Charlie Parker - Chapter 1: Charlie

Chapter 1: Charlie

Saturday, May 25, 2019

Charlotte "Charlie" Parker bet the bar patrons $20 that she could turn water into whiskey. A dozen people placed twenty dollar bills on the bar and she had the bartender pour her a shot glass full of Jack Daniels and another of water. She carefully placed a playing card over the shot glass of water, being certain to cover the entire top and carefully flipped it over and placed it atop the whiskey. She then moved the card a sliver as she adjusted the water glass atop the whiskey and the two glasses' contents started to comingle. Within a minute the whiskey filled the water glass and the water the whiskey glass.

The patrons with bets on the bar couldn't decide if they should cheer or moan so they groaned instead. The customers who didn't bet all cheered and clapped. Charlie picked up the shot glass of Jack and downed it in one quick gulp. She then put it upside down on the bar with a bang, picked up the glass of water and drank that, and turned that one upside down too. She collected her $240.

A few guys bought her shots and she gulped them down, turning the empty shot glasses upside down on the bar until she had a neat row of soldiers standing at attention.

Men watched her, waiting for a moment when she was drunk enough to make their move. She was an attractive woman with long wavy red hair and blue eyes. Tall, she had a full voluptuous figure, further enhanced by a chambray shirt unbuttoned until the lace of her pink bra showed. Her jeans rode on her hips, pockets strategically placed on her ass to draw attention to her grabbable cheeks. She looked like a cowgirl with her tooled brown leather belt, well worn brown cowboy boots, and the turquoise crucifix that hung around her neck.

People asked her how she did the trick and she insisted it was magic. A few other people tried to duplicate it without success. They either spilled the contents of one or both glasses before getting them atop each other.

She bet $10 that she could make a straw turn on top of a beer mug without touching it. While the bartender got her a beer and set it down in front of her, she vigorously rubbed a plastic straw with a napkin as ten cautious people put their $10 bets down on the bar. She then placed the plastic straw on top of the beer mug and started guiding each end of the straw with both her hands without actually touching it. The straw swiveled back and forth a few times before she spun it off the top and asked people to pay up as she guzzled down the mug of beer. She fleeced people out of another $100.

Close to quitting time she sat down with three young guys sitting in a corner booth. One of the young guys, his name was Kyle, unzipped her jeans and slid his hand down her pants. He fingered her pussy while they drank. She opened her legs and he stuck his fingers up her pussy, his palm petting her clit. The guy on the other side of her, his name was Tim, was feeling up her tits, his hand under her shirt and bra.

Her nipples soon felt like they were going to start shooting sparks and her pussy felt like it was on fire. Kyle kissed her when she put her hand on his erection pressing against the fly of his jeans. She started to rub it and he groaned into her mouth. She climaxed with a moan, the crotch of her jeans and her panties wet.

Kyle and Tim opened their flies and she stroked their cocks with each hand under the table, loving the feel of young, hard cock. If she could have finagled some way to get under the table and take turns sucking their glorious pricks, she would have but she didn't think she could accomplish it without being seen.

Both men closed their eyes and leaned back in the booth, their hips moving instinctively as she quickened her strokes. She paused to lick her palms and then returned to sliding her fist up and down their respective shafts.

Meanwhile man number three, his name was Mark, was jacking himself off under the table as he watched with great interest. He was a big bald guy with a small dick but she watched it grown to seven inches while she stroked Kyle and Tim. She wiggled her tongue at Mark and he moaned, his arm pumping his cock like a piston at full throttle under the table.

Kyle grabbed a bunch of napkins out of the napkin holder on the table and placed them in front of Charlie. She divvyed them up and then used them to jack off her new friends. She thought they were caught when Tim grunted, his eyes closed as his seed spurt into the handful of napkins. The two men came almost simultaneously.

Mark climaxed soon after. Like Kyle he grabbed a handful of napkins and blew his wad into them, his body shuddering.

The men quickly zipped up their flies after tucking their cocks back into their underwear. Charlie zipped and buttoned her fly then she asked to be excused and Kyle got up to let her out of the booth. She whispered something in his ear before sticking her tongue in it. She grabbed her purse and went into the ladies' room, self-conscious of her wet crotch.

The ladies room was painted an ungodly red with Barney the Dinosaur purple trim. The three metal stall doors were purposely painted with brightly colored graffiti. The floor was a dull black tile. The only good thing about the bathroom was the sound diminished when the door shut. The buzz of voices, cackles of laughter, and thumping music soon became a quiet din.

One of the stalls was in use so she went into one of three leaving the empty one between them. She assessed the damage to her panties and jeans. The wet spot wasn't that big and probably wasn't noticeable unless she bent over. She left the stall, washed her hands and touched up her makeup.

When she exited the ladies' room, she looked down the hall towards the bar out front. She heard laughter from the booth she vacated. She smiled and exited the bar through the backdoor.

Kyle was waiting for her smoking a cigarette. He said, "You've got the money?"

She pulled a wad of cash out of her purse and showed it to him. He made to grab for it and she pulled it back. "Let me see what you've got first."

She followed him to his car, a surprisingly innocent looking older Toyota Camry. He opened the trunk and unzipped a duffle bag. There were bags of oxy pills in different size lots. Some bags contained a hundred pills others fifty and ten. He handed her two zip top bags of a hundred pills. She handed him the wad of money.

She examined the pills while he counted the roll of money. When he was done, he smiled at her and said, "Good doing business with you, babe." He closed the trunk of his car, activated the alarm on the car, and turned to head back into the bar.

