Original Post Date Wed, 19 & 20 Jun 2002

                         Disclaimer

This is piece of fiction.  Any imagined resemblance to
people living or deceased is either the result of dementia
on the reader's part or that the reader is, in fact, a
character of this story.   It is assumed that readers of
this story have the permission of the state, mom, dad, and
pastor and are able to tell the difference between real and
make-believe.  Furthermore, the writer is fully aware that
he is bound for hell, but welcomes both praise or/and well
thought out, humourous insults on his writing skill.  Note:
he already knows he cannot spell 'warth shet'.  Special 
Thanks go to Pat for helping me stay motivated these last 
few months.

The events and descriptions of this story are the sole
property of Kenny N Gamera and should not be recorded,
reposted, or profited from in anyway without express
written permission of the person hiding behind that pen
name. Reposting and free archiving will be tolerated given
the writer's name and address remains attached.  Archiving
by Deja.Com and ASSTR/ASSM is assumed and encouraged.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69@hotmail.com

ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Gamera
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Gamera/Beggars_Can't_Be

                Beggars Can't Be... Part 15
                 A Cop and a Doughnut Shop
                            by
                      Kenny N Gamera

I was between lab and work.  The early afternoon sun hung 
still high in a cloudless sky that was filled with a hazy 
blue.  My rearview mirror was filled with the blinking red 
and blue lights of the local police.  The police car was a 
car length and a half behind me going at exactly my speed, 
not that much over the limit.  Still, if I were wanted, I 
were wanted.

   I pulled to the side of the road and shut the motour 
off.  I left my hands at the classic ten and two positions 
while I waited.  It wasn't a long wait.  From the edge of 
my peripheral vision, I saw the motion of the cop next to 
my door.  I reached over to the crank and lowered the 
window, feeling like an ass as the process took the 
required time.

   "Good afternoon, Mr. Gamera."

   "Good afternoon, Officer," I looked up, "Sherry?"

   If it weren't for the clear effort she was making in 
trying not to break out laughing, she would have looked 
very official in her crisp blue uniform.  She had her blond 
hair stuffed beneath her cap, but her bust was very 
apparent beneath her shirt.  The polyester slacks did 
nothing much for her ass, but they were after all 
polyester.  She gave me a wink with a crystal blue eye.

   "How's it going, Ken?"

   "Surviving."

   "Good."

   "Is it?"

   Sherry sighed and shook her head.  "I think you'll find 
so."

   "How are you Sherry," I asked feeling the need to divert 
the flow of conversation.

   "Pretty good," she answered.  "Haven't seen you for a 
while."

   I shrugged. A flash of her sitting in Charlie's chair 
and Jenny crying against my arm floated unwelcome in my 
memory.

   "It's been a few months."

   "Yeah," she squirmed a little, "Ken, I get off work at 
about five.  Do you want to meet later?"

   "Is this what this is all about?" I said with a laugh.

   "Don't knock it.  I get a lot of my dates this way," she 
answered with a grin.  "Where do you want to meet?"

   "The Golden Cafe okay with you?"

   "No sweat.  About eight?"

   "How about six?" I suggested.  "I'm out at five as 
well."

   "Ho'kay, doe'kay, Mr. Gamera.  I'll see you at the 
Golden Cafe at six."

   We made our farewells before she began the trek back to 
her car.  I reached my hand over to the ignition without 
watching.  Instead, I looked into the rearview mirror on 
the driver's door and watched Sherry walking away.  It was 
pleasant enough inspite of the polyester pants.

   Sherry turned an instant before reaching for the door 
handle.  She waved at me.  I blushed at being caught.  
Deciding not to pretend that I hadn't been watching, I 
turned and waved back.

   We have now reached a point in the narrative that 
frankly I find difficult.  In short, do I waste all of our 
precious time, bandwidth, disk space, and what all with a 
boring account of a short drive to work, a descriptive bit 
about starting the car, pulling out into traffic, and the 
rest of the trivia thus associated?  Or shall I just a say 
something such as 'I arrived at work' and continue from 
there?  Or do I just babble some humourous babbling (or 
something that I hope passes as humourous) to distract you 
as I get...there...such...as...I'm...doing...now...

