Traffic Warning A Spicy Kind

His hand wrapped around my hip and pulled me closer, his other slipped just inside the waistband at my low back to caress the little dimple that's there.Or the one that would be there, if I lost a little weight, but I'm a sensitive plushy type who likes cooking good food I also get to eat, so let's just pretend it's there;). I had no hesitation about allowing his advances and feeding it back in my own way, by warmly pressing my hands to his chest, as if to connect myself with his heart, directly.

Weird I know, but palm to heart, as you push out the affectionate feelings you have and the acceptance you offer, just feels beautiful to me. Plus, something about him felt comforting and safe to just give in. What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic type.

When he leaned in to press his lips against mine, my body pressed back instinctively. Hoping for his lips to not just lightly peck mine as a gentleman would, and as he was certainly aiming to be. But to completely own my mouth as if it was made just for him and he was done with the pleasantries, now he just wanted what was his, me. He tasted so sweet and addictive to.

I look for the gentleman.. I love the gentleman... I prefer the gentleman, but sometimes I feel that even a gentleman should be allowed to have passionate, reckless moments when he finds the right chemistry for them, and I was only too happy to encourage and support him in feeling that way with me. I'm a touch kinda girl, shy and selective of who I share it with, but when I do it's super-charged with love, acceptance, passion, and a desire to please and fill with so much light. I immediately felt that level of connection with Deputy Marx and it was amazing. Even though we technically just met....

But let's start this story from the beginning, shall we?...

I've always had to have complete control over myself, my surroundings, and my life in order to survive it. To some degree this hasn't changed still. I'm an orphan, by choice, unfortunately, so alone is my main setting. I'm also disabled and a romance writer with a hopeless romantic heart and an independent mind, so I've been surviving alone in many ways for nearly 7 years now, since escaping my family and building a little life for a new, safe, and healthy me.

Hyper-controlled, is my basic foundation.

She's a 2005 PT Cruiser Convertible Turbo, and I loved her, but she was a finicky bitch. Every little fix I gave her, something else went wrong. I have yet to experience a full month her running smoothly... or at all. I knew right away that I was buying a used car with hidden issues the seller was lying to me about. I could tell he was lying as the words left his mouth, but I couldn't help the immediate love I felt for her, the car. So, I bought her anyway. I took on the 'beast that would set me back and put a dent in my wanting to find romance cus who would wanna date a girl with no transport?'.

My hope was that I could work on her as I could afford to. And I chose to use that work as a tool to also repair me. I'm a dork about always seeking some growth and looking for the positives so I don't get stuck in the deep dark void. I saw my healing the cruiser, while having space and time to also heal myself, inwardly, lent to trying to heal my super high driving anxiety too. I three birds, one stone type of thing, I like being productive.

I remember I used to love driving, but it got scared away over a decade ago, and getting my car working feels like chipping at the fear inside, bringing me closer to finding that love again. Closer to being confident about driving and therefore able to. Today was the next chip. With the help of some borrowed parts, my saving up for a new converter, and bribing my bestie to assist, I replaced my catalytic without left over mystery parts to worry about, and now needed a test drive. The stress has been high for over a year, the work dirty, so before that test drive, I took a long hot shower to recalibrate. Then I got into comfy clothes and pulled my hair into a high pony. And as I tightened the scrunchy, getting that hair pull I love, I had an idea... Maybe my test drive can be a pleasurable one, not just a necessary one.

It was sunny and hot out, so I decided to drive out past town into the foothills. Where I could cruise some of the empty roads safely, out of sight, and completely free to do it topless. It was liberating, but only just. So, once I found a long stretch that seemed pretty clear, I pulled over and also put the top of my car down to drive converted. I wanted to feel the sun kissing me the entire ride. Deciding for once, to listen to those intrusive thoughts wanting to know what it's like to be a little fearless and bold, to let nature caress my breasts as the breezes comb their fingers of warm atmosphere through my hair. Letting go of my own control just a little and being bad, experiencing a slight reckless, wild, and free drive.

The only things I wore as I drove, were a pair of flip flops and a very flowy and short skirt that I had to pull tight at my thighs, so the gracing breezes didn't blow the fabric up and leave me topless as well as bottomless, considering I dressed sans panties too. I have a full bottle of sunscreen with me, but I just didn't want to feel that oiliness yet. Any barrier from the sun felt like an invasion, so I left it under my passenger seat in the drawer built into the frame where my top was secured as well, to keep from blowing away.

