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From: David Shaw <david@f-e-mail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP:  "THE BEAT MEET" (M/F:  police) By David Shaw
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Date: Wed, 10 Aug 2005 05:10:03 -0400
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{ASSM} RP:  "THE BEAT MEET" (M/F:  police) By David Shaw
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"THE BEAT MEET" (M/F:  police)

David Shaw
(david@f-e-mail.com)

www.f-e-mail.com

THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY

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Evening, all. There's nothing like an old time copper . . . or, at least, 
there's nothing like the fun and games the old time coppers used to get up 
to. This is the way it used to be when PC stood for Police Constable 
instead of Political Correctness.

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When I see the crap that police officers have to put up with today I'm glad 
I'm retired. The fancy cars and the high tech gear they have now doesn't 
make up for being a police service instead of a police force. That's what 
we used to be, a force, a police force with a uniform that was respected by 
everybody, criminals and the public alike. When I remember how it was . . . 
well, it was great. Being a copper used to be the best job in this country. 
If you don't believe me, I'll tell you the story of my first day on the job.

That's right, the first time on the beat. Straight out of training school I 
was and sent to a small market town in the Midlands. The local station 
found me lodgings with a lady old enough to be my mother but a brilliant 
cook and some desires that her husband wasn't satisfying at all. Not that I 
found out about that until later, I was happy enough to start our 
acquaintance with a breakfast that would have fed a family of gypsies. Not 
that any of it got wasted -- I was a big lad, six foot two, with shoulders 
as wide as a barn door and a lot of muscle from playing rugby every chance 
I got.

Aye, I was what they call well presented, with a grin that a lot of people 
described as cheeky. Just a big overgrown boy hardly out of my teens, 
putting on a old fashioned uniform with a silly helmet and boots on my feet 
heavy enough to crush stones into gravel. Still, when I looked in the 
mirror I thought I looked pretty smart, what with that big silver crowned 
badge above my head, a row of shiny buttons down my high necked blue tunic 
and a silver whistle chain tucked into the top left pocket. What I was soon 
to find out was how many doors that uniform could open. Like I say, the 
force was well respected in those days.

So, everything straight and tidy for public display and then down to the 
station. Not a big place but big enough to handle the routine work in the 
town, with a sergeant in charge. He was as big as I was, but a lot older, a 
fellow named Hanson. A steady sort, but not a man to stand any nonsense. I 
spent most of the morning learning the office routine and then the sergeant 
took me for a stroll around the town. I got shown most of the local places 
of interest and especially where the phone boxes where located. No pocket 
radios in those days. What you did on patrol was to make 'points'. That 
meant waiting outside a designated phone box at a specified time, usually 
for about five minutes, so that if the station needed you for anything they 
could ring through.

After we'd done the tour Sergeant Hanson said he'd leave me on my own for a 
while to keep on patrolling. He made sure I knew my point times for the 
rest of the shift and then went back to the station. I guess that wouldn't 
happen nowadays, a young copper on his first day left in the streets on his 
own with no radio and no weapon except a wooden truncheon. But that was 
then and nobody in his right mind tried to make trouble for the force in 
those days -- not unless he wanted to find out how heavy those police boots 
could be when they stamped down on something.

No, there weren't any problems, the sun was shining, the locals were 
nodding respectfully at me, most of them spotting straight away I was new 
in the area. Then a smart young lass stopped for a chat and I was happy to 
oblige. In fact, that was what the Sergeant had told me to do, to talk to 
the locals as much as possible and get to know them. If this was the first 
one, that was fine with me. She said her name was Angela and I was welcome 
to stop by her house for a cup of tea whenever I wanted to. Of course being 
invited in for a cup of tea was something anybody would do for a stranger 
and it didn't necessarily mean more than common politeness. Especially 
considering the pram Angela was pushing. Still, I made a note of her 
address anyway. You never knew your luck with the ladies, that was my belief.

To tell the truth I was starting to enjoy myself, with the attention the 
uniform was getting. Or maybe it was the way I was filling it out. And then 
there was a scuffle near a pub with a couple of drunks being silly, but not 
so silly that they didn't scoot off around the corner like long dogs as 
soon as they saw me coming. The landlord invited me in for a drink on the 
house, which I didn't dare do, in case Hanson came back. But I was full of 
myself, feeling like Wyatt Earp on the streets of Tombstone after the last 
gunslinger had been carried off to Boot Hill. Well, I was as young and 
green as they come.

Anyway, I made another point. The phone in the kiosk didn't ring so I 
continued patrolling and then noticed I was walking past a school. The kids 
were streaming out at the end of the day, with the younger ones being 
collected by their mothers. All except one woman who was left hanging 
around the gates after the rush was over.

"Hello, officer," she said to me, matching the words with a smile that 
straightaway tickled my fancy.

This one was well worth passing the time of day with. The top of her 
reddish tinted hair was a clear foot below my shoulders, with a curl over 
her forehead and the rest worn long. Her face was pleasant without being 
really pretty, the nose was a trifle too big for that, but her eyes were 
green and bold, with a very vivid shade of lipstick on her smiling mouth. 
She had to be easily ten years older than me, more likely fifteen, so the 
breasts underneath the red and white floral blouse she was wearing deserved 
the mature plumpness the fabric clung to so very nicely. Neither was there 
much amiss from there on down, with a bright red skirt which was drawn taut 
over a slightly plump belly and hips far enough apart for a man to settle 
onto in comfort. What was more, the skirt hemline was above her knees, high 
enough to be about as far as a respectable married woman could go in those 
days.

