Lesbian, triple outrageous cavity search
"Have you anything to declare," it was directed straight at Cynthia by the customer's officer.
She was in a hurry as her flight had been delayed, and now, she only wanted to get home. The young woman had maximised her time away and had work commitments in several hours.
Cynthia realised she had that nervous twitch. She knew she should have declared her granny's Italian goodies.
They always went ballistic about food.
Still, she had always managed to sneak those home-preserved treats in. And as a modern urban girl, she had never set foot on a farm. These conserved treats were for her and her friends: delectable antipasto delights.
"Your passport and declaration card, please."
Cynthia placed them on the counter.
"Okay, Ms Nespoli, you have indicated nothing to declare. But do you have anything to declare?"
The delicate olive skin lass tried to keep a poker face.
She had never been stopped before.
She was always straight through the nothing-to-declare lane and home.
Surely, it was her demure looks, tied-back ponytail, and glasses, and nothing flamboyant or sexy in her manner. She wore comfortable jeans and a pink cardigan over a plain T-shirt.
Nothing to draw attention like her boyfriend, Sam.
His most recent T-shirt had Vegetarians kill innocent plants. End the violence — eat bacon; another was the provocative — Keep Calm and Smoke Dope.
The latter resulted in the sniffer dog deep into his crotch.
No, Cynthia was always unobtrusive, but she was singled out today.
"Nothing to declare," said Cynthia, but she knew she was sweating and getting fidgety fingers.
"I'm going to run this drug scanner over your bags," said the male officer in his forties.
Well, he was about that age. He could have been younger, but he had a very prominent belly. He waved his device like a magic wand over her bags and cabin luggage.
Oh fuck, thought Cynthia, that final party in Naples two nights ago with the crack snorters.
The telltale beep-beep ensued.
"We need to scan your luggage and search your bags as it's showing trace elements of substances. Is there anything you want to disclose at this stage?"
"Do your job," was all a resigned Cynthia could say.
Well, they found contraband, undeclared food and more drug traces. She had very high readings on her cocktail dress and unwashed black knickers.
Fuck that party and that guy in the bathroom. Great sex, worth cheating on Sam. But the dude left dust all over her dress while filling her pussy.
Or it might have been the chick she sixty-nined with later in an upstairs bedroom!
Oh well, they won't find anything else.
I'll pay the food fine and get out of here.
Geez, the pricks were ultra-thorough now.
Once they had the undeclared items and the drug traces, a trio of human bloodhounds wasn't going to let go.
"We need to scan your body next. A female officer will conduct the scan. It can be done here or in a private room."
"Here is fine," Cynthia was actually relaxed.
The worst was over.
Of course, her goddamn heels indicated trace elements.
Geez, that bloody party.
"Are you a regular user of substances, or do you have an explanation for the readings we are getting on multiple items?" asked the female officer.
"I was at a party a couple of days ago. There was abundant stardust, but I'm not a recreational or regular user. It's just through my clothes," said Cynthia.
A second male officer was turning out her handbag on the counter. Tampons and flavoured condoms, and yes, her bag indicated more high readings.
"Ms Nespoli, you must accompany another female officer and me to an interview room. We need to conduct a full strip search. Your readings are everywhere and consistently very high. Do you want to declare drugs on or inside your person now?"
"No, wait a minute. I'm not consenting to you pawing over my body. I was at a fricking party. This is getting ridiculous," said an agitated Cynthia.
"Okay, so I should have declared Nona's treat, the rest…."
An authoritative voice didn't let her finish.
"Ms Nespoli, unless you consent, you will be handed over directly to the Federal Police for further investigations."
"Get the Feds. You're not searching me."
"Ms Nespoli, you must still accompany us to an interview room. Federal Officers have been called. They will be here in five minutes."
Cynthia sat in the sterile room. Four chairs, one desk, a water dispenser and a few plastic cups. A clock on the wall, boring white walls.
Only waiting, except for the female customer's officer in a body-neutral stance.
Watching her.
Hawking her.
Waiting for the Feds.
Two Federal female officers arrived. The customs officer acknowledged them and left.
Cynthia sat with folded arms.
"Ms Nespoli, this is Senior Officer Ramm, and I am Officer Honey. We have reason to believe, based on your false declaration and drug traces through your possessions and clothing, to conduct a body strip search to ascertain whether you are carrying drugs on your person or internally. Do you understand"
"Of course, I understand. I made a mistake with the food. The drug accusation is nonsense. I don't consent to the search."
"Regarding your lack of consent," said the senior officer, "It makes no difference. Our authority to search you is legislated under the Drugs Importation Act. So, you might as well keep it civil and with you having some control over the process."
"What friggin control when I squat naked. I know how this stuff operates," said an exasperated Cynthia.
