It Started With Speeding Ch 01 03

This is a revision of the three chapters I posted earlier. I've corrected all the little errors and inconsistencies that were driving myself and others crazy. Sorry, got a little anxious to post. The story is complete now (thanks a great deal to freaknut) and it should be more polished. The first part is generic. The rest explores its complexities.

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Chapter 1

I couldn't believe this was happening. It was too generic to be anything but a dream.

I had been speeding through the warm Southern California night, windows of my silver TT down, drumming my fingers on the leather-wrapped wheel to the beat of my loudly blaring music. I was feeling good. I was finally done with my first project -- the infamous Walter's case -- and in all honesty, I thought I'd done a damn good job.

We'd gone out after the project was through. I'd had a few, but I felt I was sober enough to drive. When the whine of the siren and the tell-tale blue and red lights filled the small interior of my sports car, however, my confidence shriveled up.

"License and registration," the officer asked. A female officer was flashing a MagLit into my car, blinding me momentarily. I fumbled for my papers and handed them over.

We went through the whole routine: do you know why I pulled you over, do you know how fast you were going, where were you going in such a hurry. I gave her an abbreviated account of my recent completion of the Walter's project. Then came the question I'd been dreading, "Have you been drinking?"

I swallowed hard, but decided to tell her the truth. "I've had a few."

She nodded, hitting me hard one more time in the face with the bright flashlight. I flinched, unable to see anything but the bright light. “Stay right there,” she said.

The light was suddenly gone. When my eyes adjusted, I saw the shapely blonde walking back to her police car, her perky blonde ponytail waving back at me. Her black slacks had shiny stripes up the legs, and they were tight across her very juicy butt. If my mind wasn’t so busy being scared, it would have been thinking many dirty thoughts.

The officer returned after what felt like far too long. As she did, I took note of her shapely body and the way her apparently large breasts pushed out the starched, blue collar shirt.

She leaned into the car, her cool hazel eyes regarding me with a very appraising look. "Mr. Harvey, please step out of the vehicle."

"Please, call me Simon," I said, trying to lighten the situation.

"Okay, Simon," she said, stepping back away from my car, one hand resting on her gadget covered belt. "Simon, please put your hands on the hood of the car."

Oh shit. My blood froze. I did as I was told.

“Thank you… Simon,” the uniformed blonde said.

I was still a little buzzed from the celebratory beers and feeling this very sexy police officer's hands moving over my body began to get me hard, despite all my fear and all my better judgment. It wasn’t planned. It just happened.

Her hands slid up my legs and I grew harder. She was spending a little too much time on my thighs, I thought, then dismissed it. Ridiculous.

I was startled to feel one hand between my legs, sliding over my balls and up the shaft of my erection. I blushed out of embarrassment, wondering what she thought of me now. I was preparing myself for a reprimand, but I got nothing of the sort.

Instead, her hand remained.

She leaned her body in and I could feel her large breasts press against my back. I could feel her warm breath tickling my ear. "Well, well... what's this?" she whispered.

I didn't know how to react. Was this really happening? Her fingers repositioned themselves, reaching around my waist so she could fondle my erection more easily.

Shit! What was happening? My mind still wouldn’t except this porn scenario was really playing itself out.

She turned me around, trapping me against my car with her hips pressing into mine. Our mouths met and mashed and danced against each other. I was on autopilot. I had abandoned the rational sides of my brain in favor of my more carnal desires. I didn't need those rational thoughts ruining what was quickly becoming a fantasy-come-true.

I vaguely noted the blonde's gold name tag, "Officer Mills," as I hastily unbuttoned the starched blue shirt. Her own hands were working furiously with my belt and pants, and by the time I had her shirt open, she had my bare 7-inches in her soft hands.

She was wearing a very fragile looking black lace bra that contained a couple of juicy breasts. I could see her hard nipples through the sheer material, small and round and high. Her complexion was amazing: lightly tanned without a blemish on her cleavage enhanced chest.

She stroked my erection, bringing me back to the unreality of what was happening, and I said, "Am I in trouble?"

She gave me a crooked smile and asked back, "I don't know, are you?"

With that, she covered my mouth with hers again, making out on the side of a lonely California road, alone in the dark.

