An ‘erotic’ short story I wrote a few years back.
Please feel free to let me know what you think. (This is my first post on Reddit, btw, so be nice! :P)
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**A Man in Uniform**
A deep sigh escaped her full, beautiful lips without her even meaning to let it out. She was more surprised than he was, as he turned and looked in her direction, surely having heard the expulsion of breath and, perhaps, saw it, as it was quite chilly this afternoon.
She almost turned and walked in the other direction, but it was like her feet had minds of their own, ruled perhaps by the throbbing in her center, drawn toward him and disaster as surely as if he were an iceberg, and she a doomed vessel. Her heart had been broken too many times by guys just like this one but there was nothing she could do about it but surrender, like always, like a moth to a flame, toward him, her weakness: A man in uniform.
What was it about this masculine cliché that just made her lose her reason and always turned into a curious and delicious mixture of fear and whatever it is in a woman that makes her wet before she can even feel it?
This one was dangerous, she knew. He’d done things, bad things, but he was proud of those things and secretly, like most men who do what they do with the full power of the badge they wear, enjoy both the fact that they can do those things, and that everyone who hears about their actions, considers them a hero for having done it. Ever since he had been young, he’d wanted that power and now he has it, and wields it expertly and she could just tell all of this from twenty paces because, well, she’d been there before; too many times to mention, and it always ended the same way:
With her, at first, head over heels, madly in love and submissive and happy, but, in the end, damaged and torn, weak and trying to pull herself out of the seemingly bottomless pit into which she’d willingly and happily jumped without having bothered to toss in a pebble first to see how deep this new abyss descended.
Oh he knew the power he held when he was wearing this dark‐blue uniform. That was the main reason he worked overtime whenever possible, and, sometimes, even when he was off‐duty, he would wear it or the others just like it, when wandering about or doing errands. The fact of the matter was that he loved the attention, respect and fear the uniform invariably received; both the good and the bad.
Sure, the thanks he got from old ladies was nice, as they shuffled up to him, reeking of moth balls and impending death and thanked him in their cute little old lady voices, for keeping them safe.
The reverence with which little boys looked up to him and asked him about his gun and if he’d ever shot anyone was a bonus too, especially if they were with their moms because, well, let’s be honest, you know a woman with kids puts out, and goes raw too. Crude deduction, yes, but truth is truth.
But, it was women just like this one that really made it all worth it. She was thin and feminine and beautiful and sexy in the way that only a woman who is a mother can be and, under his uniform, like some flesh‐covered divining rod, he too throbbed, very much aware of the wetness between her legs as she looked him up and down but tried to be cool about it.
He smiled a tiny, knowing grin as she came closer; his eyes covered by dark, wrap‐around sunglasses knowing she’d find some excuse to talk to him, and she did exactly that.
“Um, hi, officer, excuse me, but, uh, do you happen to know what time it is?” she breathed the words in her throatiest, sexiest voice, oblivious to the fact that she was wearing a watch.
“Well, if you look down at that device there on your wrist, you could tell me.” He said in a
playful, though slightly caustic way that just made her crazy.
“Oh this old thing? It’s always wrong.” She replied, feeling rather stupid that he’d noticed her
ruse and so easily called her out on it, but, after all, he is a cop and paid to notice things.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her a little closer, and then put his arm, complete with the kind of watch Batman would wear, one that did much more than just told the time, and compared the two before saying: “Well it’s right today. You’re in luck!”
She shuffled her feet a bit and lowered her face, subconsciously puffing out her chest which, though by no means massively endowed, was enough to make him peek at her cleavage and ask: “Did you really want to know what time it was, young lady, or were you merely looking for an excuse to talk to a cop?”
“Busted!” She said sweetly, holding her hands out as in preparation for the cold touch of the shiny chrome‐covered cuffs on his belt.
He smiled too, and started to touch the cuffs, but thought better of it in public.
“Tell you what, my shift isn’t over for a couple of hours, but, uh, I was thinking heading out to the park for one of those dirty water hotdogs from the push carts. Care to join me?”
“What, not to the donut shop?” She said and instantly regretted.
“Well, ma’am, you don’t get a body like mine by consuming a lot of fried dough dipped in
sugar.”
She nodded, relieved that he wasn’t offended.
“Sorry, that was mean…” she started to stammer.
“Not at all; I’m used to it. Part of being a cop is learning to deal with stereotypes. People assume the donuts and think we all have an innate ability to mimic sound effects with our mouths…” he paused, waiting to see if she got the reference.
“Ah Michael Winslow! Loved those movies when I was a kid. Stupid, but funny films. I was too young to see them when they were out, but thanks to cable, I’ve seen the first two, at least.”
Good. That meant she was in her twenties still. Probably 23, 24, tops. And she obviously took care of herself and walked with a confidence women in their early twenties all shared, knowing the power they have between their legs and, unlike ones a few years younger, knew what to do with it, and, unlike those a bit older, didn’t have a string of failed marriages to make it taste bitter.