   Um...well...that decided...I...uh...arrived at work.  
Mr. Slot's was busy with all the normal inducers of lower 
anatomy pain.  Between people looking for romance novels 
without the dirty parts (which sort of defeats the purpose, 
doesn't it) to the geeks looking for the James Blish 
_Starlogs_ (no, I won't explain.  If you don't understand, 
bless your ignorance), the time passed with the slowness 
that time can only acquire when contained within a period 
of work.  I rang up sales.  I smiled and nodded in sympathy 
to complaints I had no power to hope to fix.  I watched 
Teresa 'sort' through the adult magazines.

   I looked out the open area at the front of the store a 
lot, as well.  Girls walked by.  Women walked by.  More 
pretty than not.  A young girl walked by holding the hand 
of a young boy.  She stopped and waved at me.  I waved 
awkwardly back at her.  She turned and marched into the 
store, dragging the boy behind her.

   "Hi, Mr. Gamera."

   "Uh."

   "You don't, like, remember me do you?"  She giggled and 
continued before I could confirm her guess.  "I'm Lisa.  
I'm one of Ms. Smith's cheerleaders.  We met at 
MacBurgerSlut's a few, like, months ago."

   "Uh."  I shifted on my feet.  I couldn't remember her, 
even though parts of the night were still crystal clear in 
my memory.  "Hello.  Again."

   "Rick, go look, like, at the Star Trek novels or 
something."

   "I don't like Star..."

   "Now, Rick."

   "Yes, ma'am," answered the boy, who I assumed was named 
Rick, before he padded off to the science fiction section.

   "You'll have to excuse him; it's his first year in the 
chess club."

   "Uh?"

   "Gosh, Ms. Smith is right.  You are cute when you are 
confused."  She continued over my confusion, "I just wanted 
to let you know that we all think that it's pretty, you 
know, shitty what Ms. Wright made Ms. Smith do to you.  
We're all, like, cheering for you," she giggled, "on the 
cheerleading squad.  Even Colleen and Kim."

   "How do you know about all that?"

   Looking at me with that look that teenagers save for 
brain dead adults, she said with a sigh, "We're young, not 
stupid.  Speaking of which, if things don't improve between 
you three, I'm, like, all legal and everything in a couple 
of years."

   She turned to gather poor Rick from the science fiction 
section (where he was staring off into...space).  A few 
steps away she looked back to me and added with a wink, 
"and if that isn't important to you, it isn't important to 
me either."

   Now take a lead weight about the size and shape of a 
cider block (which if you don't know looks like the piece 
that is used for three armies in Risk and is about thirty-
five centimeters long.  If that doesn't help, well don't 
worry about it.  It won't be on the exam). Now, have a 
partner hold a mirror up so that you can see your face.  
Take the lead weight that I described earlier in the 
paragraph and drop it on your foot.  Either one but not 
both, as you will need the other foot to limp to hospital. 
As the weight lands on top of your foot, look into the 
mirror, taking note of your facial expression.

   This was the look on my face.

   "Well, it seems you may have a new girlfriend."

   I swallowed, "did you hear that, Teresa?"

   "Yep," she said from next to me (not pointing out to me 
that she must've heard in order to tease me about it).  "A 
little young, but very, very cute."

   "Uh."

   "Don't start that shit with me, Kenny.  Besides I'm just 
kidding."

   "Still," I said with a glance as the two teenagers 
headed out the open area, "it isn't right."

   Teresa shrugged.  "What's right?  I don't know, and I 
don't really care.  I just know what I like, which is just 
about anything that I can get away with.  Speaking of 
which, my husband and I are having a party tonight.  You 
can come if you like."

   "I'm afraid that I can't."  She gave me a look that 
could be described as 'that sort of.'  "I'm meeting a 
friend after work."

   "Ohhhhhh!"

   "She's just a friend, Teresa."

   "So you found someone to replace the bitch."

   "Jenny is not a bitch, Teresa," I all but shouted.  "I 
know bitches.  I've been with bitches with a capital 'bee,' 
a capital 'aeche', and all capitals in between.  She isn't 
one."

