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THE BEAT MEET 
by David Shaw (david@f-e-mail.com)
www.f-e-mail.com

***

Evening, all. There's nothing like an old time 
copper... or, at least, there's nothing like the fun 
and games the old time coppers used to get up to. This 
is the way it used to be when PC stood for Police 
Constable instead of Political Correctness. (MF, work)

***

THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY


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 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 that 
until later, I was happy enough to start our 
acquaintance with a breakfast that would have fed a 
family of gypsies. Not that any of it got wasted -- 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 into gravel. Still, 
when I looked in the mirror I thought I looked pretty 
smart, what 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 in those days.

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 as big as I was, but a lot 
older, a fellow named Hanson. A steady sort, but not a 
man to take any nonsense. 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. 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 young copper on his first 
day 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 something.

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 as much as possible 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 was 
something anybody would do for a stranger and it 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 Hanson 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, I was as young and 
green as they come.

Anyway, I made another point. The phone in the kiosk 
didn't ring so I continued patrolling and then noticed 
I was walking past a school. The kids were streaming 
out at the end of the day, with the younger ones being 
collected by their mothers. All except one woman who 
was left hanging around the gates after the rush was 
over.

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

Oh, yes, 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 green 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 red and 
white floral shirt she was wearing deserved the mature 
plumpness the fabric clung to very nicely. Neither was 
there much amiss from there on down, with a bright red 
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 see those tits getting shaken around. 
Married or not, I was going to hang around within 
leering distance of this fine looking lady as long as I 
could, especially if she kept smiling at me the way she 
was now.

"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 said. 
"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 that 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 fooling around in 
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 at the 
school there was no chance I'd forget that 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 test the theory.

"Thank you, Anna, but somebody has told me 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 saw 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 to take advantage of.

"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 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 hey! 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 may 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?"

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 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 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 looked back at me and winked, then 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 wouldn't I just love to unveil it for a private 
showing.

'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. 
A lot of trouble.

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

Why not? I went in, into a long room which was gloomy 
after 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 round white 
painted 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 concealing hard evidence from 
certain highly fuckable members of the public.

Then I looked behind the boilers. A basin and a 
draining board against the end wall, a steel locker, a 
table with rose patterned oil cloth, a wooden kitchen 
chair and an old purplish armchair, very low and 
battered and worn out. Exactly the sort of snug little 
private set up that every caretaker has somewhere for 
his meal breaks.

"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. I think I might need it as a kind of 
prop. For educational instruction."

God help me, I was nearly stupid enough to ask her what 
kind of instruction. 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 
was about where they were.

Now you might think that 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 in her lap, upright and 
looking down at it as she polished it with a carefully 
folded and spotless white handkerchief -- that 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 polishing 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 jerking a man off. I 
couldn't stop myself from grunting and clutching at the 
helmet in my own lap.

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

"No, I don't mind at all." It sounded as if I was 
croaking, the way my throat had tightened up.

"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."

"Oh."

It came out more like a groan than a spoken word as the 
teacher gave my truncheon another brisk rub. And 
underneath my helmet a genie was straining to pop out.

"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 
worked 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. I know what you mean."

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

"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, I could 
feel my face turning red. Anna paused for her second in 
her handiwork to look at me again. A kind of arch look 
from underneath that fringe of hair over her forehead.

"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 stroking, then 
held it up higher, narrowed her eyes, pursed her red 
lips and blew a gentle stream of air across the rounded 
top. Not as much air as I blew 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 drunken 
schoolgirl. "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 green 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?

"If I was going to do what I wanted to with you, Anna, 
the first thing I'd do would be to tell you to take off 
your shirt."

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

I lifted up the helmet and dropped it on the floor. 
Anna's green eyes seemed to widen as she looked down at 
the bulge underneath my fly buttons.

"Good lord, am I responsible for that?"

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

The teacher laughed and lowered the truncheon. "Well, 
I'd better stop inflaming your passions then. But I did 
make a promise. Do you still want me to take my shirt 
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 your fly buttons? Or 
shall I undo them for you?"

"Please. Yes, please, Anna."

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

She laughed again, picked up the kitchen chair and 
moved it closer to the armchair. When she sat down, 
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 all.

"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, because she gasped. Or perhaps she gasped 
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 good time girls 
used to wear lipstick in ancient Rome?"

"No." What the fuck 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 penis. 
They'd have 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 remotely like 
this had ever happened to me in my life before. 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 
maneuvered her around until I had that plump derriere 
across my knees. A gift from lady luck, and I thanked 
her with a laying on of hands rite. Well, one palm, 
actually, slamming down half a dozen times, and every 
one connecting hard, hard enough to raise a cloud of 
dust if there had been any in that tight red skirt. 
What was underneath it was certainly smarting because 
Anna began bellowing 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."

"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, much, because I had a chance 
to grab a quick feel of a tit as Anna was rising. No 
wonder she was struggling, with all that top hamper to 
lift up.

