Sherri Is Stopped By A Cop

Sherri Wynn left the country club two hours late. She told her husband, Bill, that she would be back at eight. It was ten o'clock when she got behind the wheel. She had two more gin and tonics than she told her husband she would have.

She didn't care. She was having fun gossiping with her girlfriends and flirting with the college age sons of the rich men who were members there. Bill would probably have fallen asleep in front of the television by now. She could make it look like she was only 30 minutes late.

Her husband hated the country club. He only joined for professional reasons. It was good to play golf with clients and to be seen playing golf by partners at his firm. The truth was he hated golf. He was an introvert. Sherri was not. She was a social person, and she loved to spend time at the club. Staying two hours later than she told Bill was her way of declaring independence.

The only problem with the club was that you had to drive over poorly lit and unmarked roads to get there. It was kind of out of the way. But Sherri wasn't paying much attention as she drove home. She was thinking about those dreamy college boys and their shyness around older women.

And then, in the space of a maybe ten seconds, things started to happen. First, she noticed that she was lost. Then, she realized she was driving on the wrong side of the road. Her car had drifted into the left lane, only it wasn't a lane because the road wasn't marked. Third, there were colored lights in her rear view mirror. A cop was pulling her over. The following thoughts raced through her mind as she slowed her car down and parked it on the right shoulder:

One. Bill, her husband, would be extremely angry at her.

Two. She had two recent violations: speeding and making an illegal left hand turn. She wasn't sure but she was pretty sure that a third ticket meant they would take her license away.

Three. If she didn't have a license then she couldn't drive the kids to school. Bill would have to do it, making him late for work. He would be very mad.

Four. The gin and tonics! She had finished four of them. Most likely, she was legally blitzed. That's not a ticket, or a suspended license. That's jail. Bill would be- she could not complete the thought.

Five. There had to be a way out of this.

Sherri had the ability to distance herself from any situation she was in. Her friend Melanie had taught her a trick years ago. When something is so scary or confusing or chaotic that you can't even think, don't try to repress it or stifle the thought, that won't work. Instead visualize it as "over there." Near where you are, but not on top of you. Instead, in the next room, or around the corner.

It was just a way of tricking your mind but she found that it worked. As the cop got out of his car she took numbers 1-4 and mentally placed them on the side of the road, just beyond her headlights, in the tall grass she could barely see. "Over there." She focused on number five. There had to be a way out of this.

Instantly, she relaxed a little. The cop was coming toward her. She was rolling down her window. By the time he got there, she had the beginning of a plan.

Sherri Wynn was an attractive woman, 38 years old, a brunette with long curly hair that always looked a bit wild, suggesting a woman that might be a bit unrestrained herself. She was voluptuous but not fat. And she filled a 38 F bra. She had been a D cup in the ninth grade and a 36 DD in college. She knew a lot about distracting men from their tasks.

The first thing she did when her car stopped was undo the seat belt. Then she tucked her white blouse in so that it stretched itself smoothly over her boobs. Then she undid a button, so that from the angle the cop would be at he could see a lot. Then she straightened her back and sat up in her seat. Then she smiled and waited for the words she anticipated.

"License. Registration. Proof of insurance, please."

Here's where Bill was a great husband. He had everything organized in the glove compartment.

"The registration and insurance," Sherri said, handing them to the cop. A few seconds later she produced her license from the wallet in her purse. Then she waited. In her mind's eye she was picturing the view he had as he leaned in from his position standing outside the car. By her calculations he could see a generous helping of cleavage, the top of her lacy white bra and the curve of her boobs as she inhaled a little to make them stick out more.

When she was satisfied with that image, she put on her best twinkly smile and for the first time looked right at the policeman who had stopped her. He was returning her registration and insurance card to her. As she extended her right hand to retrieve them, the top of her arm pushed her right breast in toward the middle, making her cleavage pop out another inch or so. And she made sure that when her hand took the papers, their fingers touched just a little.

The county cop was younger than she thought he might be: early 30s. He looked like he might be ex-military, or a former football player. Clean cut, square jaw, barrel chest, thick, muscular forearms. He did not smile, even a little. He did not explain why he had pulled her over. "Wait here, please. Turn the engine off." Then he went back to his car, almost certainly to check her driving record.

Sherri knew she was scared, but her fear was "over there," in the tall grass by the side of the road. She took the opportunity to dig into her purse and put on some lipstick. By luck she had some mints in there and she popped two of those in her mouth to take away the smell of gin.

She decided to take a risk and undo another button. Her white blouse no longer looked like anything a woman would wear in public. It looked like a blouse that had been partly undone for a lover. Much of her bra was now visible. She was putting out a statement. She was saying to the cop: "before you make a decision, have you considered-- these?"

She saw him getting out of his police cruiser and coming toward her, and she noticed she was sweating. That's when she got the idea to put the air conditioning on. The cool when it hit her would harden her nipples, heightening the effect she wanted.

