Cops and Rubbers

"I hate fucking cops!"

Yes, that's what I muttered as I wrote out the checks for my latest speeding tickets.

That summer Friday brooded with foreboding, what with the dark clouds, heavy rain, thunder and lighting. But it was really, really warm. Tornado warnings had been issued.

Since I needed to run a bunch of errands, I had to risk giving myself a bad hair day, which really pissed me off since I had paid a visit to the beauty parlor early that morning. Besides, my brother promised to buy me a late lunch. As I stepped out of the house, I grabbed one of the umbrellas we put on the porch for rainy days. I forgot my purse, and went back inside. I set the umbrella on the kitchen table, and it popped open, all by itself. Uh-oh, bad luck. I closed it again, making sure that it latched tight. On the tile floor I spied a penny. Lucky penny, I thought. That should take care of the bad luck. Not that I'm superstitious, of course, I told myself.

On the way from the car to the mall entrance, the black cat just jumped right out in front of me. I took twelve steps backwards. I went around the ladder but banged into the nearest tree. My lipstick smeared when I got a face full of leaves. The make-up mirror cracked at first glance. But then I spotted a four-leaf clover when I stopped to scrape the dog doo-doo from my brand Coach metallic leather sandals. I picked up the four-leaf clover and stuck it in the clasp of my purse. But I didn't pick up the odd glove lying there, recalling that old wife's tale.

Michael got there before me. I saw his new car in the parking lot. Well, not brand new, but new to him. I inspected the red Corvette convertible. Awesome! He had an older Vette a couple of years ago and let me drive it. I easily got it up over a hundred. I wondered how fast this new one could go.

The Vette was a 50th anniversary special edition. You can tell by the emblem on the front with the number "50" with the signature cross-flag design. Same emblem on the seat and floor mats. I was real happy Michael got the six-speed manual transmission rather than the automatic. I just love the feel of a stick in my hand. Jerking it up and down and all around. This car made me wet.

I walked into the restaurant and a waiter led me to Michael's table.

"Hey, Michael, nice wheels! Bet she's fast!"

"5.7-liter V8 with a whopping 350 horsepower at 5600 rpm. With the revolutionary Magnetic Selective Ride Control you can feel the speed right through your fingertips when you're driving. I could have gotten an even faster one, the Z06 hardback. 405 horsepower at 6000 rpm. But I wanted a convertible."

"Good choice, Michael. Can I take her for a ride?"

"No way, Sarah. Dad told me you got two tickets in the last month. He said he won't let you drive his Explorer any longer."

"Yeah, well Mom lets me use her Cavalier. How do you think I got here? I'm a good driver. I never had an accident."

"That Cavalier is junk. It won't even go fifty miles an hour."

"I know! I'm embarrassed to drive it."

"Just then the waiter approached.

"Fish for me," I said, "the Atlantic salmon."

"I'll have the boneless pork chops, Cajun," David decided. "And a bottle of your finest Oregon pinot noir, which is Brick House Cuvee du Tonnelier, Williamette Valley, I do believe."

The waiter departed with our orders and soon brought the wine.

"Michael, you're drinking? Don't you have to go back to the office?"

"I'm the boss. I'm taking the afternoon off. Hey, what the hell, it's Halloween!"

"So pour me a glass of wine."

"You are not old enough to legally drink, seeing that your twenty-first birthday is still about six months away."

"Daddy lets me have a glass of wine. Or a beer. You know that."

"But not in a public place."

"Pour it in my coffee cup. No one will know."

We gabbed incessantly as we ate. Michael filled my coffee cup with wine several more times.

"So Sarah, are you going to the costume ball at the country club tonight? It's the big event of the summer."

"Of course. I love getting all dolled up in cute costumes. You know my friend Jenny. We did Gorilla Day at the zoo for Halloween. You make gorilla masks and tell scary gorilla stories. But the gorilla costumes I tried on were way too hot, and really itchy. So I'm not going trick or treating as a gorilla. And last night we did Fright Fest at Station 'Scare.' We faced our fears in the House of Phobias and did the Nightmare Maze. And then we did Haunted Hayride and I wet the panties to my Scarlet Witch costume. So I'm not wearing that for the costume ball tonight. No indeed, I'm wearing something special for a special someone."

"Well Sarah, whatever it is you are wearing I'm sure it will make a big impression on your special someone."

"So why don't you let me drive your Corvette, Michael?" I suddenly blurted.

"No way!" he growled.

