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Sue's 6th: To Serve & Protect 1/2 (f, m/f)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
don't think you can be mature about it. Reading and writing these stories
should be acts of fantasy, and I hope that you can keep your notions of real
and fantasy life seperate in your mind. I know I can. If you would like to
let me know what you think, or if you have a follow-up fantasy (which is
something that I REALLY like), you can reach me at [email protected] ... but I
can't promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in
my real life!
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To Serve and Protect, Part 1 of 2
by Sue
After a couple of days at the vacation cabin in the back woods of Maine (see
"On the Dock," which is a story that I posted previously), and plenty of
titillation and hijinx with my new friends from the neighboring cottage, I
have run out of groceries, so I've gone off to the market in town. I'm on the
way back now, and I am really enjoying the wild and free feeling that comes
from zipping down the dirt road in my Miata convertible. Wind flows through
my long blond hair, which streams out behind me. My thin silk blouse is
pressed against my chest, and I can even feel the pressure of the wind
buffeting against the super-sensitive nerve endings in my nipples. They are
becoming quite erect, and looking down, I can see all the detailed topography
of my nipples and aereola: the swells and bumps and even a hint of the pink
color showing through the sheer material. My attention to the road is tenuous
at best, and my arousal leads me to mentally relive some of the moments I
have spent during the past few days here in Maine. That first day watching
the clean-shaven neighbors through squinted eyes as they played each other's
bodies like finely tuned instruments. Mmmm.
As these images cavort around in my mind, I'm feeling sexier and sexier. I
just have to play with my breasts for a minute. The silk is plastered to me
like a second skin, and it feels unbelievably sensuous as use my left hand to
massage the firm and plump flesh of first one, and then the other breast. The
nipples get some needed attention, being prodded and pinched and tweaked. I
can feel tickles of muted sexual energy radiating down into the depths of my
belly, and eventually I let my hand slide down from my breasts, and then my
fingers thread themselves around the buttons and poke gently into my belly
button, stirring up more passion.
I'm struggling to keep some small portion of my attention on the road, and I
let my speed drop to a more controllable rate. But I can't resist letting my
hand continue to slide further "south" until it hooks around the hem of my
short skirt, and upwards toward the moistening target. My thighs part as much
as they can under the cramped circumstances, and the edge of my skirt blows
up in the wind so that I have free access to the crotch of my panties. Even
before my fingers reach all the way up to my satin-covered cunt, I know that
they will be greeted by a spreading wet spot, and that certainly turns out to
be the case. If it wasn't for the wind, I surely would be inhaling the sultry
aromas of my juices.
I start by sliding my index finger up and down through the separating outer
labia. The combination of moisture and the red stain creates an incredibly
friction-free lubricant. And I discover that I can hook my finger down and in
so that the tip of my finger traces all the way up from my asshole, pushed
against the seat, and then up into the entrance to my vagina, over my
urethra, and then finally popping over my clitoris. Repeating this motion
several times, I find my entire body twitching each time that my fingertip
bobbles my clitoris, and this results in a little swerve of the car.
Fortunately, this road from the village to my cabin is deserted and fairly
wide, for I am straddling and swerving around the imaginary centerline of the
gravel road.
Jeez, this is feeling good, and I am tempted to just pull over to the side so
that I can really masturbate with vigor, maybe using both hands, one on my
cunt and the other massaging and twisting my tingling nipples. I know that my
clitoris and my breasts would feel connected to one another in a triangular
vortex, and the raw sexual energy would echo back and forth among these
erogenous zones, strengthening with each reverberation until I reach the
crest of my orgasm. As I think about what that would be like, and as I
continued to teasingly pluck at my clitoris as if it was the string of a
standup bass, I suddenly notice that I am coming up on the driveway to the
cabin, and I need to pull my left hand up from my crotch to the steering
wheel so that I can turn my little sports car into the driveway.
Once I've got it about 30 feet away from the road, I turn off the ignition
and tilt my head back on the headrest, staring up though the thick branches
of the birches around me. The sound of the leaves rustling in the wind, and
the birds chirping away, is so relaxing and mesmerizing. I'm just about to
fulfill my preconceived notion of masturbating when I hear another car
rumbling down the dirt road. I know that I am hidden away here in the
driveway, but then I am even more surprised when the sound of the car and the
gravel let me know instinctively that the car has pulled into my driveway,
right behind me. I whip my head around, simultaneously pulling down my skirt,
and look at the car that has intruded on my space, and on my intended
auto-erotic plan.
