Show the cop-slut what a real rough throatfuck looks like

"Bitch, I'll show you a real throatfuck!", you grunt like a neanderthal. Yeah. Words are not your forté.

But this stupid cop-cunt has been teasing you for too long. Time to show her who's boss. With all those deep thoughts going through your mind, you're already extending your arms towards the back of her head, ready to grab the luxurious raven hair cascading down her shoulders. Damn bro, you're really going places in this whole Blowjob Universe thing. You're doing more stuff at once than you've done in a month before you came here.

Oh, you'll show her deep. You'll destroy her. You'll punch your cock straight into her throat, make her gag and ****, make her beg for more while your jizz runs out of her nose. You won't stop until her face is a ruined mess of baby-batter mascara and spit. With your hand pulling her tight raven braid, you're alreadz thrusting your fat cock forward while the sunglasses-clad cop regards you with a conspicuously teasing smirk. The bitch really thinks she'll enjoy it? Oh, you'll fuck that right out of her.

Then, right before you can put this genius plan into action, suddenly and swiftly, the whole world turns. Literally. The ground moves away from you and rotates. You're confused. Are you becoming a superhero? Are you learning to fly? A lot of big thoughts and ideas, too many for you to handle. Apparently the ass-licking slut you have been enjoying all this time is not coming with you. Too bad. Her tongue circles the rim of your ass one last time and then separates from it. The formerly snooty, conceited Italian, reduced to a slobbering mess, getting off on eating your hairy butt remains behind on the ground. Her patrician gaze is washed away, replaced with longing and disappoinment, at least as much as the mess of smudged make-up covering her formerly stern, refined features reveals.

Then the ground starts not only to move but to rotate as well. What the fuck is going on? You shriek like a girl. Guzzler's face sails across your field of view, distraught disappointment cutting across the hard-assed bitch front she wears usually. Watching your dick fly way as she lightly fondles her tit. Another hand is on her utility belt, the fingers consciouslt tucked inside the tight-fitting fabric. Another time, slut.

Oh fuck! It's you who's flying! You must be be becoming that Keanu character, John Wick or something he was called? Or are there wings on your back? The faintly familiar, snuggly warm feeling on your back makes you think so. It's enjoyable either way.

Before you can get used to it, you've reached your apex, floating an arm's length away from the dirty concrete ceiling for a moment, your oversized dick almost painfully smashing against a rusting rafter. Then the descent starts.

You wuss. You scream like a girl. Shit's scary when you're not in control. Especially not when the cold concrete ground is rapidly approaching. You panic, whimpering loudly. You don't want to die.

The sudden snug sensation around your cock helps calm you down somewhat. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it feels like some experienced dick-milking hand is stroking you from the base to the tip, taking extra time to massage the sensitive underside of your bulbous head right before you land.

What is happening? Are you levitating? Is there some mystical **** involved? Or is the whole Blowjob Universe thing just a ruse? You're about to find out. You brace for impact, closing your eyes just as the unseen warm feeling is massaging your glans, using the pre-cum oozing from it as lube.

There is no crash, at least. Just a soft thud. Your dick is still getting milked. You still live. You've met God and still live.

Slowly, you come back to earth. Words, sounds and screams reach you from like behind a filter. Everything moves in slow motion.

You see the German piss-tank approach you with fury in her eyes. You see Agent Choco-tits emerge from your back, her hand connecting to your dick. You hear her words, as if they are coming from a long distance, echoing in your head. But you hear them nevertheless. "David. Need. Your. Assistance. Ejaculate. Quickly."

You hear the words. But you are unable to connect them. Agent Choco-Tits seems distraught. Her elegant pixie looks frazzled. The "Cunt Intervention Assessor" tube top has slid off her tits, exposing her full knockers. Not waiting for a response, her head slides downwards, out of view. You still barely comprehend what's going on and waiting for a coherent response from you is a forlorn cause.

Something warm envelopes your cock. It feels like a silky smooth, moist tunnel straight to heaven. Are you dead after all? First it envelops your head in comforting, flooding warmth. The warm, wet moisture continues further and further down your girth. Inch by inch you entire cock is envelopes Then the caressing starts. Something warm, wet and succulent smothers the underside of your head, your girth, your thick, hairy base. A sudden sensation invades your still moist backside. Whatever it is, it's pressing all the right buttons. You can't help it. You moan like a girl. You can't hold it. You must pump out cum. Now.

Your balls churn out incredible amounts. Your dick almost pulsates. Suddenly your cock is unsheathed, just as your spurt out the first load. Did you fuck up? Instead, the soft, handjob-like sensation takes it's place, milking you dry. You see and feel everything around you in a state of transcendent bliss.

Feeling and seeing everything in slow-motion you take in Agent Tits running at you, football-sized fist raised, naked giant breasts heaving. The blast of cum you feel spurting out of your tip as you are experiencing one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had. Agent Tits stopping dead in her tracks, as the strands of cum hit her square in the face. One after the other, and another, the hand never stopping milking you. Glob after glob of thick, porridge-like cum (you should get that checked out bro) plaster her strong-jawed face, lined and deformed in an expression of pure hatred. Shot after shot not only stop her dead in her tracks but send her recoiling back. Not getting any respite, Officer Tits finally collapses on the ground, blinded and degraded, her face a white ruin straight out of a bukkake flick.

Finally, everything accelerates again. Was it all a dream? Frelling's stone cold face emerges from below, wiping a thick drop of cum from the corner of her perfectly symmetrical lips and swallowing casually before she speaks up: "Good job David. I knew you had it in you." This rocks. You indeed had quite a lot in you. Having released a bukkake-sized load all over Captain Big-bare-piss-sogged-tits, you just stand there with a big, dumb idiot smile all over your lips.

After a little while, you come down from your post-coital bliss, returning back to reality step by step. Slowly, you readjust to your surroundings, taking in the situation piece by piece. The whole room is in shambles. There's broken tables and chairs, knocked over cabinets and their contents strewn everywhere. The floor is covered with a lukewarm layer of your urine, the sour, rank smell spreading through the room. A few of the concrete supports in the room have quite noticable dents in them, cracks spreading in all directions. A bunch of scantily dressed police sluts are standing around in small groups discussing the damage, trying their best to look busy and self-important. Their uniforms are almost uniformely in various states of disarray. With most of them flashing erect nipples and pussy lips underneath tight clothes, they end up looking like thotty Instagram models. Fuckable to the utmost degree.

From behind, loud, rhythmic high-heel clicks are approaching. As they near the scene of the damage a strict, authoritative voice speaks up:

"Agent Frelling, what the hell is going on here? Why is my precinct in shambles?"