   "Sorry, Kenny," she said.  Her voice was meek.  "I just 
don't like what she's done to you, that's all.  You're a 
sweet guy and you deserve better."

   "No, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't've yelled at you."  I 
released a sigh.  "It's been a pretty rough few months."

   "Ken, you only need to relax a little."  A devilish grin 
erupted on her face, and she grabbed my hand with both of 
hers.  "Come with me to the office."

   "Teresa! We can't..."

   "Sure we can," she said as she pulled against my 
resistance to the back.  As we passed one of the regular 
perverts at the adult magazines, she told him, "Andy, I'll 
get you a copy of Naughty Naked Schoolgirls if you keep an 
eye out for shoplifters."

   She didn't wait for the reply, but continued to tug me 
through the stock room to the closet that served as a place 
to fill out paper work for Bruce and me.  Teresa manhandled 
me to the desk and forced me to sit on the edge.  She then 
rolled the chair away from the desk and sat down on it, 
facing me.  She reached over and began to knead my crotch 
through my pants.

   "Kenny, I've been trying to get you to my place forever.  
I want to play with you so bad, but you never come over."  
She looked up at me with her green eyes.  "Tonight, I'll 
get you here."

   She pulled the tongue of my belt through, the belt loop 
and undid the buckle.  Letting the belt droop, she reached 
up to the button of my chinos and popped it open.  Her free 
hand pulled the tab of my zipper down.  I swallowed as I 
watched her peel the flaps of my pants from each other.  
She giggled as she pulled back the elastic band of my 
underwear from my waist and reached inside.  She felt 
around for my private parts; her fingers grasped around my 
nearly not at all flaccid penis.

   "I can't believe that I am letting you do this," I said 
as much to myself as to Teresa.

   "Lift your butt."

   I followed her command, and she slid my pants down to my 
ankles.  My underpants found their way there a moment 
later.  She rolled the chair forward, trapping my legs 
against the desk with her knees in the process.  With 
separate hands, she started to gently stroke my penis and 
fondle my testicles.

   "Nice."  She looked up at me and smiled.  "Nice and 
comfortable."

   With these words, she lowered her head and put her mouth 
over my shaft.  She sank down with the ease of much 
practice, until I felt her lower lip touch my scrotum.  She 
held herself there, and I felt her tongue between my penis 
and her lip.  My eyes closed.

   I tossed my head back such that I would have been 
staring at the junction of ceiling and wall, except of 
course that my eyes were closed.  I saw nothing; I only 
felt and at that I felt only through my penis, trapped in 
Teresa's mouth.

   Except for her tongue, she remained motionless.  Her 
hands kept my legs apart.  Her head remained glued to my 
body.  I leaned back on the desk, using my arm to support 
my weight.  With my free hand, I reached to her face.  My 
fingertips slid against her cheek.

   She started to hum.  I think that it may have been 
Betovenen's Fifth based on the rhythm, but I may be wrong.  
Anyway, whatever it was, it felt nice.  It just didn't feel 
nice enough.

   "Teresa, you better hurry up.  We need to get back to 
work."

   She said something that felt like okay around me.  She 
lifted her face from my body just as slowly.  Then, we much 
quicker but shorter thrusts, she began to nod her head.  
Her lips slid along my shaft.  Her tongue stayed in 
constant contact with the notch in my head just below the 
pisshole.

   With her prior teasing, that was enough; I reached the 
point of my orgasm.  With the first pulse, Teresa 
maneuvered herself so only my glans filled her mouth.  Each 
time my penis jerked and ejaculated into her mouth, she 
swallowed hard.  This pressed her tongue against the 
underside of my penis, hastening the next spasm of my 
orgasm.

   Rolling away from me, she said, "Mmmmm, that was good."

   "Teresa, I..."

   "Ken, can it.  I'm a big girl now, and I enjoy this kind 
of thing.  A lot."  She reached down and pulling my clothes 
from my ankles, lifted them to my butt.  "Lift yourself up.  
My husband doesn't care either.  Heck, he likes the extra 
pussy I bring home as much as I like the resulting 
creampie.

   "So, if you're not seeing anyone, you have nothing to 
feel bad about.  You're alone, and I made you feel good for 
a little while.  That's nothing to feel guilty about."