Suddenly cops appeared out of nowhere, their guns trained on both Kyle and Charlie. They were masked, dressed all in black, their identities unknown but "POLICE" was clearly visible on their bulletproof vests. The nearest cop barked, "Turn around and kneel on the ground, put your hands on your heads!"

Charlie did as she was told, grimacing when her knees hit the concrete. She put her hands behind her head and waited. She looked out of the corner of her eye to make sure Kyle did the same. She didn't want to get shot because he was stupid. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him do as he was told.

The cops cuffed her and pulled her to her feet. One asked if she had anything sharp in her pockets or purse and she made an attempt at joviality by saying he might get a paper cut. He didn't think she was funny. He roughly patted her down, checking her pockets and setting the contents on the hood of Kyle's Camry. He bagged the contents including the oxy she purchased and escorted her to an unmarked Dodge Charger idling in the alley.

As she sat in the back of the cop car, she watched as Kyle was pushed none too gently into the back of another unmarked car. His two buddies, Tim and Mark, were escorted out of the bar in handcuffs and put into another sedan.

They were heading downtown to be processed when one of the detectives in Charlie's car said, "Great job, Chuck. We got him. You did good tonight."

Charlie rubbed her wrists, setting the handcuffs on the seat beside her. "Thanks, Sarge. It wasn't that hard."

The sergeant laughed and said, "That's not what I heard on your wire."

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Charlie Parker was a detective in the Organized Crime Division and worked undercover. The OCD was formerly a part of Vice, handling dope related crimes, gangs, prostitution, gambling, and human trafficking. Undercover, Charlie was considered a convincing barfly, an aging hooker, a sassy waitress, a gifted bartender, and on occasion a credible homeless crazy. She was also known for her chameleon abilities, able to appear in her twenties to her sixties, ugly and dirty or hot and slutty. Her hair was long, a natural dark blonde with lighter highlights, her eyes hazel that were more green than brown. For Operation O (O for oxy) she had dyed her hair a coppery red and wore blue contact lenses.

Kyle was a major supplier to college age and high school students. He attended an area college, majoring in business with average grades, a popular man on campus. He and his comrades frequented Sally's Bar where the buy took place. There he sold his goods, often so furtively it was nearly impossible to detect. He never kept a large amount on his person, often hiding packets beneath the cushions of the booth where he always sat. When he ran out, he had a hidden compartment in the trunk of his car where he kept his inventory. He was responsible for the death of six young people, some teenagers, who overdosed on the dope he peddled. Charlie spent almost six months undercover, quietly stalking him and becoming one of his trusted customers.

Of course his arrest was considered a major coup but Organized Crime was more interested in his supplier. They'd probably work out some deal for him if he gave up a bigger fish. Charlie didn't hold out much hope. Kyle retained a well known attorney, a sleazy but savvy guy. He was probably too afraid to give up his supplier and he'd do some jail time but how much was the question.

Her coworkers dropped her off at her undercover apartment. She was to pack up what she had and make arrangements to vacate the premises. For the past six months, she had come to think of it as a second home.

The apartment was two blocks away from Sally's the bar where she made the dope deal. A three story old brick building, it had thirty-two apartments above a row of storefronts. There were seven stores on the ground floor all occupied except for one. They included a beauty salon, a barbershop, a bakery, a flower shop, a cell phone dealer, and a small corner grocer. Rent was relatively cheap but the building was well maintained and kept clean. Tenants were primarily working people, some of them undocumented workers, who kept to themselves and kept their apartments neat. Charlie liked it because it was relatively safe and didn't have rats, mice, or roaches.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor apartment. It faced the alley behind the building, looking out over the parking lot and a row of sixteen single car garages that tenants paid extra to use. Her rusty police issued pickup truck was safely ensconced in garage number eight. The view also included the rooftops of one and two family homes for as far as the eye could see poking up above the top branches of the maple trees that lined the streets.

Built in the 1920s, the apartments were small but nice with the original woodwork and hardwood floors still in good shape. She furnished it with secondhand cast offs she picked up at thrift stores, rummage sales, and Craig's List. It was surprisingly stylish and clean with a sofa covered in a red patchwork quilt and an old 1970s bentwood rocker. Colorful pillows were arranged across the back of the sofa. A scuffed up cedar chest did double duty as storage and a coffee table. The walls were covered in her own artwork: portraits and still lifes that slightly resembled paintings by Impressionist Paul Cézanne, and landscapes similar to those by Claude Monet. They burst with color, the paint strokes thick with texture, giving them an almost three dimensional quality. A cheap red Oriental rug anchored the living room furniture. The entire apartment probably cost the MPD a $1,000 to furnish.

She set her purse down on a green wooden chair, one of two that surrounded a small matching round table. Both the table and chairs were decorated with flowers painted on the table top and the backs of the ladder back chairs, more of her artistic talent at work. The dining set was off the tiny galley kitchen.

She went into the small single bedroom and quickly removed her clothes, jamming them into a garbage bag on the closet floor. Naked, she walked into the bathroom and started the shower. She brushed her teeth as she waited for the water to heat up. When it was warm enough, she stepped into the tub and let the water beat down on her head and body.

She stood leaning against the wall as the water pummeled her aching body until the bar's stale air and Kyle and Tim's cum were a distant memory. She shampooed her long red hair and then cleaned her body, giving her kitty cat a good scrub. She smelled fresh and clean, the scent of lavender lingered in the bathroom like a scented cloud.

The apartment was comfortably cool because she had kept the windows open all day - one of the perks of living on the third floor. Still damp, she left the bathroom and fell on the bed, the night air coming in through the two windows caressing her naked breasts and belly.

