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Men Disappearing into Boys |
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By Margo Perry
When the chief dropped Jack off in front of his house, it was 6:30 AM. They’d been up all night, putting the cuffs on a six month old murder case and all Jack wanted was his wife’s hands all over him, a shot of Bourbon, and sleep … in that order.
“Don’t even try it, Jack!” Laurene grunted. “I need my sleep.”
“Come on, baby. We finally got the bad guys!”
“Huh?”
She turned away from him, snoring too loudly and too soon.
Jack watched her contract and release her pelvis and the suggestive movement, the smooth slope of her torso, waist and hips seemed to mock him. She was here, she was naked, she was his wife, but she wasn’t available. Suddenly everything about her seemed too paltry: her boyish hips and tight ass, her miniature AAA tits. He turned onto his back, too tired to still the resentment that was beginning to clog his craw, the regret that he’d married her at all. He looked up at the pink crystal chandelier that she’d insisted they buy, long before they could afford it and it looked ridiculous in the modest bedroom. Below his clenched jaw, his neck muscles twitched violently. He felt trapped and alone.
Think about something else!
He closed his eyes, took a deep breathe and transported himself back to the station. He could still feel Molly’s body, her enormous tits and pussy pressing into him. He wanted to jerk off so bad. Damn Laurene!
When they’d returned from the bust, Molly was on duty. As soon as they set foot in the door, she jumped up from her desk and flew toward them.
“I heard about the bust. Good work, Chief, and as for you, young man.”
“Forty-two ain’t so young,” Jack said, “besides, I feel like sixty.”
Jack was looking into her laughing blue eyes, but all he really noticed was the outline of her white lacy bra and the pendulous weight of her breasts, straining against the buttons of her white shirt.
“Jack here’s the hero of the moment,” Chief said, “so congratulate him while I go file our report.”
“That woman would devour you like ice cream on a hot day and she wouldn’t need a cone or a spoon,” Chief whispered to Jack.
Truer words had never been spoken and, as soon as the chief disappeared into his office, Molly snaked herself around Jack like a second skin.
“Just say ‘yes’ and I’ll take you home and show you how proud I am of you,” she said.
“Don’t be naughty, Molly. What would I tell my wife?”
Jack was saying the right words, but his fully engaged cock was dry humping the pussy Molly was offering him. He loved the feel of her hand on his ass, groping, pulling him closer. He loved the feel of her hot breath on his throat, the sudden lick of her tongue, the mashing of her tits over his chest. She tilted her head back and stared into his eyes, her lips open and quivering. Hungry. Jack could feel pre-cum oozing out of him, right there in the precinct.
“Kiss me, Jack.”
You’re swimming in deep waters.
“Stop!” Jack said, disengaging his groin from hers. “We can’t!”
“But you really want to and that’s enough for me, at least for now.”
Chief reappeared, chuckling, and Jack wondered how much he’d seen.
“Come, Jack, I’ll drop you off.”
Molly had been seducing him from the first day he joined the team, and so far he’d resisted, but it was getting harder with every one of his wife’s manipulative rejections. He couldn’t wait to get to work every morning, to the steely mind Molly brought to their cases, to her enormous mounds of breast flesh and delicious flirtations. She made him feel wanted and more at home than he was at home.
Memories of Molly had refuelled his libido. His cock was firm, his balls full and a wet spot had stained his trousers. He looked at the motionless Laurene and guilt began to muddy what had been a sense of righteousness. He crept off the bed and into the bathroom for a much needed cold shower. Laurene was still sleeping when he slipped back past her and he was glad. He was no longer in the mood for her sexual crumbs, even if she had been awake.
Downstairs in his study, he poured himself a drink, feeling rejected and desperate. He fondled his flagging cock with a practiced hand, but wanted more. He needed to be ravaged by a woman as horny as he was, like Molly. His drink disappeared quickly and he thought about a second, but fatigue drove him upstairs, where he collapsed on the bed. He could smell coffee and hear Laurene moving about in the kitchen just below him and his bitterness grew.