"Shirt off."

Anna kept giggling, standing by the side of the chair 
and undoing her buttons as I stroked the backs of her 
knees. The hot silky patches of skin underneath her 
tights trembled, then even more so as I lifted up the 
hem of her skirt on the top of my hand. My fingers 
swirled higher up her left calf. The shirt came off, 
sliding along her arms in an untidy bunch of flower 
patterned fabric. Sliding along, removed and tossed 
over the back of the kitchen chair without Anna moving 
a step. 

Underneath the shirt was a massive pair of low cut blue 
bra cups with a pink ribbon sewn in a bow between them, 
not to mention enough cleavage for a ferret to hide in. 
Anna looked down, ran her hands over the cups and 
purred. It sounded like the voice over for one of those 
ads about putting a tiger in your fuel tank. In my 
case, getting a tigress to give you a wank.

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 at the bottom of it and tugged the waistband 
down over her wide hips. 

The sight of the head teacher twisting around like a 
Turkish belly dancer as she wriggled herself out of the 
skirt's waistband was completely illegal -- an 
incitement to riotous behavior if ever there was one. 
The skirt suddenly began falling of its own weight, 
down and down, over my hand and arm, then ending up in 
a pile around Anna's feet. She kicked it aside, 
laughed, knelt down by the side of the chair and leaned 
forward over the armrest. The tip of a warm wet tongue 
touched me where her finger had before.

"Do you know much latin, Phil?"

God, that collar was strangling me!

"No." I croaked.

"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 getting a generous coating of 
lipstick around his head and collar. This was 
incredible!

But what would happen if I was late for my point and 
the station wanted me to speak to me? Missing 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. Anna responded by 
increasing the stroke rate of her latin lesson. Maybe 
there were some useful things to learn by studying 
history. But then she halfway stood up before crawling 
forward over my lap and settling back down on it in the 
same position as she had been before. Only this time 
there was no red skirt ready for punishment but a pair 
of tightly stretched blue 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 
fine hips with the flat of my left arm as I paddled her 
rump with the right. 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 strap tangled around her elbow 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 paid 
up their pocket money for the rest of their lives to 
watch this. And it was still only the beginning. Or 
maybe I'd fallen off the bus to work this morning and I 
was in a coma and dreaming all of this.

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 buttocks 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. I noticed with some 
interest a thumb shaped birthmark on her left buttock. 
God, but I was a good copper -- the first day on the 
beat and already I was picking up on useful 
identification features. But now it was my turn to let 
the public know that the force was always willing to 
lend a hand.

This time I gave Anna 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 tit which 
included a nipple as big and hard as a walnut. Anna 
arched her back like a diver going off a board and 
whimpered.

"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 silly, 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 under-things 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. A giant economy sized offer that 
would have been, because she had the biggest pair I'd 
ever set eyes on in the raw, lightly tanned all over I 
noticed, 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 mad bitch given 
enough time? Handcuffs, a cane and a long lazy 
afternoon in front of a camera 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 french letter and ripped the top of the packet off 
with my teeth.

"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 
like a bunch of bananas as I struggled 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. 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 wherever everything else had 
gone, 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, 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 heels, 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 I like to fuck women with them still 
wearing their shoes."

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: "Yes, yes!" 
slapping her hands down on the table top on each side 
of her body.

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 Anna 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 baby 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, opened her eyes twice as wide as usual 
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 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 insects that has its head ripped off by the female 
during mating. As a teacher, Anna would have made a 
great trapeze artist, one of those that hang by their 
ankles from a swinging bar. 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 
weeks.

Mind you, I was mad, completely fucking mad, and that 
teacher was a lot tighter fit over John Thomas than I'd 
expected. The first half was easy-peasy, 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 ankle-lock on my neck. Which seemed like a 
good thing, only she put her arms up and grabbed my 
ears instead, which was worse. And I had to let go of 
her tits 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 green eyes were wild and rolling around like the 
plastic ones in a cheap doll when it gets shaken. Here, 
without doubt, was a woman getting the best fuck she'd 
ever had in her life and totally mind blown because of 
it. 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 the end of the tunnel that was 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 a 
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 tuft and tugged at it, hard.

"Ow." 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, Anna you look as if you've just been 
shagged by a shipload of Vikings."

"I feel like I've just been shagged by a shipload of 
Vikings," she answered and giggled again. "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 a 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 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 french letter, 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 right place. When the teacher moaned 
and tugged on my cock I knew I'd found the right place 
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...!"

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 three or four seconds before 
slumping down on top of the table like a crow shot in 
the nest. Anna'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 the teacher 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 
trophy. If the job kept on going the way it had started 
I reckoned I might be able to get together a good 
collection before long.

"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. You can grab him 
then."

"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, baton? 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 fat cheek and I was away, 
walking off between the boilers and leaving behind a 
head teacher who sounded as if she was going into 
labor.

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.
"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 
something about it for you every morning, won't I?"

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

THE END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 34