"Have you been searched before? You seem to know the process," quizzed the senior woman and Cynthia looked at her closely for the first time.
A big-breasted woman constricted by the tight uniform jacket. Matching grey pants, trying to hold in a spreading middle-aged arse.
If she wasn't a lesbian, she was only getting it from her husband under the sheets in the dark.
Of course, Cynthia knew the process from Sam. He had had more than his prostate checked out coming back once from Southeast Asia.
Still, those provocative T-shirts.
"Oh, let's just get on with this then," said Cynthia
The prospect of the older woman's hands on her with the unsexy, thin latex gloves were not an attractive thought or sight.
However, the younger woman, Officer Honey, indicated she would be responsible for protocols.
Cynthia thought what the fuck and did the sexiest strip she could imagine.
Damn, you pervy, over-officious, under regular sex serviced bitches.
Cynthia delivered an erotic tease.
Flinging her cardigan aside and lifting off her T-shirt.
She felt in charge, and was she working it.
Her tongue over her lips and her hands expansively, openly, lingering on her exposed flesh as she flaunted her bra. She wriggled off tight jeans and exposed her knickers.
All her lingerie today was bright pink, lacey and high cut.
She even removed her glasses and deliberately let her hair cascade around her face.
Cynthia had the figure, and she knew it.
She enjoyed seeing both women becoming unprofessional. Their authoritative façade was crumbling. They lustfully stared.
Cynthia's jugs wobbled as she released her bra clasp. She was well-endowed, and her cherry-topped creamies overstimulated both officers.
Her yummy elongated knobs.
Her super nipples were firm, erect and pointy.
Twins, alluring and ripe —ready to eat — booby raspberries.
Our girl only had to run her hands over them, and they were entirely at attention.
Her panties slid off with a delicious knee bend, and her legs spread to reveal her shaved coochie.
Well, how else does a girl go to a hot foreign party?
She was about to squat and let her luscious love lips dangle when the older senior officer lost her professionalism and moved closer to Cynthia.
A very light brushing of fingers on her face by the suspect, and Officer Ramm descended rapidly into tactile titty teasing.
She had to touch those generous, astounding nipples.
Her tongue sloshed and swilled saliva with deft, hard-to-hard tongue tip-to-teat action.
Officer Honey watched, flabbergasted but only momentarily.
Her smut courage was up with awakening arousal.
A suppressed lesbian, this was too much, and her latex gloves were groping in pussy and fingering Cynthia's arsehole simultaneously.
No uppers or downers in either tight indentation, just fingers twisting straight in and out.
Ms Honey was investigating flesh holes feverishly and fervidly. A feral wanton exploration.
The younger officer was indecently deep in Cynthia's slit and rudely probing in her pucker slot. Repression released in smut.
Ramm was teasing Cynthia's breasts now. Her latex gloves were thrown to the floor. The older woman was dabbing, patting, tapping and flicking nipples.
They were her adult private play zone, and the suspect was holding both melons up and out and surrendering them unconditionally to the senior officer's whims.
Honey was too keyed up, over-committed to the unexpected, as she knelt and took in Cynthia's stunning, dazzling cunny lips.
Her grooved fluted wonders were flouncy, trembling, dangling delicacies.
So, dainty.
The choicest morsel of femininity ready to be sucked, licked, separated and penetrated.
A scrumptious flesh treat for her own tongue, and she rushed at Cynthia's titbits of pleasure with rapacious predatory speed.
"Aah! Ooh! Oh my!" moaned the detainee.
Cynthia would have collapsed backwards without Ramm's grip on her upper body.
Basically, monstrous mammary manipulation as she edged the young woman onto the room's only table.
Cynthia's legs were spread, and her skin glowed under the intense lighting's full naked electric glare.
Ramm's fun bags were out now, too. Her shirt was open, her bra gone. The older bitch engaged in a slappy, delicious nipple-to-nipple touching and breasts sponging and cuffing into each other.
Two well-endowered women were intent on maximum pleasure.
Titty slapping and melons squishing, bosom to bosom.
Whilst the bitch used her fingers to gouge wide her mouth.
The aptly named Honey was like a Pooh bear, deep in a pot.
She had the girlie goodies in hand and under her tongue. The greedy tramp was involved in a double ministration. She was eating out and eating in — in the raunchiest sense of both terms.
Her tongue lay buried between savoury, jagged slits of fancy, fanny flesh.
Yum, as Cynthia's girlie cum oozed.
Honey's lips were gummy, smacking over wetness, enjoying the secreting appetising moisture lubricated by lush tongue brushing. Labia and a slut hole provided a zesty enjoyable mouth-watering treat.
Well, how else to describe pussy slush.
Okay, it was pussy, really wet pussy.
