[smc]

The story, continued ...

In a second, the footsteps become a rumble. As the door to the men’s lavatory is thrown open, I furiously try to stuff my hard cock away. It is not an easy task. Keliana has me so aroused that I can barely fit my cock back into my pants, and the continual dripping is making it so lubricated that I am having a tough time getting a good enough grip. Before I can hide what Keliana has done, the door to the stall flings open. The man from the front desk glares at me. There are a dozen or so hostel guests behind him, all trying to get a look.

“What is going on in here?” the desk clerk asks, yelling at me in heavily accented English.

Just as I begin to compose an answer, I hear the loud voice of a woman shouting above the din of all the onlookers. She is speaking French. Whatever she’s saying, the entire room becomes quiet. Suddenly, there she is, pushing the desk clerk aside and staring in at me sitting on the closed toilet seat. It is a policewoman. She beings to ask me what I can tell are questions, from her tone, but I don’t understand a word she is saying.

One of the other guests, a young woman, steps forward. She says something quietly to the policewoman, and then turns to me and says, “She wants to know what happened that made you scream.”

“Who called the police?” I reply.

“I think you should answer her,” the young woman says.

The policewoman turns to the young woman and speaks. From the little French I understand, I assume that she’s asking for translation.

“You should answer,” the young woman says, again. The policewoman glares at me, with a stern look.

“I don’t know what to say.” I can’t think of any response.

The policewoman steps into the stall and grabs my arm to lift me from my sitting position. My cock, which has softened, dangles from the top of my pants, which I haven’t finished pulling up. She grabs my cock and stuffs it into my pants with one hand, and then gestures to me to close the zipper and buckle my belt. I do as I am told. Then she bends down and picks up the “Chic” magazine with Keliana on the cover. It’s open to the photo spread, and there is cum on one of the pages. In fact, I’m beginning to notice the cum I’ve sprayed everywhere.

She says something to the young woman, who turns to me and says, ““She was on her patrol, walking by the building, and heard you. She wants to know if this is why you screamed.”

I look right into the policewoman’s eyes. Beyond her stern look, I sense a tiny bit of a smile. I nod my head “yes.”

The policewoman again turns to the young woman, who then says to me, “You must go with her.” The policewoman then grabs my arm and pulls me out of the stall, through the crowd of guests, down the hall, down the stairs, and into the lobby of the hostel. She says something to the young woman, who shakes her head “no” and begins to go up the stairs. The policewoman shouts at her, and she stops dead in her tracks, then turns around and comes back down the stairs. They converse for a moment, the young woman runs up the stairs, and comes back dressed instead of in her pajamas. The three of us leave the hostel amidst a din or murmuring among the other guests.

Once out on the street, we walk for a few blocks and arrive at a police car. The young woman does all the speaking after being told what to say. “I have been commandeered to translate, I suppose until we get to the police station. She says to get in the front next to her.” I do. The young woman gets in the back.

“What’s your name,” I ask the young woman. As she answers, “Monique,” the policewoman turns to me and puts her finger over my lips.

“Shhhhhh,” she says.

We drive a short distance until I see the light of a police station ahead. But as we approach, the policewoman speeds up and goes right past. Monique begins to speak, hurriedly and with a tone of concern. I can tell she doesn’t like what the policewoman is saying back to her

“What’s going on?” I ask.

The policewoman says, “Shhhhhh.” And then she slaps my face lightly.

* *

After a bit more driving, we arrive at a small house. It seems to me as if we are no longer in the city. Perhaps it is a suburb. We pull into a small driveway, and the policewoman and Monique get out. The policewoman comes to my side of the car, opens the door, and grabs my arm, dragging me to the front door. She unlocks it, drags me in, and throws me down into an easy chair in front of a small coffee table. She says something to Monique, and heads down the hallway.

“She says that we had better stay still, if we are smart,” says Monique, who then sits down.

Waiting for whatever is going to come next, my eyes begin to wander around the small room. I guess it’s the living room. The table has some magazines on it, and I begin to look through the pile. Underneath two issues of “Paris Match,” I come across two more “Chic” magazines. On the cover of one, I see a shapely woman with long, dark hair from behind. She is walking onto the deck of a house or apartment, and there is a body of water in the background. On the cover of the other, what appears to be the same woman appears, with her succulent behind exposed under a red dress that has been lifted to the waist. Then I see the text on the cover of the second magazine: “Keliana in that Red Hot Dress.” They are both Keliana.

Monique is sitting quietly, clearly nervous. The policewoman is still somewhere down the hall. Fearful of what is coming next, I take a chance at escaping. As quickly as I can, I rush to the front door and open it. Just as I am about to run out into the darkness, my way is blocked by yet another policewoman. She grabs me and drags me back into the room, throwing me down into the chair. Then, in what seems to be a single motion, she pulls off her policewoman’s uniform. A massive cock sticks straight out into my face. It is even larger than Teodora’s.

She shouts something in French, and turns to Monique.

“She says to suck her,” says Monique, “or else.”

to be continued ...