"Cold Case: The Lavender Ribbon"

"Don't stop! Don't-- Stop--!"

He had no intention to. More than his own release, he needed to hear that he was SOMETHING to at least one woman, one night. To have her damn near asphyxiating him with her own thighs out of sheer pleasure, to have her buck her hips so hard against him that she almost caused a nosebleed and finally, to have her go limp like a ragdoll out of sheer pleasure was as big a reward as it was getting to fuck her. He meant something to her. In the back of his mind he knew that it might just be this one night, but this night he was hers and she was his.

And when they sat entwined on the shower floor, she gave him a look that he'd treasure forever and a caress that made him want to weep with joy. But he didn't. Instead he latched on to her words. "Fuck me, Robert. Fuck me. Hard." He smiled. "I will," he whispered back before he kissed her deeply.

He made her drape her arms around his neck. Then he placed one hand firmly under her ass. Using his free arm for support and making sure her legs were around his waist, he slowly got up. The holds in the shower cabinet were about the right height. He placed her ass on top of the holds and cushioned with his hands to protect her from the cold metal and to gain leverage for what was to come. His dick was throbbing in anticipation now, and he could wait no longer. He entered her cave in a single slow measured stroke, making him moan in relief. And then he started fucking her.

This was another experience entirely from Carol. She had lain under him, passively receiving him, never telling him how she liked it, no feedback whatsoever. In hindsight, he wasn't sure she had enjoyed sex with him at all. Millie on the other hand? There was no doubting what she wanted and no doubt that she liked it. Standing upright, he piled into her like a jackhammer out of control.

He kept up a murderous pace for a couple of minutes when they got a nasty surprise. He was out of hot water! But he was so into it now that he just turned off the shower with one hand, lifted Millie off the holds, and carried her the short distance to his bed. He lay her down on top of the blankets and positioned himself between her legs. She reached down and guided him inside and he started pounding her again while kissing, licking and biting her. He was sure his back would be raw tomorrow from all the scratch marks she'd made.

He was surprised by his own stamina until he remembered he'd already jacked off that night. Had he been told then that he would be fucking the object of his desires in a few hours, he'd have laughed in derision. Yet here he was.

The first tinglings that heralded his orgasm had started. He increased the pace further while he whispered in her ear: "I'm close, Millie. Come with me!"

"Oh, fuuuuuuuuck..." Millie moaned as Robert entered her. She was so ready for him, so wet, so eager. He pushed, sinking his entire shaft into her. It hurt, which only excited her more. She'd never really considered herself a masochist. But the men who had gotten her off only after adding pain to the pleasure they'd given her would have labeled her so. Once he bottomed out, she demanded, "Hard, Robert. Hard!"

He obliged her, grasping her smallish body tightly and pounding her again and again. Suddenly Millie realized that they were begin washed over by slowly cooling water. She'd wanted him to cum in the shower, then later in the bed. But despite the interruption, Millie didn't have to worry much about how much longer it would take. After just a couple of minutes, Robert moaned, "I'm close, Millie. Come with me!"

Robert's orgasm was obvious! The grunts, the change in thrust, the feel of his cock leaping within her. She didn't typically feel that last one. But Robert was primed! She would have loved to have seen him on his back, ejaculating into the air. Hang time! she thought, imagining his globs of cum shooting high into the air before falling to land upon his chest and belly. She waited until he began to slow his thrusts. "No! Don't stop! DON'T STOP!" She increased her body movements below him. "I'm not done, Robert. Fuck me! Fuck me hard! FINISH ME!"

In reality, Millie had already cum twice. In the shower. With Robert pounding her hard against the tile. She'd hid that second climax, maintaining her cries to hide that they had been the result of the pleasure peaking within her. Millie needed Robert to fuck and fuck and fuck tonight. She needed him exhausted, tuckered, worn out... unconscious. "Fuck me hard, Robert! I need you! I need you bad! Do me!!"

