Message-ID: <13646eli$9808050152@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/13646.txt> From: "Charles Thain" <okiquit@hotmail.com> Subject: My Weekend in Portland -- Chapter 7 of 15 (MF FF MFF) Repost Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <19980804180024.5156.qmail@hotmail.com> My Weekend in Portland -- Chapter 7 of 15 (MF FF MFF) Repost ------------------------------------------------------------------ WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in any way. I encourage comments and criticism to OKIquit@hotmail.com. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The doorbell rang again before I got over my surprise. "I wonder who that could be?" Ruth said, raising her head to glance at the bedside clock. It blinked 07:34. "I'll go find out," I said, giving her a quick kiss and disentangling our arms and legs. I went to the window facing the street and looked out through a crack between the curtains. I almost laughed out loud at what I saw. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, I wrapped it around my waist and headed for the doorway. "Don't get up," I urged, "I'll find out who it is." I padded down the hall to the stairs, then downstairs and across the entryway to the front door. Stopping to secure my towel, I swung open the front door, admitting a gust of damp, cold air. "Good morning officers, is there a problem?" I said, fighting to keep a straight face. Two police officers in bright orange rain gear stood on Ruth's front steps. "We had a report of screams coming from this residence," said the first officer, a woman. "If you're the property owner, we'd like permission to come in and check it out." "I'm a guest, not the property owner, but come on in," I said, "I think there WERE some screams a little while ago." The female officer must have detected the amusement in my voice; she gave me a sharp look. "Do you have some identification?" she asked. "Nothing on me," I said, smiling and indicating my towel, but I've got ID upstairs in my billfold. "Who else is here," the lady cop asked, not amused. "The property owner is upstairs," I said, gesturing at them to enter. They wiped their feet automatically on the mat and walked past as I closed the door. I had a second to look them over. The lady police officer was about 30 and tall, at least 5'10". She could almost look me straight in the eyes, and I'm six feet. She had broad shoulders, and the partially open front of her rain jacket showed a substantial chest, probably contained by a sports bra. She was a handsome, vital woman, with strong, attractive features that showed Scandinavian ancestry, perhaps. Her pale skin looked delightfully smooth and a wave of honey-blonde hair was visible under her hat. In back it was gathered in a French braid. Her hands looked strong, with tapering fingers and short nails covered with clear polish. The other officer was a wiry, middle-sized guy who looked about 40. They both looked tired. Her name tag said "C.S. Urbanski," and his said, "W.T. O'Neill." Maybe she was Polish? "Anybody here besides you and the property owner?" officer Urbanski asked. "No, just us," I said. "Could we see the property owner?" she prompted, after a moment. "Of course, come upstairs." I led the way, and halfway up the stairs Ruth called out from the bedroom. "Who is it Mr. K-----? Is something wrong?" "Don't worry," I said, walking into the bedroom. "Officer Urbanski and Officer O'Neill are just here to make sure you're all right." Ruth was sitting in the middle of the bed with the covers tucked around her waist. Her eyes got wide and her mouth fell open when she saw the officers enter the bedroom behind me. She automatically crossed her arms over her bare breasts, and a flush began spreading down her face and neck. Half-turning, I saw Officer Urbanski taking in the scene, a flush rising on her face as well. Behind her Officer O'Neill was grinning broadly and trying not to laugh. "We had a report of someone screaming in this neighborhood," said Officer Urbanski, forging ahead with determination. "We're just checking the welfare of anyone living here." Ruth was speechless, staring at the two police officers. "MISS!" growled Officer Urbanski impatiently, "Are you all right? You haven't been injured or hurt in any way?" "No," Ruth said, finally regaining her voice. "I'm fine." "Do you mind if we check the other rooms -- just to be sure?" the big woman asked, staring at the pantyhose "ropes" still dangling from the bedposts. The smell of sex lingered in the warm air. "No. That's fine. Go ahead," Ruth said stiffly. A grinning Officer