She kept a bottle of water on her bedside table and guzzled half of it down. It seemed to clear some of the fogginess in her head, the residual effects of alcohol. She lay in the dark, mentally beating herself up for jacking off Kyle and Tim. She'd been wearing a wire at the time and the guys at work would never let her live it down but, damn it, she really enjoyed it. She was certain that was why Kyle felt comfortable enough with her to do the deal in the parking lot.

She wondered what Kyle and Tim and the bald guy Mark thought of her. Did they think she was a drunken slut, a cougar who liked to diddle young guys for free drinks and a little dope? Or did they think she was a fun loving, adventurous chick who liked to get her jollies where she could? She was hoping it was the latter. She hated to think of them laughing at her.

She set her alarm and turned onto her side, instantly falling asleep.

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Sunday, May 26, 2019

Charlie set off on her morning run. The air smelled faintly of fish, the scent pressed down by a blanket of fog. The light was gray, not quite night but still not dawn. Sounds were intensified in the humid air, the sound of her footsteps a loud clomping sound as she set off on her run.

She took a different route throughout the week. She learned from undercover work to vary her routine. This time she ran west rather than towards Lake Michigan into a industrial area.

She lived in Bay View, a neighborhood on Milwaukee's southeast side along the Lake Michigan shoreline. It was an eclectic neighborhood of middle class and poor families, factories, bars, boutiques, restaurants, and a single aging theater from the roaring ‘20s. Its occupants ranged from young hipsters to elderly homeowners who lived there all of their lives.

She turned to go west past the Twisted Path Distillery where they made local spirits. The area was peppered with buildings from some of Milwaukee's first industries like the Filer & Stowell Company building built in 1890 that manufactured everything from mill machinery to fire hydrants. Most of the old industrial buildings were being torn down or converted into apartment complexes.

She turned south on to Robinson Avenue, passing new construction of modern apartment buildings much like her own. That soon gave way to older homes, many Victorians that lost their individuality through the years due to homeowners' attempts to modernize their homes.

At Lincoln Avenue she turned east and slowed her pace as she climbed a steep hill. The area was poorer with duplexes and an aging apartment building lining the street.

So much had changed since she was a girl growing up a few blocks away. Back then it was a tough neighborhood with a couple of Hispanic gangs competing for territory. Houses were more rundown back then and businesses catered to the poor. The gangs were gone and millennium hipsters took their place. Now trendy bars and restaurants took over the corner grocery stores, banks, and aging storefronts. She waved at a couple of elderly men who sat on a bench in front of a high-rise subsidized housing apartments for the elderly. They were fixtures on the bench every morning, sipping on coffee and nibbling on donuts or cookies from a nearby coffee house.

Storefronts soon gave way to more homes, these primarily owner occupied and well maintained. She jogged east on Dover Street, pass 1930 bungalows. She stopped briefly to admire a public Montessori school built in 1889 that was still in use.

At Kinnickinnic Avenue she turned to head north towards home. The street was pronounced kin-EH-ki-nick but locals referred to it as KK since strangers became tongued tied trying to pronounce it. The word was from the Chippewa and Cree dialects of the Algonquian language and meant "that which is mixed" referring to a smoking mixture of the inner bark of willow and dogwood trees with native tobacco. Besides the street name, the Kinnickinnic River meanders through Milwaukee's south side as well. Another river of the same name converges with the St. Croix River in northern Wisconsin.

She passed the library where she spent much of her childhood escaping her volatile family life. As she passed the local fire station, she waved hello to some of the firefighters standing out front sipping on coffee. One of them gestured for her to wait and he trotted over to her.

Mike Malone was a big guy at six feet four, he towered over the other men and made her five-nine frame feel petite. He was dressed in the company's standard uniform of dark blue chinos and a matching T-shirt with the MFD's logo on the breast. His bulging biceps stretched the short sleeves of his T-shirt and his forearms were inked in Celtic sleeves.

"Hey, Charlie. You're looking good." His blue eyes slid over her, making her feel like he just peeled off her clothes.

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."

"What are you doing later tonight?"

She took the opportunity to stop and do some stretches. As she bent over to touch her toes, she could feel him admiring her ass in her dark gray leggings.

She said, "I'm not really sure. I have to work today. Not sure how long. Mostly working on paperwork for a recent bust. Why?"

"I was going to offer to take you out to eat and maybe go see a movie at the Avalon. It's film noir week and Rear Window is playing tonight."

She grabbed her left foot from behind and pulled it against her ass to stretch her thigh muscles. She repeated doing the same with her right.

"Hmm...that's a hard offer to turn down. Why don't you call me later and I'll see how my schedule is going?"

The two of them were big film noir fans and Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly was one of her favorite all time movies. On top of that, she wouldn't mind a romp between the sheets with the handsome firefighter.

"Sounds like a plan." He gave her a little wave and said, "I'll talk to you later," before returning to his coworkers.

She waved at him and the other men before continuing on her run.

She passed the Avalon Theater in the next block. The 1929 building was home to a Spanish style elaborate theater that made patrons feel like they were viewing the movie outdoors. The seating area appeared to be in a courtyard, the surrounding facades giving way to a night sky complete with lit up stars. A historic building, it now showed classic movies and ran various film festivals along with popular first run films. A restaurant inside also served food and alcoholic drinks.

It didn't take her long to cover the seven blocks back to her apartment. She stopped at a coffee shop on the ground floor of her building and got herself a large coffee and two scones - one lemon and the other chocolate. Inside her building, she rode the elevator up to her apartment on the third floor. She was looking forward to inhaling one or both scones along with her coffee. As the elevator hummed around her, she envisioned a night riding Mike Malone's big cock.