And again, he obliged. She told him to keep it simple, to just pound her hard and consistently. Millie knew that she had more orgasms in her. And although she would have loved to have five, eight, ten of them, she needed to have enough energy in her to move about Robert's apartment after he'd passed out. So she raised her knees high to keep the man's cock from touching her in the way that she knew would drive her to orgasm after orgasm to instead urge not just one but two more orgasms out of him before they finally finished.

She curled up into Robert's arms, spooning him, sandwiching his cock between her ass cheeks. She purred in his arms, her chest still expanding and contracting with her dishonestly announced fourth orgasm. "Thank you, Robert. I needed this. I needed this from a good man. You're a good man. I will never forget this night. What you did for me."

Millie waited until Robert's breathing told her he was asleep before she slipped out of this bed and went to the bathroom. She peed and washed. Then, she stood in the bathroom door for a long moment just studying him. She wished she had allowed herself to cum a third time, a fourth time, a tenth time, which she was totally capable of with the right man. Robert might be that right man. But not tonight. Not tonight, because she had other, more important things to deal with.

Millie found Robert's cell phone, sent a text, then deleted the record of it. She turned the phone off, not wanting an unexpected call to wake her host while she was busy. She dressed in a pair of Robert's exercise sweats, then made her way barefoot down to the fire escape window on the apartment building's second floor. Slipping outside, she leaned over and caught the item tossed up to her from an accomplice. It was her backpack, left under the dumpster in the alley. It included her two cells and laptop, as well as a pair of flash drives, a tiny wireless transmitter, and a small .380 semiautomatic pistol.

She returned to the apartment, entering quietly. Robert was exactly as Millie had left him, unconscious from his night of exhausting euphoria. She went to the desktop computer in his living room, inserted the flash drive, and downloaded the first Worm. Using the wireless transmitter that Millie hid behind his bookcase, Millie's accomplice -- in an apartment across the alley -- would be able to see anything and everything Robert did on his now-cloned computer. She withdrew the flash drive and inserted the second one. It would record his password and give Millie access to the lap top anytime she wanted it.

She returned to the bedroom with the .380 in her hand. She stood over him for a moment, studying him. It was odd. If right now she had been standing over the bed of Robert's father, Millie would have been emptying the little semiauto into the man's skull. She dropped to her knees at the bedside, looking into Robert's blissful expression. Will I have to kill you one day? She desperately hoped the answer to that question was I hope not.

She slid the gun under the lamp table next to the bed, then hid her backpack deep in Robert's closet. She retrieved a bottle of juice from the kitchen, drinking a bit of it. She left it on the dresser, next to the sweats, in case Robert sensed that she'd been up during the night. Then she slid in beside him again. He milled a bit, then rolled over. Millie curled up in his arms, pressing close to him. In his warm embrace, she told herself again, I hope not.

Robert knew nothing but sleep, warm and dark and comfortable sleep. He had vivid dreams of sex with a fiery redhead. The only thing troubling about that dream was that she refused to look him in the eyes. She kept glancing past him, and when he turned around to look, she grabbed his head and demanded to be fucked harder, HARDER! The dream faded, and the only remnant of that dream when the alarm on his cell phone went off was a vague sense of unease in his cobwebbed mind. And when his mind registered the soft and warm petite body lying next to him he broke into a grin, all unease brushed away by the intense erotic images from last night the sight of Millie conjured up.

He got up as quietly as he could and switched off the alarm on his phone. He furrowed his brow when the phone asked him if he wanted to switch it on again. He never switched his phone off. He only did it when he needed to restart after installing new software. Strange. It wasn't very old either. Oh well, at least it was fully charged again. He returned to the bedroom and watched Millie starting to grunt in dissatisfaction. He sat down in bed beside her and watched her wake up.

