The Futa Fairy - Futa Cop's Wild Wish Chapter 3: Officer Cindy's Hot Suspect - Sex Stories

The Futa Fairy - Futa Cop's Wild Wish Chapter 3: Officer Cindy's Hot Suspect

The Futa Fairy – Futa Cop's Wild Wish

Chapter Three: Office Cindy's Hot Suspect

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2017

Whatever had me angry was forgotten in the eager need to chase the sea-green sedan racing down Ainsworth from the direction of my daughter's college. This was the second person I had found driving so recklessly on the street through the residential neighborhood. The street's speed limit was only 30 MPH, and she was doing at least fifty. She was almost as bad as the twin sisters I had just pulled over and fucked with my futa-cock.

I radioed to dispatch, my girl-dick aching as it rested on my steering wheel. I flipped a bitch (technical turn for a 180 degree turn) and roared after the speeder. I caught a glimpse of a dark woman's face. Another speeding bitch I had to punish.

I loved my wish. I was so glad B, the futa-fairy, granted my desires yesterday. I had a huge cock and the ability to fuck any woman I wanted while in uniform. No one cared. My patrol sergeant had even caught me yesterday fucking another speeder and didn't care.

It was so hot.

My sirens screamed and the sea-green sedan pulled off onto the shoulder. I shuddered, my pussy so wet. I shifted, my gun belt creaking. I turned off the sirens but kept the lights flashing. The woman looked behind me, Black, her hair short and frizzy, like a small afro. She was impatient, too. Annoyed that I had ruined her day.

I radioed in to dispatch. “Another one?” the dispatcher answered. “Are you ever getting to your duty station, Cindy?”

“They keep speeding by my daughter's college,” I answered back. “I got her at 51 on my radar gun.” It was a lie. But I was good at estimating how fast someone was driving. You spend over a decade pulling people over and it becomes a well-honed skill.

“I'll let the sheriffs know,” dispatch said, “to put more patrols on Ainsworth if there is a problem with speeding.”

“10-4,” I answered and then ran the woman's plates. No warrants. It was registered to a Rita Jones. My daughter was friends with a Pattie Jones. They both attended Washington High. Was this Rita her mother?

I climbed out of my car, my boots crunching on the gravel. More cars drove past on Ainsworth, ignoring the huge girl-dick thrusting out of the front of my uniform. My handcuffs jangled on my belt. I had a lot of fun with them and those twins. I reached the sea-green car, bending low, keeping my dick out of sight.

For now.

The window came down. “Morning,” I said with a fake smile. “And where were you heading in such a hurry?”

“Just on my way home,” the Black woman said. She was pretty, my age, wearing blue scrubs. She had a parking pass for St. Claire Hospital on her front windshield. “Long night at the hospital.”

“Nurse?”

“Doctor,” she said, giving me a smile, hoping I would extend her a courtesy.

“Uh-huh,” I said as she handed over her ID. She was Rita Jones. “This is out of your way if you're coming home to St. Claire. You live on the ...