   She slapped my hand from my fly and finished taking care 
of the repackaging herself.  When done, she stood from the 
chair.  She reached a hand out to me.  I took it and, with 
her help, got off the desk, and together, we left the 
office.

   "You're a sweet guy," she continued the lecture, "and I 
wanted to do this for you.  I've fucked everyone else in 
the store except Stumpy, and I like you the best of anyone 
here."

   "Speaking of Stumpy, he'll be here soon, so we need to 
get back to work."

   I rang up the magazine that Teresa had promised Andy.  
She handed it to him and gave him a kiss, which caused him 
to turn a couple of interesting shades of red.  The two of 
us went back to our various projects for the short time 
until Stumpy came to relieve me.  As I finished up and he 
began his assigned puttering, Teresa came over to me and 
placed a hand on my shoulder.

   "Kenny?"  Her voice was soft but not a whisper.

   "Yeah?"

   "Can you come over tomorrow night?  After close?  I 
meant what I said about liking you best, and well..."

   "Uh?"

   "Have you ever been involved in a double penetration 
before?"

   "Uh!"

   "It's fun." 

   "Uh," I swallowed, hard.  "I'll...uh...think about it." 

   "Good."  Teresa looked around and saw no sign of Stumpy.  
She reached up and pinched my earlobe with her teeth.  
"Tell me tomorrow." 

   I beat a quick retreat and rushed from the store to my 
car.   I drove straight to the Golden Cafe.  Naturally, I 
arrived early so I took a seat on the patio after getting 
myself a latte.  I, also, pulled out a copy of "Survival of 
cosmic barium isotopes in the Lake Woebegon Quartzite and 
pre- Cambrian ocean depths in the north central United 
States: Initial results of study."  I spent the next 
indeterminate amount of time wondering if a decade should 
have resulted in results beyond the initial results.

   This line of thought was interrupted by the sound of a 
loud, small engine of the type normally attached to a 
motourcylce.  The particular engine was, in fact, attached 
to such a contraption.  Attached to the contraption was a 
nicely tight pair of Mr. Straus's contribution to western 
civilization (and thus for good or ill world civilization).  
These encased a pair of long legs that met at a very 
pleasantly athletic ass.  This joined onto a torso of 
classic shape.  Beneath a denim jacket were a pair of 
breasts that only a porn starlet would see need to enhance.  
Long blond hair flowed from under a helmet with a heavily 
tinted shield.

   She waved over to me.  I waved back as she shed the helmet 
and placed it on the back of her cycle.  (If you haven't 
guessed that this was Sherry, you're as clueless as I'm 
supposed to be).  She walked up the steps and across the 
deck to where I was sitting.

   "Hi, Ken.  Wha'chu reading about?"

   "I'm really not sure.  I've been trying to figure it out 
since I started grad school without any luck.  I'm not 
convinced that the authour knows what's it about either."

   "Oh-kay?"

   "Don't worry about it and grab yourself something to 
drink."

   She agreed and disappeared inside.  I took the 
opportunity to stuff my boring (okay, shall I?...yes, I 
shall) stuff back into my bookbag. As the last piece of 
paper went in, Sherry reappeared form the coffee shop, 
styrofoam cup in hand.  The paper tab and string of a 
teabag dangled from the side.  She spun a chair around and 
sat down, leaning forward against the chair's back.

   "So, how is it going, Ken."

   "S'okay."

   "The truth, please."  Her voice was as hard as the 
quartzite I had just been reading about.

   "Yes, Mistress."  I replied automatically.  I smiled as 
if it were just a joke.  "Shitty."

   She didn't smile back; she frowned.  I took a swallow of 
coffee.  Sherry quietly played with her tea bag by slowly 
pulling its string, up then down.  I stared at my hands and 
waited, but only unsuccessfully.

   "Okay, really shitty."

   The tea bag peaked from the surface of the hot water, 
before being allowed to sink back into the scalding liquid.  
Sherry sternly watched it go under.

   "Incredibly, really shitty."

   Again the tea bag broke the surface.  It twisted a half-
turn on its string.  Sherry lowered her hand.  The tea bag 
disappeared.

   "Super, incredibly, really..."