Last night had been something of a revelation to him. He'd never thought any woman could be so enthusiastic about sex as Millie clearly was. Not only had she completely broken down his defences, she had revealed a part of Robert he hadn't been consciously aware of. He liked that she enjoyed a little pain with her sex, and he liked causing that pain. He shook his head in wonder. He'd never thought that about himself. But the pain was a spice added to the lust that made it seem more primal and urgent, more raw.

He rested his hand on her shoulder, making her grunt and sigh as she turned towards him and slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes were tired smiling slits, and her lips followed suit. He leaned in and gave her a little kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, Millie," he said warmly. "Too early," she grunted, making him chuckle. "I'll fix us some coffee," he said. He made two strong cups of coffee with his coffee pad machine and returned, wafting the scent towards her nose. She cracked her eyes open and sat up, draping the blankets under her arms to cover her breasts. A small wince escaped her as well as a little pained hiss. "My nipples are raw from last night," she said with a childishly accusing tone and a pronounced pout that changed slowly into a sly grin. "Thanks, Robert. I needed that."

Bob smiled in return. "Thank you for not taking 'no' for an answer, Millie. I think we both needed that. I'm not lying or exaggerating when I say that was the best sex I've ever had. You taught me something about myself last night. You see-" He glanced her way. She seemed uncomfortable somehow. Embarassed? He wasn't sure. Feeling selfconscious all of a sudden, Bob said "I'll shut up now." They drank their coffee in silence. Bob felt a small gap had developed between them. Maybe this was just a one-off for her. Maybe that was all he needed too, one wild night with a woman that taught him something fundamental about himself. At worst, this would be a confidence boosting memory. At best? He dared only hope.

As the coffee started doing its work, he perked up considerably. They started talking about "safe" stuff, practical stuff. He needed a shower (something she readily agreed to with a humorously crinkled nose), and she would make a list of what she needed from her house. 20 minutes later, he was fresh from the shower and dressed. She had written a list of stuff she needed and he was off to fetch those things. He went over the safety procedures with her again, and then he left. The units outside had had a quiet night of it. Someone had gone from a neighbouring building and tossed what might be a bag up to someone in Bob's building. It'd been too dark to identify anyone, and by the time they had nightvision up and running the alley was clear again. It could have been anything, so they decided that discretion was the better part of valor and they didn't interfere.

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Comissioner Kershaw had spent a miserable night with nightmares. The name "Thomas" kept flashing in front of his eyes. A bad decision to push him up the ladder. Thomas. Carlo? No, Carlton! Carlton Thomas! Edith Livingstone and her lavender ribbon! Timothy Kershaw awoke with a shocked spasm, drenched in sweat. Carlton Thomas. Kershaw had all but proven that Mr. Thomas was Edith Livingstone's killer, but the DA had told him his evidence was circumstantial at best. Kershaw had felt it in his guts that Carlton Thomas was guilty. And so he'd nudged the circumstantial evidence a little bit and discretely tampered with witness records and witnesses. He'd needed to close that case! Nine victims and then the killings had stopped. Carlton Thomas had disappeared, seemingly vindicating Kershaw's belief that he was the killer. The case had remained open, but the drop in murders at the same time as Thomas disappeared had certainly not been harmful to Kershaw.

That the name 'Thomas' should pop up like it did in a case involving his son made Kershaw uneasy. So much so that he called his son again.

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"Hey Dad," Bob said, unusually cheerful as he picked up and answered his phone. He'd just picked up what Millie had wanted from her house to the best of his abilities.

"Good morning Bob," Kershaw replied. His son sounded uncharacteristically chipper this morning. "I was just wondering how the case was coming along. You know how it is, Bob. Multiple shootings in a neighbourhood. People don't feel safe."

Bob rolled his eyes. What his dad had meant to say was "Rich, influential sponsors don't feel safe." There were daily shootings in South Central that didn't warrant as much as a headline in the news. But violence close to the Rich and Famous, and the media went apeshit. Same old bullshit as always, in other words.