It was like I was a spectator. It wasn't my hands that had taken hold of the slim hips of this buxom police officer. I wasn't the one who had switched positions with her, lifting her up onto the hood of my car and unbuckling her heavy black belt.

Our mouths met again in animalistic passion and soon, I had her out of her slacks, my hands running over the smooth skin of her buttocks. She had on a sheer and very skimpy matching lace thong. I could see the line of her pussy lips through the gauzy lace. Did she have any pubic hair?

I pushed my fingers against her steaming pussy and I could feel her dampness through the thin layer of her panties. In the frenzy of the whole thing, the cups of her bra had been pulled down, freeing her large tits for my mouth to enjoy. Her nipples felt like hard pebbles on two of the softest breasts I have ever had the pleasure of slobbering all over.

She leaned back on the car, bracing herself with a hand as she moaned into the warm night. "Ohhhh! YES!"

But I wanted more. I needed more. I practically tore her thong off, finding that she was completely hairless. Despite this not being my preference, I thought it was one of the most beautiful pussies I had ever laid eyes on. Her small, compact lips were closed up but for the little button of her protruding clit.

I ran my finger along the soft petals of her labia and she nearly screamed, "OHHH!!" If we were in a bedroom, if things didn’t seem so desperate and rushed and passionate, then I would have dipped my head in to taste the glistening vagina. I would have run my tongue along her infinitely soft folds. But at the time, nothing seemed more appropriate than flipping her around, bending her over the car, and ramming my dick into that soft cunt.

"OHHH! YES, fill me with that hard cock of yours, Mr. Harvey! That is an order--FUCK! Oh! OH! OHHHHH!” I pumped on through her orgasm.

I was consumed with lust. I penetrated her baby smooth vagina with hard, frenzied thrusts. My car shook with each thrust, and we groaned together. “Harder! Harder! Ohhhh, fuck! HARDER!”

I held her hips. She had a little black tattoo of a pair of lips low on her tailbone, just above her round, gumdrop ass. I was mesmerized by it as I fucked her.

I came hard in the moist folds of the blonde's shaven pussy. As she felt my hot spunk fill her, she came hard a second time.

My cock softened. The passion subsided. I pulled out of her.

She turned around, kissing me deeply before pulling her panties back on and readjusting her ample breasts in the lacy cups of her bra. She said nothing more to me until she was back in uniform, and I could think of nothing to say to her.

I still had my pants around my ankles, my cock was limp and covered in our combined juices.

She leaned in and kissed me one last time, sweetly. "I think I'll let you off with a warning this time. Next time, you need to be more careful."

The blonde got into her car, turned off her lights, and drove on down the road.

Stunned, I pulled my pants back on and got back into my little Audi. But I didn't turn on the engine. I just sat there. My mind was reeling. I kept expecting to wake up suddenly. To realize that this was all a dream. The slimy feeling of my cock in my shorts assured me that it was no dream.

I think that I would have been okay with the whole, intense, wonderful encounter had it not been for one thing: Adrienne, my wife of four happy, wonderful, loving, and faithful years.

Chapter 2

As I drove through the warm California night, my anxiety consumed me. My intense and surreal experience with the female cop was fading fast, replaced by the upsetting vision of Adrienne quietly packing her bags, a car door closing, and me in an empty house.

It was too much. This whole night was too much. I felt desperate. I felt like I had no where to go. I couldn't let her leave. As silly as it seemed, I really believed that we were soul mates.

So why did I do that?! the rational side of me screamed. It had finally found its voice, and my face burned in my shame.

I foolishly thought, for a few moments, that I could just let it go. Adrienne didn't have to know. She never did. It was an anonymous encounter on the side of an empty road. It was a fantasy-come-true for any man, and I couldn’t be expected to pass up such an offer. Could I? For a few moments, anyway, the guilt floated off me like clouds and my breathing became less haggard.

I pulled into my driveway and a new fear overcame me. I still smelled of the blonde officer's sweet perfume. My cock was still covered in her now-dry juices. I smelled like sex. I needed to get to the shower, and I needed to do it before Adrienne found me.

I got out of the car, wiping my sweaty palms on my slacks, and shook my head, trying to clear the numbness caused by all my nervous energy. Such a bizarre evening.

