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Subject: {ASSM} : (RP) "BEAT MEET"  (M/F; police, teacher) By David Shaw
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Date: Mon, 19 Nov 2007 02:10:03 -0500
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"BEAT MEET"
(M/F; police, teacher)

David Shaw
shaw.alphamale@gmail.com

www.alphamalestories.com


THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY

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Evening, all. There's nothing like an old time copper -- and there was
nothing like the fun and games that the old time coppers used to get
up to.  Somebody wrote that a policeman's lot was not an happy one --
but they were wrong. Young coppers used to get a lot, and everybody
was very happy.

This is the way it used to be when PC stood for Police Constable
instead of Political Correctness.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

That's right, the first time on the beat. Straight out of training
school I was and sent to a small market town in the English Midlands.
The local station found me lodgings with a lady old enough to be my
mother but a brilliant cook and some desires that her husband wasn't
satisfying at all. Not that I found out about those until later. I was
happy enough to start our acquaintance with a breakfast that would
have fed a family of gypsies. Nothing was left on the plate though --
I was a big lad, six foot two, with shoulders as wide as a barn door
and a lot of muscle from playing rugby every chance I got.

Aye, I was what they call well presented, with a grin that a lot of
people described as cheeky. Just a big overgrown boy hardly out of my
teens, putting on a old fashioned uniform with a silly helmet and
boots on my feet heavy enough to crush stones. Still, when I looked in
the mirror I thought I looked pretty smart, with that big silver
crowned badge above my head, a row of shiny buttons down my high
necked blue tunic and a silver whistle chain tucked into the top left
pocket. What I was soon to find out was how many doors that uniform
could open. Like I say, the force was well respected back then in ways
it isn't today.

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

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

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

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

Anyway, I made another point. The phone in the kiosk didn't ring so I
carried on patrolling and then noticed I was walking past a school.
The kids were streaming out in mid afternoon, with the younger ones
being collected by their mothers. All except one woman who was still
hanging around the gates after the rush was over and with no child
left in sight.

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

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

Oh yes, I spotted that drawback straight away, the wedding ring on her
left hand but apart from that it seemed to me that here was the kind
of fancy piece I'd love to have a few drinks with in a pub. By Christ,
I'd have bought this one her booze all night in return for a chance to
have a feel of her tits. Married or not.

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

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

"You're a teacher?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That sounded like a good idea, a chance to get to know her better but
it suddenly occurred to me that here was a chance to try out a trick
one of the instructors at the training school had tipped us off about.
He'd said that if ever we met a woman we thought might be willing for
some fun and games, the best thing to do was to tell her there was a
flasher showing himself off around her neighborhood.  Either she'd be
frightened or she'd be interested, and the more interested the better.
Either way, you'd soon find out what sort of a woman she was.

Whatever else I might have missed in the police training schedule
there was no chance I'd forget that particular lesson. Of course, a
middle aged married school teacher was hardly likely to be up for a
frolic but this seemed like a good chance to see if the theory might
be true.

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

"Oh. What was suspicious about him?"

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

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

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

Anna nodded.

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

Which was a statement that set me right back on my heels. Here I was
making up a story and here was this woman making up another one of her
own to match it. Either that or there'd been a long odds coincidence
and some fellow in a raincoat had chosen that day to walk near the
school grounds. Whatever, it was a turn in the conversation it would
have been a criminal waste not to follow up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A bloody good idea, what with trying to hide what was rearing up in
front of me. I walked into a long room which seemed pretty dark
compared to the sunlight outside. There were only two small windows,
on each side, close against the brick walls of neighboring buildings
and high up because there was a boiler set against  the wall on each
side of me. I walked down the aisle between them and glanced at the
valve handles and dials on each of the big steel cylinders. It was
something like being inside the engine room of a ship. Behind me I
heard Anna's heels clicking on the worn lino. My cock was still
refusing to drain and droop. Perhaps because of the lingering effect
of Anna's perfume that had filled my nostrils as I'd brushed past her.

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

Then I looked into the space between the boilers and the end of the
building. It was exactly the sort of snug little private set up that
every caretaker has somewhere for his meal breaks. A basin and a
draining board against the far wall, a steel locker, a  table with
rose patterned oil cloth, a wooden kitchen chair and an old armchair,
very low and and well worn from years of use.

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

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

"Yes, please. Just for some educational instruction."

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

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

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

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

"No, I don't mind at all." The way my throat had tightened up, even I
could hear I was more croaking than speaking.

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

I nodded my head  and gulped as the big bosomed teacher gave my
truncheon another brisk rub. And underneath my helmet a set of fly
buttons were getting their stitching tested hard enough to make my
eyes water.

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

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

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

What sort of a stupid question was that?

"Yes." It sounded more like a groan than a word. My lips somehow kept
on making words: "I know exactly what you mean."

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

Well, that was easily answered.