O'Neill left to check the rest of the townhouse and -- I suspected -- laugh his ass off in private. That left Officer Urbanski standing uncomfortably in the bedroom with a half-naked man and woman, trying not to look too long at either of us. "I'd like to see your ID now," she said to me, and I retrieved my driver's license from my billfold. Blushing furiously, she jotted my information into a small notebook, then I got Ruth's ID from her purse and Officer Urbanski wrote that down as well. When she finished writing, she returned our ID, sighed resignedly and asked, "Was there screaming coming from this room?" I said nothing and after a long pause Ruth answered, "Yes ... it was me," closing her eyes and blushing an even deeper shade of red. I stifled another laugh, drawing a fierce glare from Officer Urbanski. I was saved when Officer O'Neill poked his head through the door, "All clear," he said cheerily, and I followed them back to the front door. Officer O'Neill was halfway down the front walk, his shoulders shaking with laughter, when his partner turned and gave me a final frosty look before stalking out the door. I closed it carefully behind them and dissolved in laughter. I ran back up the stairs into the bedroom, whooping. "Did you see that!" I crowed. "That woman wanted to beat the crap out of me!" "*I* want to beat the crap out of you!" Ruth shouted furiously, hurling a pillow at me. "Why would you do such a thing! I was practically naked!" "But they didn't REALLY see you naked, Ruth," I pleaded, knowing I was in trouble. "Come on! And one of them was a woman!" "That is SO insensitive," she wailed, beginning to cry. "I suppose it would be fine if they were both women? Maybe you should call a couple of women to come and stare at me naked in bed! They HAD to know we just had sex!" "Of course they knew," I soothed her, "but we're never going to see them again. Can't you see even a little bit of humor? I was half-naked, too!" "Big DEAL!" she spluttered, "it's not like YOU ever have to worry about going to a topless beach!" It took me most of an hour, but I finally got Ruth to smile reluctantly about our visit from the police. I guess I could have ordered her to drop the subject, but a happy "slave" is better than a surly "slave" any day. She only began to brighten up when I suggested going to the Original Pancake House for breakfast. We were both starving. We threw on our clothes and headed out, returning a couple of hours later, full of delightful fare from the best breakfast joint on the West Coast. We spent the next few hours cuddling under a comforter on Ruth's couch, watching movies. What started as a simple opportunity for great sex had developed into an encounter with elements of tenderness and genuine affection. In the security of her own home, Ruth was much more relaxed, personable and humorous than I'd ever seen her in the office. I'd always thought she was sort of stiff and uncomfortable as a supervisor. As a lover, she was willing and responsive, with the right encouragement. By mid-afternoon, I was beginning to feel horny again. We were lying full-length on Ruth's couch, my head on a pillow and my arms around her. She was braless under a thick sweatshirt. I held her left breast, enjoying its warmth and weight in my hand. We were still watching the movie, but my attention was beginning to focus on her. I bent my head to put a kiss behind Ruth's ear and began sliding my thumb back and forth across the curve of her breast, where her nipple ought to be. She answered by giving a "Hmmm" of pleasure and wiggling her butt back against me. I was pleased because at that moment I was thinking how great it would feel to slide my dick into her warm, tight asshole. I was soon able to feel Ruth's hardening nipple through her sweatshirt, and her breathing was beginning to deepen. "Let's go upstairs and fuck," I whispered in her ear. "You are SO crude!" she said, but she was smiling when she spoke and she quickly rolled off the couch. I caught her hand. "This time I WANT you to take a shower," I said, holding her eyes. "Right after you use another one of those enemas." She looked away, blushing, then hurried upstairs. "I'll be up in a minute," I called after her, clicking off the TV. "I have to collect a few things." (End of Chapter 7) ------------------------------------------------------------------ WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in any way. I encourage comments and criticism to OKIquit@hotmail.com. ------------------------------------------------------------------ -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>