Cop And Blow Ch 1

I was halfway to the Fanta-C Motel when the red lights of a state police car started flashing in my rear-view mirror. I figured it was my out-of-state plates. They're magnets for a trooper with a hard-on for transients and a ticket quota to make.

I pulled over to the unpaved shoulder. I cursed and drummed my fingers on the open window as I watched the cop approach in my side mirror.

To my surprise, it was a girl deputy. She gave new meaning to the words "arresting officer." I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

She made the uniform look good as she fleshed it out with more T-n-A than even stretch-polyester could contain. Khaki clung to her every curve, and she had more than a mountain highway.

The top three buttons of her shirt were undone, no match for the glandular globes that overcrowded the crisp fabric. Giant breasts swelled beneath the skin-tight uniform. Lifted up and out, they made enough sweaty cleavage to put the Rockies to shame.

Her utility belt rode low on that slender waist. Her fingers just touched the butt of the big service revolver holstered on her hip. She was all police business.

"Is there a problem, Deputy Klench?" I asked, squinting to read the name off the golden badge pinned to her chest. Elsa Klench, it said. I tried to glimpse the beautiful face under the wide hat brim.

"I been on your ass so close I could've wiped it for you."

I gave a friendly smile. "You must have me confused with somebody else."

Her nostrils flared as she sniffed me. "Step outta the car," she goes. Little blue icicles hung from her words.

She led me to the hood of the Menace where I assumed the all-too-familiar position. With my hands on the trunk and legs spread apart, she frisked me top to bottom.

My balls shrank up and away out of habit. Experience taught me that John Law could be a real nutcracker. Jane Law, though, liked what she found. On the second pass her fingers lingered at my bloating bulge.

"You carrying?" she asked. She'd found my piece all right, a fully loaded, double ball-barreled ladykiller.

"No, ma'am," I gulped. The long arm of the law was between my legs, fondling the length of my hardening cock.

She was like, "What's the big idea?" as she measured my pachydermic package with her fingers. Her voice was a hot hiss. "You some kinda pervert or something?"

"No, ma'am." Meanwhile she kept on carrying on with the offending anatomical wonder. The copper was copping a feel. Her fingers stroked and kneaded the inflated flesh until my ramrod was righteously rigid. I'd been pinched before, but never like this.

"You with the carnival?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," I lied.

"You got the look of the gypsy about you. You been hustling tonight?"

"No, ma'am. Just trying to get where I'm going."

Before I knew it she had the bracelets locked on my wrists. She pressed down on my neck the way you do to an ornery junkyard mutt to break his spirit and show him who's who. My cheek slammed against the trunk.

"I know all about you carnies. You got sawdust in your shoes and larceny in your eyes."

She leaned into my back, and I felt the full weight of her overblown bosom molding their meaty selves to my shoulder.

"You think you can do what you want for free, scofflaw?" she whispered in my ear. Hatred dripped from every word.

I was thinking, this is when she asks for the payoff. Cuz everybody's on the take, I don't care who you are -- and that goes double for the law. Deputy Klench was asking for it all right. But not for the wad I figured.

She wrapped her left leg around my own, rubbing her crotch against my hip and purring deep in her throat. She straddled my cuffed hands and, with rhythmic pelvic thrusts, began to grind her snatch back and forth over my fingers and knuckles. The steam heat of arousal soaked her tight pants.

Suddenly she locked her arm around my neck and jerked me back. Simultaneously she kicked the back of my knee. My leg buckled and I dropped to my ass in a cloud of dust.

Laughing at me, she scootched her butt onto the hood of the car and spread 'em. She reached into her crotch and ripped. A panel of polyester tore away with ease. It'd been fastened with Velcro.

She wasn't wearing panties. From her pussy to the crack of her ass, her privates were public. She raised her legs high and wide. Those gorgeous gams went on like a two-lane highway. I saw the end of the road, dead center. With some difficulty I got to my feet.

She unbuttoned her shirt to her waist. Popped from their polyester prison, her breasts ballooned to an even greater size. She pinched her erect nipples through the black satiny bra.

She removed her severe hat and out spilled a shower of impossibly long, lustrous blonde hair. Her eyebrows were severe black pencil lines. She beckoned with her finger.

"A badass like you is good for only one thing," she growled: "A long, hard fuck."

I shuffled toward her. She seized my belt and pulled me against her naked crotch. Her fingers flew over my fly, and then she finessed me out of my pants.

Around her waist hung her big gun. It was a black steel service revolver. I wasn't gonna try anything funny -- just something funky.

My pistol was drawn and cocked. A bead of pre-cum graced its tip. Staring down the long barrel of that gun, she instantly gave up. She held her thighs in place with the bend in her arms.

The car's hood was at the perfect height as my shaft easily slipped across the threshold. I piled inside, inch by glorious inch. She gasped and grimaced as her pussy surrendered to my gargantuan girth.

When I was completely in the custody of her cunt, I started with the ol' in-and-out. She had that lusty itch, and I ground and rolled my pelvis to scratch it from every obscene angle. Her twat was tied good and tight around my turgid tool.

"Faster," she ordered. "Fuck me faster!"

Upstanding, law-abiding citizen that I am, I obeyed.

"Harder, gypsy!" she barked. "Fuck me harder!"

I really put the slapstick to her. It's hard as hell to fuck a woman with your hands cuffed behind your back but I managed to drill her silly. We collided with the sticky smack of sweaty flesh.

My balls bounced off her ass as I drove deep. Her cheeks slapped against the hood. Her black brassiere galloped about like a suspension bridge in a hurricane. Turbulent titflesh threatened to spill out of those steel-reinforced D-cups.

She was one giant, shuddering cunt. I wished I could pour my whole body into her. And wrap that naked flesh around me like a big beaver coat.

"My ass," she gasped. I pulled out. My tool was greased enough to get the job done and done right.

Her arms were still in place around her legs. Fingernails dug into her milky white thighs. She pulled her legs higher and closer to her body until her knees were on either side of her face and resting on the hood of the Chevy.

She dug her fingers into her cheeks and pulled them apart. I went in the hard way. Muscles gradually loosened their grip to take every inch.

The bozo who said sex is all in the head never had all of his dick up her wazoo. What's there to think about? I'm a man of action. So I acted, upping the tempo of my steely strokes.

Yippee-ki-yay and rooty-toot-toot! The slut couldn't get enough. I couldn't give enough. No matter how hard I tried.

Her back arched sharply as her screaming ecstasy cut across the middle of nowhere. Her tight, muscular stomach undulated with the waves of orgasm. She looked like a flag waving on the end of my pole.

I couldn't hold back any longer. With a grunt I gunned her down point-blank: bang bang bangity bang bang! until my chamber was spent.

When I pulled out my copper stopper, the bitch looked me up and down and said, "Looks like I'm gonna have to run you in."

"What for?"

"Sodomy's against the law in Tuscarora County."

What a set-up! But it was no use arguing. Cops don't hear anything they don't wanna hear. Believe me, I know.