He slept for a few hours and, when he woke up, Laurene was nowhere to be seen. Jack was back at the station by noon and spent the afternoon hunched over his desk, fighting sleep and a mountain of paperwork.
“Desk Sergeant Fisher, hang up that phone!”
The Chief’s voice boomed across the office and Jack’s head snapped up so hard and fast that he thought it would fly right off his shoulders. It didn’t. It just sat there and throbbed. Fuck, he was tired and still so horny he could scream. Fatigue and lust were a strange and urgent mix that left Jack jittery and vulnerable.
Through the glass partition, he watched a swarm of cops descend on Fisher caught red-handed, his face splotchy, his phone still glued to his ear. Discouraging Fisher from listening in on calls had become the precinct’s most thankless and amusing pastime. Some cops used Fisher’s predilection to fill his head with misleading or embarrassing information. The Chief, on the other hand, always feigned outrage.
“I watched you eavesdrop on every word of that poor woman’s complaint,” the Chief thundered, “and it was none of your damned business. Well, it’s your business now. Get on out to #10, quick as a bunny, and find out what’s happened to that boy.”
“Not me! You know what they say about that place!” Fisher slammed down his phone, spluttering as he raced toward us, his round tummy and thick thighs slowing his progress. The laughter of a dozen boisterous cops exploded after him. “You know that’s not the kind of place a Christian man goes into,” he cried, bursting into the office.
“Is that what you call yourself while you’re listening in on other people’s conversations? You heard the panic in Marjorie Smithers’ voice. Her little boy went into 10 Drowning on the occasion of his eighteenth birthday and hasn’t been seen or heard from in four days. His Mamma’s worried sick. What do you think is happening to him? Wouldn’t a Christian man like you want to go and make sure that little Tommy’s alright?”
Fisher rocked from one foot to another, his frown moving from the Chief’s face to the floor and back again. “You’re right Chief,” he said finally, nodding his head ferociously. “I’m going to find out what’s going on and put an end to Mrs. Smithers’ worrying.” He reached back and slapped his holster.
“Good for you, Fisher, but that weapon’s not going to do you a bit of good!”
“A good officer is ready for anything, all the time, Chief.” Fisher pulled his gun, spun it around one finger and replaced it in its holster.
“Good luck and God bless,” the Chief said, beaming like a headlight. “You’re the perfect man for this job!”
“Thanks, boss.”
Jack watched Fisher head for the door.
“What mischief are you up to, Chief? The Smithers boy is an adult and has every right to stay in that house for as long as his money holds out. Besides, Fisher’s engaged to be married and very skittish. Why send him?”
“That boy needs humanizing, Jack. My boys in blue must all learn humility.”
A secret smile spread across the Chief’s face, and Jack turned back to his reports, grateful that he wasn’t the one having to handle Fisher or 10 Drowning. He had his own problems. “Fisher better be careful. I’ve never been inside those doors, but I’ve heard tales,” he said.
“Well, I have been inside and any tales you might have heard are just a hint of all the itches that get scratched beyond those closed doors.” I watched the Chief gaze into the distance, rubbing his palm along the bald road that ran through the center of his crown, that same sweet grin trembling on his lips. “You’ve been looking kind of uninspired lately. Maybe I should have sent you out there.”
“You trying to get me killed, cause that’s what Laurene would do to me, if I ever so much as looked in the direction of that place!”
Jack’s guffaw sounded forced and he wasn’t surprised when the Chief came and perched on his desk.
“You’re not happy,” he said bluntly. “What’s up?”
“The problem is I love being a detective. Laurene’s the one who pushed this law school thing.”
“Well son, there’s many a decision a man shares with his better half, but never his choice of how to make a living. No siree, Sir!”
“Tell that to my wife,” Jack grumbled. “I tried three months ago and we haven’t had sex since.”
“A man’s got to fight for what’s his,” the Chief said, climbing off his desk, whistling one of his original out-of-tunes.