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

I had to lift a finger up to that damned collar and tug on it. Not
only did I feel as if I was choking, my face was turning red. God
knows where the spare blood for that bodily function came from: I
wouldn't have thought I had a spare drop left in me. Anna paused for
her second in her handiwork to look at me again. A look from
underneath that overhanging fringe of hair that had me sizzling like a
steak on a hot plate.

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

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

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

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

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

"My what, Phil?"

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

"Whatever you've got underneath that blouse would be a great start.
I'd certainly like to see those."

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

I lifted up the helmet and dropped it on the floor. Anna's green eyes
seemed to double in size as she looked down at the bulge in the heavy
fabric of the police issue trousers.

"Good lord, am I responsible for that?"

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

Anna smiled and lowered the baton. "Well, I'd better stop inflaming
your passions then. But I did make a promise, so fair's fair. Do you
still want me to take my blouse off?"

"God, yes, please!"

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

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

"Please. Yes, please, Anna, you undo them for me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes. And God, it felt good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stand up."

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

"Take your blouse off."

Anna giggled, standing by the front of the armchair and undoing her
buttons as I stroked the backs of her knees. The hot silky patches of
skin underneath her tights trembled, then more so as I began raising
the hem of her skirt on the backs of my hands.

My fingers swirled higher up her legs. Now it was her turn to gasp and
moan. The blouse came off, sliding along her arms in an untidy bunch
of white ruffles. Along her arms, until she was able to pull her
wrists free and throw the blouse over the back of the kitchen chair.
She yelped as I squeezed her calves harder than I meant to, eye to eye
with an impressive pair of low cut blue bra cups and a pink ribbon
sewn in a bow between them, not to mention enough cleavage for a
ferret to hide in.

"Sorry," I said. "But you've got what I've always wanted -- lots and
lots of it."

Anna looked down, ran her hands over her cups and purred. Only it
wasn't a kittenish kind of purring -- it was more the kind of purring
that a full grown tigress would make over freshly killed meat

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

"Do you know much latin, Phil?"

God, my collar really was choking me now!

"No . . . no."

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

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

Suddenly I was looking down at a mass of red hair and good old John
Thomas was actually getting a generous coating of lipstick around his
head and collar. He was halfway down the throat of an middle aged
school teacher and my life had suddenly gone from very interesting to
totally incredible!

But what would happen if I was late for my point and the station
wanted me to speak to me? Missing from duty on my first day? My police
career would be over within twenty four hours. But here was a chance
to sneak a quick look at my watch without offending the very friendly
lady, and it said I still had thirty minutes in hand. Christ, not much
time to waste. Still, while Anna was seeing how far down she could
leave a strawberry tidemark I did something useful by unhooking the
back of her bra. My teacher responded by increasing the stroke rate of
her latin lesson and she nearly scored an own goal between her teeth.
Maybe she realised that from the noises I was making. Anyway she half
stood up, came round to the side of the armchair and crawled forward
over my lap again. Only this time there was no official black skirt
ready for punishment but a pair of  tightly stretched panties
underneath her dark colored tights.

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

Dream or reality, there was no time to waste, not with the watch
ticking away. I heard Anna call out in encouragement as I grabbed hold
of the top of the panties. A tug, another harder one, until the
panties were tangled up with the tights in a roll that I pulled clear
of her bottom and right down to her knees. The fat white half moons of
her arse seemed to be fighting each other as Anna squirmed around on
top of my knees like an excited puppy.

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

"Jesus, yes! Bring me off!"

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

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

"Get up then."

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

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

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

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

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

"Anna, wait, wait!"

I felt around in one of my tunic pockets, pulled out the condom and
ripped the top of the packet off with my teeth. Yeah, well, you had to
be prepared for anything in the police, that was what I'd been told
often enough.

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

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

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

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

"Fucking hell . . . "

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

"Christ, what are you doing, Phil?"

"Mmmmmm."

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

"It's OK." I put the other shoe back where it had been. "It's just
that my women get fucked with their shoes on."

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

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

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

"Yes, yes!"

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

The second time I did it, Anne clapped both her hands over her mouth,
heaved her big hips up and locked her heels together behind my neck.
And I'd been cursing that collar for being tight!

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

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

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

"Phil! God!  I love this!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Phil!"

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

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

"That's for holding onto my ears."

"Phil . . ."

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

"Phil . . .  God!"

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

While Mrs Morrison was recovering I began frantically pulling on my
uniform again. I used her panties to wipe my cock on and then shoved
them in my pocket as a souvenir

"Phil? You're going?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry. But you know what they say, the criminal always comes back to
the scene of the crime. And I'd say you're very likely to be the
victim of a repeat offender."

"Yes, but for now?"

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

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

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

God, but she was a glutton for punishment.

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

Whap! Whap! A left and a right hander, one open handed full strength
slap on each cheek hard enough to set them wobbling and I was away,
walking off between the cold boilers and leaving behind an old boiler
who was hotter than she'd ever been before in her entire life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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