I opened the front door quietly. Adrienne was no where in sight. I tiptoed nervously up the stairs and winced as the third step creaked under my weight.

She wasn't in the bedroom, either, although her clothes were spread out on the bed. Then I heard a splash outside and my heart and tensed up muscles relaxed. Of course, she was taking her nightly swim.

I looked down at her from our bedroom window and watched her lithe form knife through the lighted pool as natural as a water nymph. She swam naked at night, her dark brown hair flowing gracefully through the water. We had moved here about three weeks ago, and the large pool and secluded backyard were two of the biggest selling points of the place.

"In this weather, I can take a relaxing swim every night," she said with her warm smile, dark eyes lit up with child-like excitement. For myself, I didn't like the idea of so much aerobic exercise just before bed. But Adrienne was often times a quirky one, and I loved her for it.

I pulled my eyes off my wife, coming back to the reality that I had done something horrible, and now I had to wash away the evidence. I stripped, burying my perfume-scented clothes deep in the hamper. I caught an image of myself in the mirror, dark eyes sad under my now unkempt dark hair. I stepped into the hot spray of the shower.

I tried to let the warmth wash away the last visage of my anxiety. The hot water caressed my slender frame, loosened up my well-defined muscles. I didn't realize my neck was so stiff until all the kinks were washed away. As I worked the soap over my toned body, my hands found my cock hardening and my thoughts betrayed me. They became flooded with visions of the beautiful, strange blonde. Her breasts spilling over the tops of her lace bra. Her tight body. Her clean shaven sex, puffy with forbidden excitement.

I couldn't help myself. My hands wouldn't leave my cock.

And suddenly, I heard the door to the bathroom open and close. My head swam with anxiety and fear, and I desperately tried to think of something -- anything -- to calm down my soapy erection.

Adrienne pulled the curtain aside, smiling coyly at me. "A stranger's been using my shower," she said, then she spotted my semi-hard member. "That for me?" Her voice was all innocence.

God, Adrienne's naked body was incredible. Her dark hair was wet from the pool, slicked back and sexy. Her ears and high cheek bones gave her an elfin quality, not to mention her beautiful, dark, sharp eyes. Those eyes were large, framed by long eye lashes, and they could reflect joy one moment and fiery anger the next. Her body was slender and petite, her skin fair and freckled. Everything about her worked so well together: her perky breasts and small, pink nipples, her trim legs that gave the illusion that she was taller than her 5 foot 3, her swam-like neck that only hinted at her grace and femininity. She was my modern Audrey Hepburn.

And behind it all was a strong personality that you'd think would clash with her delicate, feminine body, but only served to further compliment her and intrigue others. I had been smitten the day I met her.

She stepped into the shower, bumping me to the side with her hip and saying, "Make some room for me. I've got needs to satisfy, too, you know." She teasingly ran her hands through her dark bush, slipping quickly in then out of her moist folds.

An image flashed of Officer Mills' bald quim and my heart leapt. Adrienne did do a little "house keeping" down there -- keeping it short and trimmed enough that her compact lips were visible through a thin layer of dark pubes -- but never more than this. In that brief moment, I thought of how much more sexy she could be if she were ever to take a razor to the curls.

I immediately felt guilty for thinking it, yet couldn't help my erection from returning. My wife was still teasingly playing with herself, running her fingers up and down the soft fur of her snatch, and when she saw my erection return, she smiled at me and said, "Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone? Maybe we could work together."

Grabbing me by the back of my head, she pulled my lips down to hers and gave me a very passionate, toe-curling kiss. Her hands found my erection, still a bit soapy, and began to rub it. My body shuddered. My heightened state of arousal, not to mention that this felt so similar to what the blonde police officer had just done, had me gasping for breath.

Adrienne broke our deep kiss, tilting her body away slightly, and gave me an inquisitive look. "You're so hard," she said at last. "We need to do something about this." Her large brown eyes were wide with seriousness, but I knew her well enough to see the playfulness behind the facade. She nodded her head once, dark, sculpted brows furrowed, and then laughed.

She kissed me softly on my neck, my chest, my stomach. She worked her way down my body, down to her knees, until she was eye level with my cock. She looked up at me, smiling widely before swallowing the head of my erection into her mouth. Her swirling tongue had me groaning in no time, and I had to lean against the tiled wall to keep myself standing.

