Chapter 11

 

 

There were few murders in town, none recorded in the previous six years. Until now.

A homicide team hastily set-up by the Police Department consisted of the town’s chief detective and a police lieutenant. The same two men who stood up front in the meal-break room where all the coffee shop staff were assembled. Drew studied the two-man squad with guarded eyes, hooded yet alert and totally without emotion.

One of them wasn’t bad looking, quite attractive in fact, Drew decided, short blonde hair in a neat side-parting, a dark suit that fitted the lean body snugly. The other man was more beaten up and older, in his mid to late thirties, grey peppered in his close-cropped hair, his cheap looking suit crumbled. The cut of the cloth failed to hide his round paunch.

The blonde detective smiled as he took a step forward, looked around and then said “Let me introduce myself. I’m police detective Steve Harrison, Homicide.” The smile was fixed during the slight pause, like he’d enjoyed hearing the last word. “This is Lieutenant Gorman.” The detective mouthed a few more courtesies then let the lieutenant take over.

Lieutenant Gorman started off stating what everyone in the room already knew – Kyle Darkley had been a missing person for nearly two weeks. The officer carried on in a dull tone, his face grave and his unwinding account of the facts clinical. Kyle’s body had been found in the town’s woods. Drew’s eyes widened a little. Her shock was contained – the detective did give the game away early on, by stating for which police section he was working.

“We don’t want to release more details than thought necessary,” the Lieutenant continued, “there’s operational reasons and we have to take on board the feelings of family and friends. But I do want to tell you this was the most sickening murder our town has ever encountered.” He paused, flicked his eyes side-to-side to include all the staff in his thoughtful assessment. The right-pitched degree of revulsion came to his face. “The body was mutilated, internal organs removed. Skin and flesh - cut away.” Another pause. “Whatever did this is sick, sick, no question.”

Detective Harrison ran a hand, palm-side, down his right flank, gaining attention for the sleek jacket of his dark suit. He took over from the lieutenant, reinstated the last words of his colleague: how important it was to stop the perpetrator before he or she kills again. If there was anyone who’d been in the woods at the time, if there was any information however insignificant it seemed, he or Lieutenant Gorman would speak to everyone in the strictest confidence.

With everything said and the meeting over Drew took one of the cards detective Harrison offered, looking at him at the side of his face but not the eyes.

Strange how he’d met the victim, detective Harrison mused as he handed out cards and flashed his smile, only a few weeks before he died. They’d met in a bar, the victim with a respectable-looking woman probably in her mid-forties, her hair in a tidy bun, very few wrinkles, slim, in the clothes of an academic or teacher. As the phrase goes, she was old enough to be his mother.

A mother and son having a drink. Harrison recalled the woman’s smutty-sounding laugh after he voiced his assumption. She was quick to put him right, which got them talking about the nature of their true relationship. Turned out the partnership was very casual, and when it came to sex she was the man. What were the chances he’d meet a couple sharing his sexual inclinations? Slim, he supposed, but once the opportunity to expand his circle fell in his lap he wasn’t about to let it slip.

He’d always wanted to see his butch dyke occasional sexual partner fuck another man. So when the fortyish woman suggested in her cultured voice the four of them get together the policeman in him overlooked the fact the younger guy looked strung out. Whatever narcotics he was taking detective Harrison didn’t want to know. Some drugs were known to relax the anal passage, so what the hell?

Squatting, from the floor he’d watched the butch dyke, and Kyle Darkley stripped naked, on the bed. The guy had big muscles nearly anywhere detective Harrison looked. He was flat on his back, his knees up and splayed out and his legs crooked and spread wide open, his butt a little off the mattress and the side of his bare soles placed on it. Inside the almost diamond formation of his legs the butch dyke was up close on her knees facing him, her legs spread apart in a half-squat. With her back virtually erect most of the time and her hands flat on his inner thighs, she pumped her pelvic bone hard. Her forward movement drove her strap-on dildo already more than half in further into Kyle’s asshole.

It was the detective’s favourite position, being able to easily reach down and masturbate while the butch thrust and thrust repetitively looking down. He loved watching her face, seemingly a lot bigger because it was above him, full of scorn and distaste or with a disparaging smile. He heard a grunt exit from her mouth. Disappointingly there wasn’t much coming from the naked man, Kyle Darkley. Detective Harrison would’ve liked to see him push against his partner as she moved in, play with himself, encourage the business-suited butch by informing her how good she was doing, but all he contributed was an occasional pleasured groan.

With a side-glance detective Harrison took in the fortyish woman stood at a good vantage point to observe anything worth observing that occurred on the bed. Her harness was hidden by her knee-length tweed skirt, the front of the hem gathered up so it rested around the base of her very realistic looking dildo, which was complete with big balls. He’d tried avoiding a glance in her direction when she was strapping up, but failed. Saw enough to establish it was a top of the line sex aid, with a small attached pump easily hidden on the person: a squeeze and it sprayed whatever was in a separate plastic container out through the dildo’s eyelet.

