Brian, 41.  Former NYPD sergeant retired on disability. 6’3″ and Irish as fuck.

We go out for sushi. He talks. A lot. About his uncle, his ex, his son, his ex. His accent—which he calls a New York cop accent—makes me squirmy. Whatevuh. He’s nervous. I see the beads of sweat on his nose.

I notice how large his hands are. “You know what they say—big hands, big gloves,” he cracks.

We’re in his truck by 7:30. He asks if I want to get coffee. I suggest a drive; we’re both more comfortable in the confined space of his SUV, all leather and Sirius XM and LCD screen. I tell him some of my horror stories; he is appropriately horrified.

When we’re in my neighborhood, I mention I live nearby, and he says maybe we could see my place. Perfect. I’m practically bouncing up and down in my seat as I direct him

Until I realize he’s going to do a drive-by. Clueless. Don’t you want to come in? I say. Sure, OK, he says.

We’re in the doorway to the bedroom—I left a light on, a beacon showing the way—and I can’t wait anymore. I pounce. He is ready and I’m naked in about five seconds.

“What a sweet shaved pussy,” he says, petting me along my slit. “You’re already wet.” He slides a finger inside. I reach down, push his hand closer. Second finger joins the first. I rock on my hands and knees.

He strokes, kneads my ass.


The force of the blow pitches me forward. His  fingertips move in circles around the tingling.

“You OK?”

I nod.

“You like this?”

I nod.

“Bad girl.”


Other side this time, more toward the thigh.


He finds the sweet spot. The crack rings in my ears.

A dozen or so more times. I’m not ready for him to stop, but he’s alarmed by the color of my behind, which really doesn’t hurt. In a bad way. His attention wanders.

“Want a finger in here?” His hand is wandering idly up and down the crevice of my ass.

“Sure,” I say. I retrieve the lube from the bedside table drawer and hand it to him. He drizzles it across my asshole, and I feel his fingertip rubbing around the pucker. I visualize the second sphincter opening for him, not clenching, not fighting.

“How is it you’ve never had a cock in this ass?” he says.

“Don’t know. Just haven’t,”

“Have you had toys?”

“Nope.” I rock my hips from side to side, pumping his cock slowly with my left hand.

“Do you want one?”

I laugh. “No anal on the first date. I’m old fashioned.”

“Ah,” he says. “Grandma rules.”

I rise up on my knees. “Do you want a condom?”

“Aren’t we being bad enough?” he says. He plays with my nipple like you might click a ballpoint pen, absentmindedly, without thought.


“Bad? I don’t know.” I move his head towards the nipple he’d been twiddling. “I think we’re being very very good.” He’s rock hard. I hand him a condom and he stands.

“Getting yourself on the edge of the bed for me? That’s hot,” he says, holding his cock.

He is inside in one stroke, and I’m breathless.

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