Oh yes, I spotted that drawback straight away, the wedding ring on her left 
hand but apart from that it seemed to me that here was the kind of fancy 
piece I'd love to have a few drinks with in a pub. By Christ, I'd have 
bought this one her booze all night in return for a chance to see those 
tits getting shaken around. Married or not, I was going to hang around 
within leering distance of this fine looking lady as long as I could, 
especially if she kept smiling at me the way she was now.

"Hello," I answered. "Waiting to collect somebody from the school, are you?"

She smiled again: "No, no, I'm Anna Morrison, the head teacher here, just 
making sure all our little darlings get collected safely."

"You're a teacher?"

She seemed slightly puzzled at my question: "Yes. Any reason why I 
shouldn't be?"

"No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything," I said. "It's only, when I was 
at school, all our female teachers . . . well, none of them looked anything 
at all like you. If they had, being kept back at school would have been a 
pleasure instead of a punishment, believe me."

She laughed,  a deep throaty laugh that made my toes curl. Then she said: 
"Oh, I see. Well, you've just talked yourself out having to write any lines 
for being a naughty boy. I haven't seen you before, have I?"

"No, you haven't, Mrs Morrison. It's my first day in town.  I'm Constable 
Rogers. Phil Rodgers."

"Pleased to meet you, Phil. Please call me Anna."

She shook my hand as if she was afraid that I'd break the bones in hers.

"My, you are a big fellow, aren't you, Phil?"

Mmmm . . . and for all her apparent hesitancy in putting her hand in mine 
it seemed as if she'd squeezed it for longer than had been quite necessary.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

That sounded like a good idea, a chance to get to know her better but it 
suddenly occurred to me that here was a chance to try out a trick that one 
of the instructors at the training school had tipped us off about. He'd 
said that if ever we met a woman we thought might be willing for some fun 
and games, the best thing to do was to tell her there was a flasher fooling 
around in her neighborhood.  Either she'd be frightened or she'd be 
interested, and the more interested the better. Either way, you'd soon find 
out what sort of a woman she was. Whatever else I might have missed at the 
school there was no chance I'd forget that lesson. Of course, a middle aged 
married school teacher was hardly likely to be up for a frolic but this 
seemed like a good chance to test the theory.

"Thank you, Anna, but somebody has told me there's a suspicious looking 
character in the area. I thought perhaps I should take a stroll around the 
back of the school buildings just to see if I can see anything. If anybody 
was there he's probably gone by now, but you never know."

"Oh. What was suspicious about him?"

"Well, he was wearing a raincoat for one thing, which seems a bit odd with 
the weather as warm as it is today." I winked at her. "If you get my meaning."

"Oh," she said again, but in a knowing tone. "Oh, one of those, hey? 
Wanting to show himself off to some of the children, you think?"

"I don't about know that, but it might be possible."

Anna nodded.

"Come to think of it, I saw somebody round the other side of the school 
this afternoon. Somebody wearing a raincoat, I mean. It seemed a bit odd at 
the time."

Which was a statement that set me right back on my heels. Here I was making 
up a story and here was this woman making up another one of her own to 
match it. Either that or there'd been a long odds coincidence and some 
fellow in a raincoat had chosen that day to walk near the school grounds. 
Whatever, it was a turn in the conversation to take advantage of.

"Would you like to show me where you saw him?" I asked her. "If you can 
spare the time."

"Yes, I can certainly do that. This way, Phil."

Here was a fine way to start a new job, strolling across the school grounds 
with this very attractive teacher and another hour before I had to make my 
last point for the afternoon shift. Mind you, I was squinting sideways at 
her and trying to guess whether she'd been telling the truth about seeing a 
man in a raincoat, or whether she was just using it as an excuse for us to 
go off together. Not that I was likely to be that lucky. Then she said 
something which grabbed my attention like a punch in the nuts during a 
rugby tackle.

"You know, Phil, I've always wondered what the best thing is that a woman 
can do if she gets trapped in an alley by one of those raincoat perverts. 
Should she fight him or do what he wants?"

Hey hey, it seemed like the instructor had been right on the money with his 
advice about how to get an interesting conversation going.

"It depends," I answered. "Of course the police force has to be careful 
about what it says to the public. There'd be all kinds of an outcry if they 
suggested that women shouldn't try to call for help or put up a fight. But 
the truth is that if there's not much chance of getting help and you're 
dealing with some nutcase who seems strong and determined, it may be best 
to offer him some co-operation. For a while, anyway, until you get your 
chance to break away."

She turned her head towards me with her lips curved up quizzically: "What 
exactly do you mean by co-operating?"

I had to be cautious here: "Well, it wouldn't do you any harm to take a 
long look at what he wants to show off. Maybe even say it looks nice. 
Anything to keep things from turning ugly."

We'd reached the back of the school buildings by then. There was a narrow 
strip of grass, a pathway, a hedge which presumably marked the limit of the 
school grounds and a head high brick enclosure with dustbins inside it.

"There's nobody around here after the children leave. Only the teachers 
leaving on their own when they've finished for the day in their 
classrooms," Anna told me. "I worry sometimes about that. Suppose one of 
those characters was hanging around and he was the dangerous type?"

