
my neck again and biting it. Her fingers went to my
asshole once again, plunging not just one, but two of
them in all the way past the second knuckle. This pushed
me over the edge. Following her lead, I screamed into the
living room and poured myself out into her body.

Once my thrusting stopped, her demeanor changed back to
soft and gentle. She kissed me with a feathery touch of
lips and tongue, licking at my lip. She withdrew her
fingers from my ass and I wondered if IT was bleeding as
well as my back. A memory of the days when Mark and I
used to work the same station came to me. Most of the
time he changed like everyone else in the locker room,
stripping down to underwear before putting on his

But sometimes he would come in wearing a work T-shirt
already. It was nothing that seemed important or
noteworthy at the time but I understood the ramifications
of it now. Those were the days after he'd had sex with
Michelle. His back at those times, must've been a mess. I
wondered if he had any permanent scars.

I raised my head up and looked to my right once again.
Mark and Steph were both naked, unmoving, cuddled up with
each other. They were looking at us, smiling softly. I
wondered what would happen now. Could our relationship
ever be the same?

"You owe me a buck." Mark said matter-of-factly. "Don't
make me have to send you to collections."

We all had a laugh at this and then disentangled
ourselves. Nobody seemed to have a problem with what had
just occurred, at least not at the moment. We put our
clothes back on and made another pitcher of margaritas.
Soon the New Year announced itself by the crackle of
firecrackers, M-80s, and the occasional pistol shot from
outside. We went to bed soon after that.

There was no discussion about it but Michelle followed me
to our bedroom while Steph followed Mark to our guest
bedroom. I found out that Michelle is fond of anal sex
that night, as well as giving rim jobs. We fell asleep
together, naked in each other's arms.

My last thought before drifting off into a drunken stupor
was what tomorrow was going to bring.

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