Bob filled in his dad with what he knew, from the choice of shotgun ammo to the eccentric choice of weapon at last night's shooting and all points in between. Bob had a nagging sensation that his father was fishing for something.

"And the witness, Miss Thomas, was it? How is she holding up?" Bob frowned. His dad had never shown so much interest in one of Bob's cases. "Mildred Thomas? She's fine. She's at..." Bob hesitated, "a safe place for now. We plan to move her soon. Why the sudden interest, Dad?" There was a trace of annoyance in Bob's tone that caught Kershaw off guard. His son had NEVER talked to him like that before.

Kershaw stumbled: "I-I just wanted to make sure that Miss Thomas is well taken care of, Bob. She's a material witness in your first important case after all!"

This gave Bob a rare opportunity to lay into his dad. He lectured him on not differentiating cases after how rich or influential victims and witnesses were, and how he was capable of looking out for himself and the witness, thank you very much. Kershaw countered by telling Bob in a condescending tone how the rich and influential could help Bob's career. Bob countered that his career hinged on good police work, nothing more. The implied insult stung Kershaw harder than Bob had intended. The conversation escalated into a shouting match with a livid and abusive Kershaw berating his son, while Bob for the first time in his life yelled back, calling his dad a gold star whore who cared more about his career than the people he was meant to protect and serve.

Kershaw slammed down the phone, leaving Bob shaking with anger in his car. He sat in his car outside his apartment for ten minutes as he slowly calmed down. He slammed the steering wheel with hands that shook in anger as he yelled all the abusive expressions he could think of at his father. When he had vented, he picked up the bag of things Millie had wanted him to collect, as well as a couple of large breakfast subs he'd bought.

Entering his apartment again, he announced: "I'm back! I got your stuff. Hope you're hungry!"

Once Robert was out of the apartment, the previous mostly-dead-to-the-world Millie was suddenly up and about. The checked the door, then looked out the window. The patrol car was still directly out front, as was the unmarked unit half a block down. For all Millie knew, there was another unit the other direction. She doubted she could leave if she wanted without being spotted. (And she had no idea how close she'd gotten to being caught with her accomplice the night before, either.)

Millie donned Robert's sweats again. She dug into his closet, pulling out and setting up the laptop. She tapped some keys and, via the tracer on his badge, found the Robert was indeed heading toward Malibu. She pulled out the cloned phone, put it on vibrate in case someone came to check on her, and headed for the kitchen. Millie was starving and made her second task raiding Robert's fridge and cupboards. The man ate pretty well for a single man. She'd seen the kitchens of many a single man before: microwave dinners, boxes of cold cereal, unfinished loafs of bread that were beginning to mold, and recycling cans filled to the brim with beer cans. It was a happy surprise to see Robert's varied assortment of healthy foods.

Millie was dehydrated from their night of energetic sex and was pouring a second glass of orange juice when the cloned phone vibrated against her ass. She lifted it to her ear until she got to the bedroom, where she could listen to the conversation on her laptop. She dropped into a deep, soft chair.

Robert: "Hey Dad."

Commissioner Kershaw: "Good morning Bob. I was just wondering how the case was coming along..."

Millie listened to the back and forth between father and son. She knew most of what Robert told his father, of course. Her attention was primarily on the Commissioner. She'd heard him speak so often over the years. To hear him on a phone call, in such a personal interaction, was so very much different, though.

Commissioner Kershaw: "And the witness, Miss Thomas, was it? How is she holding up?"

Millie had no idea that Kershaw's mind was filled with thoughts of the Lavender Ribbon case and her father. She'd imagined -- fantasized actually -- over the years that the man woke up screaming every night, terrorized by nightmares of what he'd done to her father. Millie was entirely certain that her father had been innocent, railroaded, and somehow dealt with.

So, why had the murders ended when her father disappeared? Kershaw! Millie's mother had burned it into her head that the Detective-turned-Captain-turned-Commissioner had been the actual killer. Kershaw, her mother had been certain, had feared his capture was imminent, thus the timing of the suddenly uncovered evidence against and disappearance of her father. Millie was so convinced of this that if Kershaw was to walk up to her right now and admit to having framed her father and only that, Millie would have screamed into his face LIAR!