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Lieutenant George Papanikolaou looked at his watch when he saw Charlie hurry through the back door of the police station. She was ten minutes late and probably hoping he didn't notice. He watched as she entered the women's locker room and stood outside of the door waiting for her.

She arrived in old tattered jeans that rode low on her full hips and her tits filled out a faded vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt. Biker boots, a faded blue bandana holding her long wavy hair back and her mirrored sunglasses completed her biker chick look.

He had his arms crossed when she came out of the locker room and bumped into him. She was tall but he was taller at six-two, her forehead at his eye level.

He smiled at her. She was a sexy woman with classically pretty features and hazel eyes now that she ditched the blue contact lenses. From a distance she could pass for someone in her late twenties but he knew she was a little younger than him at thirty-eight.

He said, "See me in my office."

He walked away and she went to her cubicle and booted up her computer. The detectives around her gave her back pats and high fives for the previous night's bust. She was the belle of the ball. George smiled as he watched her from his desk.

As she made her way to his office, he got up and closed the blinds on the window overlooking the squad room and the blinds on the door. He returned to his seat as she entered the room and told her to shut the door.

She sat down on one of the two chairs in front of his desk and said, "What's up, Loot?"

"Do you know how fucking hot I got listening to that wire last night? I thought I'd cream my pants in the van."

She laughed. "You should have said something. I could have helped with that."

George opened the fly of his pants and wagged his seven inches at her. "You think you could still help with this?"

He could see the lust in her hazel eyes. They seemed to twinkle as she licked her lips. He swore her breathing quickened at the sight of his hard prick.

She got up without a word and he turned to the side. She knelt on the floor in front of him and quickly took his raging hard-on in her sweet, hot mouth. George closed his eyes as she started to stroke his cock. Charlie was an expert at blow jobs. Her tongue and lips did an amazing job polishing his knob. He leaned back in the office chair as her head bobbed up and down over his crotch.

Despite her tomboy appearance she always had her fingernails professionally manicured. That day they were painted three different colors with silver at the base, a blue to match her jeans, and dark blue on the tips. All three polish colors sparkled with glitter.

Her right hand gripped the base of his cock, stroking it as she sucked it with the suction of a cow's milking machine. She'd pause every so often to suck hungrily on the head, swirling her mouth around it, tickling it with her tongue like it was a big juicy strawberry.

He groaned, "That's it, baby, suck that cock. Yeah, do that thing with your tongue again."

He pushed on her head and she took his cock deep into her throat, making her gag noisily and deluge his cock with hot saliva. Her mouth was making slurping, sucking noises as she yanked on it with her lips. When she cupped his balls and gave them a squeeze, he grunted and exploded inside her mouth. She guzzled down his cum like a thick chocolate shake, sucking him dry.

She stood up and wiped at her lips with the back of her hand. He tucked his cock back into his pants and zipped up. She sat back down in the chair she vacated, smiling like a Cheshire cat, and asked, "Did that help?"

"Dammit, Chuck. Come here."

Giggling she returned to his chair where he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her down so he could kiss her. Her lips were soft, tasting faintly of his cum, her tongue probing his own like an anaconda. He felt up her melon size tits, her nipples were hard and poking through the Rolling Stones T-shirt. He was dying to strip her and bend her over his desk to fuck her like a stray dog from behind but he settled with copping a feel and looking forward to the next time.

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The squad room hummed with activity. There was the constant murmur of voices, jingling phones, dings and buzzing from office equipment. Charlie sat quietly in her cubicle bent over her keyboard. She spent the day writing up her report for the previous night's arrest. She reread it, making sure there was nothing that could be misconstrued by an attorney for the defense. The text was dry and read like an instruction manual.

J.J., a handsome black cop who also worked Organized Crime, came by her desk at around 1:00 to congratulate her and offer to take her to a celebratory lunch. She accepted and she rode with him to Miss Kitty's Diner.

Miss Kitty's was owned by a redhead who bore an uncanny resemblance to actress Amanda Blake's Miss Kitty character on the TV show Gunsmoke. She even wore her longer hair pinned up to further resemble the TV saloon owner. She dressed like a modern day saloon girl too in tight jeans and sexy tops that exposed three-quarters of her tits. Men came to flirt with her and her pretty waitresses. Women came for the great comfort food.

Kitty smiled at Charlie and said, "There's my sister by another mother!" She gave Charlie a hug. Charlie towered over the much shorter Miss Kitty.

"Hey, Kitty."

J.J. asked, "Hey, where's my hug?"

Kitty gave the massive J.J. a hug and then pulled his head down to give him a peck on the cheek.

"How's that, hun?"

J.J. wiggled his eyebrows at her and said, "You made my day, Kitty."

Kitty jiggled her big tits and said, "Anything for our boys in blue."

A waitress showed them to a booth in back, away from other diners. About eighty percent of the customers were cops on a lunch break or off duty. Only a few stragglers were there since it was a Sunday. Some were cop groupies while some neighborhood residents came for the great greasy food.

The diner smelled of fried onions, brewing coffee, and the faint scent of bleach. It didn't look like anything changed since it was decorated in the ‘50s. The walls were covered in faded wallpaper of rows of vegetables in between green stripes in gold, orange, and green. The row of booths along the wall and swivel stools at the counter were covered in orange vinyl. Wooden wagon wheel chandeliers hung overhead.