I certainly wasn't going to downplay any possible threat from a prowling 
pervert, not with the way Anna had been talking before. After all, it was 
my excuse for walking around with her. So I made something of a display of 
looking inside the bin enclosure.

"This is a bad spot, Anna. If  one of your lady teachers got pulled in here 
behind these walls nobody would be able to see what was going on. Is there 
anywhere else around here which could be dangerous? You know, where 
somebody might be lurking?"

Again, I was being hopeful, but one thing was sure, there was no chance 
of  getting a whiff of romance anywhere near the smell coming out of those 
bins. Anna looked up at me from underneath her fringe of tinted hair and 
whatever was causing the gleam in her eyes had my adam's apple rubbing hard 
against the tunic's stiff collar. All of a sudden that collar seemed to be 
making breathing a lot more difficult.

"There's the boiler room, Phil. It doesn't get used in the summer and 
sometimes the school caretaker is careless about keeping the door locked."

"Perhaps we should take a look at it then?"

She nodded and led me towards a green door. As I expected it was locked, 
but what I wanted to see was if Anna would just walk away after she'd 
checked it. She didn't, she looked back at me and winked, then reached up 
to the top of the doorframe and took down a brass yale key. As she bent 
down slightly to put the key in the lock I was presented with a chance to 
make a longer and more considered examination of the teacher's finely 
rounded stern. A work of art, a genuine work of art, and wouldn't I just 
love to unveil it for a private showing.

'Careful, lad, careful', I whispered to myself.

Not only did the tunic collar feel as if it was choking me, but I was 
starting to rub against my blue serge uniform somewhere else. I took off 
the helmet and held it front of me, trying to think about things that had 
nothing to do with women. Because I could get myself into real trouble if I 
was misreading the signals here. A lot of trouble.

"Perhaps you should go first, Phil," Anna suggested.

Why not? I went in, into a long room which was gloomy after the sunlight 
outside. There were only two small windows, on each side, close against the 
brick walls of neighboring buildings and high up because there was a boiler 
set against  the wall on each side of me. I walked down the aisle between 
them and glanced at the valve handles and dials on each of the round white 
painted cylinders. It was something like being inside the engine room of a 
ship. Behind me I heard Anna's heels clicking on the worn lino. My cock was 
still refusing to drain and droop. Perhaps because of the lingering effect 
of Anna's perfume that had filled my nostrils as I'd brushed past her.

Maybe  if I thought about ships instead of the teacher -- but all that came 
into my mind were images of clouds of steam and huge thrusting pistons. By 
God, there were problems about being a copper I'd never thought of. Like 
finding ways of concealing hard evidence from certain highly fuckable 
members of the public.

Then I looked behind the boilers. A basin and a draining board against the 
end wall, a steel locker, a  table with rose patterned oil cloth, a wooden 
kitchen chair and an old purplish armchair, very low and battered and worn 
out. Exactly the sort of snug little private set up that every caretaker 
has somewhere for his meal breaks.

"Take a seat, Phil," Anna said. Her hand was clearly indicating the 
armchair. "But could I borrow your truncheon, please? Before you sit down."

"My truncheon?" I couldn't make any sense at all of that request.

"Yes, please. I think I might need it as a kind of prop. For educational 
instruction."

God help me, I was nearly stupid enough to ask her what kind of 
instruction. I might have done if  my jaw hadn't been hanging so far down 
in astonishment. Still, there was only the two of us there and it hardly 
seemed likely I was in danger of getting bludgeoned to death by a lady 
school teacher. So I lifted up the side of my tunic and pulled out the foot 
long piece of polished wood with the county force badge on it. At the same 
time I was still trying to cover up my bulging groin, using the helmet like 
a matador waving around a red cape to distract attention away from his sword.

I offered the head teacher the truncheon, handle end first, and then sat 
down on the armchair. Right down on the armchair, with the weak springs 
collapsing underneath my considerable weight until my backside was only a 
foot or two above the floor. And what did Mrs Morrison do? What she did was 
to take the other chair, the ordinary wooden one. She set it down in front 
of me, in front and up close, and then sat down on it, her skirt drawing up 
high enough for me to get an excellent view of her knees and higher yet. Of 
course, the ideal position to appreciate the display would have been to 
have my eyes at the same level as her knees -- which was about where they were.

Now you might think that I'd have been taking a good long look at those 
knees and the appreciable amount of leg on display above them, but you'd be 
wrong. Because Anna was holding my truncheon  in her lap, upright and 
looking down at it as she polished it with a carefully folded and spotless 
white handkerchief -- that caught my attention, I can tell you, even down 
to the blue lace edging on the handkerchief. In fact it was the way she was 
polishing it, with her fingers and handkerchief completely encircling the 
truncheon, and then sliding the ring of white fabric up and down the length 
of the weapon. The action was exactly the same as if she was jerking a man 
off. I couldn't stop myself from grunting and clutching at the helmet in my 
own lap.

Anna looked up and smiled again. A long slow one: "You don't mind me giving 
it a rub for you, do you, Phil? Just for luck."

"No, I don't mind at all." It sounded as if I was croaking, the way my 
throat had tightened up.

"That's good. You see, I wanted to hear some more of your advice about 
what's the best thing a woman can do if she gets trapped by one of those 
perverts."

"Oh."

It came out more like a groan than a spoken word as the teacher gave my 
truncheon another brisk rub. And underneath my helmet a genie was straining 
to pop out.

"You know, one of those sort who won't take no for an answer. Do you think 
doing this for him might . . . . you know, satisfy him?"