The cop was now leaning down to talk to her again. "Miss Wynn, where are you headed tonight?"

"I'm headed home, officer. I was at the country club on Porters Road for a charity event."

"Do you know you ran a flashing red light back there?"

"I did? Oh my god. No. I mean I did not know. Are you sure it was red?" She looked in the rear view mirror and she could see it, faintly.

"It's always red. It's a flashing red light. That means stop. You went right through it. That's quite dangerous, Ma'am. There could be a car coming the other way."

"I understand that, officer. The truth is, I got lost. If I could explain..." She looked straight ahead, as if wracking her brain for information. "I had to look at the street signs to figure out where I was. But it's very dark around here. And some of the roads aren't marked. I had directions to the club, but I didn't have directions back, and I was trying to reverse them in my mind, and look for the street signs, and remember the route I took to get here. I just messed up. I must have been looking for the road sign when I went through the flashing red."

As Sherri sped through her explanation she slowly angled her right shoulder toward the window and dropped her left arm imperceptibly. This opened her blouse up even more as she talked. Now she was practically inviting him into her bosom. She glanced down and saw what she hoped she would see. Her nipples were poking proudly through the stretched fabric and making a statement of their own. This gave her extra confidence to look up at the cop and say what she had been planning to say: "Isn't there anything you can do?"

Her eyes were blazing as she looked up at him, but his eyes were locked on her chest. When she saw that, she thought for the first time that she might get out of this. Was this the time to push? How much was too much? Sherri decided to be a touch bolder. Her right hand came up and non-chalantly fingered her blouse pulling it even more to the side for him. "Anything...." she said.

This is where it got excruciating. Her heart was racing. Ten, twelve, maybe fifteen seconds of silence. She looked up at him. He continued to stare at her boobs. Her fingers continued to flutter over them, invitingly. No trace of a smile. No sign of weakness or sympathy. No expression at all, really. Maybe a narrowing in his eyes, but it was hard to tell in the shadows cast by his police car's headlights.

Finally, he spoke. "You've had two moving violations in the last six months, Miss Wynn." True. So she used the line she had ready.

"I understand," she said, lowering her voice a little, looking straight ahead and arching her back so that her boobs moved forward a little. "But is there anything I can do?" She closed her eyes. Her breath was hot. Her bust was heaving. She felt him looking. In the dark, in the silence.

"I don't know, Ma'am," he said, in a kind of growl.

"Anything at all... that I can do... that I can do for you, officer.... since you obviously understand my situation.... anything?" And she turned to look right at him. She had used every tactic she thought might work. And Sherri noticed something. Her legs were shaking. Between them she felt the tingling.

There was another long pause. Sherri shut her eyes and felt the cold air blowing on her. And then the cop said, "Button up your blouse. Turn on your car and drive. I will be following you. Watch my car in your rear view mirror. I will signal when to turn. When I put my right turn signal on, you turn right at the next right. When I put my left turn signal on, you turn left. No signal means straight ahead. If you see my flashing lights, you pull over, just as you did before. If you cannot follow my instructions you are in a lot of trouble."

Sherri had already completed his first instruction. She had buttoned her blouse up. "I can do that, officer, but where are you... We are we going?"

"Just do what you're told," said the cop. He turned and walked back to his car.

Sherri knew she was scared, but she also knew she was aroused. She had set something in play, and now the cop would decide how it ended. Before she pulled her car back on the road she "tossed" more of her fear in the tall grass with the rest of it. Then she followed the instructions, checking every few seconds in her rear view mirror, driving slowly and keep her focus only on operating the vehicle.

She took a left and drove. She took a right and drove some more. She took a left at a fork. She took another left down what felt like a gravel road. Finally, the cop had her turn into the driveway of what looked like an abandoned cement factory. There was nothing around for miles. But there was a single light in the parking lot, and it was on. She drove inside the plant and stopped under the light. He pulled ahead of her, turned around and came back so that their cars aligned but in opposite directions. He rolled down his window.

"Open your door and keep it open." Sherri did that. "Now pull your feet out of the car and put them on the ground." She did that. She was now facing him. He then opened his car door and left it open. The two doors formed a small pen. "Don't move a muscle," he said. A million things flashed through Sherri's mind, but mostly she noticed the light. There was light. She could see him now. He had a flat top hair cut, a thick neck, steel blue eyes, that amazing jaw line, a movie star jaw, and a powerful build.

He was rising from his car. He was stepping toward her. He had told her not to move. She did not move. He positioned his feet just inside hers and stood so that his zipper was right in front of her eyes. And then in one easy motion, his left hand came forward to cup the back of her head and his right hand lowered the zipper.

Sherri knew what to do now. She also knew she had no choice.

In seconds her hands were digging into his underwear and finding his erection: thick like his neck, strong, incredibly soft skin on an incredibly hard shaft. This was no time to stroke, pet and tease. When it came free from his boxers Sherri already had her mouth open for the cop who had pulled her over. She was about to bend forward from her waist toward his crotch when he used his left hand to push her head down on it. Then he added his other hand to her head and gripped it convincingly.

