**This story is inspired by true events. No animals were harmed in the writing of this story.
Except for that one chupacabra. But he's okay now.
Don't forget to vote. Comments are cool, too. Public comments are even better.
Okay, so just read the damn thing then.**
*
It was just another fall Friday afternoon. The birds were singing, the skies were gray and the drizzle was falling lightly on the unraked leaves. I caught myself enjoying the walk outside until I remembered that I was going to the courthouse and I'd be fined a shit-ton of money within the next five minutes.
It wasn't my fault. Really, it wasn't. I was just minding my own business, driving home from the bar when I accidentally hit a car in traffic. My excuse was that the dumb bitch didn't have her lights on, and I sure made sure she knew that. Sure, I was a little drunk, and after I sobered up and drank away the hangover, I realized just the type of shit I was in.
The car I hit was a cop car. It wasn't just in traffic; it was stopped as she was pulling someone else over for being a drunken retard like me. The dumb bitch I chewed out was both the nicest cop off duty and the most hard-assed on-duty cop in the city. It also wasn't my car that I was driving. Not only that, but I was totally and completely obliterated, not just a little drunk as I thought I was. I did luck out though, I guess. I managed to stagger away after I hit the cop car and somehow, miraculously, I didn't get followed home.
The two arresting officers at my door step after I finished off my first breakfast beer was all it took to bring it all crashing back around me. 3 days in the county clink, license suspended, and a court date that was burned into my mind for all eternity was all I thought about for a while. I was released on bail by a girl friend who promptly broke up with me and I damn near lost my job over the deal.
Court was on the agenda today, however, and I was looking forward to this almost as much as my next prostrate exam. I almost laughed at the similarities between the two, if not for one striking difference; the doc uses lube and a glove for that sort of thing, the judge was just gonna bend me over and ram it home.
I checked in with the clerk of the court and was escorted to a courtroom where I awaited the judge. I didn't have to wait long, thankfully; but I think after my initial reaction, I probably could have managed a few more minutes.
The judge for this ever-so-special occasion was Julie Blackstone, one of the most hard-assed judges on the circuit; notorious for nailing drunks. Court was a blur. I was fined heavily, had 1000 hours of community service assigned, and lost my license for a year. Crap.
I went home in a daze. The only thing I could think of were ways to get my service over with and my fine paid off. I needed to think, and the only thing being at home reminded me of was worthless possessions I could pawn to knock the fine down without actually having to work. So, I went back to the bar.
I didn't want to drink too much just so I didn't have to have the buzz get killed by the cold air outside during the 10-block walk home. I stuck to beer, a little whiskey, and a shot or two from sympathetic friends. I hovered around the pool table most of the night, buying in and holding the table as long as I could, then waiting to buy in again after I lost. It was probably my 8th game when I heard three dollars in quarters plunk down on the rail.
I finished chalking my cue and I turned to see a decent looking blonde with short spiky hair, brown eyes, and sparkling ruby painted lips. A tight cable-knit sweater hugged her chest tightly accentuating what breasts she had and it flared nicely into a pair of hip-hugging blue jeans that were held together on the side with laces; almost an inch of exposed flesh ran from her Doc Martin boots to that sweater. I couldn't see any panties in that luscious gap of fabric, and believe me, as hard as I was looking at that thin, sexy silhouette, I'd have seen it. I dropped the chalk, and I damn near dropped my cue.
"Mind if I play?" she asked, a sultry tone in her voice. She softly bit her lower lip as she waited for a response. My cock twitched and my head nodded. Her money fell, the balls dropped—and not just the pool balls—and she packed a tight rack. I broke and a few solids dropped. A couple more shots, a couple balls fell. I miscued watching this lithe little creature prowl around the table, drinking a Jack and Coke as she waited for her turn.
"Shit," I swore softly and bowed out. I stepped to the mini-bar where my own gin-and-tonic was waiting for me and took a swallow as I watched her ass wander around the table. She took the easy shot on the table, giving me a nice, dead on look at her ass as she bent over to line up the shot. She made the shot and looked back at me over the top of her stick to see me soaking in her curves.
