The Officer Who Let Us Go Had a Price

My name is Mariana, and I’m twenty-four years old. Ever since I became an adult, men have looked at me in a way I learned to recognize right away: that half-second pause, their eyes dropping and then rising again, the awkward smile they try to hide. It’s not something I brag about, but I’m not going to pretend I didn’t notice it a long time ago, either. It’s something I’ve learned to live with, although it isn’t always comfortable.

Damián, my boyfriend, noticed it from the very first day he met me. We’d been together for six months and, as far as a relationship between young people goes, everything was going well. He’d been away on a work trip for nearly a month and came back just in time for our anniversary. When he showed up at my house with a couple of beers and a nervous smile, I knew he had something different on his mind.

We were in my bedroom, and I was finishing getting ready. I’d put on something casual, nothing out of the ordinary. From the bed, Damián was watching me, but it wasn’t his usual look. There was something behind it, as though he was holding on to a question.

“Mari, can I tell you something?” he said at last.

I sat down beside him.

“Tell me, darling.”

He stayed quiet for a while, fiddling with the beer label. Then he let it all out in one rush, almost in a whisper, as though he was afraid of hearing himself.

“Ever since I met you, I’ve had a fantasy about you. And tonight, since it’s our night, I wanted to ask if we could make it come true.”

I fell silent, surprised. He swallowed and continued.

“I want you to go out on the street dressed like a whore. I want men to look at you, to get hard just looking at you. Older men, especially—the ones who haven’t touched a pussy like that in years. And me beside you, knowing they’re dying to fuck you, but you’re the one getting wet for me. That’s what turns me on the most.”

I stared at him. At first, I didn’t know what to say. But something about the way he said it, with that mixture of embarrassment and desire, lit a curious spark inside me. I was surprised to realize that merely imagining myself walking exposed through the streets already made my pulse race and my panties grow wet.

“Are you sure?” I asked him.

“More than ever. I trust you. And I’d love to see you like that, so confident in yourself, provoking people without even trying.”

I smiled at him. I stood up, opened the closet, and started looking for the shortest dress I owned. We agreed to fulfill his fantasy the next morning, around eleven. I spent almost the whole night thinking about what would happen, my hand between my thighs.

***

I woke up early. Before going out, I wanted to surprise Damián. The house was empty—everyone had gone out—so I put on a short, tight black dress, the kind that suggested more than it showed. Underneath, a tiny thong that barely covered my lips. When he arrived, he found me lying facedown on the bed, my dress pulled up to my waist and my pert ass waiting for him.

He didn’t say a word. He came up behind me, moved my thong aside, and buried his face between my cheeks. I felt his tongue forcing its way between my lips, licking me from bottom to top, stopping at my clit to suck it hungrily. A shiver ran all the way up my back. I’d gone nearly a month without fucking because of his trip, and my pussy received him like water after thirst, dripping onto his chin within seconds.

“You’re soaked, Mari,” he panted, his lips gleaming. “I’ve never seen you this wet.”

“Shut up and keep licking me,” I begged, grabbing him by the hair and pressing his face against my pussy.

He licked me for a long while, pushing his tongue deep inside me, alternating with two fingers that went in and out with an obscene squelch. I came over his mouth with my legs trembling, biting the pillow to keep from screaming. But he didn’t give me a moment’s respite.

He put me on all fours and positioned himself behind me. I felt the tip of his cock sliding between my soaked lips, searching for the opening.

“Slowly, please,” I asked him.

I don’t think he heard me properly, because he drove it all the way in with a single thrust, tearing a hoarse cry from me. I was afraid the neighbors would hear, but soon I stopped caring. He pounded me with animal urgency, gripping my hips to thrust deeper, his balls striking my clit with every drive.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he whispered in my ear as he leaned over my back. “A month without fucking you and you’re like a virgin again.”

“Harder,” I begged, hardly recognizing my own voice. “Break me, Damián. Fuck me harder.”

He pinned my wrists against the bed and thrust into me with all his strength. The mattress creaked, the headboard banged against the wall, and I returned every movement by pushing my ass back to swallow every inch. At some point he pulled his juice-slick cock out, turned me around, and pressed me against the wall, lifting me to face him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he impaled me with a guttural moan.

“Look me in the eyes while you come,” he ordered.

He fucked me by lifting me up and down on his shaft, and I dug my nails into his shoulders. I felt his cock swell inside me, pulsing, and exploded in an orgasm that made my whole body tremble. He held out for a few more seconds and came inside me with a roar, filling me with hot semen that began running down my thighs as soon as he let me go. I stayed wrapped around his chest for a while, catching my breath, feeling it leak out between my legs.

“I’m going to take a shower before we leave,” I told him, now that it was past one in the afternoon.

But Damián caught me by the hands.

“Mari, I want you to go out exactly as you are now. Without showering. With my cum inside you.”