They walked mostly silently toward the gates of the park, the day had been sunny and warm, with a few puffy clouds dotting the sky, but, as the sun dipped lower, so did the temperature, making her nipples stand out against her too‐thin pink shirt, as her light jacket slipped aside, showing him each of them; their perfectly formed tips making him gently bite the inside of his lip, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
She did, of course, and took a little longer than she normally would to pull the jacket over her high‐beams.
“It’s getting a little chilly tonight.” She said inanely, eliciting a nod from her new male companion, and nothing else. ‘Ah, the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious and silent type’, she thought.
The vendor was just about to shut down for the night, but happened to have a few dogs left. He made them as requested and handed them to the two, but refused to let either pay for them.
“Just another one of the perks of the job.” He said.
“Don’t you ever worry about people spitting in your food?” she inquired.
“I’m sure they do sometimes so I always pay attention and make sure they know I’m looking at them and aware of their thoughts, just as a deterrent.”
She giggled a little, liking the fact that he seemed to anticipate her every thought and came prepared with an answer.
They walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, eating their ill‐gotten gain in silence, each trying to make sure no crumbs or condiments ruined the moment. She, of course, pretending it was too much for her to eat the whole thing, nibbling daintily and mumbling something about having to eat only salads for the next few days thanks to this.
They exchanged small talk for a bit, trying to deny the electricity that arced from one to the other and back again, and then the words became pointless and they both knew it. He reached over and grabbed the leftovers from her meal, tossing it to some nearby pigeons and they both watched the birds scramble for their share before the two lost interest and continued their walk in silence.
He knew where he was taking her. He’d been there before. No cameras. No cold breeze. Only the scent of the wet concrete and old piss, the floor littered with broken glass and the walls covered with mostly bad, adolescent graffiti. A misspelled expletive here and there, and a crude attempt at a huge, neon green penis squirting blue ejaculate covered most of one wall, though, right in the middle, was a door to which he had a key, thanks to a friend in the parks department he’d gotten out of jam once. It was to that secret spot he took her in more ways than one. She followed like a lamb to slaughter, her panties getting wetter to the point where she just knew there was a wet spot visible through her sweat‐pants.
As he flipped the cover of the lock and slid in his key, he swore he heard her moan softly.
Once inside, the room was actually quite nice. A small stone fireplace stood against one wall with a pile of wood nearby. He took a few pieces, tossed it on some wadded newspaper and the ashes of the old fire, and lit it deftly with one hand and an old Zippo lighter. A mostly clean, though dotted here and there, faded red couch stood against the opposite wall. It was upon this couch that she sat, taking off her jacket and laying it upon the armrest.
He too took of his uniform jacket and sat beside her, wasting no time in putting his hand on her chin and pulling her lips to his. Those sparks that they’d both felt in the park turned to something more as, before they knew it, they were both naked, and he, still powerful even out of uniform, dropped to his knees, lifted her up on to the edge of the couch, and then laid her down, spreading her legs to take one last look at her dripping pussy before he buried his tongue in it.
There was no doubt about her moans now as she arched her back, pressing her moist lips against his, bucking like a wild, untamed animal as she quickly came, dripping down his chin with a long, satisfied exhalation. He wasn’t done yet though, and, after a few seconds to let her rest, began slowly licking her vulva, her lips throbbing and glistening with her juices and he lapping up every drop, sliding his wet, warm tongue deep inside of her, and then sucking her swollen clit between his lips, flickering his tongue around in tiny circles, then biting just a little, causing her to grab a pillow, and almost scream as she came again, this time squeezing his head between her powerful thighs, grabbing his hand to slide a finger in her tight little asshole.
Then, suddenly, he grabbed her and picked her up, sitting down on the sofa himself, and, in one deft move, he lowered her dripping cunt down upon hard cock. Slowly at first, and then all the way inside of her, his powerful arms picking her up by the hips as they both looked down to watch the reflected firelight glisten upon her wetness on his naked shaft. Faster, and faster she fucked him, before reaching down, pulling out his cock, and sliding the tip in her ass. Then all the way in there as well; it hurt, but it was a good pain and she was surely wet enough to make it work and did. He grabbed her and sucked each nipple, one by one, biting them too, a little too hard, reaching back to pull her hair and bite her neck and make her cum again. She moaned: “I’m fucking cumming! Cum in my ass!” and he could no longer hold back, and did what she asked, feeling rivulets of himself gush deep inside of this girl whose name he didn’t even know.
When he was finished, he pulled her off and laid her upon the sweat‐covered sofa, smiling again as he watched her cum mingle with his as it oozed out of her puffy, red asshole.
“You never told me your name.” He said matter‐of‐factly, watching her stand, wipe herself off with some paper napkins left over from their meal, and pull her clothes back on.
“No, I didn’t” she said, as she pulled her on her jacket, walked toward the door, opened it and let it shut behind her but, at the last second, peeked in at his exhausted and still panting nakedness and smiled before letting it close, leaving him wondering what the hell had just happened.
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9on3cx/a_man_in_uniform_erotica