As I drove, I discovered many things. First, I learned that I love the little bumps in the road, but only when driving like this. Because they caused my breasts to bounce and jiggle in just the right way that it felt freeing and even a bit pleasurable. I love feeling my tits bounce and jiggle, the harder they do, the more this spike of need shoots into my nipples and the whole tit lights up in pleasure. There were sexual and non-sexual pros that far outweighed the cons of driving topless in a convertible on an open and safe road. Only way it could be any better is if it was a man making them bounce and jiggle while he loves on them, but this was next best thing, considering how long it's been since I've found a connection worth sharing myself with, let alone my tits.

Blepziiip!

I drove for half my playlist, when out of the blue I heard a chirp behind me, and checked my mirror.

A cop.

Shit.

Pulling over, I retuck my skirt frantically, making sure to cover as much of my pussy as possible, knowing I couldn't help the top situation just yet with it being stuffed in a drawer under the seat. I tried to control my breathing, to calm down, and to hold my arms around my front to cover myself as best I can. Worried about the one thing that always sits at the front of my mind as to why I'm shy. I don't want to force my sexuality on another, or my body, and I was about to do that. The cop came up to my door and looked at me.

"License and... Oh." He said, then looked away as fast as possible.

"I'm so sorry, I have a shirt under my passenger chair, if you'll allow me to grab it and put it on? I didn't want to just reach for it, in case you thought I was going for a gun or knife or bazooka or something." I quickly over-explain. Did I mention I'm on the spectrum and tend to over-speak?

Yeah. I hate it too.

He giggles, "Uhh... I have to ask; do you have a bazooka I should be worried about in there with you?"

"Ha! Of course not! Way too big to fit under my seat! Promise, scout's honor, there are no weapons here, though in all honesty I only made it to Brownie level. I like pointy things too much and kept cutting my fingers on my Swiss army knife, so I never leveled up, but I totally promise no weapons are in here." I cross my hand in an X over my chest, meaning I got into my panic moment, let go of my tits and flashed the nice authority figure dude. I gasp when I notice this, "Uh, can I get my top now?"

"Oh, yea, please." He laughs a little harder. He watches me as I move to get my top, and I can see strain of wanting to look at my biddys, but trying hard not to, as I slowly lean forward and reach for my drawer. I'm fairly large chested, plus-sized, as mentioned before, so I have to let him see one of my tits as I reached. Being too large to cover up easily and completely. I slip the shirt on and look up at him again, he seems lost in thought for a moment then shakes himself,

"Right, ok um... I pulled you over because your temp tags are past due."

"Yes. Um, here's the thing, I've been working on fixing my car all year and ran out of the allotted allowance for temp tags. I can't get real tags because I can't pass emissions, so I replaced her converter and I got her running again so that I could get her tags after passing the test but at the same time, she has another issue and can't keep a charge in her battery. I needed to both test drive and charge the battery, in order to do a new Emission, get legal tags and then work on the battery charge problem. So, I was chancing it by just going out to an empty road, I'm sorry but I really needed to get the drive done." I over-explain, again.

"Ok, well, while I can't condone it, since it's still illegal to drive on expired tags like this, plus illegal to drive while inappropriately exposed, I will just give you a break because it sounds like you could use one. I'll issue a warning and insist you finish quick and get those plates, also... road rash is nasty painful so... keep the clothes on, deal?"

"Yes, Sir." I smile.

He was handsome. Tall(yea, I'm one of those girls), dark, and had that look about him. The kind that screamed; Noah Calhoun in the streets and Massimo from 365 in the sheets. His eyes pierced me with desire, and I had trouble looking in them, like I wasn't worthy of such beautiful eyes to even notice me. I had an immediate crush.I didn't trust he had any desire for me, it was just a feeling, and I entertained it, liking it very much, but knowing how reality is and who I am, it was only in my head.