His answer confused me, but I agreed. We went out like that, in the same black dress, feeling Damián’s semen slowly trickle down the insides of my thighs with every step. Along the way I tried to tug the dress down so it would cover a little more, without much success.

***

We walked toward the shopping center. I felt the cool air on my legs and the weight of the stares fixed on me. Men of every age turned their heads as I passed. An older gentleman, the kind who waits for the bus at the stop, stood there with his mouth hanging open and an obvious bulge pushing against his trousers. The man beside him whispered something in his ear, and they both laughed. I didn’t care.

Damián walked beside me, proud. Every now and then he whispered to me.

“That guy over there hasn’t missed a thing. Look at the man in the store—he almost swallowed his tongue. That old man has been imagining eating your pussy for half an hour.”

And I smiled. There was something forbidden, something electric about it all, and the fact that Damián’s semen was sliding around inside me made it even dirtier.

Inside the shopping center, things intensified. On the escalator, a man around fifty positioned himself right behind me. I felt his gaze on the back of my neck, traveling down my back and stopping at the edge of the dress that barely covered my buttocks. When I turned around, he bit his lip and quickly looked away, but not before I saw the bulge in his trousers. Damián saw it, squeezed my hand, and whispered to me.

“Did you see that? He got hard just looking at your ass. He’d give anything to stick it in you.”

Later we ran into some friends in a plaza. We bought more beer, laughed, and told stories. The sun was beginning to go down—it must have been around four in the afternoon. Damián had drunk more than he should have.

“Let’s go. You’re pretty dizzy already,” I told him.

“I’m fine, Mari,” he replied, but when he stood up, he staggered.

He was driving. His car, his decision. I trusted him, though I shouldn’t have.

***

A few streets later, blue and red lights appeared behind us. A patrol car. My heart dropped.

“Get out of the vehicle,” the officer ordered, rapping on the window.

They gave Damián a breathalyzer test. He tested positive. Very positive. They handcuffed him and put him in the patrol car.

“She’s coming too,” the officer said. “As a passenger. Both of you to the station.”

They put me in another patrol car. Panic overwhelmed me. I had never been in a situation like that. The station was an old building with peeling walls and a damp smell. They put Damián in a cell. They sat me on a wooden bench in a hallway to wait. I was more frightened by the way I was dressed than by the fine: when I sat down, my dress rode up more than it should, and the officer at the entrance wouldn’t stop staring at my thighs, where dried traces of Damián’s semen still glistened.

Minutes passed. Half an hour. An hour. The cold in the hallway seeped into my bones and hardened my nipples beneath the dress’s thin fabric. And then he appeared.

A police officer in his mid-fifties. Gray-haired, with a thick mustache and a wrinkled uniform. He looked me up and down slowly, very slowly. His gaze paused on my legs, then my cleavage, and finally my face.

“Miss, come with me. We need your statement in private.”

I followed him. I had no choice. I walked down that long hallway, feeling his eyes on my back, my hips, the sway of the dress that barely covered anything.

***

We entered a small room. A table, two chairs, a barred window. He locked the door.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

I sat. He remained standing, looking down at me. The silence stretched out.

“Pretty clothes for coming in to give a statement,” he said with a smile I didn’t like at all. “Do you always go out like that, showing your pussy to half the world?”

“It was a special outing,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I see. You can tell your boyfriend fucks you well before taking you out for a walk.”

I blushed all the way to my roots. He walked around the table. He stopped behind me, and I felt his hot breath on my neck. Then his hand on my shoulder, sliding slowly down my collarbone and brushing the beginning of one breast.

“You know your boyfriend is in trouble, right?”

“Yes,” I replied tensely.

“Give me your phone. I need to check it.”

I grew nervous. My phone contained intimate pictures I had sent Damián during his trip, things I didn’t want anyone else to see: my open pussy with my fingers inside it, my tits smeared with saliva, videos of me masturbating with a dildo.

“You’re not going to lend it to me? That would make things even worse for your boyfriend.”

I had to give in. I thought he would only look through the messages. But he sat at the desk, opened the gallery, and what I’d feared happened. I watched his eyes light up, his tongue run over his lips, and the bulge beginning to rise beneath his uniform trousers as he adjusted it.

“Well, well,” he said with a laugh. “You’re quite the goddess. Look at that tasty little pussy, and those tits… My wife left me years ago, you know? And seeing you like this makes me so hard I can’t stand it. Let me touch you a little. Just a little.”

I was stunned, not knowing what to say. He insisted.

“If you do that for me, your boyfriend won’t have any trouble. I’ll let both of you go. Otherwise, he’ll be in court tomorrow and lose his license for five years.”

A shiver of fear ran through my body. But I thought that if it was only touching, nothing terrible would happen.

“All right,” I said at last. “But only that. I don’t want you to go too far. You understand.”

A huge grin spread across his face.

“Face the wall. I’ll only touch you a little, but don’t turn around, all right?”

