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Heather Brown: Raped policewoman

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Heather Brown Raped policewoman

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Heather Brown


Raped policewoman

CHAPTER ONE

The sun was going down as I yawned and forced myself out of bed. Most people get up when the sun comes up, but here I was making my way into the kitchen for my first cup of coffee at sundown. I had been doing it for almost two months now and my body still hadn't adjusted. By the time I finally did get used to it the bastards would change my schedule and I'd be right back where I started, futilely trying to catch up on the hours I had lost.

As I sat in the kitchen nursing a cup of discount instant coffee that tasted like boiled eucalyptus leaves, I asked myself for the thousandth time why I was putting myself through this shit. Here I was, a 25-year-old woman with a degree in sociology and an IQ of 134, keeping the hours of a night watchman.

You probably think I'm a dog, a regular bow-wow. Well, forget it. Everybody who's seen me says I'm attractive and I have to admit it's true myself: the bulges I see in men's trousers when I walk by don't lie. I have long lustrous raven hair, high pointed tits as firm as marble, long sinewy legs that love to wrap themselves around things, what everybody says is a terrific looking ass, and a cunt framed by a luxuriant growth of silky black pussy hair that can fuck all night. Right now, if I had a normal job, I'd be getting off work and undoubtedly some great looking stud would be taking me out for drinks and dinner and later we'd hit the sack at my place or his and his hot steaming prick would be pumping up my throbbing pussy.

So what was I doing sitting in a drafty kitchen in a ratty bathrobe choking down a cup of lukewarm instant mud waiting to go drag my ass around the crummiest parts of the city with a bunch of people who loathed everything about me that theoretically made me attractive and in general hated my guts?

To prove something, I guess. Despite the advice of almost all my friends, I went ahead and joined the police force and became a policewoman.

After I got out of college three years ago, I was ready to conquer the world. I had so many plans and dreams and was ambitious to realize my objectives and make something of myself. But all that got me was a series of job interviews where they asked me how fast I could type and a lot of ogling looks. I probably could have capitalized on the latter and fucked and sucked my way toward prosperity, but I like to feel that I've got some integrity and am the kind of girl who screws for fun. Somehow, the idea of sucking off some old fart's shriveled up cock or letting some overweight businessman practically crush me while he sticks his puny prick in me turns me off. I like my men strong, willing, and ready to go all night to satisfy me, and I like to pick them. I don't want them picking me like I was some dumb little cunt in a whorehouse without enough brains to do anything but live by her pussy.

Well, anyway, what my stubbornness got me was a succession of jobs, each one worse than the last because I had terrible references from being too independent and invariably telling my boss what he could do to himself – which got me fired. When the newspaper carried an article indicating the police department had to start hiring women for regular line duty, I decided to apply for a job. If I was qualified, they'd have to hire me, and I was sure I could pass any test they gave me and do as well as or better than any man.

None of my friends like cops, and my favorite professor from college – with whom I'd kept in close touch – surprised me when she told me my friends called them "pigs". "Melanie," Professor Higgins said, "there's not one element of what you were taught 'should be' in your courses here at the university that you will find working with the police."

"Then you think I shouldn't apply," I replied.

"Let me put it this way," she said. "Although you won't find one thing that you were taught 'should be', you'll find plenty of what you were taught 'should not be'."

"Meaning?" I asked, puzzled.

"Meaning, that if you want to look at it that way, it's a challenge. You'd be going up against the exact opposite of what you were taught and what I presume you believe in."

Professor Higgins had been my only woman professor of any consequence. In addition to teaching me in the classroom she was my faculty advisor, and had remained my friend after graduation. I respected her opinion the most, but she seemed to be giving me conflicting messages.

"You're telling me it's going to be awful, but that I should do it anyway. What kind of advice is that?"

"It's the only realistic advice one intelligent woman can give another," she said. "Women, historically, have been oppressed, but now some doors are being opened to them. Not all the way, but far enough to get inside if you want. But at this stage of the game, it's not going to be easy. No matter what you do, you'll have to fight all the way, but at least if you pick something where the cards are all out on the table, you'll know what you're up against."

"Like the police force?"

"Like the police force."

"First, when you called them pigs, I thought you were suggesting I run away from it like everybody else has. Now, you seem to be saying the opposite. Are you telling me to join?"

"You know me well enough, Melanie, that I would never tell you to do anything. You have a fine mind of your own, and I expect you to use it. You have no trouble getting the most out of your body, now it's time to do the same for your brain."

It was certainly clear what she meant by her last remark, for if anybody should have known about the capacity of my body to excel, it was Professor Higgins. From the moment I met her, I knew she was a remarkable woman, and my respect for her soon turned into sexual attraction, so confident and radiant was she. She was in her late thirties, a tall and graceful woman with an attractive body. She was a no-nonsense kind of person and didn't beat around the bush, which is something I've always admired. One afternoon we were in her office and she said, without blinking an eyelash, "Melanie, I'd like to make love to you," and I answered "yes" without hesitation. We embraced right there in her office, her mouth quickly finding its way to my sopping cunt as I sat in the chair with my spread legs propped up on her desk while she ate me from below. After that, we had gotten together once or twice a month, a delicious addition for me with all my activities and sexual liaisons.

One of the things I liked about Professor Higgins, in addition to her beautiful cunt, was that she wasn't possessive and didn't hold our sexual attraction over my head.

When our conversation about joining the police force ended, I realized that if I had as much potential and intelligence as she seemed to think, I wouldn't run away from the challenge the opportunity presented. She wasn't telling me to become a policewoman, but was encouraging me to utilize my God-given talents in a tough world that didn't give anybody anything for nothing.

"I'm going to apply," I announced.

"It'll be rough," she said, then smiled. "But you'll show them."

I was so elated by her confidence that I jumped from my chair into her arms, kissing her fully on the lips, my tongue darting hotly into her mouth. I could feel her knee gently shove into my crotch as we soul kissed, my panties becoming utterly drenched with a rush of frothing pussy juice that creamed out of the boiling recesses of my cunt.

We were in her office at the college, just like the first time we had made love, and she was prepared for me, as always. I found she was not wearing panties. Her cunt was unsheathed and waiting droolingly for me as it always was when she was expecting one of my visits. With trembling pleasure, my fingers slid stickily along the pulsing flesh of her hairless cunt lips, and I entered her pussy with a probing, anxious finger, sending it all the way inside her throbbing cervix as her pelvis undulated wildly from my fingerfucking.

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