She had started to bob, to give him a normal blow job. But he had other ideas. His feet moved forward a bit and he began to lean into her mouth, which was being held tightly between his big muscular hands. His motions signaled what he was going to do. He was going to fuck her face. She stopped trying to blow him and just opened up. Each thrust tested her willingness to take him in a little more. He would stop as he felt her about to gag, withdraw a little, and then plunge in again. His hands never moved from her head, and her head didn't move because he had it gripped so tightly in his hands.

Sherri stopped thinking about what Bill would say. She forgot about the four gin and tonics. She forgot where she was, even. She sort of lost track of time. She only felt four things: The cop's thick cock stretching her mouth and demanding to be let further down her throat. His hands on her head, telling her she was not to move, silently saying: "you asked if there was something you could do, this is what you can do." And third, the heat rising from her crotch, which melted her fear. Fourth: the light in the deserted parking lot, flooding down on her, exposing her desperate actions to herself.

As the thrusting went on they all came together into one feeling- the cop moving massively in her mouth, his hands steady and strong on her head, the heat and wet between her legs, the wanton exposure from the light - and Sherri just gave in to it.

As she surrendered and blocked everything else out her concentration actually improved. She was conscious of not scraping him with her teeth, which was hard because he was so thick. She was trying to relax her gag reflex so she could take more. She was using her tongue to swirl around the most sensitive part. She was trying to prepare herself not to choke or cough when he came, because she had trouble with that sometimes and she didn't want to make trouble. She wanted to be good. She wanted to get out of the jam she was in.

By letting this strong bull of a cop jam his cock into her mouth, by not just letting him in, but welcoming it, she was converting a potential disaster -- a night in county jail, a big fine, losing her license, Bill's rage - into something brutally real and undeniably exciting. She wanted the cop to gratify himself. She wanted him to take what he wanted. She wanted him to know that she was a willing pleaser, not just desperate to avoid charges but eager to get him off. She wanted him not to be anything like Bill!

Sherri added something a little bolder. She unbuttoned her blouse, and without losing her concentration on what she was sucking brought her big boobs out of the bra she was wearing. She lifted them so that they lightly grazed the bottom of his balls, and then she began a gentle massage.

This had an immediate effect. She could feel his legs tensing. His breathing changed. He altered his position a little so that his sweating balls nestled deeper into the cleavage she had offered. His hands clamped down on her head even more forcefully. And then the fucking motion stopped. Dead. His cock started throbbing in her mouth but it was not moving.

For a second Sherri didn't know what to do. Was he going to resume? Was he going to pull out? Was she doing something wrong? Had she scraped him with her teeth and made him mad? Then all uncertainly was resolved when she heard him hiss at her these five words: "Suck it all out, lady."

Sherri did as she was told. She sucked like a baby given a full and warm bottle while she coaxed the cop's cum from his balls with her boobs. It did not take long. Ten seconds of suction, maybe, when the first power shot hit the back of her throat and his low, mean grunting began. Her tongue found the sweet spot and that made the second shot almost as big as the first. The rest came out in a hot stream that was too much for her to accept without gagging, so she opened her mouth and left some slide down her chin and pool around the base of his dick. She kept telling herself: "don't stop til he says you can." She continued to pump and swallow as he spurted six, seven, eight times in her churning mouth. When it stopped cumming he held it there for her to clean and polish.

Then he took his hands from the sides of her head and slowly removed his cock from her mouth, then just as slowly - he wasn't done yet - began scooping up the cum on her chin with the cock head. Obscenely, he used his dick to spread the spilled cum over her cheeks and lips and nose and brow as she closed her eyes and silently accepted this "marking" of territory. He then guided the sticky cock back into her mouth for a second cleaning. All it took was a light tap on the back of her head with two fingers to indicate that she should suck it clean, which she did slowly and delicately. Finally, he took his softening cock back, zipped up, stepped away from her and got into his cruiser.

He spoke in a distant way, looking not at her but straight through his windshield into the dark. "It will never be any different. It will always be like this. But we will move the location around to various spots. If you want it again, you will sit in your car in the country club parking lot a week from tonight at nine o'clock. If I am not there exactly at nine, do not leave. I will find you."

Sherri started to speak, to decline his offer, but he cut her off.

"Take a right out of the lot, do not make any turns and in 15 minutes you will be at state highway 78. Do not look in your mirror. Swing your legs into your car and drive away."

Sherri did as she was told. The cop guided her correctly. On state highway 78 she found a convenience store and stopped to clean up, use the bathroom and get a drink of water. Also to think of what to tell Bill.

But before she did any of that, she drove to the back parking lot, where it was deserted and dark. And there, in her car, feeling debauched but also relieved, she masturbated furiously, thinking about the cop's words. "It will never be any different. It will always be like this. If you want it again..."