1. The Ghost of Paris Interlude Chapter 2: The Police Officer


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    suspect one smiled—I would do anything to make her smile. Those eyes were so beautiful and radiant. I wanted to be lost in them forever. “Officer Bert McDaniels, you shall be my escort for this night. Follow me.” “Yes, ma'am,” I whispered, my blood on fire as she turned and sauntered into the studio. “Handmaidens, attend me,” she called out. “Yes, Goddess,” the adult female said, her face smeared with sexual fluids. She was pretty, dressed in a leotard, with a lithe, dancer's body. She and the twin girls followed her inside. “All right, move along!” I shouted at the crowd. “Everything's under control!” Then I followed my Goddess inside. “My handmaiden Whitney has earned a reward for her wonderful worship,” the Goddess purred, glancing at the adult female. She turned, and I saw her profile, the nose was the same as Mayor Cummins. “You're Darleen!” I blurted out. “No,” she answered. “I am something far more than her. For now. You will risk much this evening, but you shall know happiness in love for the rest of your days. Now stretch out on the floor.” I did. It was hard, made of wood that had been waxed, and the cold seeped through my uniform. It was uncomfortable, my equipment hanging from my gunbelt was digging into my back and sides. So I removed it, setting it to the side. She stood over me, her legs straddling my hips; I could see her pussy through her torn leotard, tight and juicy and surrounded by wisps of light-blonde hair. My cock was at full mast. “Handmaidens, ...
    free his cock.” Whitney, and the twin with her auburn hair in a French braid, knelt on either side of me. Their hands reached out and quickly undid my pants, drawing out my rock-hard slab, stroking me with their warm, soft hands. Whitney smiled at me; her eyes were an enchanting green. “He is ready, Goddess,” French-Braids purred. “Thank you, Marrisa.” Darleen dropped down and impaled herself on my shaft. I groaned; her pussy was heaven. Tight and wet and warm. She rose up and down, moaning softly. “Yes. That is just what I needed.” She worked her hips up and down. “I want you to flood this vessel with your seed. She will conceive a child this night. Perhaps you will be its father.” “Yes, Goddess,” I moaned, picturing this sweet Goddess with a round belly, looking somehow even more sensual. “Keep riding me, and that'll happen.” She smiled, hungry and possessive. “Whitney, your reward awaits. Take your pleasure from his mouth.” “Thank you, Goddess,” moaned Whitney, and she shrugged out of her leotard, rolling it down her ivory skin. Her breasts were small and lovely, jiggling and swaying as she peeled the tight outfit down her hips and thighs. Her panties were blue, and the crotch was soaked through with her excitement. Those came off, and she was shaved, her pussy flushed and ready. She straddled my face. She smelled wonderful, a sweet musk that left my mouth hungry. Darleen rode my cock, squeezing and massaging my sensitive dick as Whitney sat her pussy down on my face. I ...
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