The teacher put the handkerchief aside, placed her fingertips in a row up 
and down the side of the truncheon, pressed her thumb against the other 
side and slid her hand up and down the entire length of it again.

"You know what I mean, don't you, Phil?

What sort of a stupid question was that?

"Yes. I know what you mean."

"Do you think that would make a man happy, if I did it for him?"

"It would make me happy, Anna, I know that. Very, very happy."

I had to lift a finger up to that damned collar and tug on it. Not only did 
I feel as if I was choking, I could feel my face turning red. Anna paused 
for her second in her handiwork to look at me again. A kind of arch look 
from underneath that fringe of hair over her forehead.

"A good looking young chap like you, Phil, you  wouldn't be interested in 
anything an older woman like me could do for you -- would you?"

"For God's sake, Anna, you're absolutely bloody gorgeous," I croaked. "And 
if you keep on doing that in front of me I'll go mad."

She giggled, gave the truncheon another stroking, then held it up higher, 
narrowed her eyes, pursed her red lips and blew a gentle stream of air 
across the rounded top. Not as much air as I blew out though. The teacher 
watched my reaction with amused eyes and then looked down at the helmet I 
was still holding on my lap.

"Phil, I always wondered why they made police helmets in that odd shape." 
She giggled like a drunken schoolgirl. "Now perhaps I know. You haven't got 
another truncheon hidden away under there, have you?"

"You show me yours and I'll show you mine." I offered.

"My what, Phil?"

Anna's green eyes remained fixed on my face as she moved the tip of the 
truncheon closer to her mouth and dabbed at it with her tongue. She looked 
like a cat lapping up a bowl of cream. And if I hadn't been trapped inside 
that collapsing wreck of a chair I'd have pounced on her. No normal man 
could be expected to ignore that kind of cock teasing. What in hell's name 
sort of teacher was this?

"If I was going to do what I wanted to with you, Anna, the first thing 
would be to ask you to take off your blouse."

"Well . . . " She seemed to be thinking about the idea.. "You first. Show 
me what's under that helmet."

I lifted up the helmet and dropped it on the floor. Anna's green eyes 
seemed to widen as she looked down at the bulge underneath my fly buttons.

"Good lord, am I responsible for that?"

"Yes, of course you bloody well are, woman. You think I can watch you 
licking that thing without getting a stonking great stalk on!"

The teacher laughed and lowered the truncheon. "Well, I'd better stop 
inflaming your passions then. But I did make a promise. Do you still want 
me to take my blouse off?"

"God, yes, please!"

I didn't care what I said as long as she did it. And if she did, if she got 
undressed with me sitting there watching her, nobody could blame me 
afterwards for starting anything.

"Oh, well, if it's to help the police with their enquiries, I suppose 
that's all right. But wouldn't it be more comfortable if you undid your fly 
buttons? Or shall I undo them for you?"

"Please. Yes, please, Anna."

"All right then, Phil. We'll let your pet out for some fresh air, but only 
if he promises not to bite me."

She laughed again, picked up the kitchen chair and moved it closer to the 
armchair. When she sat down, those enticing knees were pressed against mine 
and Anna was leaning forward over my legs, her long fingernails working at 
my top button. It was tight and difficult to undo. The next one was even 
tighter and took even longer for her to unfasten. My opened hands found 
themselves sliding up along her arms and up to her shoulders. Anna gasped 
as I massaged them.

"Careful, officer. You don't know your own strength and I need to 
concentrate on this job -- there that's another one undone. Phil, are you 
not wearing anything under this uniform?"

"No," I confessed. "I never wear any underpants. I don't think they're 
healthy."

"Well, everything I can see so far seems very healthy."

The head of my cock was poking up out of my trousers, the rest of the shaft 
still hidden in them like a periscope in the sea. The teacher's fingers 
were exploring the whole appendage though, running over the serge uniform 
as if she wanted to know how much still remained to come to the surface. 
Perhaps Anna was impressed, because she gasped. Or perhaps she gasped 
because my hands had dropped lower, to help her bra in supporting the 
weight of those big, matronly breasts. And I can tell you they felt 
wonderful, resting in the palms of my hands as if they were over ripe fruit 
ready to have the juice slowly squeezed out of them.

"Phil, thank you, but I can't see what I'm doing with your arms in the 
way." Anna said, as if I was only holding a door open for her.

I let go of her tits. But I promised myself I'd be back. The teacher sighed 
and bent forward again, unfastening another fly button. My cock was still 
half  trapped though, still pointing back with the eye at the top looking 
up at me. Anna lifted up her right hand, dabbed the top of her right index 
finger with her tongue, then put the finger down and pressed the tip 
lightly onto the bottom of  my cock's head, on the border between the 
smooth curve and my circumcised foreskin. I moaned and gripped her 
shoulders again. It felt as if my collar was now five sizes smaller than it 
had been.

"Is that the first kiss it's had in this town, Phil?"

"Yes. And God, it felt good."

Again I heard that deep throated laugh. "I bet it won't be the last. I'm 
sure a worm this size will soon be getting some nibbles from the local 
girls. Just be careful one of them doesn't put a hook in it."

She quickly unfastened the last two fly buttons and my best friend stood up 
free and unfettered, although he was leaning to one side like the Tower of 
Pisa. Until Anna put both her hands on the shaft, one above the other and 
held my prick straight. Then she leaned back, still keeping the double 
grip, her arms straight out and down in front of her.

