Pauline Nottee - Action backstage

Sgt. Vance Dawson was a patient man. He could wait. With his walkie-talkie, he had run a license tag check on the station wagon the boy was driving. He knew who it belonged to, but not who the boy was. He knew it would be heading for the city, and he parked his red car at a drive-in where he could watch the highway. When the wagon passed with the kid at the wheel, he radioed the substation for a routine stop-and-check. At a discreet distance, he gunned the hot car behind, and saw a black-and-white CHP cruiser had the kid stopped. He passed and pulled over at the first turnout. The patrolman had what he wanted. The kid, Rick Benton, was clean.

One thing puzzled him: Why would a hot movie star like Candy Mullender be sucking a teenager's cock? Shit, she could have any prick she wanted, including his own. Particularly his own! He thought of how her mouth had looked, wrapped so tightly around the thick spear of male flesh, of how she had gone at it.

Well, if Candy Mullender wanted cock, he had a cock for her. Damned if any punk was going to get that kind of stuff!

Sgt. Vance Dawson was well-trained enough as a cop not to jump to conclusions. He would look carefully first. He twisted the throttle of the powerful car and set off in pursuit of the station wagon, hanging well back on the freeway. The pattern which evolved confused him. The kid went to a dealer and apparently bought a used car. Then he bought another new car. He met somebody and looked at an apartment. He went to a music store and came out carrying a guitar case, and by discreet inquiry Dawson discovered the case held a Martin full concert grand guitar which cost over a thousand dollars. He went to a clothing store and spent a long time inside, and then he headed east, apparently for his home, at which point the sergeant dropped him. He already had enough confusing information to last him.

He thought of narcotics. The kid could be dealing dope, have Candy hooked. His radio contact had already informed him the boy worked for the film studio. That would be the simple answer, but he didn't think it was the right one.

And, the handsome sergeant admitted to himself, what he really wanted was to fuck Candy Mullender's ass right off the top of her long legs. Nothing else mattered! After all, she'd just about invited him when he flagged her doing better than a hundred twenty.

Rick found himself very busy, and very pleased with himself and his efficiency at spending Candy's money. He drove the new pickup-four thousand bucks worth-to the apartment and locked it in the garage. He went to a nearby delicatessen and laid in a supply of food, intending to use the apartment himself and get out of the ghetto for however long he could. With money Candy had given him from her wallet, he rode a twenty-dollar cab to pick up his car and discovered it was a real pussy wagon-although he sure didn't need any of that right now! He swung by the clothing store and collected his purchases there. They went into the car's trunk with the guitar. He wondered if she would raise hell about the guitar, and thought not. If she did, he'd ram his cock up her hot little cunt and shut her up quick.

Finally he headed out to his old neighborhood. He put the big car's top down and turned on the FM stereo tape deck and gave the finger to his friends. In a friendly way.

They came from blocks around to admire and envy. Rick told them he had been lucky in a crap game and they thought he must have hit a big liquor store with a gun. Finally, he put Jonie Karson in the seat beside him and headed north toward Santa Maria. He had been formulating a plan, and Jonie was a part of it.

She was a couple of years older than himself, raised in the same deprived way. A stunningly beautiful, light- complexion black girl who worked across town in a drive-in. There she had a chance to meet plenty of men-and women. She could and did go either way, and she always dug it-male or female.

"Who'd you rip off?" she said, lying back in luxury against the rich leather seat of the magnificent car. "Watch out the fuzz don't bust you just for being in wheels like this."

"I got the paper on it… and a hell of a lot more. "

"Whatever's right," the negro girl said, moving close to him and reaching between his legs to squeeze his soft cock. "You want to get sucked off at a hundred miles an hour?"

"A century an hour buys fuzz," the confident teenager said, not at all aroused. "And my prick is rented out to the lady that paid for this set of wheels."

"You're into something but big," the girl said.

"You want a part of the action?"

"What's the scene, man?" the lovely girl said, now suddenly alert. "Did she send you out hunting eating pussy for her?"

"I'll lay it on you when we're off the road."

He found a secluded motel where the man at the desk looked only at his money. They went to a cottage with a bottle Jonie had brought, being as she looked old enough. Casually they undressed and lay on the bed and drank the raw bourbon with coke. Without telling her names, he laid the situation on her, and she nodded in agreement.

"You want to hang this lady up good. Cool!" She reached to fondle his cock. "What makes you think once I get my tongue in her hot little pussy she'll ever think of this dingle-dangle again?"

"I already gave her more head than you could," the boy said confidently. "I really dig this lady. She's people. But to keep her, I gotta have a handle on her. She fucks like a mink, and she could dump me-unless I hang her up good."

"So what's the scene?"

"I get her someplace. With some of the guys-ones who won't get' out of line… grab a sweet fuck and suck, and you turn her on to eating cunt… hot as she is, she'll go. We beat her down to her knees and make her love it. Then we all live good."

"But you live best of all," Jonie countered.

"Why the hell not? Who found her?"

"I'll drink to that." The slender, high-titted girl with the sleek olive skin drank deeply and with her free hand stroked his rising cock. She said, "Not up to a fuck, Rick?"

"In your asshole."

"That really tears me up. How about a blow job?" The hot-blooded girl dove on his loins and captured his rising cock between her skilled lips, her tongue swirling.

"She's a better cocksucker than you'll ever be, and today was her first time," he said. "Roll over on your belly and get your ass in the air-I need the practice."

Sighing, the raven-tressed negro girl obeyed. She barely grunted as the long, thick cock shaft rammed into her obscenely exposed anus and his heavy sperm-laden balls smacked against the tender lips of her pussy. Damn, but this young stud was big! And he knew what did the job. His pole of flesh was almost tearing her apart, but it was beginning to feel good. Twisting and churning, she ground her little black ass-cheeks back, wantonly urging even deeper impalement. She knew he would make her cum, and if this girl he talked about was anything close to what he claimed, she would be beautiful eating.

Unknown even to Sgt. Vance Dawson, the car convertible was tracked, passed from one cruising patrol car to another. The officer who had made the stop at Dawson's request had not been satisfied when he found a fifteen year old kid wheeling the classy car, even though the papers were in order. He was a good cop, meaning he thought a lot and he read the books. He was also discreet. The sergeant had asked for the stop, and the sergeant would get the first word.

He reached the sergeant after 2 a.m. at his bachelor apartment in hills high above LA.. and gave his report. Vance Dawson digested the information. The trooper was young, with only three years of service. He would go a hell of a long way.

"Guess who gets his lieutenant's bar next week," Dawson said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Guess who inherits my sergeant's stripes, if I have anything to say about it… and I will!"