Adrienne wasn't opposed to blowjobs and oral sex, but that didn't mean she handed them out with frequency. She was also pretty good at it, too. She had none of the loose hesitancy that many girls had. Her lips were always wrapped tight around my shaft, and her pumping fingers that ringed around the base of it were always firm and tight. I couldn't take much of this action -- not after working myself so close to the edge earlier.

My balls tightened up, my breath caught, and I groaned as I came hard. Adrienne knew the signs of my imminent release and pulled off my dick with a loud slurp, letting my ejaculating sperm fly across the shower and land on the wet, white tile. She never swallowed, much to my disappointment.

I slumped down into the shower, letting the warm water wash over me, renew me. I felt my wife's gentle hands help me up, guide me out of the shower.

We made love that evening. Long and slow and passionate. I was still a little edgy from my sexual encounter just hours before, but the feel of Adrienne's tight pussy closing over my once-again hard cock, the way she gyrated and rolled her hips, and the look of complete satisfaction when she came, were enough to keep those guilty thoughts at bay.

Chapter 3

Over the next two weeks, the guilt of my affair slowly faded into history. At first, I thought about it every time I heard a siren, or drove home at night. Part of me would blush to myself: a mental flinch, a subtle cringe. The other part of me grew aroused, my dick would twitch momentarily before my mind hastily changed the subject.

Two weeks it took to rebuild my confidence in our relationship. At last, I was able to make love to my wife without a single thought of the blonde's soft skin, large breasts, or smooth vagina. I was in the clear.

Or so I thought.

The doorbell rang one Thursday evening. It was one of the few days that I was home early (early for me being 6). They put me on another project right away and, like my first three weeks in our new home, I had to go in early and stay late. It was an adjustment for Adrienne and I, but we adapted. "Hey, it makes the weekends that much more important," she said cheerfully.

On this particular Thursday evening, I was able to slip out early to enjoy dinner with my beautiful, brunette wife. When the doorbell rang, I went to get it, wondering who would be visiting. All the welcome wagons had come and gone in the first week of our move-in.

Opening the door, my heart spasmed so violently that I thought I was having a heart attack. Standing there, holding an apple pie, was the blonde police officer who had pulled me over just a couple weeks earlier.

She was dressed down, wearing a pair of tight, dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved red t-shirt. Her honey blonde hair was hanging in a loose spill around her shoulders. I wanted to slam the door shut. What was she doing here?! My heart was having trouble pounding at the velocity it was.

I took a deep breath to calm myself.

From the look of shock and fear that flashed through her hazel eyes and the way her face emptied of color, it suddenly clicked that she hadn't been expecting to see me on the other side of this door, either. But she quickly composed herself, her face smoothing over, her rosy flush returning to her cheeks.

Our eyes locked intensely and I was only broken from my spell when the tall man behind the blonde said, "Hi, we're the Mills. I'm Jamie, and this is my wife Katherine. We live at the end of the street." He held out his large hand and gave me a strong shake. Jamie looked like he was in the military: buzzed blonde hair, very athletic, tall body, and a confident voice. He was as handsome as his wife was attractive.

"Umm... Simon." I cleared my throat and tried again. "Sorry, my name's Simon Harvey. My wife and I just moved into the neighborhood and... oh, where are my manners? Please, come in." I stepped to the side, holding the door open, and the attractive couple entered the house. Katherine flashed me another nervous look, but just as fast as it had come, it was gone.

"Who is it, honey?" Adrienne yelled from the kitchen.

"Um... neighbors. The Mills?" Jamie nodded.

My wife emerged, wiping her hands casually on her khaki Capri pants, and held her hand out to first Jamie, then Katherine. Watching the two women shake hands was really weird. Both women were gorgeous, but in stunningly different ways. Adrienne was shorter than the blonde, her body more petite. While she was by no means a pixie, the brunette's curves were not as pronounced as Katherine's, and her bust certainly wasn't as buxom. Adrienne was enchanting and trendy. Katherine was more of a classic beauty, the all-American girl-next-door that Playboy searches the country for.

"It's nice to meet you," Katherine said. It was the first thing I'd heard her say since that night, along the empty road. "Please, call me Kat."