Deputy Luca Marx. Broad shouldered, lean but with a little thickness, and the length of beard perfect for burning my thighs just right. He had the kind of lips you could tell made him proficient in sucking, and his hands.. have mercy! They were large, strong, and had a power in them that made me salivate. It's a graceful type of power, but a masculine one. He wasn't stiff and angry, he moved with a flow, like water. He used his muscle in a sense of fluidity as he expressed with his hands.

In noticing that, my flesh tenses in excitement.

I love the way a hand feels on me when it moves with full emotional expression. I trusted hands that could do that. Because from growing up, I learned you always saw their hands first. How they held them, how they flexed or fisted them against you. There's truth and trust in how a man moves and uses his hands and I'm happy to say Marx used his well. I kinda wanted to experience it for myself.

"Thank you, Deputy... Marx." I say as I make show to read his badge with a sweet, innocent smile as he hands me his card, customary for them to do, when issuing anything, including a warning. He returns my smile and goes to walk back to his car when he stops and turns.

He points and says, "Uhhh, I think you picked up a nail, your tire is pretty flat. That's a bad hole if it lost air that much air while I've pulled you over. Do you have a spare?"

"Oh shit, really? I just can't get a break with you can I, Emma.?" I say to my car, as I open my door and step out.

Marx takes a moment to look me up and down, noticing my loose and bouncy tee over free braless tits, cropped only an inch below them. He saw the school-girl plaid skirt, too short to actually wear to a school, and the flip flops on my feet for easy undressing. I was not planning to go anywhere where I'd have to get out and be seen, so I wasn't that concerned with what I wore for my drive. A choice I was regretting now.But not a lot of regret with the kind of looks I felt off of him.

I move to my trunk and open the lid. It's a boot-like trunk, like the traditional hot-rod styles, so I have to bend over a little to reach inside. Plié'ing as I do, to help move more lady-like, if that's at all possible.

Just then the breeze I've been enjoying all this time, betrayed me and picked up. And with it, my skirt. Sans panties, means I didn't put any on. I was buck ass naked, with only a couple loose flaps of fabric to keep me modest, and now the Deputy was on the same page as me about it.

"Here, let me help." He pushes in towards me to grab the tire and save me from humiliating myself much more than I already have, but in doing so he got a bit clumsy and leaned too hard, making me unsteady on my feet to avoid him and tipping over. He catches me, one arm around my waist, his hand literally grabbing an entire globe of my naked ass cheek, and the other at the nape of my head, nearly in my hair. So, if he tightened his grip, he'd be fisting it at the right spot to cause the moan that's currently wishing to squeak out of me in this moment of creative recognition of events, to make itself vocal.

He held me for a stuttered moment, shocked, and I'm pretty sure the stiffy poking my bare crotch meant he was also turned on. I begin to pant a little, out of an answering arousal and shock of my own, and in a moment, you think you only read in stories like this one, but really, they happen every day because we humans are weak and horny, he went ahead and fisted that knot of hair in his palm and claimed my lips. He claimed them hard and very, very well.

I moaned into his mouth, combing my hands into his hair and fisting his strands in return. Pulling him into me and increasing the passion between us. His hand grabs onto my breast, and I immediately arch into his palm, desperate for him to keep going. I wish the past lovers in my life would have played with me more, longer, before just fucking me... and my arching into him, matching his ardency, is trying to beg him to comply with that thought. To slow down, make our passion more specific and carefully celebrated, so that we enjoy every tiny detail of it.

His other hand grabs my hip, in a way where he lifts my leg and wraps it around himself, wanting access to my hole right away...Ok, maybe I need to find another way to convince a guy to take more time with me, to enjoy and savor in one another. But for now, this will do.

He slams his hips forward and thrusts his clothed hard dick into my bare open pussy, with my leg up and held out the way it is. He grinds into me as if trying to feel every part of my naked camel toe through his pants against his cock. If his cock was true to how it felt, veiny and reactive as fuck, then I think he really could feel my every bit with his.

I mean, wow! I can't wait to make that my lollipop!

He caresses my jaw, grasping my neck without going for the full choke. Just pouring this intense level of attention, affection, and appreciation into me, before continuing to kiss me.I love when a guy does that, makes me feel important and desired.His hand finds the collar of my shirt and pulls it down, stretching it under and around my mounds, so he has free access to my breasts. The breeze caressing them right before he presses his wet tongue against one of my nipples and circles around the edge of it, giving me a little flex in temperature, then biting it the moment he completes the circle.