“Just so we’re clear, sir,” I replied. And I agreed, like a fool, once again.

***

I stood facing the wall, my palms pressed against the cold plaster, my back to him. I heard his footsteps approaching, his heavy breathing. His hands traveled slowly up the backs of my thighs, squeezing the flesh. He stopped just beneath my ass, feeling my buttocks through the fabric.

“What an ass, fuck,” he murmured. “What an ass, sweetheart.”

He pulled my dress up to my waist. I felt the cold air on my bare buttocks, barely covered by the thong’s string. He let out a hoarse gasp when he saw the shiny traces of semen still drying on my thighs.

“Oh, oh, oh… you came prepared, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend left you nice and full before bringing you here.”

Then I heard the sound of a buckle, the scrape of a zipper being lowered.

“What’s that noise?” I asked in a thread of voice.

“Relax, I’m just adjusting my trousers.”

It was the last respectful thing he said. He came closer and, at first, touched me only over my skin, tracing my buttocks, squeezing them, pulling them apart. One of his fingers slipped between my lips from behind, probing the moisture that was no longer only Damián’s.

“Look at you, you little slut. Dripping for an old man like me.”

“No, please…” I protested, but my voice came out trembling.

He moved my thong aside with two fingers, and suddenly I felt something different between my legs, something hot and thick that wasn’t a hand, sliding over my open lips.

“What are you doing… you said you wouldn’t,” I protested. “Not like this, please, no.”

He ignored me. He covered my mouth with his left hand so his colleagues wouldn’t hear, while with his right he guided his cock to my entrance and shoved it in all at once, to the hilt. I felt as though he were splitting me in two. It was thicker than Damián’s, and there was no tenderness whatsoever. He pounded me with his pubic bone striking my ass, crushing me against the wall with all his weight.

“God, you’re so tight, so sweet,” he grunted in my ear, his mustache scraping my neck. “How long has it been since I fucked a young girl like this?”

I tried to protest against his hand, but only muffled moans came out of my mouth. Every time he pulled back and shoved himself in to the root, an obscene squelch filled the room. Little by little my body betrayed me, and between the fear and the rage, an involuntary wave of heat slipped through, one I couldn’t contain. My nipples hardened against the cold wall, and I noticed my hips beginning to move on their own, seeking the rhythm of his thrusts.

“See, sweetheart?” he panted, feeling my pussy squeeze his cock. “I knew you were all fire inside. Look at you, moving that little ass for me and everything. You’re a textbook little slut.”

He took his hand away from my mouth when he realized I wasn’t going to scream anymore. He pulled my hair back and bit my neck while driving into me with short, deep thrusts, moving me against the wall like a doll.

“Tell me you like it. Tell me.”

“No…” I whispered, but a moan escaped me when his hand wrapped around my waist and searched for my clit.

He began rubbing it in circles while continuing to thrust into me, and that was when I lost my last shred of dignity. I came against his hand, biting my lip to keep from screaming, feeling my pussy contract around his cock and soak his balls.

“That’s it, you dirty girl, come for the policeman, come nice and hard,” he panted with a piggish grin. “That’s it, that’s it—wet the wall.”

Then he turned me around and laid me across the desk on my back. He pulled my dress up to my neck, ripped off my thong, and yanked my legs apart, holding my ankles wide. He positioned himself between my thighs and shoved himself into me again, looking into my eyes. I turned my face away so I wouldn’t have to look at him, but he grabbed my chin.

“Look at me while a real man fucks you.”

He leaned over, pulled down the straps of my dress, and exposed my tits. He took one nipple completely into his mouth, sucking and nibbling it while thrusting with his whole body. The desk creaked beneath my back, folders fell to the floor, and he kept panting without pause, his face red and his mustache soaked with my sweat.

“I’m going to fill you, sweetheart. I’m going to fill you completely.”

“Not outside, please,” I begged in a thread of voice. “Not inside.”

He pulled his cock out just in time and grabbed it in his hand, jerking it twice over me. A minute later he finished across my chest with a long grunt, shooting hot jets between my tits, onto my neck and chin, with a little landing on my lips. He paused for a second, looking at the scene, his cock dripping over me and a satisfied smile on his face, before stepping away and straightening his uniform as though nothing had happened.

He tossed me a crumpled tissue.

“Clean yourself up, sweetheart. Your boyfriend is waiting for you.”

***

Just as he had promised, he let both of us go. Damián came out of the cell confused, unable to understand why everything had suddenly been resolved. I told him I had spoken with the officer, and that they had let him off with a simple warning. I wasn’t lying entirely.

I never told him what happened in that room with the peeling walls. Sometimes, when he proudly remembers how men looked at me that afternoon, I smile and change the subject. Some fantasies come true in ways no one could ever have imagined, and some secrets grow heavier the longer they remain unspoken.

That night I understood something about myself that I still don’t know whether I like completely. But that, perhaps, is another story.