"Is that right?" Then I whispered something in his ear.

"Okay, Sarah, we'll trade Chevys. You take my Vette. I'll take Mom's Cavalier."

"I love you, bro!" We hugged. He gave me the keys.

"I love you too, sis. See you soon. And drive careful!"

* * *

First I stopped at the place that rented the costumes. I tried on the dress with a blue sailor collar and a big red bow across the bodice. The tunic tapered to hug my slender waist snugly, before flaring out in a very short, pleated, blue skirt. Another bow adorned the small of my back. I had worn a pair of modest blue panties to match the skirt. I tied my long red tresses in a ponytail with yet another red bow. White elbow-length gloves and knee-high red boots completed the ensemble. I decided to wear the costume rather than take it with me.

Then I took a ride out in the country. The clouds had dissipated and now the sky was bright blue so I took the top down. Michael had a bunch of CD's. I put in the Donnas and got lost in the music. Unusual he would listen to that. I didn't know he liked old-fashioned no-frills metal. I had no concept of how fast I was going. Fast enough but not too fast, I figured. But way over the speed limit. I could really feel the speed right through my fingertips, just like Michael said.

I didn't even hear the siren until he passed me and motioned to pull over.

"Young lady, do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

"Uh... uh..."

"That's what I thought. Let's see your license and registration."

"Here, officer."

"How can a young girl like you afford a car like this?"

"This is my brother's car, officer. He let me take it for a ride."

"Did he know you were auditioning for the Daytona 500? You were doing almost ninety. The speed limit on this stretch of road is fifty-five."

"But there is hardly any traffic on this road."

"That's no excuse. You'll have to do better than that. Sit here in the car while I check your MVR."

"MVR? What's that?"

"Motor vehicle record." A lump formed in my throat.

He came back in a few minutes. "You have two other recent tickets, miss. This one is going to mean a lengthy suspension and a problem with your insurance." He began writing. "I hope you learn a lesson from this, young lady. The law is the law. Obey the law or suffer the consequences."

"But... officer... but..."

"No buts, young lady." He had a strange expression on his face. And he kept trying to look down my front.

"I'm so sorry, officer. Can't you... can't we... isn't there something..."

He shook his head somberly. I began to cry.

"Miss, I smell the odor of alcohol on your breath. Were you drinking?"

"Uh... uh..."

"Young lady, I asked you a question." His demeanor had changed. It frightened me.

"I... uh... had some wine with lunch."

"You are not old enough to drink legally in this state, miss, according to the date of birth on your license."

"Uh... uh..."

"Please get out of the car, miss." I did. "Face the car. Put your hands on the trunk." I did. "I'm going to have to frisk you."

"Why?"

"Procedure." He ran his hands up my skirt to my panties. And then padded my upper body. He touched my breasts. "Now put your hands behind your back."

"Why?"

"I have to cuff you. Procedure. You are coming with me to the station. There you will be fingerprinted and a mug shot will be taken. Then a holding cell until somebody comes and gets you."

"No!"

"I'm afraid so, miss. You were driving almost forty miles over the limit and you have been illegally drinking."

"Geez! I just had a couple glasses of wine. Isn't there some way I can change your mind, officer?"

He smirked lewdly. I faced him with my hands cuffed behind me. He turned me around and pushed me up against the car. Then he reached down my front and into my bra. "Nice tits, sweet thing." He lifted up my skirt and ran his hands down the back of my panties. "Nice ass, sweet cheeks. Yeah, you can change my mind, little darlin'. And who the fuck are you supposed to be in that costume?"

"Sailor Moon."

After he took a tarp and some blankets out of the trunk of his car, he dragged me into the woods by the cuffs.

He pushed me down on my knees and pulled my top down and unsnapped my bra so he could see my breasts. He fingered my nipples roughly. "You got some great knockers, honey."

"What are you going to do," I muttered, beginning to worry.

"I think the correct legal terminology is fellatio and analinctus. First, I'm going to stick my cock in your pretty mouth and give you a pearl necklace. You got a ticket to ride, darlin'. And you're going for a ride on my middle leg, the purple pony. It's going up your heiny hole."

"No! Please, no!" I begged.

"The more you whine, bitch, the harder I'm going to corn hole you."

He unzipped his pants and exposed himself. The cop's penis began to get erect as he stroked it and bragged about what he was going to do to me. He forced my mouth open with his fingers and stuck the head of his cock between my lips. "Open wide, honey." I wouldn't. He twisted my left nipple. Hard. He roared, "Do what I say, bitch, or I'll hurt you."