J.J. waited for their waitress to leave to get their beverages before saying, "Are you glad your undercover assignment's over? I heard you had a little fun before the buy."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Just warmed up the suspect to get him to trust me. He's a paranoid fucker. His sidekick Tim was there as an extra set of eyes and Mark was playing bodyguard. There was no way he would have met me alone in the parking lot for a buy without a little tug and tussle."

J.J. sighed. "Wish I could get gigs like that."

Charlie chuckled. "What? You mean tugging on some guy's cock?"

He balled up a napkin and threw it at her and said, "Fuck you."

Charlie put her foot up on the edge of the seat in front of his crotch and tapped his cock with her toe. "Mmmm...there's an idea!"

He laughed as he slapped her foot down. "Jesus, Chuck, you're gonna get it all hard and then what?"

She wiggled her eyebrows at him and said, "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

"Good grief, woman, let me get some damn nourishment."

She faced the back wall and wiggled her tongue at him. "I've got something you could eat."

"Fuck, can I eat a burger first?"

She was saved from answering by the waitress who brought their Cokes and took their orders for cheese burgers and fries.

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They ended up at J.J.'s place. He had a condominium a little more than a mile from the police station. It was a typical bachelor pad in an old factory converted into loft style apartments. The unit had the original brick on the outside wall and open timbers and ductwork. It was small, only a one bedroom, with a small galley style kitchenette, a breakfast bar, and a single bathroom. His unit was decorated in a black and white theme with black leather furniture and a black and white zigzag patterned rug with African decor in black, white, tan and brown. The wood furniture was simple in style except for an ugly side table made of resin that resembled wood. It looked like a carved tree trunk, sculpted into an ugly Tiki style face with bulging eyes, big mouth, and tongue hanging out.

His bed was a simple platform with a queen-size mattress. They rolled around for a while, gradually discarding their clothes until she straddle his hips and rubbed the head of his hard cock against her clit. Her pussy was already wet and ready for him but she liked to tease him. She closed her eyes and groaned as his cock head rubbed against her hard little bud. He started playing with her tits, squeezing and pulling on her nipples. She had big dark nipples with slightly lighter areola surrounding them. They were like two big eyes staring at him as they jiggled around.

She eased herself onto his cock and started bouncing as he held onto her tits. He got off watching her enjoy herself as much as her hot, wet pussy. She was a vocal lover, not loud but she liked to moan, groan, and gasp as his cock stroked her. Her features contorted into a variety of faces from lip licking to a grimace that almost looked like she was in pain. Most of it was done with her eyes closed.

Her pussy was amazing. She once told him she took belly dancing lessons and he believed it. She liked to roll and swivel over his cock, grinding herself against him and then stroking his cock until she nearly let it slip out of her before impaling herself on it fully. She did magical things with her Kegel muscles, her pussy sucking and squeezing his cock.

He looked at her body as she rode him like a dancing cobra. She had big soft curves, an hourglass waist, a beautiful face. She reminded him of 1960s actress Ann-Margret with her sexy hazel eyes and current long red hair.

She suddenly climaxed with a cry, her pussy squeezing his cock so tightly he was afraid she'd push him out of her silky center. He was breathing heavily as he felt his own orgasm alight, the tingling sensation spreading through his legs, torso, and finally his chest and head. He grunted as his cock exploded inside of her.

Afterwards they lay on their backs looking up at the ceiling as the air conditioning kicked in and a cool breeze blew across their naked bodies. It felt like feathers caressing his bare skin.

He looked at the clock on the bedside table and said, "We better shower and get back to work."

She wiggled her eyebrows at him and said, "I'll even scrub your back for you."

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Later that night Mike Malone picked Charlie up at her apartment. He brought his Harley and she hopped on the back, wrapping her arms around him, her big breasts pressed against his back.

They decided to go to the theater and get something to eat at the small restaurant there. They both had the Southern fried chicken sandwich (Nashville hot) served with coleslaw, pickles and honey butter on a potato roll and accompanied by fries. They ordered tap beer to wash it down.

The theater was surprisingly busy, Rear Window one of their more popular features. Charlie and Mike were able to get a couple of decent seats before the movie started.

All during the movie, Mike could feel the heat radiating off Charlie in moist waves. It was accompanied by her powdery scent, something soft, like powder with a hint of some floral scent he couldn't put his finger on. She was dressed in jeans and some sort of peasant blouse of filmy floral fabric that was partially sheer. In certain light, he could make out her blue bra underneath.

She grabbed his arm during the scene where Grace Kelly's character breaks enters Raymond Burr's killer's apartment and he came home before she could escape. She squeezed his hand when Raymond Burr's character entered Jimmy Stewart's apartment to confront him. As Stewart's flashbulbs went off during the sequence, she nearly crawled into his lap.

They ended up going to her apartment afterwards. She got beers out of the fridge for them and they sat on the balcony for a while to drink them, the city lights twinkling in the distance. The lake effect cooled the air within a mile of the lakeshore, making it a bit chilly. Later in the summer the coolness would be welcomed but on that spring night, it drove them back inside after they finished their beers.

They both discarded their clothes on the way to her bedroom. She turned on some music on the TV and they got on the bed, Mike sitting up, his back against the headboard and Charlie straddling his lap. They kissed and wiggled their hips around, teasing one another while his fingers got tangled in her hair. When Charlie impaled herself on his rigid cock, he groaned as her heat encompassed his entire shaft.

She started to bounce, her hands gripping his shoulders, her breasts jiggling enticingly in front of his face. He grabbed the nearest nipple and sucked. He moaned and her fingers bit into his shoulders. He gave the nipple a gentle bite and she hissed in surprise, whimpering more out of lust than pain. Then he turned his attention to her other neglected nipple. By the time he was done, they were both chocolaty peaks, his saliva making them glisten.