   "Can it, Ken."  I canned it, and she smiled.  "If you 
can crack wise you can't be doing too bad."

   "I've been worse."

   "I know."

   I looked at her.  The frequency of dunk for her tea bag 
increased more than just slightly, going from a slow, 
steady, and measured rate to a quick, jerky bounce that 
whipped up small waves in surface of the tea.

   "Have you heard of bad cops?"  She didn't wait for an 
answer.  "I'm a not very good one.  I've done nothing 
major, mind you, but I have traded sex for looking the 
other way.  You know, traffic tickets and the like.  I've 
even used the computer system for personal stuff, like 
doing background checks on people who..."

   She looked away from her tea and looked towards me.

   "I ran one on you.  That first day we met at Jenny and 
Kimmy's.  I know about Gina."

   "Sherry, I..."

   "I told you, Jenny is very special, and she is extremely 
important to me.  I had to find out about you, to see if 
were safe.  I mean, you seemed okay, but I needed to be 
sure.  I didn't expect to find..."

   "Sherry, I don't want to talk about it."  I kept my 
voice down.  The deck may have been empty except for us, 
but it was still public.  "She's gone and far away, and I 
need to forget it."

   "Ken?"

   "It never happened, okay?"

   "Yeah, sure," she looked back at her tea.

   "So, you abuse your police powers," I asked with a fair 
imitation of the casualness that I had used when she 
arrived.

   Sherry took my lead and said, "Like I told you when I 
had you pulled over, I get a lot of dates that way.  Not 
that it's all beer and skittles being a cop."

   "It isn't?"

   "Nope."  She giggled, "I miss doughnuts."

   "Doughnuts?"

   "I haven't had a doughnut since two days after I 
declared a CJ major in college.  I don't like teasing..." I 
held back a snort and covered my smirk with a hand 
"...being teased and cops plus doughnuts equal teasing.  
I'd sneak one, but everyone in town seems to know me so..."

   "You doing anything tonight?"

   She raised her head away from her tea and looked at me.  
"Nope, Kim and Jenny are busy, and I'm not planning on 
seeing any clients."

   "Clients?"

   "A nice way of saying slaves.  I'm a semi-professional 
dom.  That's how I met Jenny and Kim.  Jenny brought me 
into the relationship because she didn't do bondage, and 
Kim needs it."  She shrugged.  "Anyway, I'm free."

   "Good, let's have a little field trip."

   "Field trip?"

   "Field trip."

   "Where?"

   "Someplace," I answered with my most evil of evil grins.  
"It's a surprise."

   Sherry shrugged.  "Okay, let's go."

   "What about your motourcycle? can you leave it?"

   "Sure, if anyone stole my bike, they'll get their legs 
broke by the gang I ride with."

   I stood up and so did she.  I grabbed my bag and she 
followed me to my car, stopping at her motourcycle to get 
her helmet.  I unlocked her side first and opened the door 
for her.  After she had dumped her helmet on the back seat 
and got in, I walked around to my side.  She had the door 
unlocked, so I soon was seated and starting up the car.  In 
a moment, we were on the highway heading south from Isle du 
Monstre.

   "You belong to a motourcycle gang?"

   "Yep."

   "How does a cop join a motourcycle gang?"

   Sherry lifted her leg up and pulled it beneath her.  She 
turned to face me and leaned against the passenger door.  
She lifted the other leg so her foot rested on the seat.  
Wrapping her arms around her bent leg, she rested her chin 
on her knee.

   "It was the other way around."

   "Wha?"  I partially didn't understand and partially 
hadn't been listening.

   "I joined the gang first and then became a cop."

   "Oh."

   I drove; Her blue eyes studied me.  The both of us did 
our chosen tasks with a further word.  The only sound was 
the radio playing music from "another classic rock block," 
and the noise of the wind sliding around the car carriage.  
I tried to think of things to say but successfully avoided 
coming up with ways to phrase the questions I wanted to 
ask.  Sherry just sat next to me, Buddha-like with a very 
un-Buddha-like smile.

   "I used to dance," Sherry said in the middle of 
something by someone.

   "Huh?" I attempted to return from whence road, music, 
and unsettling thoughts conspired to carry me.