Robert: "Mildred Thomas? She's fine. She's at... a safe place for now. We plan to move her soon. Why the sudden interest, Dad?"

Millie sat up in the chair. Move me? She knew that Lieutenant Harris had said that would happen, but Millie had hoped that the frantic and satisfying evening of sex with him would have swayed Robert away from that possibility. Maybe he just needed to find a way to keep her there. Was he working on it? Millie hoped so. She now had access to Robert's computer. But she wasn't going to find all she needed without watching how he accessed the LAPD's data base. Hacking was as much about watching the user as it was breaking into his files. Millie needed a couple of days at least.

Commissioner Kershaw: "I-I just wanted to make sure that Miss Thomas is well taken care of, Bob. She's a material witness in your first important case after all!"

Millie listened to the exchange with great interest. Kershaw was holding back. She knew that. Had he made the connection between herself and her father? Thomas was a common name. But, how many Thomas's had the Commissioner dealt with over his career? Probably not as many as Millie would have liked. If the man made the connection and dug deep, Millie's plan would fall apart. Of course, she had a solution for that. It shot .380 caliber bullets and was currently hidden under Robert's lamp table.

Her thoughts of putting the man out of her misery gave way to listening to the two men, though. Millie was surprised by Robert's response to his overbearing father. She'd been led to believe that the Sergeant was putty in the Commissioner's hands, a whipped puppy following with his tail between his legs. Had the information been wrong? Or-- was Robert growing?

The call ended with the two men still yelling at one another. Millie wished she had had a bug in Robert's car-- No! A wireless camera, so that she could see his reaction to his father. To be a fly on the window of that car... She checked the location tracker again on the laptop. He wasn't moving. She could just imagine Robert sitting there yelling at the top of his lung, muted by the car's closed windows. She couldn't know just how close to the truth she was.

Quickly, Millie snatched up her own cell, called her accomplice, and sat before Robert's desktop. "What do I do?"

The man in the apartment across the way began giving her instructions. Millie was no hacker or geek but she was at least computer literate. In very short time, they had Robert's password and were in the files on his hard drive. There were a few surprises not related to police work. But for the latter, it was pretty much what the pair of them had expected: nothing! Her accomplice told her with a calm voice, "It's not here. It's not on the hard drive. He must access the department's server for work."

Millie was getting frustrated. She'd been peeking over at the tracer map on her laptop occasionally. Robert was returning. He'd be there in under an hour. "Okay, fine. How do we get on the server?"

"We can't."

Millie snatched up the cell and took it off speaker, as if having it to her ear would change his answer. "What do yo mean we can't? You told me we can."

The man's tone was agonizingly calm. "We can! But after he had accessed it himself. I broke his password to the laptop. But, he has to type in the password for the server for me to snatch it."

Millie knew what that meant. She wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't necessarily bad news. It wasn't like Millie had expected to get all she wanted today. She had just hoped to get something today. She got some more instructions from her accomplice on how to wipe all evidence of what they'd been doing. She looked at the tracer map again. "He's back. Couple of blocks."

They discontinued their work, and Millie again his the laptop, burner cell, and personal cell, all turned off. She stripped again and -- after she heard him ascending the stairs -- stepped into the shower. She wanted to be erotically presentable to him when he returned.

He heard the shower running and happy sounds emanating from the bathroom. It was a warm and pleasant sound that filled him with happiness and a longing for this to be something other than temporary. As if on cue, his phone rang. It was Liz.

"Hey Bob, how's married life treating ya!?"

She was joking with him now!? Awesome! A big happy grin spread across his face. Jokes like that was the start of something wonderful. It meant he was on his way to become accepted. "Oh, you know, it has its moments," came his bashful reply.