The detective part of his brain profiled the woman going by appearance and posture. By the tweed, severe bun, (discarded) blazer and plain blouse, and a haughty bearing, he read chief librarian, deputy-head mistress or principle, married with a far older husband, with a less than average unit of children. But her hard-set features, where he easily picked up a cruel streak, implied an inclination for alternative pursuits. Even without knowing what he now did he’d have set her apart as a potential – though not necessarily practising – CP enthusiast with a preference for disciplining young women.

The detective was thinking how he’d like to see a double-anal penetration when the woman said to him, “Now it’s your time to be the girl. Come here!”

Her tone was brutally insistent and he scurried forward.

“On your knees, bitch!” she snapped impatiently. “Suck it, you whore.”

Holding the dildo by the base she slipped the shaft with its bulging veins into his mouth. Her hips pushed forward, forcing the mushroom head deeper and stretching his lips even wider. They’d never been this wide; the rubber band tightness was extremely uncomfortable, like his lips might snap. She put her hand on the back of his blonde head, bringing the penis in a little further. The fat glans at the back of his mouth and pushing into his throat made him feel like retching.

“I can see you adore sucking cock,” the woman gibed, giggling. “Yep, you’re loving it.” She chortled as the detective gagged on the tip of the dildo, giving him one more jab of it before she drew back. Taking it out smoothly she took hold of it and wiped spittle from the pink glans across his cheeks and around his lips. “Don’t worry,” she mocked, “I was just taking it out for a bit of air. It’s all yours again.” The big penis went back into his open mouth and she ordered him to lap up the enormous monster head. The blond detective suckled the ultralarge glans, clamming his lips so tightly on its girth a real head might’ve gone white. The woman had to grind to shove the gigantic cock through his lips. She gave him around two dozen strokes at a slow pace that seemed to last about three minutes. Then rammed the fat head through the back of his mouth. It was hard for the detective not to choke, the woman holding him firm at the back of his head and the wide cockhead forcibly sliding in and out of his gullet. He struggled to retain air in his lungs, breath escaping from him in ragged pants. The fake foreskin rubbed back and forth against his taut lips, and lightness came to his brain, spots appearing on top of the vision of her covered-up gently rising and falling stomach. Then the onslaught stopped, the thick head steady in his throat as fluid shot out of the eyelet. The watery substance that contained something runny, like egg white, squirmed past the flap at the back of his throat; it’d gone too far down too quickly for him to spit it out.

The thick penis gradually withdrew and gave him space to breath. He was still gasping for breath as she asked him to lick her hard balls. His tongue strokes on the dangling false testicles were lazy – the woman was a lot rougher than the butch and it was going to take a few more minutes before he got his breath back fully under control.

Giving the detective no more than two minutes with the tip of his tongue running across her attached balls, the woman said, “Time for me to fuck you up the ass. Follow me.” Moving away out the door and into the living room the woman came toward the sofa. She instructed the detective to lie forward up on his knees, and with him in place moved him round a little so she had a way open to his already exposed pink hole. He glanced round and caught her spitting in the palm of her hand. She gave him her best crazy-eyed face, and locked onto his eyes. “We’re going to have us some fun!” she cried, the same time grabbing an ass cheek and pinching him hard. He looked away, not wanting to hold her scary gaze any longer, and stared blankly at a cushion. The same hand that had done the pinching spread a butt-cheek open. Spit got smeared in his bunghole and around his ass lips.

He grunted as a finger thrust into him.

“Your passageway’s so wide,” she remarked with satisfaction, and slipped in another digit to join the first, “It isn’t going to be too hard to get my fat penis in here.” He felt her two fingers move in his bunghole. She took them in as far as possible, kept them there for a short while then brought them out only so a third finger could join them.

“Isn’t that divine?” she teased, working her fingers back and forth, “the best finger action your ass has ever seen. If you like this, just imagine how good it’s going to be when I fuck you. You want me to fuck your ass, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I do!” the detective cried out – suddenly fearful she was going to get up and leave the room. “Please, do it!”

“Your dyke’s been taking it easy on you,” she sneered. “Well I’m not your butchie dyke. I’m really going to make you suffer; this time it’s not make believe.” The woman took out her fingers and knelt behind him. Placing a fist between his upper thighs she prised his legs further apart. Hands pulling his ass cheeks apart she said, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re gonna wish it was some sissy man doing you instead of a bitch like me!”