"My God," she whispered, "It ought to have a brass plate on it: 'This 
monument was raised by pubic subscription'. Phil, do you know why good time 
girls used to wear lipstick in ancient Rome?"

"No." What the fuck was she talking about?

"It was so they could find out which of them could fellate a man the 
deepest. By seeing which shade of lipstick was spread the furthest along 
his penis. They'd have a real challenge here, wouldn't they?"

"Nobody ever taught that kind of thing in my history classes," I said with 
absolute truth. "I wish they had. It would have made school a lot more 
interesting."

Anna kept me straight up and down with her left hand while she used her 
right one to stroke my cock as she had done the truncheon. My brain seemed 
to be swelling up and trying to push my eyes out of  their sockets.

"Phil, the only thing you need to know about history is that might is 
right. And I like strong men who take what they want. Why don't you pretend 
I used to be one of your teachers and this is your chance to get your own 
back for every punishment I ever gave you?"

I could hardly believe my ears -- nothing remotely like this had ever 
happened to me in my life before. But if there was ever a time for asking 
for an invitation to be repeated, this certainly wasn't it. One grab of her 
wrist, another at her elbow, a good pull and Anna was sprawling down on top 
of me, face down and gasping as I maneuvered her around until I had that 
plump bottom across my knees. A gift from lady luck, and I thanked her with 
a laying on of hands rite. Well, one palm, actually, slamming down half a 
dozen times, and every one connecting hard, hard enough to raise a cloud of 
dust if there had been any in that tight red skirt. What was underneath it 
was certainly smarting because Anna began bellowing after every slap. It 
had something of the sound of a cow overdue for a milking and I hoped to 
God there was nobody within earshot.

"Pax, pax, you big brute," she pleaded.

I stopped laying on the heavy ones and gave her some love taps instead, 
spacing them out with plenty of firm rubbing over each quivering haunch. 
The head teacher was squirming around and moaning, her hipbone rubbing up 
against my own boner. Jesus, I couldn't keep this game up for much longer. 
My hand came down again, one blow, but at full strength, hard enough for 
Mrs Morrison to bounce forward several inches and kick her high heels up 
off the floor.

"Yeoow!! No, no, please, Phil. I'll do anything you want me to, anything."

"Stand up."

She huffed and puffed getting back onto her feet, although she made the 
movement about as quickly as she could and I didn't mind, much, because I 
had a chance to grab a quick feel of a tit as Anna was rising. No wonder 
she was struggling, with all that top hamper to lift up.

"Take your top off."

Anna kept giggling, standing by the side of the chair and undoing her 
buttons as I stroked the backs of her knees. The hot silky patches of skin 
underneath her tights trembled, then even more so as I lifted up the hem of 
her skirt on the top of my hand. My fingers swirled higher up her left 
calf. The blouse came off, sliding along her arms in an untidy bunch of 
flower patterned fabric. Sliding along, removed and tossed over the back of 
the kitchen chair without Anna moving a step. Underneath the shirt was a 
massive pair of low cut blue bra cups with a pink ribbon sewn in a bow 
between them, not to mention enough cleavage for a ferret to hide in. Anna 
looked down, ran her hands over the cups and purred. It sounded like the 
voice over for one of those ads about putting a tiger in your fuel tank. In 
my case, getting a tigress to give you a wank.

At the very back of my mind was the notion that it would be interesting to 
make a few inquiries about Mr Morrison. I could easily imagine him as 
prematurely bent and aged, the used up remains of a strong man married to a 
stronger woman who was permanently on heat. But this didn't seem like a 
good time to mention him. Without waiting for any order from me Anna began 
unbuttoning and unzipping the top of her skirt. I grabbed at the bottom of 
it and tugged the waistband down over her wide hips. The sight of the head 
teacher twisting around like a Turkish belly dancer as she wriggled herself 
out of the skirt's waistband was completely illegal -- an incitement to 
riotous behavior if ever there was one. The skirt suddenly began falling of 
its own weight, down and down, over my hand and arm, then ending up in a 
pile around Anna's feet. She kicked it aside, laughed, knelt down by the 
side of the chair and leaned forward over the armrest. The tip of a warm 
wet tongue touched me where her finger had before.

"Do you know much latin, Phil?"

God, that collar was strangling me!

"No." I croaked.

"Well, if anybody ever asks you, fellatio is the past principle of the 
latin word fellare, which means to suck. Do you think I can do something to 
help you remember that?"

"Yes. Yes, I think you can help me remember that!"

Suddenly I was looking down at a mass of red hair and good old John Thomas 
was actually getting a generous coating of lipstick around his head and 
collar. This was incredible!

But what would happen if I was late for my point and the station wanted me 
to speak to me? Missing on my first day? My police career would be over 
within twenty four hours. But here was a chance to sneak a quick look at my 
watch without offending the very friendly lady, and it said I still had 
thirty minutes in hand. Christ, not much time to waste. Still, while Anna 
was seeing how far down she could leave a strawberry tidemark I did 
something useful by unhooking the back of her bra. Anna responded by 
increasing the stroke rate of her latin lesson. Maybe there were some 
useful things to learn by studying history. But then she halfway stood up 
before crawling forward over my lap and settling back down on it in the 
same position as she had been before. Only this time there was no red skirt 
ready for punishment but a pair of  tightly stretched blue panties 
underneath her dark colored tights.