Saturated, sodden, salivary satin delight and it only got clammier.
Honey was also fingering the suspect's arsehole. Two fingers in and really gaping. The bitch was enjoying herself.
Cynthia was ecstatic, too. Sam had never ventured on a deep double probe, nor had any girl.
Wow, it was great.
Then it went ballistic as Ramm hit her pussy like an inexperienced cock slamming into a girly crease without warning.
The older woman went the indecent three-finger fuck devoid of notice. Really frickin' brisk.
Hell no, it was actually express pace.
It was a finger blur, so suddenly sensational as she smashed Cynthia's G-spot.
The only outcome was a vaginal orgasm and a god-almighty squirt.
The shower sprayed high in an arc right into Ramm's face, catching her by surprise.
Caught everyone by surprise.
"Ugh! Ugh!" from the detainee.
Cynthia had never squirted before, and boy, it was intense.
Fuck, her spray shot high like a water spout. A gushing surge of fem-liquid.
Still, Ramm's fingers kept squishing in her wringing wet twat. Her thumb rubbed intensely over her aroused clit. Cynthia couldn't take it anymore and folded into a sensational orgasm as Honey's fingers dug deeper than an express burrowing wombat into her arse.
Cynthia yelped in helpless delight.
"Oof! Orghh! Arrgghh!"
A series of squeals of uncontrolled abandoned fulfilment.
Honey's arse work wasn't second fiddle to her creamed cunny. It was a virtuoso complementary cameo. Her body welcomed a stunning, euphoric, exulted escapade by two.
If Cynthia thought these two out-of-control 'she bitches' were finished with her, she was mistaken. They were control freaks and rampant tarts.
Cynthia was wailing and screeching in undefined pleasure as they finished her good.
"Awh! Gah! Arrgh!"
The officers knew cavities, and they both gave her the exploration of her twenty tender years. They literally and physically split her open mouth,, anal and vaginal. It was the unthinkable sex act of her life. The endorphins rushed as duck-headed fingers wedged in her.
Ramm rammed her way in, surprised at the space inside the girl's pussy as her fat wrist rested at Cynthia's cunt entrance.
The suspect's sense of fullness was explosive, completely fuckin full. Beyond known sensation.
"Oh my God," Cynthia exhaled loudly.
The sheer intensity of the stretch blew her mind. Then she was caught in a resting enlargement of her own usually cute tight hole as Ramm relaxed and gaped her out.
However, that was not the end. It was just the beginning of stretch mayhem as Honey's lubricated fingers jolted her freckle.
Trepidation hit Cynthia — she knew what was coming.
Whoa! Was she scared!
But strangely, she wanted it.
She had to know.
Cynthia believed a rear ducking was at hand.
She embraced the terrifying sexual leap of faith as Honey probed her arse — working all her four fingers into her virgin-fisted starfish. The saucy slatternly slut.
Shit, my arse is too tiny, thought Cynthia
However, all four fingers were in, second knuckle deep.
It was goddam tight, amazingly intense and surreal - is this my body - then realising it was her own cute arse widened and filled. Beyond pleasurable and yet scary in the same instance.
Cynthia felt a vulnerable rawness, bodily human exposure and disclosure of unexplainable but soul-knowledgeable proportion. She would keep this with her for life.
This was something not to be experienced repeatedly but experienced nonetheless.
Sheez! Hit her brain as Ramm stuffed girly jus saturated fingers in her mouth.
Only, finally relaxing with Honey's puckered gaping exit.
Ramm was already ticking boxes on official forms as Cynthia and Honey relaxed. Then, the younger officer tidied herself, and the suspect redressed.
Christ, someone was accountable, and then Cynthia realised she had started it.
Ramm, the gloating bitch ticked off on the last box.
Cavity searches — Negative.
She smirked and quietly added, "My turn to lie today — full as — I'd say."
Honey was quietly, shyly, storing, stunning unthinkable currently formed memory.
The senior officer left with the forms to organise Cynthia's release from Federal Customs custody.
The awkward, I really am a lesbian moment hit Honey, and she was working to suppress it profoundly.
Promising her soul to walk out of the room and never delve into womanly flesh again.
Cynthia eased into her space, planting soft kisses on her cheeks. Then, her forehead, and they mutually hit full French fast, with Honey coming out with her declaration: "I'm gay."
Hooray!
They were probably only seconds from renewed gusty genital groping when Ramm returned.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Honey, I'll feel you up in our break. Let's get this woman out of here."
And they did.
Cynthia collected her bags and, apart from a fine for contraband food, was free to go.
No fuckin apology, she noticed for the drug accusation.
There were some lewd sniggers behind her as she headed off to the arrivals area.
Well, her walk was wonky. She was caught on the fine line between lingering pleasure and uncomfortableness between her legs.