It is a state police car. What the hell is happening. I know that I wasn't
paying very close attention to all of my surroundings while I was driving,
and it dawns on me that the cop has been following me, and probably is very
upset at my erratic driving skills.
Several minutes pass, and I know from having gotten speeding tickets that he
is probably checking my plate number through his computer. But it makes me
feel tense and fidgety to just sit there waiting, especially as I have been
so abruptly interrupted in my self-loving lust. I try to relax by gazing down
my driveway, wishing I was safe in my home where I could continue my plan in
peace and quiet. Finally I hear the car door open and close. When I slowly
turn my head to the left, I am staring right into the black shiny belt of the
cop, and then I let my gaze scan upwards to his face way above me. These
little sports cars are so low, and he is a magnificently tall and well built
specimen of a law enforcement officer. When my eyes find his, I can see that
they are not locked on my eyes, but are instead wandering downward to my
chest and my breasts which are straining against the white silk as my head
tilts back. Surely my nipples are jutting out and can be clear to his sight.
Now his eyes sweep further down and he must be looking at my skirt. When I
too glance down at myself, I can see that my attempt to pull down my skirt
was only partly successful. My panties are not visible, but most of the rest
of my thighs are. And I am startled to see streaks of moisture tracing down
on the surface of the skin, refecting the bright sunlight. These were
obviously painted onto my thighs by my fingertips as they were hurriedly
pulled away from my cunt. Is that what he is looking at? Does he know where
that liquid originated? Is he imagining where those tracks of moisture lead
as they disappear under my hem?
"License and registration, please," he says, and I think I detect a little
catch in his voice. Perhaps this situation makes him nervous too. I lean over
to the glove compartment, and I'm sure that he can see from the smoothness of
the silk stretched over my back that I am not wearing a bra. Most men notice
these things. I pull the required items out of the glove compartment, and
reach upwards with my left hand to give them to him. As he grips the papers,
I can see him take a deep breath, and it seems likely that he can smell the
strong odor of my cunt on my fingers. Am I imagining that his eyes are
twinkling with his insights about my behavior of a few moments ago. After
all, it was only 3 or 4 minutes ago that I was firmly stoking my entire
cunt, and now I am giving strong hints to a perfect stranger that I was just
masturbating.
Handing my papers back to me, he proceeds to give me a lecture about my poor
driving, and he explains that this could be very dangerous. But his tone of
voice is not harsh, or scolding, or condescending. He is actually very gentle
and compassionate, and his words sound like sweet honey as they drip off his
tongue. I'm also becoming certain that he is going to let me off without a
ticket, which is a relief since I already have too many other tickets. But
then I am surprised when he tells me that he suspects that I have been
drinking, and that it is his responsibility to check that out. I feel like
telling him that I am intoxicated by wild sexual fantasies, but not by
alcoholic beverages. But I bite my tongue. He asks me to step out of the car
so that he can check for open containers of booze. He steps aside as I open
the car door, and there is no way to avoid giving him a big flash of my wet
red panties as I swing my legs out onto the driveway. When I pull myself up
into a standing position, he is so close to me that I can't help but brush my
breast against his arm. My nipples are still hard little nubbins, and they
shoot little jolts of sexual charge back into my tummy as they pop over his
sleeve one by one.
As I stand over to the side leaning languorously against one of the big white
birch trees, I watch him slowly circle the car, and when he gets around to
the passenger door, he opens it and bends down and picks up a stack of papers
from the floor of the car. As he flips through the pages, I am trying to
remember what those papers are about. Oh yes, I remember!! Those are the
printouts of all of the erotic fantasies that I have posted to
alt.sex.stories on the Internet. Is he reading closely enough to get the
drift of the narrative?
He tells me that he is sure that this is my writing, since my name "Sue" is
on each of the stories as well on my licence. Then he surprises me further by
telling me that he has been an enthusiastic admirer of my stories as he has
been reading them on the 'Net ever since I started posting them. I'm not sure
whether to be embarrassed or proud, but it certainly brings a hot flush to
my cheeks. Before I have a chance to figure out how to respond to his
revelation, the officer starts asking more questions about my bad driving. He
asks if I have any explanation, or do I always drive like that? I start by
telling him that my mind was preoccupied, but he claims not to be convinced.