OK, if Anna wanted to feel the heavy hand of the law again, so be it. One 
left, one right, one on the bullseye, and then again, pinning her down 
across those fine hips with the flat of my left arm as I paddled her rump 
with the right. Lots of yelps and groans -- look right and see a pair of 
high heels kicking up at the ceiling, look left and catch a glimpse of the 
teachers bra strap tangled around her elbows and the side of a plump 
unfettered breast which seemed to be bouncing up and down off the floor. By 
God, I'd bet the boys in this school would have paid up their pocket money 
for the rest of their lives to watch this. And it was still only the 
beginning. Or maybe I'd fallen off the bus to work this morning and I was 
in a coma and dreaming all of this.

Dream or reality, there was no time to waste, not with the watch ticking 
away. I heard Anna call out in encouragement as I grabbed hold of the top 
of the panties. A tug, another harder one, until the panties were tangled 
up with the tights in a roll that I pulled clear of her buttocks and right 
down to her knees. The fat white half moons of her arse seemed to be 
fighting each other as Anna squirmed around on top of my knees like an 
excited puppy. I noticed with some interest a thumb shaped birthmark on her 
left buttock. God, but I was a good copper -- the first day on the beat and 
already I was picking up on useful identification features. But now it was 
my turn to let the public know that the force was always willing to lend a 
hand.

This time I gave Anna several genuinely crisp slaps, hard enough to leave a 
red patch after each one with the sound of bare flesh on bare flesh echoing 
around the room. And if you've never had a fine figure of a head teacher 
slung across your lap and squealing for mercy, well, you've missed an 
interesting experience. Then I varied the assault by flattening my right 
hand and pushing it down between her thighs, the top finger brushing 
against the patch of  wet moss buried deep in the top of the crevice. At 
the same time I reached out with my other hand, grabbing a handful of tit 
which included a nipple as big and hard as a walnut. Anna arched her back 
like a diver going off  a board and whimpered.

"Jesus, yes! Bring me off!"

"Seeing as how I've got a frenchie in my tunic pocket, how about I fuck you 
instead?"

"Yes! That's it, fuck me silly, Phil!"

"Get up then."

I thought I'd have trouble lifting myself out of that collapsed chair but 
it's amazing what you can do when you're hormones are motivated. It might 
as well have been an ejector seat by the way I shot up into the air and 
landed on my feet. But Anna dead heated me by sitting down on the kitchen 
table as quickly as I'd got up and tugging her panties and tights down over 
those knees I'd been admiring so much only a few moments before.

As eager as I was to undo that damned collar, it seemed the right thing to 
do to kneel down and take a moment to get rid of those underthings 
completely, hauling them off and flinging them to one side. And as they 
left my hand a couple of warm bra cups dropped on top of my head, with Anna 
giggling at the joke. They got thrown away as well, my hands went 
underneath the teacher's knees and I spread her legs open so I could get my 
mouth where it would do the most good.

The next time Anna laughed, she had some reason for it. She was wet and hot 
and her clit was standing up like a sentry looking out of a trench before I 
pushed it down and around with my tongue. There was a kind of a screeching 
noise then, so high pitched and going on for so long I really wondered if 
one of the boilers was blowing off a safety valve. But since they weren't 
even lit and since a lot of fingers were scratching at my close cut hair  I 
assumed that Anna was responsible for the noise. I also decided I'd better 
stop what I was doing before somebody heard her and called the police 
station to report a murder in progress. So I leaned back into a direct 
eyeball to nipple confrontation as I tried to set a record  for unbuttoning 
a uniform tunic.

Anna opened her legs and leaned forward, holding up her tits from below as 
if she was trying to sell them to me in a market place. A giant economy 
sized offer that would have been, because she had the biggest pair I'd ever 
set eyes on in the raw, lightly tanned all over I noticed, and if they 
weren't in the first bloom of youth they still looked pretty sprightly. The 
nipples were nearly as big as the tops of strawberry ice cream cones and 
looked even more delicious. I'd only managed to unfasten my collar hooks so 
far but that was a great relief and I couldn't help but take a second to 
pinch each of those swollen tips. Nice and hard too, and I saw Anna's eyes 
and mouth make big round O's as her nerve endings got jazzed up. Which was 
a chance that was even more tempting. I stood up, grabbed the back of her 
head and pulled her mouth towards me for another run up and down the 
scales. Nothing needed explaining: one set of fingers stroking underneath 
my balls, another pair holding the base of my prick steady, and the head 
teacher was giving me more head than I'd ever had before.

God, what couldn't I do with this mad bitch given enough time? Handcuffs, a 
cane and a long lazy afternoon in front of a camera and she'd be my slave 
for life. And I thought I'd been sent to the quietest, dullest, most boring 
town between the Wash and Wales! It was like lighting a cracker on bonfire 
night and then suddenly realizing you had holding a stick of dynamite with 
the fuse burning down. Except there was no way of I was going to let go of 
Anna until she exploded -- or I did. Which was something that was 
certain  to happen very soon.

"Anna, wait, wait!"

I felt around in one of my tunic pockets, pulled out the french letter and 
ripped the top of the packet off with my teeth.

"Here, put this on me. Slowly, damn you, slowly."

For a while it seemed I was never going to undo that tunic. Eight buttons, 
eight big silver buttons, eight bloody great buttons, with my clumsy 
fingers feeling like a bunch of bananas as I struggled to undo them and 
Anna laughing down below as she unrolled the rubber along my prick. Inch by 
inch, her fingers squeezing and pushing against the resistance of the 
sheath until it was as far back as it was ever going to go.

