The Storm (Part V)

Joanne stood up, his cum dripping from her lips. Instinctively, she ran a tongue around them, lapping up the sweet cum. It was something she had never done before: felt the hot sticky sperm of a man blast against her face and into her mouth. But it felt right, for some reason, and she had never tasted anything in her life that felt so filling and perfect and desperately needed. She stared at the naked women, metal collars around their necks, leashes hanging loosely by their side. One was blonde, a voluptuous body, her combat boots accenting her strong, athletic legs and wide hips, her breasts full and perky. The other was a tall, elegant brown-haired beauty, hoop earrings that added emphasis to a breath-taking face. It wasn’t until she noted the slightly matted hair of both girls and the odd sheen on their faces that she realized that they too had felt the blast of cum on their faces. The thought made her aware of a tingling between her legs, and she found herself lightly touching her clit, feeling its warmth and wetness.

The man stood between the two girls, facing Joanne, as if he was unsure as what to do next. He was lean and sinewy, a working man’s body. His cock lay, half-spent yet still impressive, between his legs, glistening and semi-hard. The four of them stood there like that, on the roof, the clouds moving ahead casting shadows on the buildings, for what seemed like minutes, before Joanne felt as if she had to say something.

“I’m Lieutenant Joanne Greenstein, of the 18th precinct.” She realized how insanely stupid it sounded, considering she had just let this man pound her pussy and cum on her face before she had even said a word to him. “I was caught in the storm.”

The man stood and looked down, a slight look of despair on his worn, tanned face. He ran a hand over his head, closely-shaved.

“These two were caught in the July storms, Johannah first,” he motioned to the blonde. “And Brady a week after.”

Joanne looked at the two girls, who still had said nothing. They were both stunning, but there was something that frightened her about both of them, the silence, yet this look of anticipation, of hunger, in both of their faces, and in their bodies.

“What’s going to happen to me?” She was still absent-mindedly rubbing her pussy, and she leaned back on the edge of the roof, spreading her legs slightly.