Mike liked to give Charlie her head during sex. He enjoyed watching, listening, and experiencing her as she used his body like a giant sex toy. She kissed, nipped, grabbed, pinched, and pulled during sex. Her reactions told him how much she enjoyed his cock, mouth, or fingers. She approached sex with utter abandon, unashamed to poke her tongue into his ear, grab his lip in her teeth, and gyrate on his cock, her hips swiveling like a belly dancer's.

His pelvis was wet with her juices, the air redolent with her sweet scent. He grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled them apart and her pussy sucked his entire shaft within its silky folds. She was so wet her pussy popped and slurped with each thrust, more evidence that she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Suddenly her pace quickened and she rode him in a desperate frenzy. She was making little squeaking noises as her breathing grew labored and each time she impaled herself completely on his dick, she let out a little puff of air in a high pitched moan. Her nipples were hard pointy chocolate colored peaks, her melon size tits bouncing in his face. He felt her pussy start throbbing and it felt like it was on fire.

She kissed him, his fingers caressing his shaved head. She grabbed his tongue and started sucking on it as her pussy stroked his cock. He groaned and used his hands to guide her hips over his cock.

She climaxed with a cry, her fingers scratching at his back. She stopped kissing him and arched her back, her hips moving forward and back as she slid her clit across his cock. He licked and nipped at her nipples, sending her into another tizzy of whispered "oh fucks".

When she was spent, she rested against him, her breath hot against his neck, her pussy throbbing around his still hard cock. He sighed as he gave her a heartfelt hug.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday, May 27, 2019

It was Memorial Day and Charlie had a rare day off. Unfortunately she didn't have anyone to spend it with. George, her lieutenant, was busy with his wife and family. J.J. was at his mother's house for a big family barbecue. Mike had to work.

Charlie's siblings were spread across the country. Two brothers were retired from the military and one settled in Texas and the other in Idaho. Her sister was a well-to-do suburban housewife married to a doctor. She was the closest of her three siblings, living in Madison, about eighty miles west of Milwaukee. She and her sister were never close and hadn't spoken to each other since their mother's death five years ago. Her father died twenty five years ago in a fire that he accidentally started himself.

Her one close friend Gail took her eight year old daughter to Wisconsin Dells for the holiday weekend.

So Charlie spent the day riding around on her Harley. She rode a 2016 Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200 with a custom paint job that was black with a silver lace motif on the fenders and gas tank. Black leather silver studded saddle bags with fringe matched the silver studded leather seat. She met up with seven H.O.G. riders and followed them through the countryside, stopping at a couple of bars along the way.

The group's last stop was at a lakeside bar in Racine that was known for its burgers. They managed to get a table in the bar and placed their orders. She knew one of the other H.O.G. riders from a charity run she did the previous summer. Hank was a tall wiry older guy with short dark graying hair and a gray beard that fell to his chest. He had a thick Hungarian mustache, curled up at the ends. She wondered what all that facial hair would feel like tickling at her pussy. The thought made her clit tingle.

She flirted with him, nothing too obvious. They sat next to each other at the bar height table and she'd occasionally lean against him or bump his leg with hers. He smelled good, something woodsy, slightly sweet with a hint of tobacco, kind of like a forest at dawn covered in dew. He was probably in his fifties and from what she remembered from last summer, he was divorced, his kids grown and out of the house. He was a car mechanic, his hands calloused and scarred.

When they finished their burgers and the rest of the group saddled up to move on, Hank asked Charlie if she'd like to go over to his place. Curious, she said yes and followed him on her bike.

He lived on Wind Lake about twenty-five miles southwest of Milwaukee. It was a small place, originally meant as a summer cottage with a three car garage that was almost as big as the house. He parked on a concrete apron off the garage and she followed suit.

The cottage was painted olive green with brick red trim, making it blend into the surrounding greenery. Tall mature trees shaded the house and its neighbors, the lake a silvery gray in the background. Inside a big black dog giddily met them at the door. He introduced her to Gypsy who looked like a black Lab on steroids. She was probably mixed with a Rottweiler or Mastiff with the same stocky build but the black coloring of a Lab. She danced happily around Hank's feet and then came to push her muzzle in Charlie's hand, giving Charlie no choice but to pet her.

The cottage was done in pure male décor - brown leather furniture, hardwood floors, chunky indestructible wood furniture. The colors were primarily brown and tan but with hints of blue and gray. A wall of windows overlooked the lake and the first floor was an open floor plan. A stone fireplace nearly filled one wall with a two by three foot photograph of a Highland cow hanging above it, the wind blowing its long shaggy fur to expose a big brown eye. Another wall had the head of a twelve point buck wearing a black top hat, a black bowtie, and a monocle on one eye. Charlie laughed when she saw it.

Hank said, "Women hated it when he wasn't dressed. Thought I was a cruel dick for killing it. But for some reason the hat, tie, and monocle make him adorable."

She said, "I once knew someone who had an old Fedora on a buck's head and tied a babushka on a mounted doe head but they weren't nearly as sophisticated and distinguished as your friend here."

"I even named him Buck Winchester. People get a kick out of it. It is definitely a conversation starter."

He went into the kitchen which had rustic silvery wood cabinets and granite countertops. He opened the fridge and said, "Care for a beer or a Coke? I've got some orange juice too."

She leaned against the island that separated the kitchen from the great room and said, "I'll take a Coke."

He grabbed two bottles of Coke and asked her if she wanted to sit out on the deck.