"Like what you see?" she asked and gave a little wiggle.
"I wouldn't be staring if I didn't," I said blatantly and took another drink. She laughed and the barest hint of blush lit her cheeks and lined up her next shot. Her stick softly met the cue, the cue rolled forward and a beautiful 11-15 split shot sank both balls. Unfortunately it wasn't what she called. She stood up with a pout and held the tip of her stick in both hands, pushing into her cleavage, while the stick slid back between her legs and behind her feet. I couldn't help but notice she brought the shaft tight up against the seam of those jeans. I walked around the table and gave her ass an unsubtle squeeze and a lingering stroke on the way past. Her back arched and her tight butt pushed back against my fingertips.
"That's sexual harassment, you know," she said softly as I lined up my shot.
"Uh huh. Whatever; first, sexual harassment involves not rubbing your ass against my hand, and second, you're as drunk as I am. You'd have a hard time standing in front of the judge and proving shit," I said, still carefully lining up my shot.
"I am the judge," she giggled. I miscued. How I didn't rip the felt in the table, I have no idea. My eyes shifted from my shot to her face like a scared jackrabbit bolting from relative safety into the mouth of a wolf. I forced my eyes to focus on her face and the entirety of the court proceedings from the day flashed before my eyes, with every image and every word blurring past in super clear, super fast detail. It still took me a second, but yes, those deep brown eyes and that spiky blonde hair definitely belonged to the black-clad magistrate this afternoon. Her giggle turned into a laugh and I straightened up. "Close your mouth," she said the laugh fading back into the cute little giggle from before.
I floated back to my drink, my mind going in a million different directions at once. I was confused and deeply aroused. I was getting hit on by a beautiful woman, and that made my cock cry for attention. The beautiful woman started whipping my ass in pool, which is a turn on of sorts for me. The hot little blonde that I wanted to fuck six ways from Sunday was the judge who sentenced me this morning. The judge who sentenced me was drinking in my bar playing pool at my pool table. The judge was also hitting on me harder than I was hitting on her.
What the hell, I decided to roll with it. After all, you can't get sexual harassment if they harass back, and you can never rape the willing.
She blew her shot on the 8-ball but didn't scratch, so it was my turn. I gave her ass another squeeze on the way by and she shook her head as I lined up my shot. The 7 sank and I walked around her again. This time I had planned on stopping on the way by to give that gorgeous ass another tight squeeze. She turned to face me as I walked past and she gave my crotch a good squeeze. My cock was iron, not that it was far from that as it was, but her hand stroking me through my jeans was enough to finish it.
I reciprocated in kind. My hand went to her thigh and traced up the seam of her jeans to her pleasantly warm crotch. I gave her a good stroke as well, pushing the material deeper between her rapidly dampening camel toe. She licked her lips slowly and her eyes immediately glazed over, turning to burning pits of lust as they half closed.
"Always pick up those you sentence, judge?" I asked. My hand continued up her belly after a second casual stroke of her heating mound and it traveled up under that sweater. The skin under that sweater felt like acres of taut, ticklish flesh; her body shivered as my fingers ran over the crest of her hip and around to her back.
She didn't say anything, she just leaned into me and I pressed my lips to hers. Her little tongue snaked out and teased my lips and mine responded in kind.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," she said breathily, breaking the kiss.
"Always show this kindness to drunks?" I said, pressing my body firmly into hers before breaking away.
"Only the good looking ones," she said. The judge turned down and set her shot to sink the 8. I promptly returned my hand to her ass and allowed my fingers to wrap around her pussy through the jeans, making sure my fingers drummed against her clit as they moved. She shivered and moaned slightly, her cue dipping up as her knees caved in.
Blackwell took a deep breath and straightened up. Her stick shot forward, the cue struck the 8 firmly and squarely and it went sailing straight for the pocket she was aiming for. Unfortunately, so did the cue.
"Looks like I lost," she said and put her arms on the table to hold herself up. That ass pushed against my hand and she moaned softly. I could feel every contour of her cunt through those jeans, and I didn't pull my hand away until she pushed herself up and against my chest.
