Michelle
Whereas some people have a skill at art and others have a skill at music, Michelle had a natural God-given talent for fornication. She was a maestro between the sheets, or on the couch, or on the carpet. If there had been an Olympic event in fucking Michelle would have taken the gold and silver medal at the same time.
Not that Michelle was overly proud of her abilities in the sack. They had been a source of embarrassment most of her adult life. Not so much her abilities at screwing, but her willingness to do it often and with a multitude of partners had caused her some social stigma. You might not even call it willingness—it was more of an inability to say the word 'no' in matters romantic. But Michelle just wouldn't spread her legs for just any stud. The stud had to ask her to. That always seemed to do the trick for her.
She had a curious penchant for bedding guys she didn't even like, or guys she actively hated.
You see, Michelle wanted to be liked by everyone. She wanted to be popular, and respected for her professionalism and hard work. But when you are a female in the male-dominated world of law enforcement your job performance was seldom enough to garner one the respect that Michelle craved. Instead she opted for the one time-tested approach that women had used since the dawn of time—sexual receptability.
Her vulnerability to seduction has seldom, if ever, won over any of her coworkers. Quite often it has the reverse effect. She would lose what little esteem she held in the eyes of her coworkers by giving into their carnal desires. But that did little to sway her from her inborn, instinctual impulse to jump every willing boner in the department.
You might not think this of her when you first met her. She was, on the surface, an innocent and somewhat pious girl cop. Her angelic face and Minnie Mouse voice, how she refrained from profanity and social vice, her business-like attitude about her profession would all project a picture of chaste virtue. On the surface she looked like a reluctant sex kitten, curvy, petite, with cantaloupe-sized jugs on a five-foot frame. Her dark flashing eyes and olive complexion, her raven black mane, hanging to her narrow waist (and usually tied up in a girlish pony tail or tight conservative bun) oozed sensuality. Her looks and her outward behavior seemed an odd match.
Locker room gossips about sexual conquests of Michelle spread like wild fire in the police department and Michelle's one defense against slander was her convincing and persistent ability to lie about her sexual peccadillos. When confronted with a rumor that she had slept with so-and-so she could feign offended horror at the notion, and righteously denounce the rumor as an abject falsehood. She was so proficient in her prevarications that she almost convinced not a few of her past sexual partners that they had never ever done anything of the sort.
Her defense mechanism against sexual slander worked best on her husband, Jose Velasquez.
Jose had heard some of the rumors (by no means all of the rumors) about his wife's past and current dalliances but his trust in his spouse was absolute. He attributed the stories to professional jealousy and wishful thinking on the part of some of Michelle's male coworkers. Still, it troubled him that people would target his lovely wife with such a campaign of slander.
In fact, Michelle never had to refute an accusation of infidelity to Jose because he would never directly ask her about a rumor or gossip. He felt he would be diminished in her loving eyes but such an inquiry, and since the rumors were fatuous in and of themselves denouncement was unneeded.
Michelle had started as the police department as a single, wide-eyed twenty-year-old police dispatcher fresh from parochial school. She had led a somewhat sheltered life, being an adored only-child of two loving parents. She had never intended on making a career out of law enforcement but had planned to work at the department as a summer before going on to college.
But as often happens on the job police work was addictive, even for a police dispatcher. The frequent adrenalin rush was as addictive as opium, and the more one was exposed to it the more one craved it.
It was during her tenure as a dispatcher that she met Sergeant Jesus Cordova.
Cordova was not anyone's idea of an irresistible lothario. Short, squat, dark, with an unremarkable face. He looked more like an illegal immigrant field worker than a police officer. But Cordova had a definite gift of gab, and was practiced at wooing the women of the department. He always seemed to say just the right thing, at just the right time, and had an uncanny ability to tell women exactly what they wanted to hear. This skill had netting him some juicy conquests during his years at the department. Another ability Cordova possessed was a ridged sense of discretion. Unlike most swordsmen Cordova could keep a secret. He did not engage in sexual braggadocio, and this trait made him seem even safer and more desirable to his frequent bed mates, particularly the married ones.
Cordova was not even remarkable as a lover. He was sufficient on the mattress, little more. But he always made a woman feel as if she was the only woman on earth for a short while, and made them feel totally and genuinely loved, and they ate it up.
Cordova's association with the young Michelle had started as harmless flirtation on slow graveyard shifts in the communication center of the department. Michelle had never experienced the awestruck attention of a male before. She felt flattered at his fawning attention and sly glances and sexual innuendos. Before long she was anticipating his appearances in the dispatch room with a girlish infatuation.
Michelle's shift ended at 2 AM one night and Cordova asked her if she wanted to go with him on patrol, on a ride-a-long. Such ride-a-longs were common, where officers took citizens with them in the cruiser for a period of time to show them real police work. Great care was taken not to put the citizen rider in any real danger. Michelle jumped at the chance. It was a slow night and she would get a chance to chat with the object of her infatuation more privately in the comfy and intimate confines of a patrol car.
Cordova asked Michelle about a boyfriend and she embarrassingly admitted that she was not currently involved and, indeed, had never had a serious relationship with a boy before. She was quite shocked when Cordova asked her if she had ever done 'the nasty' with a man before. Afraid to admit that she was a virgin and inexperienced, Michelle just laughed off the question without a definite response.
Cordova confided that he had recently broken up with a long-time girlfriend, and was quite lonely and despondent over his situation. He carefully appealed to the young woman's maternal instinct with his tale of woe, how he had loved this woman but that she had left him, through no fault of his own. He told the beaming dispatcher how he was looking to get into a stable long-term relationship and was marriage-minded, with an eye to starting a family someday. By the time Cordova was done with his delivery Michelle was positively wet with desire. She longed to make Cordova happy, and could picture herself in an idyllic setting as the new Mrs. Cordova, bouncing little Cordovas on her knees.
When Cordova suggested they stop by Michelle's apartment for coffee she immediately sputtered her consent.
They never got around to the coffee. Cordova had the winsome young woman stripped for action within a minute of their entering the door to the small apartment. Michelle was quite nervous; this being her first time, but Cordova was very gentle and instructive.
Michelle lay back on her second-hand couch, her palms covering her large breasts, her knees locked tight and drawn up slightly to hide her nudity as best she could.
"There, there, Michelle, just relax. I will be easy with you," Cordova reassured her in a deep, lust-thickened voice.
He gently removed her hands from her jugs, revealing her large, dark areolas and her prominent, erect nipples, each as wide as a dime and jutting out her heaving chest. He gentle kissed each breast, sending ripples of energy coursing through Michelle's body. His practiced tongue glided over her plump nipples, taking each one in turn into his hot mouth and pulling on them gently with his teeth. Michelle closed her eyes and reveled in the talented attention Cordova gave to her boobs. Slowly, his kisses trailed down her flat, firm belly until he reached the upper margins of the thick bramble of her public patch. A little more forcefully now, he smiled reassuringly at the quivering Latina and pulled her knees apart, revealing her musky twat with its dark, lust-swollen labia.