A large deck looked out on the lake accessible through a door off the living room. Heavy wood furniture topped with thick rust colored cushions formed a sitting area around a fire pit/table on one end. A table and chairs by a fancy propane grill were at the other end. They sat down on the sectional that faced the lake.

Charlie said, "This is a beautiful place you got here."

"I bought it after my divorce. The wife got the new house we had built in Muskego. I got it cheap but it was a mess when I bought it. I spent the first five years fixing it up. And in case you're wondering, my grown daughter helped me decorate it."

"You both did a great job. You'll have to give me the grand tour."

They spent the next hour talking and watching Gypsy run around the yard, chasing a ball that Hank threw from the deck. The Labrador Retriever in her kept bringing it back to be thrown again.

Charlie let Hank do most of the talking, asking questions and being vague about her own life. She didn't like telling people she was a cop until she knew them better. It freaked some men out and she learned the hard way a new guy might turn out to be a criminal.

Hank seemed pretty harmless. He was a mechanic, part owner in a garage in the nearby Town of Wind Lake that specialized in customizing old muscle and luxury cars. When he wasn't riding his Harley, he drove a 1952 Chevy 3100 cherry red pickup truck or a little red 1987 Mercedes 560SL convertible.

When they finished their Cokes, she had to use the bathroom and they went back into the house. He gave her a quick tour and she used the bathroom off the master bedroom on the second floor. The bathroom had a large corner spa tub and a shower stall big enough for two. It was tiled in a rustic golden brown tile that looked like tumbled stone.

She walked out of the bathroom to find Hank lying on his back on the bed, naked, his hand stroking his big cock. He smiled at her and said, "Did I misread your interest? If so, I apologize and I'll get dressed."

She laughed and said, "Fuck no!" Then she hurriedly undressed, discarding her clothes as she made her way to his king-size bed.

She was going to straddle him, intending to impale herself on his big hairy cock but he had other ideas and pushed her onto her back and mounted her. He kissed her, starting with her neck, pushing her long red hair over her head. He worked his way down, pausing at her tits, sucking hungrily on her nipples, the hair on his face tickling her breasts and belly. He got her nipples hard and peaked into little cones before moving down her belly, his kisses feather-like. When he got to her pussy, he groaned as he inhaled her scent, unbothered by the fact she was sitting on her bike for hours in the sun. She had her hair trimmed into a narrow V that didn't seem to bother him in the least. He parted her lips and started lapping at her clit.

He had a black cast iron bed and she grabbed onto the headboard as his mouth lit her clit on fire. The beard and mustache did wild things to her pussy lips and inner thighs. She was soon panting like a bitch in heat and wiggling around. That was followed by high pitched moans as the first orgasm gripped her and her body froze. She cried out as it peaked, arching her back.

Hank was really into her pussy. He didn't stop licking and sucking at her hyper-sensitive clit and he started fucking her with three rough fingers that curled upward to poke at her G-spot. She thought her body was going to float away as another orgasm took hold.

She started whimpering, crying out, "Oh fuck, oh fuck," over and over again. She finally shouted, "Oh my fucking god," as she climaxed and her body felt like it might explode. She could feel her pussy shower Hank's face with her juices and he growled like an animal during an eating frenzy.

She finally begged him to stop and he worked his way up her body, his lips finding her nipple and sucking on it as his hand guided his big cock into her sloppy wet pussy. He groaned as he thrust it in balls deep.

He barely moved as he concentrated on her aching breasts. While his mouth sucked on the tips of her breasts, his mouth encompassing the area around her nipples, his hand was squeezing and pulling on the nipple of her other breast. She started squirming and he let go of her tits to concentrate on fucking her pussy.

He grabbed her wrists and held her arms above her head as he pumped his cock into her with a frenzied intensity. He looked down at her, watching her face as his dick slurped and slid inside her, his beard hanging and tickling her chest.

He growled, "You got one hot and wet pussy, girl. Fuckin' yeah!"

Both of them were panting and grunting with each of his thrusts. Charlie was worried her wrists would be bruised from Hank's grip on them but she was beyond the point of caring about that and the wet spot her ass was planted on. She had her legs wrapped around Hank's waist and he was jabbing her cunt using a downward stroke, his fat cock rubbing her clit with each piston-like thrust. He was banging her so hard her tits were bouncing wildly about.

Hank grunted, "Fuck, this is some prime pussy!"

Charlie felt him tense up, his rhythm frenzied. A drop of sweat dripped off his forehead onto her cheek. With a howl he exploded inside of her. He kept pumping his cock into her, grinding his thick pubic hairs against her throbbing clit, and she climaxed again with a loud, "Fuck!"

Her eyes closed, Charlie dropped her legs back onto the bed and yelped when Hank licked her right nipple. He laughed and gave her a quick peck on the lips, his mustache tickling her nose, then he fell onto the bed next to her, causing her to bounce.

She looked at her wrists and rubbed them. They didn't look like they were bruised but time would tell.

Hank said, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She laughed. "No and I was beyond giving a shit if you did. I was just a little worried my wrists would be bruised and I'd have some explaining to do."

"Husband?"

She playfully slapped his arm. "No. I'm not married or seriously involved with anyone right now. I'm just talking people in general - friends, neighbors, coworkers. Purple rings around my wrists would definitely generate some questions."

He turned onto his side and kissed her shoulder. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get so rough. You've got some awesome pussy and it turns me into a rutting beast."

She laughed. "I get that all the time."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hank Anderson liked Charlie. He didn't know much about her and he never did find out what she did for a living. It made him wonder if it was something illegal or maybe something she wasn't proud of. Hell, for all he knew she was some high priced hooker. She definitely had the knowledge and pussy for it.

