hooker in front of Woolworth's. Shit, he knew she was.a goddamn whore because her mini-skirt showed half her ass, and she was standing straddle-legged as if giving her cunt air to breathe.
At first he couldn't believe it. Vance thought the word had gotten out that he was head honcho of Fairfax Avenue. Shit, he'd fix that whore's cunt for good.
He backtracked and circled the block. He cut through an alleyway that he knew would give him a banzai attack on the hooker from behind. He'd catch that fucking hooker and show her who the hell owned Fairfax Avenue.
Vance spotted her standing brazenly beneath the street lamp, her miniskirt flapping in the breeze, her white ass-cheeks exposed. He sneaked up on her. Twenty feet, ten feet, now only a billy club's distance away.
Swack!
The billy club caught her right over the head, and the hooker slumped to the sidewalk. Vance knew no one had seen what had happened. Shit, he had cleaned up Fairfax Avenue so good that curfew for crime didn't start until the stores opened, and that was still a couple of hours yet.
He dragged the hooker into the alley, toppled over a trashcan. Garbage was strewn all over the alley. Vance grabbed the hooker's limp form and placed it over the trashcan, face down, stomach over the groaning tin container, ass sticking out in the air.
Vance laughed. Shit, it was the first time he had seen a hooker with a whistle-clean asshole. He grabbed a good handful of ass-cheek.
He unbuckled his belt, and 'Law' and 'Order' lay in a heap in the stench-filled alley. He unzipped his pants and brought out his snakelike cock. Shit, his meat was like a limp extra-large Farmer John sausage. He vigorously jerked on his prick, his pudgy hands moving the foreskin over the knob.
Cum oozed from the slit at the top, of the cock-head. He gazed at the hooker's asshole. Yeah, this fucking hooker was gonna get it right in the ass. Shit, Vance was going to shove all ten inches of his fat meat right into, that tiny crapper. It was just too bad that she was unconscious, because he wanted to hear her scream bloody murder when he fucked all of his fleshy cock into her butt.
Vance spit on her asshole, the spittle dribbling down into the slit of her cunt. Then he spit on his cock. He ambled forward, placed one hand on her ass-cheek, guiding his prick to the tight ring of her bung.
The cock-head lay against her asshole.
Vance shoved.
Christ, her asshole was tight!
Shit, his cock was hard!
Fuck, his cock was bending as it met resistance, but her asshole was gradually widening, opening up like the mouth of a starfish.
He shoved harder. Shit, he couldn't believe the ecstasy building in his balls.
Another lunge and another inch of hot, hard cock meat disappeared into the tight shit-hole.
'Aarrrggghhh!' Vance moaned, his voice echoed in the alley, startled rats scurrying for cover.
Fucking shit! His prick was almost all the way into her snug ass. He shoved, the muscles of his hips tightening as they furnished the power to shove all of his prick into the asshole.
Oh, Christ! What a god damn good feeling. His prick was buried balls-deep into the tightest ass he had ever fucked. He could feel the rough edges of her bung rubbing and scraping against the supersensitive tissues of his cock-tip.
Vance pulled his cock out halfway. Blood appeared on his cock-shaft, bright-red drops clinging to the pulsing cylinder of his prick. He shoved forward, then back again.
His balls felt as if they were ready to burst they were so goddamn tight and snug against the base of his prick.
His cock felt enormous it was one of the best hard-ons he had ever sported. The tip was ballooning upwards and outwards. Cum was whirling in his balls, inching towards his piss-hole.
Shit! He was coming!
Vance fucked as fast and as hard as he could. His strokes in and out of the hooker's asshole looked like a blur. Every spurt of sperm, every glob of cum that arced out of his prick sent him into fuck frenzy.
Vance collapsed over the hooker's back, and his motion knocked off the whore's wig.. 'Uuuuhhh,' the hooker moaned.
Vance smiled. With her asshole bleeding all over his cock, Vance felt like he was Superman, like he was Super cop of the world.
'Oooohhh,' the hooker groaned.
Shit, when she woke up and found her ass still filled with his cock, Vance was going to show her another thing or two. He was going to have the fucking hooker blow his blood stained, shitty smelling prick. Oh, yeah, he would show her who the hell was the best flatfoot in the department!
The whore screamed when she came out of the fog-filled world of unconsciousness. Christ, she fell as if her insides were ready to burst, as if one huge turd had rebelled against the forces of nature and was trying to backtrack into her intestines.
'W-What the hell! Oh, shit! My ass! Goddamn, please… my ass hurts so goddamn much!'
'It should hurt, whore-face!' Vance growled. ''Cause got it stuffed with ten inches of meat. You like it, slut?'
'You son of a bitch!'
'Don't go callin' me no names, Ms. Whore!' Vance threatened; 'Call me Mr. Manning, the cop who owns this goddamn Street!'
'Y-You're a cop? You son of a bitch!'
Vance had had enough disrespect. He stood up quickly, his cock jerking out other bloody asshole. As he reached for his billy club, the hooker kicked out her spike heel and caught him flush on the chin.
Vance fell flat-faced in the mess of wilted lettuce leaves and used kotexes that had spilled out of the trashcan.
He spun around, and came face to face with a.38 special.
'You son of a bitch!' the hooker screamed, one hand reaching behind her to feel her asshole. 'You're gonna pay for this!'
It was the first time that Vance Manning had ever faced the business end of a gun. He was ready to shit in his pants-but he couldn't because they were still draped around his ankles.
Then the hooker bent down, gun still aimed at Vance's crotch, and picked up her purse.
'You mother fucker,' she snarled. 'I'm a police officer, undercover agent for the vice squad. You fuckin' pig, you're gonna pay for this!'
The badge that she pulled out of her purse and flashed before Vance's numb face made him fart in fear because he was too scared to shit. Now he felt like the world's dumbest pig.
Vance broke out in a sweat as he recalled that God-awful moment in his career. He always broke out in a sweat whenever he remembered his past. But now, he knew, with his latest job as sheriff of Weedville, there would not be any more sweating moments of horrible fear.
Vance tossed a Tootsie Roll into his mouth and squatted his ass into his swivel chair, propping his Thom McAnn's on the littered desk. He chewed nervously then he glanced at his watch.
Shit, where the hell was Delbert Farley, his deputy sheriff? Shit, if Vance had any goddamn say-so in running things in Weedville, he would have shit-canned Delbert three months ago. The fucking yo-yo was always late. And here it was Monday night, and Vance was looking forward to getting off at five-thirty so he could catch the Buffalo Bills pounding the chicken-shit out of the San Diego Chargers.
Boy, he sure admired the way those Bills played football. They played like men, like animals. A hard, kick the shit out of the enemy running game. No finesse or brains just ram that fucking pigskin right up the enemy's throat. Shit, that was the only way to play the game-hard and fast, hand off to the big black spade and watch him fuckin' pound away.
Shit, where the hell was Delbert? The game was going to start in half an hour.