Jack knew the Chief was right and decided to call Laurene, take her out to dinner, and make her understand that he had no interest in becoming a solicitor. He also wanted to tell her that he needed more sex, more loving, but he didn’t know if he’d have the nerve. Jack had no idea how gorgeous women thought he was with his towering height, cool dark skin, classic strong features and sexy swagger, but he was beginning to notice the glances and to laugh self-consciously at the outright offers. He was still determined to be faithful, but he needed some attention from his wife.
He felt anxious waiting for her to pick up and worse when she did. She spoke quickly. She was going out to dinner with her girlfriends. He’d get to study in their quiet house even though that was the very last thing he wanted to do. He craved excitement. He yearned for a woman’s hands all over him.
“I was hoping . . .”
“Bye,” she said, hanging up abruptly.
When he’d met Laurene, he was a happy street cop, looking to rise to detective. Now he was an unhappy detective dreading hanging up his gun for a lawyer’s robe and the pressure was affecting his marriage. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d enjoyed a good conversation or a fun time in bed. Laurene wanted to fuck an attorney, not a cop, and she found many ways to let him know that fact.
Oh well, back to the files.
He’d gotten quite a bit done when he felt Chief staring at him from across the room.
“You gonna’ go home and spend some time with that wife of yours? Talk things over?”
“I wanted to, but she’s having dinner with friends.”
“You need some fun, Jack, some way to alleviate pressure and that wife of yours isn’t doing her part,” Chief said, scowling. “In any case, I need you to do something for me. Fisher hasn’t returned and I’m afraid he might be in over his head. I want you to go out there and find him. Make sure he’s alright.”
Everybody knew about #10 Drowning, with its simple brass nameplate, and sworn secrecies and Jack couldn’t help wondering what it was like in there. The Chief’s standing orders had been to live and let live and, in the two years since he’d started to work here, they’d never once been called out for a disturbance or anything else. We’d hear from the occasional wife or mother, wondering where their men were, and our advice was always the same: “Don’t worry, they’ll turn up eventually.” They always did.
“I’ll get right out there, Chief.”
“Good! Check on both our boys, Tommy Smithers and Sergeant Fisher.”
“I’m on my way, Chief.”
Jack was putting on his jacket when the chief picked up the phone. “Hello Belle, my beauty.”
The only Belle in our town was #10’s alluring Madame Belle and the very thought of her aroused Jack’s fantasies.
The chief waved him away and, with the cool air-conditioning kissing his cheeks, Jack stepped out of the station house into a humid breathless heat. He eyed his car in the lot, slipped off his jacket, and sprinted toward it. He hadn’t run like that since college. His heart beat hard and his legs felt heavy, but he was inanely happy. Inside, the car was sweltering. He started the engine, turned on the Air Con and folded his jacket neatly over the passenger seat. He checked the mirror and sparkling eyes looked back at him. His shirt was stuck to his sweating torso, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find at #10, but he was looking forward to whatever it was. Just seeing Belle would be enough. He put on his seatbelt, drove carefully out of the lot and joined the rush hour traffic, feeling more alive than he had in years.
“Hello Belle, my beauty.”
He’d seen her twice, once at the bank and once in a Fine Foods Galleria, and the only things more impressive than her overwhelming presence were her huge, huge breasts. She was pushing her cart toward the checkout counter and her pendulous mounds, trapped in the confines of a maddeningly conservative tweed jacket, were settled low at her waist. Despite the maze of milling shoppers, she was all Jack saw. He’d married the slim, small-breasted Laurene, loved her even, but he was a breast man, through and through, and the bigger they were the better he liked them. Ashamed to say it, but Madame Belle had turned that detective into a schoolboy. Jack quickly forgot about his list and grabbed the first thing at hand, an elaborate basket of dried fruit from the display right in front of him. A reason to join Belle at the check-out counter was all that mattered to him.