I decided to just let him do it. There wasn't much else I could do cuffed like that. I took all his penis down my throat. He put his left hand on the top of my head and with his right hand he cupped my chin. "Squeeze my dick with your lips, bitch!" I did as he thrust in and out as hard as he could, fucking my mouth enthusiastically.

The cop kept yelling and calling me a cock-sucking slut. It didn't take him all that long to cum. He pulled my head by the hair all the way on him roughly as he shot his semen down my throat. Then he pulled out and continued to cum all over my face.

"That was good, baby," he sighed. "Real good. Did you like it? I know you did. They all do."

"Why are you doing this to me? And you are probably married. What would your wife say?"

"Do you know how to paralyze a woman from the waist down? Marry her. My wife does it once a month. Missionary style. I think the only reason she does it that often is because she wants to pop out another kid. She won't blow me and I never even bothered to suggest anal. Her father is a Baptist preacher. Did you know that they believe that anything but vaginal intercourse is sodomy?"

"My father is a Baptist minister, also. What are you going to do with me, now? You got your blow job. Let me go."

"No way, darlin'. Not yet. Give me a few more minutes and I'll be ready to fuck your fanny. I popped a Viagra the moment I got behind your car and saw that beautiful long red hair blowing in the wind. I don't get an opportunity like this very often. There's a big difference between being sucked off by a derelict jailbird as opposed to a fox face like you. Or sticking it up a convict's ass rather than your tight little pooper. The convicts will bend over or get on their knees for a pack of cigarettes or a pint. Did you ever take it in the back door, sweet cheeks?"

"No! And I don't want to!"

"That's not the question. The question is how much will it hurt. If you cooperate I'll take it as easy as I can. If you fight you won't be able to sit down for a week. I take it easy on the convicts as long as they bend over without bitching about it."

"Isn't that gay?"

"Gay? I'm no fucking faggot!" He slapped me. Hard. "I never touched another guy's dick in my life. Let alone sucked one. Fuck no! I don't take it up the ass. It'll never happen. Not from anybody. And don't get smart, you little bitch."

"I'm not little. I'm almost as tall as you are."

"Not on your knees, your not. The best part about fucking your mouth is that you shut the fuck up for awhile. Now let's find out what the best part about fucking your ass is. Would you like it nice or nasty?"

"I'll cooperate." I didn't have much choice. "Please go get my purse in the car. I have some K-Y. I use it for my dry skin. If you are going to insist on doing this we need lubrication. Please?"

"Yeah, I guess we can do that." He un-cuffed me momentarily and cuffed me again around a small tree. "Don't run off, my little pink beaver, I have a date with your bung hole." He snickered vulgarly. "Sailor Moon is gonna get a moon shot."

When he came back with my purse and undid the cuffs, I asked, "Why don't you leave the cuffs off? Please? I said I'd cooperate. I'm not going anywhere."

"That's true. You wouldn't want to be shot for resisting arrest."

I reached in my purse and fetched the K-Y. And turned on the miniature tape recorder I had been using to record lectures at college when permitted to do so.

"Even though I'm cooperating, you know this is still rape, don't you?"

"No one will ever know. None of them ever tell. Some of them even suggested a little negotiation. You would be stupid to rat on me. Look at it this way, honey. You got a ticket to ride. After the ride the ticket gets ripped up. No fine. No suspension. No jail. Sounds like a fair trade to me You're a snotty, stuck-up college chick. Probably with grand ambitions. How would a criminal record look on your job applications?"

"What you are doing is rape. And I'm going to cooperate only because I really have no choice, and you said you'd try not to hurt me bad if I did."

"It won't hurt, darling'. Not much." He laughed lewdly. "The blow job didn't hurt, did it?"

"No, I guess not." He had begun to stroke himself and had another erection. "What if I give you another blow job instead of anal? I'll give you a real good one this time. It'll be much better than you... just... uh..."

"Fucking your mouth?"

"Yeah. How about it?"

"That is mighty tempting. You have such a pretty face. Fucking it was, I must say, fucking awesome. I would like to shoot another load down your throat. But no, I want your virgin ass. I just can't pass up that little tight ass. Damn, I'm getting horny! Get on all fours. It's time to crack your crack. Break in your back door. Stand up." I did. "Lift your skirt up." I did.