Without any more to be said the greased penis bumped against the pink puckered hole of his ass. Holding him firm by the hips she leaned into him, the monstrous penis head gradually enlarging his bunghole and vanishing between his buttocks. The bulbous tip of the dildo he recalled was bigger than any in nature – at least in the human species - and it spread his insides more wide open than ever before. He groaned with his mouth slightly open, producing a ragged sound that signposted pain and pleasure. He thought of struggling against her hold then he heard a shrill “No!” that instantly drained away any intended resistance. His sphincter muscle pulsed around the violating phallus, its gigantic head pushing through on its way to the colon. With a little more push and the whole shaft would completely disappear inside.

The blonde detective’s eyes watered, his cries dominated more by pain than the usual pleasure he enjoyed with the butch dyke. The fortyish woman took her cock in all the way with force. She banged him so hard he started to sob. Ignoring his pleads for her to stop she violently reamed him, slipping the fat glans so deep he felt them nudge his intestines. The extremely vulnerable sensation made him cry out in panic.

She laughed at his fear, leaned over his back and grabbed his hair. His head jerked back. “You want me to ease up? Well do you, bitch?” she cried, her face on the back of his head. She whispered close to the side of his right ear, “On one condition: you gotta be my slave. Do everything I say, jump at my command. Agreed?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” he shrieked in response. Then felt she did ease back a few inches, a tremor passing through the tightly stretched ass lips around the shaft of her veined cock. She held the penis completely still for only a brief interval. The thrusts resumed with the same violent that had brought tears to his eyes, the rod digging deeper on every downward prod. Inside two minutes she’d worked it all the way back inside him; she laughed unmercilessly after hearing his frantic cries for her to stop. Her hips slammed against him. She increased her speed, her hands running down to his ass cheeks and pulling them apart to make entry easier for her. Lifting her buttocks high she brought three-thirds of the thick penis out then rammed it down hard. An action she repeated; her forceful grinds shoved him facedown into the sofa mattress, to the detective it felt like her bones were pummelling into him with each downward shove. She fucked him violently, and it hurt like rape.

Then suddenly through the pain the detective recognised the skill the woman was applying. Her strokes were smooth in their evenness, delivered at such a relentless pace it amazed him she didn’t tire. The friction and tug of the cock in the tender insides of his tight hole was felt up to his colon, and it felt great. His eyes screwed tight with pleasure and his gritted teeth exposed he rocked back to meet her approach. As her penis moved out he squeezed it with his ass lips then thrust his buttocks up to eagerly take the rod on its return. He started rolling his hips in time with her strokes. The woman was finding it hard distinguishing between cries of lust and hurt.

“You’re amazing,” he blurted out, carried away by the excitement he was feeling. “Do it to me, bury your big fat cock in my asshole! Christ! Do it! That’s it, that’s it!”

“You want it like that?” the woman declared testily, “then you can have it, you bitch. I’ll make it hurt so much you’ll think you’re giving birth!”

The woman leaned forward till she was almost on his back and took hold of him with sharp nails ripping into his bare shoulders. From somewhere she found more speed: drove her cock quicker than ever into his spread open hole. Blood trickled from the points where she’d dug her fingers into his flesh. He managed to get his left hand to his erect penis and worked on the skin. Jacked himself off while the woman continued reaming deep into his bunghole. It didn’t take much in the way of strokes to get him off. As the come fired out of his penis a jet of fluid squirted in his insides. His front slipped back to the sofa mattress, his spine relaxing as he slipped into a trance-like state while the assault of his ass carried on. He gasped into a sofa cushion, frequent yelps of delight coming from him for what would turn out to be their final half hour. Her bucking hips were no less violent; occasionally he showed his pleasure by clenching his butt-cheeks on the shaft or poking back his ass. All the time his eyes shut tight, his head filled with images of the fortyish woman sat on a bed, playing with her massive penis, grinning lewdly staring at him sitting at the edge of a mattress, fingering his own cock. On her the penis looked strange set against her conservative blouse and her pulled up skirt, but the jarring contrast (he felt) was what made the member in its context compelling. Both her hands cupped around the gigantic member, she caught his gaze and drew it to the abnormally large cockhead. Her lit-up eyes were lecherous. She didn’t need to tell him, he knew what was on her mind. She wanted him to suck her cock.

Detective Harrison hadn’t mentioned the woman to his partner, Lieutenant Gorman. And the butch dyke was equally absent from the official investigation. He’d talked to the butch off-the-record, convinced she wasn’t a suspect. There was no point getting her involved. He promised to keep her name out of the investigation. She’d been grateful for that, he remembered with a smile. Giving a nod to another of the victim’s co-workers and pressing his card to a palm he wondered what had become of the respectable looking woman in her forties. She’d disappeared, but he was confident of finding her soon. He didn’t need Lieutenant Gorman’s assistance for that either. Great if he could keep her out of the official homicide investigation too, he decided, a smug grin retained on his face.