"Oh God!" she called out. "Only I could end up getting seduced by a 
policeman with a plumber's friend for a sexual organ. I can't do anything 
with this thing!"

Then she used her lips again to make sure there were no little bubbles 
anywhere. Typical woman, one mouth and two different messages coming from 
it at the same time.

"Fucking hell . . . "

The last button finally popped through the last buttonhole, the tunic went 
wherever everything else had gone, and I was hauling up by her hair. Not 
wanting to hurt her, mind, only to get her into position. Anna grunted with 
pain but came along willingly, pushed backwards onto the table, arching up 
with her legs wide open and her hands clasped around the tops of her 
breasts as though they were going to try to escape. Which was a reasonable 
precaution because I was going to do my best to bounce them off the 
ceiling. I ripped my braces off my shoulders, bent down in front of the 
kitchen chair and grabbed Anna's high heels, gripping one of them between 
my teeth and lifting up her left foot to slip the other one back on.

"Christ, what are you doing, Phil?"

"Mmmmmm."

"Take that bloody thing out of your mouth . . . "

"It's OK." I put the other shoe back where it had been. "It's just that I 
like to fuck women with them still wearing their shoes."

I lifted up her heels and spread her legs apart to rest on my shoulders. 
Anna was having some kind of hysterical fit of laughter: "This never 
happened to Cinderella"

I guided the tip of my cock between her swollen cunt lips and pushed it 
into the yielding flesh. "Then try this for a happy ending."

Anna stopped laughing and called out: "Yes, yes!" slapping her hands down 
on the table top on each side of her body.

I took advantage of the opportunity to grab her tits for myself and to haul 
her towards me with them. At the same time I drove into Anna far enough to 
make sure everything was lined up properly. The result was an ear splitting 
screech loud enough to have sent a ship in a fog on an emergency change of 
course and the table hopped across the smooth floor like a baby kangaroo. 
Oh yes, and I got a hell of a lot of satisfaction out of the movement.

The second time I did it, Anne clapped both her hands over her mouth, 
opened her eyes twice as wide as usual and locked her heels together behind 
my neck. And I'd been cursing that collar for being tight!

In about no time flat the table was jammed in tight in a corner of the 
room, I was rammed in tight against Anna, grunting like a drowning pig, and 
a stream of  half muffled yelps was spurting out between her clenched 
fingers. I also felt as if I was one of those male insects that has its 
head ripped off by the female during mating. As a teacher, Anna would have 
made a great trapeze artist, one of those that hang by their ankles from a 
swinging bar. I must have been mad to put her shoes back on -- if she dug 
into my back with those high heels I'd be face down in a hospital bed for a 
weeks.

  Mind you, I was mad, completely fucking mad, and that teacher was a lot 
tighter fit over John Thomas than I'd expected. The first half was 
easy-peasy, but getting the rest of him past her cunt muscles took some 
serious effort. I had to lean right forward on top of the trapped woman, 
bending her knees back towards her face and breaking her anklelock on my 
neck. Which seemed like a good thing, only she put her arms up and grabbed 
my ears instead, which was worse. And I had to let go of her tits as I 
slithered forward. But Christ, wasn't she just squealing and thumping 
against me as I split her open? Our faces were only inches apart and the 
smell of her perfume was getting sucked into my nostrils like high octane 
vapor into an revving engine.

But what was the best thing of all, apart from the stroking my cock was 
getting, was watching her expression. She might be Mrs Anna Morrison, head 
teacher, a professional and married woman  but right then, half an hour 
after I'd met her, she was a gasping bucking bitch on heat without a 
thought or a feeling in her except what she was getting from Phil Rodger's 
huge prick.

"Phil! God!  I love this!"

Those green eyes were wild and rolling around like the plastic ones in a 
cheap doll when it gets shaken. Here, without doubt, was a woman getting 
the best fuck she'd ever had in her life and totally mind blown because of 
it. I knew that she'd never forget what I was doing to her on top of this 
table: I also knew that from now on she'd be panting to spread herself  out 
underneath me whenever I offered her the chance.

Christ, this was great, but I had to hurry!

Well, no problem there. I could feel the pressure in my shaft building up 
and up, until suddenly it was emptying out into the end of the tunnel that 
was Anna, and she was baying for the moon and almost tearing my ears off -- 
God, there were some bad habits I'd have to break her of, but they could 
wait. It seemed like we'd come together, right on the sweet spot, and you 
couldn't ask for better than that, especially on a first gallop. With my 
broadside fired the main battery went limp and so did I, slumping down, and 
putting my lips into Anna's bellybutton to blow a final triumphant 
'brrrrrr.' Then I looked up, between those two soft piles of  tit flesh, to 
see Anna's head rolling slowly from side to side, each roll drawn out with 
an accompanying moan of satisfaction. If she'd taken the starch out of me 
it seemed I'd certainly done the same by her.

I stood up, my trousers finally sliding all the way down to my ankles and 
glanced at my watch. No time to waste, I had to get going. But first, just 
a moment to tease the teacher. I put my hand down to the bottom of her well 
rounded belly, twisted some of her reddish tinged cunt hairs into a tuft 
and tugged at it, hard.

"Ow." Anna seemed to come back to earth, enough to stare at me, her cheeks 
as red as her bush."Oh, God, I must have been mad. We must have been mad. 
Did anybody hear us, you think?"