   "I used to dance," she repeated.  "Well, not really 
'dance' but I didn't really strip either.  I kinda took my 
top off and jiggled on stage."

   "Oh-kay?"

   "I was riding with the gang at the time.  I got to dom 
the wimp husbands of the women the guys would rape.  Then, 
I realized that there had to be more to life then rubbing 
my tits in guys' faces for tips and making other guys dress 
in the underwear their wives weren't allowed to wear 
anymore.

   "I got my GED and started college.  I went into Criminal 
Justice.  My father had been a police officer."

   "I imagine he is proud of you."

   "So do I."  Answering my questioning look, she 
continued, "he died when I was nine."

   "Oh, I'm sorry."

   "Cancer.  Three packs a day of Camel unfiltered will do 
that."

   "Oh."

   "Don't worry.  Everyone thinks the same thing."

   "What?"

   "What else?  My father, the police officer, died when I 
was a little girl.  It had to have been in the line of 
duty. Right?"

   "Well, I..."

   "Wrong.  He did himself in.  And he did it the hard 
way."

   What could I say?  Nope, not that: nothing, which is 
exactly what I said.  I switched on the cruise control and 
took my foot off the gas while Heart played on the radio.  
ZZ Top came on next.  I let the cruise control continue its 
fine job and stared down the road.

   The drive continued like this for something in the 
neighborhood of an hour, about the time we reached an exit 
that I turned onto.  After this, we drove down a two-lane 
country road.  Bright green maples mixed with an infrequent 
oak as a lining along both sides.  Within them, lay a 
tangled jungle of temperate vegetation: small poplars, 
ferns, sumacs, and the like, fighting for the limited light 
coming through the gaps in the canopy along the road.

   Sometimes, a cornfield with waist high stalks, would 
show through the gaps of the trunks.  Near each field would 
be a tall, thin, two or three story, white farmhouse, maybe 
with or maybe without a dirty pickup truck parked outside.

   Sherry moved from her previously described position, 
which she had remained in for the entire highway trip.  She 
watched the scenery go past just as I did.  Only more so, 
as she could devote attention to the task that I had to 
give to the road as we drove through the flat plains and 
the roller coaster mounds that lay between them.

   At a point the music on the radio gave in to the static 
on the radio.  I pulled the tape of the EZ Riter novel I 
had been listening to from the cassette deck.  I replaced 
it with a tape of Simon and possibly but necessarily 
Garfunkle I had assembled from various albums (real ones: 
flat, black, vinyl with little grooves in them).

   "Good choice," murmured Sherry to the window.

   We drove down the road, just enjoying the sights of the 
dying day. Whether Sherry noticed the occasional sign that 
announced our destination and the shortening distance 
between it and us, I do not know.

   At last, the trees grew further apart, the buildings 
grew closer together, and a proud sign of the local Lion's 
Club proclaimed that we were where I had intending us to 
be.  The houses were quickly replaced by small businesses, 
and the road terminated in front of a red brick building, 
standing very official in a well kept green lawn surrounded 
by metered parking spaces. In its center was a white 
steeple with a clock.

   I turned right (my only choice), then turned left, then 
left again.  Traveling half way around the block and turned 
one more right.  Soon, we were traveling through the 
reverse progression of our trip in.

   One last building came up to our left.  I slowed and hit 
the blinker control down.  An approaching car drove past as 
I came to an easy stop.  Once it was by, I made the turn to 
the left.  Gravel crunched under the tires as I pulled into 
the lot in front of the building.

   We closed our doors almost together with the familiar 
double thunk sound from countless old cop shows.  We 
stepped around to the front of the car; she waited for me 
by the front bumper on her side.  I held the store's front 
door open for her.  It opened with the jingle of a real 
metal bell mounted to the top.  She stepped in.  I followed 
when she had cleared the frame.

   She stood in front of the counter.  There were many, 
many empty places behind some of the labels.  Other labels 
had just a few left, but there were plenty of selections 
left considering the time of day.  A bored teenaged girl 
with overdone make-up looked up from a magazine that she 
had lying on the counter top next to the cash register.

   "I won't tell if you won't," I said as I took a place 
next to Sherry.