Most people have a lot on there minds when they are driving. He says that
still doesn't explain the sudden little jerks of the car that appeared almost
rhythmic. God! I'm becoming more certain that he knows what I was doing, for
he has had plenty of hints: the smell of my fingers;... my hard nipples;...
my raised skirt;... the streaks of my cunt juices on my thighs;... the stack
of stories that reveal my fascination with wild and erotic sex;... and of
course the details of how badly I was driving. Of course he knows - cops
aren't stupid, are they? He knows, but I realize that he wants me to admit it
out loud. He's not going to let me just slink away to my cabin. What the
hell, I'll give him what he wants, and maybe more than he knows!
So I tell him. About how my mind was fixated on some wild sexual escapades
that I had experienced recently. How the wind and sun pouring into the
convertible had made me feel so aroused. How I had fondled my own breasts and
pinched my nipples. How I had then reached under my skirt and caressed my
cunt through my panties. How I had been so wet. How the strums of my
fingertip over my clitoris had caused me to jerk the steering wheel around.
How I had finally reached my driveway and had expected to have the chance to
complete my masturbation.
"I'm sorry that I interrupted you," he says with a kindly grin on his face.
Of course you should be sorry, I think. For now I'm feeling thoroughly
frustrated and impatient with what has happened.
"Well," he says, "it is my sworn duty to the state of Maine and all of the
people therein to serve in whatever ways are needed. So please let me serve
you so that your frustration can be relieved."
It's about time you offered, I say, and with that I reach out to him and give
him a deep-throating French kiss, wrapping my arms and one leg around him.
Everywhere that I touch him he is all muscles and equipment. Gun, badge,
belt, nightstick, handcuffs,... and underneath, there is obviously a
wonderful hunk of a man. Trim and strong, clean-cut and young. Just the way
that I like them (or at least half the time. Sometimes I like the wild and
scruffy looking. but that is another story).
When he starts to slide his hands down my back and into the top edge of my
skirt, I pull away and walk over to the front of the car and hitch up my
skirt and tuck it into the waist band. Now he can finally see my red satin
panties. I grasp both sides of the front of my blouse and pull it open,
popping open all of the buttons. My breasts flash into view and bobble around
as I next reach down and repeat the caresses that I had start in the car
earlier. First my breasts and nipples. Then my crotch from asshole to
clitoris. I am staring hard into his eyes, which fluctuate back and forth
from my face to my cunt. After a dozen or so strokes, I reach both hands to
one of my hips and grasp the elastic top of my panties and pull the material
hard. This pulls the crotch up hard into my cunt, which both hurts and
tingles. Finally the satin gives and shreds in my hands. Instantly I turn to
face the windshield and lean forwards, walking my hands up the shiny white
hood, and then up the windshield. This forces my torso to drop forward and my
nipples come into contact with the metallic hood. Warmth from the engine
radiates out and up into my nipples, and I slide my shoulders side to side,
which drags my nipples around on the hood. My face rests on the windshield
glass, which I kiss and lick suggestively.Reaching behind me, I flip up the
back of my skirt to reveal my torn panties and my smooth, tight rear. As I
let my body down further onto the hood and reach back up to the top of the
windshield, I ask him if he is ready to fulfill his promise to serve the
public good. I try to use my most sultry, gravelly voice, and I slowly wag my
ass in the air.
Over he walks, and then he gets down on his knees behind me and pulls my
panties halfway down the one leg which is still inserted into the torn
garment. I can feel the wetness of the satin dragging down my inner thigh. He
places his hands on the rounded curves of my ass. A few seconds of a deep
massage, and then his thumbs maneuver further into the crack of my ass and
lightly over my ass hole. I pull my knees up onto the hood off to the sides
near each headlight. Arching my back more thrusts my ass higher into the air.
I can feel his breath on my open wet tissue. He repositions his hands so that
he can use his finger tips of both hands to rake up through my cunt, sliding
between the inner and outer lips and rattling over my distended clitoris.
(continued and completed in part 2)
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