Liz grinned at her end. Poor Bob. If she knew him right he was already nursing a severe case of blue balls. She decided then and there that she would try to set him up with a date when this case was over. Heavens knew she had enough single friends nagging her about setting them up with a handsome policeman. "Say Bob, bad news for ya, I'm afraid. Orders from on high: she is not to be moved. So you'll be sleeping on the couch for a while, I'm afraid.."

Oh, if she only knew, Bob thought with a grin. "I guess if I must," he said with no real conviction. "I mean, there's room enough, but she'll go batshit crazy after a few days. I don't think she's the type to be cooped up for a long time. Did they tell you why she wasn't to be moved?"

Liz chewed her lips a little before answering. She smelled that old Kershaw nepotism in all this. "I'm not entirely sure, Bob. I'll let you know as soon as I know, okay? Now you can finally use that expensive line to the PD for something useful and not just for free porn surfing."

Bob caught a tone that set off an alarm in his head. "Is everything okay Liz? I'm just asking because, well..." He was about to shift his allegiances. It took all his courage to say the next sentence. "My dad called me yesterday evening and this morning. About me and this case, and about Millie." He'd just used an affectionate form of her name, but he hoped that would be passed off as familiarity gained from living together and nothing more. "He seemed very interested. Now I-" this was the hardest part, and it showed: "I know my dad's been pulling strings to elevate me through the ranks, but even for him this is unusual."

Liz all but deflated. She hadn't expected Bob to be quite so disarmingly honest. "Yeah, he contacted me last night too. It was strange, but he seemed to stumble over his words a little when I mentioned Miss Thomas's name. Do you know what's up, Bob?"

Bob had no clue and he told her so. After saying their goodbyes, they hung up. Bob puttered about in the kitchen and saw that Millie had helped herself to some food. Good. He wanted her to feel at home. He was munching away on his own sub and wrapping up the one he bought for her when his phone rang again. It was Mom. Dad had probably told of their conversations and now she called her son to give him a piece of her mind.

"Hey Mom."

"Don't you 'hey mom' ME, Robert Kershaw! Just where do you get off talking to your father like that? Answer me, Robert!"

And she came out swinging! He sighed heavily and was about to answer, but: "Will you answer me, young man!? Do you know how hard your father has worked to be where he is today!? How much we- he's sacrificed for you? He has called in valuable favours to help your career, and this is how you thank him? You are finally involved in a case that might get you noticed, Robert and your father is only trying to help you! And you hurl ABUSE at the poor man! Now you will apologize to your dear father and-"

Bob, to his surprise, had had enough. Where his father was a pompous self-serving ass kisser, his mother was the power behind the throne. She was extremely manipulative and measured people's worth from what they could do to or for her and her ambitions.

"Mom? Mom. Mom! MOM! ENOUGH!" For the first time in his life, Bob had the advantage. "I never wanted to be a cop in the first place, remember? That was Dad and you. I never asked for help. You'd do that whether I wanted it or not. As a cop, I will do my job RIGHT, without your interference and tampering. I want my record to speak for me, not my connections." His mother scoffed: "Just like your 'dear' grandfather, Robert! And where did it get him? NOWHERE!"

This went back and forth for the next couple of minutes until his mother started belittling him the way only she knew how to do: she brought up his ex. And what about Carol, Bob? You couldn't even keep her. Why the hell did you let a girl like her go?"

And Bob, furious beyond belief now hurt his mother more deeply than he'd ever done before: "I dumped her because she reminded me too much of you and she was lousy in bed!" And then he hung up. His mind was swirling with rage, so much so that he was oblivious to his surroundings. He wanted to lash out hard. Thankfully, he was in his bedroom now, and he set about punishing his punching bag with blows and kicks, his adrenaline and anger coursing through him like poison. The red mist descended, and he assaulted the bag like a raging bull. After a short while, he was spent and crying. His knuckles were raw and sweat was running from him after a short but furious workout. He turned around to find Millie watching him.