   She turned to me, her mouth opened, mostly because her 
lower jaw had dropped.

   "Go ahead.  Get one.  Get two."  I held up a couple of 
fingers to make my point.  "No one should know you here, 
and as I said, I won't tell."

   Sherry turned back to the display of doughnuts.  She 
stepped forward to the register and the teen.  The girl 
sighed, pushed her magazine away, and got off the tall-
legged stool that she had been seated on.  Sherry pointed 
out her selections (both plain), which the girl picked up 
with a sheet of waxed paper.  She also poured a cup of 
coffee into a styrofoam cup.

   Sherry waited with her tray as I got a powder sugar 
covered doughnut and a cup of coffee for myself and paid 
for us both.  Together, we walked to a booth.  She again 
waited until after I had sat down.  She surprised me by 
sitting next to me and, I will now note, trapping me in the 
booth.

   "You know, Ken," said she finally, "I could have been 
kidding about the doughnut thing."

   "Yep," I answered before a bite into mine.  "But 
sometimes, we joke to hide the truth."

   "Amen."  She lifted her coffee.  "A toast."

   I held mine up towards her.

   "To good friends."

   She tapped my cup with hers.  A little coffee splashed 
out of each, running down the side.  I touched hers.

   "To bad friends."

   She laughed.  We drank.  We ate.

   "Ken," Sherry said after a doughnut had disappeared.  
"Jenny misses you."

   I winced and held a sip of coffee in my mouth.

   "She cries a lot over you."

   "Sherry, I..."

   Sherry lifted a finger and placed it against my lips. 
"Ken, let me speak.  I know that you think that she has 
left you, but...well...I don't think she has.  She told me 
that soon you would all be together: you, her, and Kim.  
She wants you both, and I'm beginning to think she can pull 
it off.

   "She knew that I was planning on talking with you.  She 
asked me to pass you her love."  She lowered her hand to my 
thigh.  "Now, I need to give you mine as well."

   "Wha?"

   She moved her hand up my thigh to my crotch.  With a 
sure grip, she grabbed my penis.  She kneaded it through my 
pants as if it were a chunk of bread dough.  I looked up at 
the girl at the counter.  She just sat, flipping pages of 
her magazine without the least attention to either it or to 
us.

   Sherry moved her mouth to my ear and whispered, "let's 
go back to your car."

   We left the coffee (it tasted as bad as it smelled) and 
went outside.  Again, I unlocked her door first and opened 
it for her.  She reached in and pulled up the lock to the 
back door.  She opened it.

   "Get in."

   Well, what else could I do, I got in pushing our things 
to the floor.

   She followed and pushed me against the driver's side 
door.  She took off her jacket and dropped it to the side.  
Then, she pulled her knees onto the seat and knelt on it.  
Leaning against her elbows, she reached to my fly and with 
a minimum of fuss undid my pants.

   My penis entered her mouth.  Using on hand to hold me 
and balance on as her tongue rubbed along my growing 
erection, she moved the other down to her jeans to release 
the buttons of fly.

   She released my penis and stood up on her knees.  Taking 
my hand, she took it and placed it around the shaft.  She 
guided it in a down/up motion.  I took the hint and began 
to masturbate.  Seeing this, she winked and pulled her hand 
away.

   She put her hands to either side of her jeans, and 
pushed them from her butt and down her thighs, she wore no 
underpants.  At her knees, she lifted one, slid the pant 
leg under it, and then did the same with the other side. 
Reaching behind herself, she pushed off each of her heavy, 
black leather boots then the jeans.

   I pumped my dick slowly as I looked at Sherry, dressed 
in nothing but a white-pocketed tee shirt and a pair of 
white athletic socks, the kind with the coloured band at 
the top.  Between them was unbroken tan skin, except for a 
tuff of hair above her nether lips, shaped 
like...well...shaped like a cop's shield badge.

   I will admit that I stared.  She reached up to my chin 
and lifted my head.  When our eyes reached level with each 
other's, she winked again.

   "What did you expect," she asked.  "A heart?"

   I laughed.

   She walked on knees closer to me.  She also pulled me 
closer to her.  I squooched on my butt closer to her.  We 
met in the middle.