I looked down at her voluptuous body sprawled on top of the table with not 
a thing on except the high heeled shoes and a thin gold necklace. "Nobody 
heard me. But you kept going off like an air raid alarm. Look at the state 
you're in, Anna You look as if you've just been shagged by a shipload of 
Vikings."

"I feel like I've just been shagged by a shipload of Vikings," she answered 
and giggled again. "Absolutely ravaged, in fact, from head to toe and it's 
a wonderful feeling. But we mustn't do it here again."

I pulled on her hairs again, making her lift her bottom off the table and 
then let her down again. She moaned, took my free hand and kissed it on the 
palm. Yes, this was definitely a woman who liked to be put in her place.

"No, the next time . . . " I said, then paused. My fingers slid down into 
her cunt and found her clit. "No, the next time I want you in a loose 
skirt, a suspender belt and nylons, but no panties, and you'll bring a cane 
with you. Understand?"

Her face flushed even an even deeper shade than it already was as her eyes 
rolled back. A tiny touch of my hooked finger and her entire body shook as 
though I'd fired a spark into her.

"Phil!"

It started out sounding like a protest but finished up as a cry of 
encouragement. Amazing, what some women can do with even one word.

I pulled off the french letter, tied a knot in the end, stretched the 
rubber right back and let it go, to flick against the teacher's left 
nipple. She yelped and rubbed the sore spot as I draped the frenchie 
between her lolling breasts.

"That's for holding onto my ears."

"Phil . . ."

If Anna had been thinking of complaining, the words died on her lips as I 
slipped my fingers back into her cunt and curled them around to a position 
where I'd achieved good results with other girls in the past. It was like 
tickling a trout out of a stream if you could just hit on the right place. 
When the teacher moaned and tugged on my cock I knew I'd found the right 
place inside her. Keeping my hand where it was,  I stirred up Anna's pot 
for her until her hips were jerking up and down.

"Phil . . .  !"

Whatever the emotion in the word this time, Anna certainly wasn't 
complaining. I put my other hand over her mouth and she licked it 
frantically, then snuffled for air through her nose like a rooting pig as I 
made her come again. Her fingers squeezed my limp cock so hard I almost 
squealed myself, the bottom half of her body shot up on the tips of her 
shoes like a ballet dancer at full stretch and, incredibly, she stayed 
rigid in mid air for three or four seconds before slumping down on top of 
the table like a crow shot in the nest. Anna's head slid down into the gap 
between the end of the table and the wall and taking my hand off her mouth 
was like uncovering the exhaust inlet on a hard working steam engine. Well, 
at least she was still breathing.

While the teacher was recovering I began frantically pulling on my uniform 
again. I used her panties to wipe my cock on and then shoved them in my 
pocket as a trophy. If the job kept on going the way it had started I 
reckoned I might be able to get together a good collection before long.

"Phil? You're going?"

Anna was back with me, her head lifted up and her right hand down between 
her opened legs as she played with herself. God, the bitch was insatiable 
once she got excited.

"I've got to. Otherwise I'll be in real trouble. Sorry."

She looked like a kid on Christmas morning waking up to find an empty sock: 
"What about me?"

"It's all right, madam, I'll report you as a victim of a hit and run fucking."

Anna laughed, then screwed up her eyes and drew in a deep breath as her 
fingers worked faster. "But I need another one now," she protested.

"Sorry. But you know what they say, the criminal always comes back to the 
scene of the crime. You can grab him then."

"Yes, but for now?"

"For now, I've got to go."

Anna sat up, slid her legs around, stood up as I struggled to refasten my 
collar clips. Had I got everything? Helmet, baton? Yes. Ready to go. Which 
wasn't easy because the head teacher was leaning over the table, her bare 
bottom towards me and still frigging herself off. It was like looking at 
the full moon reflected in rippling water because Anna was starting to gasp 
and wriggle as she got more excited. If it came to that I was getting stiff 
again myself. Given half a chance I would have been back up her like a rat 
up a drainpipe. But I didn't have half a chance. Anyway, always leave them 
wanting more, that was my philosophy.

"You want me to bring a cane next time, Phil? You meant that?"

God, but she was a glutton for punishment.

"That's right, a cane. I'm going to make you beg for your next fuck, Mrs 
Morrison."

Whap! Whap! A left and a right hander, one open handed full strength slap 
on each fat cheek and I was away, walking off between the boilers and 
leaving behind a head teacher who sounded as if she was going into labor.

I slipped out of the building after making sure nobody was watching, then 
walked back to the telephone box with steps a yard long and going like the 
clappers. Got there just as it rang and the sergeant asked why I was out of 
breath. I said I'd got lost and had to hurry to get back to the box. Then 
he asked how I was liking the job so far and I said that it wasn't so bad 
after all.

An hour later I was downing a pint of best bitter and wondering if Anna had 
finally managed to get herself dressed and off home.

And next morning my landlady was brushing me down in my bedroom before I 
went on duty, making sure there was no bits of lint on the uniform.

"You young lads, you don't know the first thing about your own jobs," she 
said. "In the force, you always dress on the right. Like this."

She put down the brush, got hold of my cock  and pushed it over onto the 
right side of my flies. "There, that's the way it should be. But I suppose 
I'll have to do  it for you every morning, won't I?"

"Yes, Mrs Logan," I agreed happily. "I suppose you probably will."

THE END

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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