He raced into line just ahead of an elderly gentleman who was as mesmerized by Belle as he was. He waved his cane at Jack, angrily. All’s fair in love and war, Jack mused, and this seemed like both. He took a deep breath and smelled Belle’s perfume. The flowery scent was wispy, unpretentious and alluring. Belle was tall, but Rubenesque. Her hips were broad and proud, her generous ass, lifted and inviting. As she stooped over her cart, her breasts mashed and spread atop her groceries. Jack was so excited that he didn’t want the moment to end. Her back was half-turned to his brazen ogling and he stared at her greedily and without reserve.
Suddenly, she turned to face him and the full force of her engulfed him: long strong neck, fine olive-skinned features, waves of raven hair pulled back in an easy bun, tendrils of curls escaping; full lips and insolent smile. He was caught slack jawed and blushing purple, as embarrassed as he’d ever been. Was she noticing the length, breadth and rage of his obvious lust? It was there in full view, a momentous and obscene bulge in his jeans.
“Look at all this,” she said, waving her arms at her full cart, causing her breasts to sway hypnotically. “You only have one item. Come ahead of me.”
Her sultry jazz of a voice bathed him as she stepped back, insisting that he squeeze in front of her. His back grazed her protruding chest, his cock leaked its appreciation, and the old man coughed and mumbled his disapproval.
“That basket looks lovely,” she said, as the cashier rang up his $40 tab.
Like you’re going to watch the game, drink beer and nibble dried fruit.
Jack shut down the mocking voice in his head and paid in cash. Laurene was away for the weekend. He’d stop at the corner store and grab some chips and dip.
“It’s for you. Enjoy,” he said to Belle, pointing to the fruit basket.
Jack had no idea what had possessed him. Who goes into a shop, buys an item and gives it to a stranger?
A crazy person.
Having answered his own question, he fled the store, seeming more like a failed and confused criminal than a cop.
Belle will remember you as a strange and ridiculous man!
That thought upset him. For some unknown reason, he’d desperately wanted her approval, he still did and soon, he’d be in her presence. The very thought overwhelmed him.
The traffic crawled, stopped and restarted like an infant testing his legs. Jack wanted children; Laurene didn’t. She used to want a family, be proud of his work, but no more. A feeling of dread came over him, a fear that the reins of his life had somehow slipped from his fingers. He shivered and turned off the air conditioner as he turned onto Drowning and followed the narrow laneway to #10’s gated parking lot. A uniformed attendant stepped out of his booth and approached the car.
“Welcome Det. Fellowes, Madame Belle is expecting you.”
With a touch of the guard’s remote control, Jack was in, and the elaborate portal closed behind him. The paved car path meandered around green islands of grass and manicured trees. There were five cars parked, each a discreet distance from the next, their spots marked by glowing antique lamps. Jack parked, locked his car and stretched. In the center of what felt like a Japanese garden more than a parking lot, a fountain dripped water into a lily pond, its sound serene and inviting. Jack found himself smiling as he headed for the front door. No money had changed hands, but he felt like he’d just been admitted to a private and exclusive club and he couldn’t help wishing that he was not here on business, but for pleasure, like any regular customer.
At least you’ll get to see Belle!
The mahogany door slid open before he pressed the buzzer.
“Come in, Mr. Detective. My name is Mai.”
Mai was a five foot, stunningly fragile beauty with green almond eyes and pale translucent skin. Jack rushed to relieve her of the heavy door.
“After you,’ he said, although he was the one still outside.
Mai cocked her head to the side and her long black silken ponytail swung over her shoulder, as she waved him inside, giggling.
Her sing-song voice was coquettish, but Jack’s mind was on Belle. He followed Mai down a hall, hardly noticing the pert shifts of her shapely ass. To his left was a large library. A well-dressed gentleman sat in an armchair reading a paper. Six women were scattered over the airy room listening to music, writing or reading. The scene was the picture of decorum. Mai, in her flat gold ballet slippers was negotiating a staircase two steps at a time and Jack had to rush to keep up with her. His calves were cramping and his breathing laboured under fatigue and stress.
“There are two more floors, but this is where we get off.”
Salvation!
Mai led him to a double-door suite, knocked, and in seconds flat, he was face to face with Belle.
