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So this book is a total labor of love between Lana and me. I have found like everything I could totally want collaborating with her. And her brain is filled with so many ideas that its amazing. Every day I’m taken aback by her imagination.
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“God, you’re huge!” Licking her lips, she strokes my shaft and looks up at me. “I’ll never get used to this giant cock of yours, Officer Sexy,” she purrs.
I’m sure she hasn’t seen a cock as big as mine, so that’s not just a compliment. She’s telling the truth. My cock is huge and women always have these reactions, so I’ve heard every damn one of these puns. Yeah. I’m a hot cop. I’m actually a detective, but I’m not sure the big-breasted blonde is looking for clarification on the difference.
She tears my pants down completely, stroking up and down my thighs.
I’m rock fucking hard, my cock twitching in her mouth at the warm, wet sensation. She bobs up and down so fast I swear, the girl deserves a medal. Seriously, this is probably the best blowjob I’ve ever had in my life.
Her lips wrap around my cock so tightly I think she might actually be trying to suck the fucking life out of me. My fingers grip the blonde strands of hair flying and pull a ponytail. I look at her hollowed out cheeks and feel the slide of her tongue up and down my shaft, and I feel…nothing.
Not like she’s not doing a great job sucking my cock, but…
“Officer Leo!” She pops my cock out of her mouth with a wet snap. “I’ve been so naughty. Are ya gonna use those handcuffs on me?” She puts her wrists out and runs her lips over my cock.
I’m hard, but I’m totally tuned out.
She…I look over at the waitress uniform on the floor…Tristie…keeps sucking my cock, her hands going to my abs, and she does a little giggle as she slides down every rippling muscle.
I ignore the question, and Tristie opens wide and sucks my cock deep down her throat again.
I get it. I get to fuck all the hot women I want because I’m a detective with eight-pack abs, a twelve-inch cock. I’ve got a chiseled jaw and a set of eyes that makes girls melt in their panties.
I see the looks every woman gives me.
You look at me right now and your heart will start racing. You’ll forget everything else you were doing. You’ll want to make all kinds of dirty cop jokes. You’ll giggle and blush.
Your skin is heating up now just thinking about the weapon I carry below the belt and how well I know how to use it.
I can fuck any woman I want, and I do.
But the thing is…I’m not really into it right now.
I grunt as my cock jerks, and I pull it out while she’s trying to suck. I blow it on the tits that caught my eye in the first place, and she pushes them together and moans. I mean sure, if you haven’t seen big tits covered in your cum getting licked up by a pink tongue with big eyes looking up at you, you’ll probably get all fucking excited and raring to fuck again. Me? I’m more in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger, and I’m ready to get out.
I give her the little fake half smile. “Thanks, Tristie,” I say. See, I remembered her name.
I’ve done this very thing every night for years. Tristie works at the Zeracruz Diner I eat at almost every night. I’ve fucked her before. She knows her way around a cock. This is just unfair to her, though, because I don’t want her at all.
I realize that I don’t want any of this.
Leaving her apartment, I’m so distracted that I almost leave her a tip. I’m not at the diner, though, I remind myself.
I was attempting to drown out the latest case I’ve been working on.
It’s no wonder I’ve never attempted a committed relationship. I deal with these awful domestic dispute cases on a regular basis, and generally I’m not filling out much paperwork…I dig and dig into these nutcases and the shit they do to their spouses, girlfriends, partners…and then no one ever presses charges. We are such a quiet area that the really in-depth cases you might see a detective do on TV are just less likely to be my problem. So I try and catch wife beaters before they finish their jobs and kill the people they are supposed to care about.
Doesn’t exactly get me stoked for getting in my own relationship.
I dial my partner, Bobbi, on my phone and put it through Bluetooth so that I can drive and talk to her without getting scraped off the road by my EMT buddy Lonnie.
“It’s like you let the information you’d be filing into your brain waves play on repeat,” Bobbi says when she answers the phone. She doesn’t even bother to say hello, she already knows what she wants to say to me.
Laughing, I already feel a little better. “You already know, Bob,” I say, shaking my head and smiling.