   She reached down and pulled my pants and underwear down.  
I lifted my butt to let her get them all the way down to my 
ankles.  With this barrier out of the way, Sherry lifted 
her right knee up and threw it over my lap to straddle me.  
Her hand joined mine around my penis once again.

   Together, we held it steady as she sank over it.  The 
walls of her vagina slowly enveloped my shaft. Too quickly, 
she reached the junction of my penis and my body.  She 
moved her mouth again to my ear.

   "This is from Jenny, Ken," she said with a soft moan, 
"with all of her love."

   Sherry moved her hands on my shoulder and began to raise 
and lower herself with her legs.  Her grip was strong, not 
effective enough to hold me down, but still strong enough 
to remind me to stay in place and let her do all of the 
work.  I watched her face; her eyes were closed and 
expression had a Buddha like thoughtfulness.

   I reached up to her tee shirt and pulled it over her 
breasts.  They too were tanned, topped with brown nipples 
that were already erect.  I lowered my mouth to them and 
wrapped my lips around one.

   "Use your teeth."

   I did.

   "Harder."

   I bit harder.

   "Harder."

   I bit harder.

   "Too hard."

   I relaxed a little and swabbed the top of the offended 
tip, with the point of my tongue.  She hummed.  There was a 
knock at the window.  I looked out it.  There was a deputy 
sheriff looking in at us.

   "What is it, Ken."

   I released her nipple to say, "a deputy sheriff."

   "Lower the window."

   As I turned the crack, Sherry reached over to her jeans.  
She struggled with a pocket and keeping the rhythm of her 
thrust against me, but pulled something out as the window 
came open.  The deputy started to sputter something about 
public displays of affection when she flipped it open and 
showed him her badge.  He studied it for a moment as Sherry 
began to twist herself over my body in a clockwise motion.

   "Jeez, couldn't you just get a hotel room, Officer 
Micheals."

   "Mmmmm, good idea."  Sherry dropped her badge and 
reached over to the deputy's hand and brought it to her 
breast.  I shrugged and placed my mouth back to the one I 
had been suckling.  "You know any good ones."

   Sherry began to pump again and at a slightly faster pace 
as the deputy gave directions.  His hand mauled at her 
breast as he spoke.  Just as he reached the end, so did I.  
I ejaculated into Sherry with a groan.

   Sherry pushed my face away with one hand and the 
deputy's mitt with the other.  She pulled her tee shirt 
down to cover her breast and spun around to take a seat 
next to me.  Reaching over to the door, she opened it and 
stepped out of the car.  She closed the door on me.  In 
nothing but her socks and shirt, she leaned over to the 
deputy and kissed him on the cheek with whispered thanks.

   "Ken, give me your keys."

   Taking them from my pants pocket, I handed Sherry my 
keys through the open window.  She unlocked the driver's 
door and got in.  As she turned the ignition, the deputy 
went to the door of the doughnut shop, shaking his head.  
Sherry backed out of the gravel lot, and followed the 
directions to the motel.  Once there, she turned to me in 
the back.

   "Pull your pants up and get us a room.  I want to fuck 
your brains out."

   The check in was easy.  In just moments, my credit card 
was that much closer to maxed out, and I was walking back 
to my car.  Sherry stepped out, pants in one hand, badge 
holder in the other.  She followed as I went to the 
appropriate door.  I opened it and gestured her inside.  I 
entered hastily behind her.

   Dropping her burdens, she stripped off her shirt and 
plopped on top of the bed.  She was taking off the socks, 
as I went into the bathroom.  I used the toilet and then 
washed myself in strategic areas with a washcloth.  
Returning into the bedroom, I found Sherry lying on the 
bed.

   She turned to me and held out her arms.

   "Take me, Ken."

   A pair of handcuffs held her hands.

   "Take them off, Sherry."  I crumpled to my knees.  "Take 
them off, take them off."

   She was over to me in a second as I curled up into a 
ball.  The cuffs dangled from one wrist.

   "They're trick cuffs, Ken."  She stroked my face.  "See 
they're off."

   "Good boy don't hurt girls, Sherry," I mumbled, "good 
boys don't hurt girls."

   