He sketched a smile and said: "Parents, huh?"

Millie missed Robert's conversation with Liz. No problem: she'd listen to the recording of it tomorrow after he went to work. But after leaving the shower and exiting to the bedroom, she was able to catch part of his second conversation.

"Mom? Mom. Mom! MOM! ENOUGH!"

She moved quietly to the bedroom door and listened, peeking through the crack to see him pacing about the kitchen.

"I dumped her because she reminded me too much of you--" he went on, obviously talking about his Ex, Carol. He finished,"--and she was lousy in bed!"

Millie almost laughed. Probably just laid there, she thought. So sad. As she saw Robert heading her way, Millie turned and rushed back to the bathroom, closing the door almost all the way. The room was suddenly filled with the sounds of her host pounding his punching bag. She peeked out at him. He was amazing in his movements. She'd always been attracted to men -- and women -- who could handle themselves in the way Robert was now demonstrating he could. She imagined him in an alley with a handful of gang bangers, cutting them down one after another, cracking bones, crushing noses. She smiled. She was getting hot.

Suddenly, it was over. He slumped forward and grabbed the bag for a moment. His chest swelled and shrunk, and Millie could hear the deep gasps escaping his lungs. Then-- she heard his cries. They were of frustration. That was obvious to her. Fortunately, Millie knew how to relieve that emotion. She opened the robe she was wearing enough to show the inside roundness of her small but firm breasts, then opened the door and waited for Robert to turn.

When he did, he smiled, and said, "Parents, huh?"

Millie laughed playfully. She lied, "Hey! My father is a porn king! You don't have to tell me about parents." She moved out to him, taking one of his bloodied hands. "Let me fix this."

She smiled as she led him to the bathroom. She gestured him to the closed toilet seat, then asked where the first aid kit was. It wasn't long before she had the scrapes cleaned, disinfected, and wrapped. As she'd been taking care of him, she asked about how he'd learned to box. "Can you teach me to defend myself like that?"

When she was all finished with his hands, Millie stood over him for a moment. She untied the robe and let it fall to the tile at her feet. "I'm so hot for you, Robert."

He laughed feebly as she joked about her porn-king father, although something didn't sit right with him. He pushed the half-formed thought to the back of his mind. He didn't need this right now. The only thing he was sure of now, the only thing he wanted to focus on now, was the lightly clad redheaded beauty gently grasping his hands, looking at his knuckles.

Let me fix this."

Sitting on the toilet seat and watching her work on his bruised knuckles was one of the tenderest moments ever in Bob's life. He just closed his eyes for a minute and enjoyed being pampered. When she asked about the boxing, he told about his grandfather, the man he was named after. A small smile played on his lips whenever he talked about his grandma and grandpa. They were the reason he hadn't cracked when he was a child. They were the ones showing him kindness as he grew up. His grandpa had boxed, and he'd introduced Bob to the sport. Bob learned the basics of boxing before moving on to kickboxing, much to his grandfather's consternation.

"Can you teach me to defend myself like that?"

"I don't see why not. If I am to watch you 24/7 like the 'powers that be' want me to, I can take you to the gym so you can be taught by an instructor who knows what she's doing. But I can probably learn you the basics of punching myself."

"I'm so hot for you, Robert."

His dick had been steadily growing as he sat there, watching her, feeling her, and smelling her. His wanting her was an almost constant state of being. He got up, remembering how she'd loved it when he showed a little initiative the night before. "And I want you now," he all but growled with a confidence he didn't quite feel. He pressed her up against the wall and kissed her fiercely while his hands got busy. One hand went between her legs to explore her nub and her folds while the other hand helped her get his clothes off of him.

Together they managed to get his pants and boxers off, and he stepped out of them impatiently. She pushed him towards the toilet seat, but he had other ideas. Turning her around, he pushed her forward and bent her over the sink. He positioned himself and sank his cock inside her hot pussy from behind.