He slipped my panties down to my knees. "Yowsa! Nice hair pie! I love that little patch of red hair. You got some damn long legs, honey. Maybe next time I'll let you wrap them around me while I stick it in your cute little cunt. I bet it's tight. Real tight. My old lady is a sloppy big old canyon."

I thought it best under the circumstances to bite my tongue and be polite. "Thank you for the compliment, officer."

"Now get down on all fours, bitch. Time for some rump rooting. I haven't had a nice cute little tight ass like yours for way too fucking long. Just hairy convict asses and their sloppy shitty assholes. Lately, anyway. Pardon me if I'm drooling."

"But—"

"Do it bitch. Or it'll get rough. And I won't use the lube."

"But—"

He took the cuffs out again. I shook my head. "Okay," I mumbled. "No cuffs. I'll do whatever you want. Or rather, I'll let you do whatever you want. But only if you use a condom."

"Sure, honey. Coincidentally, I just happen to have some condoms on me. I never know what kind of trash I might pull over and fuck. So we can play cops and rubbers."

I got on my elbows and knees. The first thing he did was bite my ass.

"Yeow!" I yelped.

"Just getting a piece of ass, honey."

He put some of the K-Y on the middle finger of his right hand and then his finger went inside me. I jumped a little. After he probed around for a few minutes, he withdrew his finger. And then he used his penis. I groaned when he entered me but then when he got it all in I seemed to be okay. Until he started humping like crazy.

"Now, bitch, I want you to tell me how much you like it?"

"Huh?"

"I want you to tell me how much you like getting your ass fucked. I want you to scream and shout, 'Fuck my ass!' Over and over and over."

"I don't use that word."

He showed me the cuffs again. "Okay, I'll try. But could we please get this over with. My parents will wonder where I am."

"You got a cell phone. I saw it in your car. Why don't you call your father the Baptist minister? And tell him you just sucked off a cop. Tell him you're a cum-guzzling little whore. And now you're going to take it up the ass."

"Just do it," I requested somberly. "Have your way with me."

He did. He pounded me as hard and fast as he could. I cried out what he wanted to hear. It didn't take long. He banged his balls up against my bum for only a couple minutes as I begged him to fuck my ass like he had demanded. He sang while he banged—The Beatles. "She's got a ticket to ride, she's got a tick to ri-hi-hide, she's got a ticket to ride, but she don't care." He grunted like a pig when he shot his load and when he pulled out he demanded, "Lick off my dick." I did.

The cop adjusted his clothing and left. He never said another word to me. I got dressed and left.

* * *

I didn't report the crime until two days later. I went directly to the District Attorney since the matter involved the police. I waited because there was no way I wanted to be examined and go through all that humiliation. Unnecessary, I thought, because I had the tape.

The District Attorney readily agreed to see me because he knew my father very well.

He played the tape.

And then he looked at me sympathetically and said, "Sarah, on the tape the rapist bit you. Let me see the bite marks on your behind. I want to make absolutely sure this is all true before I decide what action to take."

"Well . . . I suppose."

I wiggled out of my tight jeans, lowered my panties, and turned around. He kneeled behind me and inspected my ass.

"Hmmm, I'm just not sure. You do have some sort of abrasion on your left cheek. Looks like a sucker bite to me. You know, a love bite."

"A love bite? That fucking cop raped me!"

"I don't think so."

"What? Oh, just eat me, you prick!"

"If you insist, young lady."

He pushed me on the couch in his office and knelt between my legs and pulled the panties all the way off. He unbuttoned my blouse and popped the front close on my bra. His head descended on my body. First he sucked my nipples and then he licked and tongued my belly button.

Suddenly I pushed his head away and cried, "You're tickling me!"

"You'll be begging me to tickle a certain spot in a moment, my dear."

He kissed and nibbled the inside of my thighs until I tugged him by the ears closer to my pussy. "Do me! Do me! Eat me! Please eat me!" I begged. He fucked my pussy with his tongue and then spread my outer lips with his hands and gently flicked here and there with his tongue pointed and stiff. My clit peeked out and he gave it a quick little suck and let it go several times. It got bigger.

"Oh yeah...ummm...oh yeah..." I began to moan.

My clit throbbed in his mouth as he rolled his tongue into a tube around the shaft of my clit and slid it up and down, making his tongue like a little pussy for me to fuck. He could tell I was right on the edge.

My legs shuddered. And then I lost it, squeezing my thighs against the sides of his face as I wailed, "Oh my fucking God!" But he didn't stop. No, he made me cum twice more.