"Unnh!" I let out a sound of need, loving the way he feels as he plays with me. All his touches, kisses, bites, and licks. It feels so good to be in his hands, against his body, rubbing against his dick. I was floating as he took me.

"I shouldn't be doing this; I don't know what's fucking wrong with me."

"I want you too. It's ok, the consent is there, please don't stop!"

"Fuuuck, you're a begger aren't you? I'm a sucker for a begger... Mmmm, I bet your gasps and mewls of need sound fucking hot!" He groans into me as he sucks along my neck and bites my earlobes, his stiff cock getting harder and harder, pressing so strong against my pussy it almost hurts. The pain it delivers is almost good enough to make me cum right here, but it's like he knows when and how to back off and keep me on the tether.

"Keep going and find out, Sir." I've only ever given one man a title, and I only ever did it in my head, so only I knew about it. I'm careful who I grace with something like an honorific, so the Sir in this instance is more to do with teasing him about his place of authority as a cop, than anything else. I say it cheekily, with a sultry edge, challenging him to fuck me left as the cherry on top.

"Come over here." He grabs and picks me up, carrying me over to his Police SUV and opening the back door.

Inside its large and comfy, perfect for what we'd like to do right now. He helps me up inside, and I try my best to calm the surprise in me that he could pick me up, carry my cuddly ass, and then place me in his backseat all while knowing I'm not light. No one has ever tried to lift me before, so I have to admit it was a huge turn on. He jumps up into the back with me and closes the door, undressing as he grabs me and slides me into place on his back seats, diving face first into my pussy and treating it like his own personal jar of moonshine-honey.

Getting intoxicated on my essence as he makes me moan and writhe for him.

One orgasm later, and half-way to the next, as he adds fingers and flicks my swollen pearl of desire hard and fast, I'm so torn. I want to feed on his cock, but also, I want it pounding me so hard and with such dark passion that he shows me a bit of the violence inside him, as he chokes me good and spanks me until it leaves marks.

Haha! How cute... love marks from Deputy Marx.

He must see the dilemma, because he has decided to solve my issue by removing my choice completely. He rearranges us so that, using the backseat, we are now in a type of 69 position, him directing his cock to my lips and ordering me to open and take him, while he fingers and sucks my pussy. Every few seconds, slapping my ass hard and then petting it sweetly and growling in satisfaction when he notices the red handprints starting to show.

While I play with his cock, I feel so free and confident. I feel a new sense of sureness to completely let go and live in the feelings we share. So much so, that I'm even holding my own legs wide open for him, presenting myself with confidence and trust, so that he can enjoy his meal, as I enjoy mine. Being rewarded double when he tells me I'm being a Good Girl and it pushes me over into my second orgasm.

Sometimes spanks can be a reward, instead of a punishment, but 'Good Girl' is only ever a reward! ;p

I gag around his base, tickle and caress his taint and balls, stroke his shaft, choking tight as I do, and I do it all for a while. The more I feel connected to the one I play with, the more attracted I am to him and the more I appreciate how well he takes care of me and my pleasure in return, the harder it becomes for me to tell time and to want to stop spoiling his body with deep worship.

I've hurt my jaw before, by giving head for two hours straight because I lost time and really liked the guy, so I have no clue how long I've been at it this time before I finally surface and beg him to fuck me. My pussy getting too worked up that it needs some relief. And the answering smile on his face, tells me it's indeed been a good long while, with no complaints. So, he's all too happy to fuck me any which way I want him too.

I tell him what I truly want. To be fucked with care, with passion, with sweetness that turns feral, rough, and hard. And for the aftercare to be loving and intense, as I come down from it all.I get very sensitive from how much of myself I let someone have, considering the dark scary scars that exist inside of me.

He kisses me hard and deep, grabbing my throat as he does, and lining himself up with my tight hole. It takes him a bit of maneuvering and pushing to coax my pussy into stretching enough to take him, caressing my body as he does, but once he's in, he sits still while he kisses me tenderly. Allowing my body to adjust and ready for what's next, when he begins to then slide in and out. Slowly at first, then picking it up to a moderate tempo as he begins to suck my nipples and play with the rest of my body again.