There was no denying she was about twenty years younger than he was yet she made him feel young again, his body responding to hers like a horny twenty year old's. She was tall, sexy with long red hair, green eyes, and a figure that rivaled Christina Hendricks' from TV's Mad Men.

After he helped her have three orgasms, they took a quick shower. He wanted to fuck her like a horny dog but he was too worn out, his cock refusing to get it up that soon. When they were done, he asked her if she had to leave right away and she looked at her cell phone and said she could stay awhile.

"I've got a surprise for you. I think you'll enjoy it."

She smiled as she said, "More than your hard cock?"

Snickering, he said, "Maybe not that much." He grabbed one of his robes from a hook on the bathroom door and handed it to her. "Put this on." Then he grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around his waist. "Come on."

She followed him downstairs and he asked, "Do you want something to drink? Coke, a beer, orange juice?"

"Give me a Coke."

He got a Coke and a beer out of the fridge and led her out a side door onto the deck. The deck wrapped around the side of the house off the kitchen. The garage was on that side of the house and along with a big pine tree next to it hid his house from his neighbors on that side. There on the deck he had lattice walls surrounding a hot tub. He took off the lid and turned on the jets. He took a look around, didn't see anyone on the lake, and discarded his towel and got into the tub. A giggling Charlie soon followed suit and sat down next to him.

She sighed. "God, this is heavenly."

"You're welcome to come over anytime and use it."

She laughed. "Don't tempt me, I might move in."

She had her eyes closed, her head tilted back. Her arms were spread out across the back of the tub and her melon size tits were floating on the water's surface. He was tempted to play with them but wasn't sure of her reaction. He got the feeling she was as worn out as he was.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping on their drinks as the warm water relaxed their bodies.

The air smelled faintly of fish, wet sand, and freshly cut grass. The sun was going down on the lakeside of the house, casting them in deep shadow, the sky a bruised purple. Moths started to flutter around the outdoor lights that came on as the day darkened.

Charlie asked, "Are we still invisible to your neighbors?"

Laughing, Hank said, "Yes, we should be unless they're peeking around the side of the garage at us."

Charlie snickered. "I wouldn't put it past them not if they know you soak in here in the buff."

"Nah, I let them think I wear my swim trunks. At least I do when they come over for a soak. My neighbors on that side are older than I am and both are about twice as wide. Good people but not the type I want to see naked. Now the college age daughter on the other side of me is another story."

She splashed him and said, "Dirty old man!"

He wiggled his eyebrows and said, "Guilty as charged."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hank ended up fucking her while she sat naked on one of the wooden stools at the island separating the kitchen from the great room. He was standing between her legs pounding his big cock into her soaking wet snatch. Her pussy was popping with each thrust and he was getting off on it.

He liked to look at his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, taking his time, pulling it until it almost slid out completely, and then slowly pushing it in. He seemed to enjoy watching how wet it got and she had to admit it turned her on too.

His face wasn't the only thing furry about him. He had a fuzzy chest, the hair curly and gray like his beard. His arms had dark hairs on the forearms, his biceps hairless. Ditto for his legs, his calves were hairy but not his thighs. His chest hair didn't form a line down to his cock instead the hair was concentrated across his chest around his nipples. His pubic hair was a wild dark bush that she found oddly erotic. She was so used to guys shaving their pubes that seeing one au naturel was refreshing and hot. Plus those curly hairs rubbed against her clit and made it sing.

He was sucking on her right tit, his eyes closed, his other hand playing with her left and his cock ramming her cunt with enough force that the stool threatened to tip backwards. She ran her fingers through his hair as she climaxed with a high pitched squeal. She was panting as he continued pounding her pussy and she climaxed again with a grunt.

She was breathless, whimpering as he continued to ram his cock into her. He stopped sucking her tits and went back to watching his cock slide in and out of her wet snatch. She could feel his cock start to throb inside her and knew he was on the verge of an orgasm. As if on cue, he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as his cock jerked a few times and he shot his seed into her.

He leaned against her for a while, breathing heavily, his mouth on her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin. She prayed he didn't have a bad heart.

He pulled his cock out of her and she said, "Time for another shower?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Charlie was almost relieved to get home that night. She was sore, tired, and hungry. On her way home she stopped at a McDonald's and picked up a Quarter Pounder with cheese and a large order of fries. The smell permeated her apartment and she opened the bag as soon as she placed it on the kitchen counter and grabbed a handful of fries. She grabbed a wine cooler out of the fridge and took her food and wine cooler into the living room where she collapsed on the sofa and turned on the TV.

The nightly news was on and they were talking about a murder on Milwaukee's near north side just west of the downtown area. Another prostitute was killed, her body found naked in an alley behind an apartment building next to a dumpster. The killer didn't even bother throwing her body into the dumpster. She was the third woman murdered in that area in the past three months.

The news camera showed an army of crime scene investigators in their paper spacesuits, the coroner's van, and both uniform and plain clothes cops working or standing around the crime scene. She stopped in mid-bite when a familiar face crossed in front of the camera. He was a big guy, dark wavy hair, with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He was dressed in jeans that made his ass look delicious and a tight fitting MPD T-shirt, his biceps stretching the cotton knit fabric. He was huge compared to the other men there.

She stopped and rewound the DVR, slowing down the footage so she could make sure it was him.

Iosefa "Joe" Teo sauntered across the screen, his face turning towards the camera, his whiskey colored eyes visible even behind the reporter. Then he disappeared from view.

Joe Teo was the closest Charlie ever came to a serious relationship.