She was a beautiful flower in one of the most up-to-date security centers Jack had ever seen. She got up from behind a bank of computer screens and he noticed the outline of her breasts slung low and ripe beneath her red diaphanous blouse. Her creamy tailored pantsuit, singly buttoned at her waist could do nothing to alter the sexual heat, the sensual glow that surrounded her. He noticed that the perfect toenails peeking out of her high heeled sandals were the same red as her blouse, as the lipstick barely covering her pouty, full-by-nature lips.
“Hello Belle, my beauty.”
The force and magnitude of Jack’s feelings struck him in the gut: First, the horniness. Jack’s imagination was on speed.
My fingers graze Belle’s nipples, as I relieve her of her jacket. Her smile fades into lust, telling me she is tempted and then interested. As her nipples harden and extend, my cock extends with them, hardens and begins to leak. I reach out to her and she melts into my arms. I begin to kiss her gently, but she is too desirable. My tongue can’t help fucking her mouth ….
“Thanks, Mai. Now . . .”
Belle and Mai were chatting, but Jack was lost in his own fantasyland where Chief’s voice kept recurring - whispering, familiar and intimate – like a song you didn’t like, but couldn’t get out of your head.
Hello Belle, my beauty.
A biting, irrational jealousy gnawed at Jack’s stomach. He reminded himself that he was here on official business and that as lovely as it was, he was in a whorehouse. But, it didn’t help. He couldn’t stop thinking about Chief, here, with Belle.
Chief is half-seated on the desk, ass to the technology, Belle between his legs. She moves her head up and down his shaft. His eyes are closed tight, his legs tremble and his groans are threatening even the gods to interrupt the pleasure he is lost in. It’s when her head stops moving up and down and begins subtler ministrations that Chief climbs the mountain and begins the run to the cliff’s edge. He moans, his face enraptured, and I want to kill him. I want to kill the chief that I truly love over a Madame that I’ve just formally met.
That all this was just imagined didn’t help. Jack was feeling it and that frightened him. He could feel sweat prickling his brow, his heart beating out of his chest and he wondered if horniness and frustration could drive a man crazy.
You need Cher’s help! Snap out of it!
He focussed hard on what was going on around him. Mai was skittering around the room and Belle was laughing, a silvery sound that moved him like her words had at the Galleria. The taste of sex and the sound of jazz seasoned every sound coming out of her luscious mouth. Belle was walking Mai to the door, at the same time that Jack’s mind reclaimed her.
I bend her over the desk, order her to give up her business, as I pump love and fuck ownership deep inside her. Belle is my belle. Laurene is a disagreeable, disappearing smoke of a memory.
Belle walked back toward him with long panther strides, her eyes smouldering and yet, amused.
“First, let me thank you for the fruit. I shared it with the girls. Their favourites were the apricots, apples and what they called hot-ginger-not-a-fruit.”
Jack’s forced laughter sounded desperate for the second time that day.
“Come, let’s take care of business, so you can be on your way. We’ll start with Tommy Smithers.”
She offered him a seat beside her at the console, typed furiously for a minute and then stood up and slipped her jacket from her shoulders. Her dangling breasts were like ripe fruit, ready for plucking and sucking and Jack was ready to lose himself between her strong fleshy thighs. He jumped up, but she’d already tossed her top onto a chair, and if she’d noticed his big, hard, throbbing cock, she ignored it. She was back typing and talking, all business. Jack fell back into his chair, but found it impossible to concentrate. Her arms were long, her fingers slim and lithe. He imagined them fingering his cock, the Chief’s cock, and he wanted her to prefer his, to reject Chief altogether.
You’re working. Concentrate!
Her profile was all breast, tits, breasts, mesmerizing him. They hung onto her lap, so close to him. Belle was talking and pointing to the screen, something about Tommy leaving right after his doctor’s assessment. Jack yanked himself back to reality. A doctor’s report was not the news the Chief was hoping for. Tommy had come here to get laid, not infected with something. He checked the monitor just in time to see the back of Tommy Smithers, as he was leaving a doctor’s office, and Jack panicked.
