Here Comes the Tongue Patrol!

 

The police vehicle drove into the suburban street at low cruising speed. It came to a halt by the curb in front of the lawn of the fourth house by the right. Emblazoned on both sides of the vehicle was the symbol of the Tongue Patrol-an eagle's head enclosed in a shield of gold. Few passers-by on the street turned from what they were doing to size up the vehicle with speculation, neither one of them had ever stumbled across such a patrol unit before. Probably something the state recently introduced to keep the streets further safe from exploding crime rate.

The drivers' door opened and a black man dressed in matching black shirt and khaki shorts stepped out, closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, savouring the morning summer's air, looking up and down the street. He wore a black Stetson hat, with the Tongue Patrol insignia embossed on the centre. He was of impressing height and possessed a football player's broad shoulders. His athletic body frame was that of a man who spent plenty hours inside a fitness gym. His black complexion complimented the sinewy muscles on his arms. His skin had a luminous shine as if he'd rubbed himself with baby oil before beginning his work duty today. His features were chiselled and handsome. His eyes hid behind a pair of aviator shades and his eyes were expressionless. He closed his door and came round the front of his patrol car and stepped onto the driveway of his designated house and approached the front door.

He pressed the doorbell and waited. Seconds past then came the sound of a lock twisting in the door and then it came open. The woman who stood there looking at him was of average height, a somewhat portly frame and looked to be in her early forties. Shoulder-length brown hair that fell like drapes on either side of her head with a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes and full lips that at the moment questioned the giant of a man standing before her doorway. She was wearing a housecoat and khaki shorts. A moment seemed to pass as she went on looking at the officer expecting him to say something. It was her who eventually broke the silence.

"Yes, officer? What can I do for you?" she asked the question hesitatingly as if scared of what his reply might be.

"Good morning, ma'am. My name is Kent from the Tongue Patrol squad," the Officer said warmly, taking out his ID shield from the corner of his waist belt and presenting it to her. "We're a newly assigned squad, perhaps you might have heard about us."

She shook her head while she ogled his badge, still sceptical of whatever he was here for. "No sir, I don't think I have."

"Anyway, it's irrelevant. You are Miss Delilah Ferguson, right, and you work at Johnston & Baker Enterprises over on 147 Canal Avenue?" she nodded yes to this. "Well ma'am, our office has received several complaints from co-workers of yours claiming that you've been up to no good. I'm here to make sure everything gets straightened out."

Delilah blinked several times. "Officer, I'm sorry but I don't understand-"

"Perhaps it would be better if I came inside so we can discuss this properly and out of sight from your neighbours." His words were solicitous, and yet there was sternness to it almost as if he was demanding she let him into her home.

"But Officer, I said-"

"Like I said, ma'am, it's best I came inside so we discuss this situation properly."

Still shaken, Delilah cooperated. "Oh, okay . . . all right," she opened the door further, and allowed the Officer inside then closed it behind him. She led the way through the foyer into the living room. From the stereo speakers issued the music of Phil Collins crooning about feeling something coming in the air tonight. Delilah lowered the stereo's volume to a bare minimum then turned to face her visitor.

"Officer Kent, look, I have no idea what any of my colleagues might have told you, but I still have no idea of whatever it is that you're here about."

"You will in due time ma'am, I assure you. But for now I'd like to conduct a reasonable inspection of your home in case you're procuring any illegal substances."

Delilah looked at him in stunned surprise, not believing what she had just heard. "Illegal what?"

"That's what I said, ma'am," the Officer replied, his voice now turning curt and sharp. "I'd first like to start with your bedroom. Perhaps you may lead the way." He indicated a hand towards the staircase by the hallway behind her. Delilah made no attempt to move; her face was still aghast at the officer's incriminating words. Officer Kent decided then to add some dire threat to his words. "Ma'am, you either co-operate with me right now, or it's a ride down to the station in a pair of handcuffs. And trust me when I say you wouldn't want for that to happen."

"Hey now, just wait a minute there, Officer. This is my house, my home. You can't just barge in here and start talking nonsense I've got no knowledge about. I have rights, you know."

"I'm sure you do, ma'am," the cop replied, unfazed by her words. "However, under the Homeland Security Act, your talk about rights is a few seconds from flying out the window as we speak. Now, do you want this the easy way or the hard way? Your choice."

Delilah stood there with her mouth hanging open, flabbergasted with the Officer's demeanour, thought it best to obey, seeing that for now she had little or no choice in the matter. Without a word, she led the way up the flight of stairs towards the master bedroom. She opened the door and allowed the cop to step inside. She waited while his head turned towards every corner of the room, taking in the bed, dresser, vanity table and everything else. He made no attempt to search anything.

"Well, Officer?" she said indignantly.

"I would like to start with the bathroom, if you don't mind."

She sighed and threw her hands in the air. "Lord, help me. This just keeps on getting better," she muttered before opening the bathroom door. Her feature was turning crimson but the cop seemed not to care about his infringement on her personal life.

"Well, look around for yourself and tell me whatever it is that's illegal in here that you could possibly find."

"Actually madam, I already have found it," Kent took off his hat and threw it across the room. His head was round and neatly shaved, and it as well glistened with an oily sheen to it. "And I think it's something you're going to like."

He grabbed hold of Delilah's arm before she even knew what he was about doing and forced her down on the toilet seat. Delilah protested suddenly, her eyes flared with rage, anger and fear at whatever the cop wanted to do to her. She yelled at him to let her go, threw punches at him, but neither brought any hurt to the man who now had her pinned to the wall.

The Officer ripped her housecoat aside, exposing her flesh to him. Delilah was still scrambling to be free and muttered a gasp when the black cock grabbed hold of her left breasts and began kneading her flesh, his fingers pinched her nipples erect. A charge of electricity surged through her and now her fights grew feeble as the officer then lowered his head and planted his mouth on her sagging pair of tit. His lips mashed on her areola and nipple at the same time his other hand struggled to grab her other free breasts. Delilah heard a moan escape from her lips and was surprised by the sight of her body becoming suddenly aroused by Officer Kent's mouth. It had been a long while since last time she got pleasured by this and just the sensation alone brought joy to her features. The Officer groaned from within his throat, an animal-like sound as his mouth went to her other free breasts and started attacking that one as well. Her hands came to caress his head, her body beginning to relish his raw masculinity.