“Aren’t your girls clean? What have they done to Tommy?”
Belle swivelled her chair to face him. Her eyes blazed into him and he felt himself burning up, disintegrating like ash from a stogie. She leaned forward and her breasts seemed to swell and flow inside her blouse. She stood up slowly and stared down at Jack.
“I’ll deal with the chief. Good evening, detective.”
“No!” Jack shouted. “No, please.” Belle looked down at him, her head cocked, her face inquisitive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
His words floated away and he looked so world-weary, so defeated that Belle’s face softened. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Jack shook his head, too emotional to speak. “You are in a state! There’s nothing wrong with Tommy. He’s in much better shape than he was when he arrived. It’s you I’m worried about. What’s wrong, detective?”
Jack felt like his life depended on his communicating everything that was important. He started with his love for his work and his wife’s need for him to be other. He told her about getting attention from Molly that he needed from Laurene. He couldn’t stop talking. He babbled about how much he’d been attracted to her at the Galleria. How jealous he was that she and Chief were so close and that made her laugh a hearty, belly laugh.
“Jack,” she said softly, “I’m a whore’s whore and your Chief’s right to be worried about you. Your life is too heavy and weary for your years. Sometimes you have to restart, rediscover joy.”
“How can I?” Jack cried. “I’m married to a woman who doesn’t want a detective and that’s who I am. I’ve never been unfaithful, but . . .”
“You need sex,” Belle finished his thought.
Jack watched Belle frown and then turn in a slow circle. When she faced him again, she wore the mien of a young girl, kittenish and teasing. “Jack,” she said, grabbing on to his necktie and guiding him to his feet. “You’re really cute, you know. I’ve been into you ever since you came to this school.”
She wound her arms around him, offering herself up for a kiss, and they kissed like teenagers, long and sloppy and wet. “My titties are real sensitive. Play with them Jack.”
Jack groped the soft but firm, spongy flesh, his eyes liquid with pleasure. He felt her hands rubbing his cock, fumbling and unsure.
“Come,” she said, “we don’t want to get caught.” She dragged Jack into her bathroom, locked the door and checked her watch. “We don’t have much time before class.”
Her blouse was unbuttoned and Jack’s eyes swam in cleavage so long and deep that he thought he’d drown. “I’ll do you, Jack.” Fingers unzipped and released his cock into a warm wet pool of a mouth that sucked and nibbled. Fingers stroked. Her magic of a tongue swirled over and around his cock head, pressed itself over his sweet spot and Jack swooned. She rose to her feet, pressing herself all over him. “Do you have a condom, Jack?” Jack shook his head.
“I don’t care,” he moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”
Jack watched Belle struggle out of her clothes, blushing but determined. She bent over the sink. In the mirror, Jack watched her tits hang low, as she offered her ass up to him. “Don’t hurt me Jackie.”
Jack oiled himself with his own generously leaking pre-cum and entered her slowly. Belle was playing with her clit and he cold feel her pussy muscles next door clamping and releasing, holding him tight and then letting him go. She controlled his movements for optimum pleasure and Jack hung on tight to every thrust, every circle of her amazing pelvis. Jack had never known that kind of pleasure and it seemed to build inside him, splitting him into fragments and then making him whole. His world was complete and Belle was the only other person in it. They fucked until he could hold on no longer and he came in a rush of passion so large, so overwhelming that he collapsed in orgasm, elbows on the sink, pinning Belle beneath him.
She used a facecloth to clean his cock and balls and kissed them lightly goodbye.
“We’re gonna’ be late for class,” she said, before cleaning herself and hurriedly dressing. Jack pulled himself together, she unlocked the door and they returned to the console.
“Ready for work?” she asked, when they were seated.
“Ready and grateful,” Jack said, solemnly.
“Sometimes a man’s just gotta’ be a boy,” Belle said.
She leaned over and kissed Jack’s nose.
“Now for the wonderful story of Tommy Smithers. Not to mention Sergeant Fisher.”
Belle had Jack’s full attention.
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