From my vantage point behind the low line of brush I watched the approaching vehicle. It was moving along pretty good and I flipped the switch on the remote in my lap, activating the radar gun mounted on my dash. It was a high tech unit, one of the latest on the market, and it automatically recorded the highest speed of the oncoming car. Good thing too, as the driver obviously was in possession of a "fuzz buster" since the nose of the car came down as the driver hit the brakes hard.
I smiled, watching the red digital numbers beside the locked speed of 95 drop downward rapidly to 50, five miles per hour slower than the posted speed limit. I could see the drivers head swivel as she looked for me, reading the "Son of a Bitch" she uttered as she finally saw me as she went by.
I knew she was watching her rear view mirror, expecting to see me pull out and turn on my red and blue lights. Not wanting to disappoint her, I did just that. Sure enough she was watching, as she immediately hit the brakes and pulled to the side of the road.
I could see her primping in the rearview mirror; I always found it amazing how many women thought they could get out of a ticket just by looking pretty. Now, you can call me a heartless bastard if you want, but that never influenced my decision one way or another. Usually, I'd made up my mind about writing a ticket before I ever got out of my car.
I don't figure the taxpayers want me wasting my pay just to pull someone over and then let them go. Now sometimes I do stop someone just to give them a warning, say when they got a light out at night, or if they was just pushing the limit a little bit, but this lady, well, she was going to get a ticket at the very least.
She was nice enough to pull off the road far enough so as my ass wouldn't be hanging out in traffic, which scored one brownie point for her. I parked my Crown Vic at an angle; nose stuck out on the white line so as to give me a little protection from stupid drivers and called in the stop.
After checking the rear view mirror and side mirrors to make sure no other traffic was sneaking up on me I exited my car, my right hand releasing the thumb break on my holstered Glock while my left flipped on the portable radio on my belt. I stayed close to her car, my right hand slipping out to check and make sure the trunk was latched before moving up the vehicle, casting a glance into the back seat.
Hey, I know it was just a routine traffic stop, but do you know how many cops are killed on "routine" stops? Stopping just behind the door latch I leaned forward, noticing the female driver had placed her hands on the wheel in plain sight, which earned her another brownie point. Knowing where her hands were let me know she wasn't doing something stupid, like trying to shoot me. Most drivers are digging for insurance cards or drivers license when I first approach them, and not knowing what's hidden in their dash or console can make you a little nervous.
"Good afternoon," I said as she glanced nervously over her shoulder at me. I know it's awkward for the person sitting in the car to talk to someone who's standing behind them, but it's much safer for me. "I'm Deputy Harlan of the Greene County Sheriff's Department and I stopped you because you were running 95 mile per hour in a 55 mile per hour zone."
I could see her getting ready to make an excuse and my next words deflated her pretty quickly. "Do you have any legal justification for exceeding the speed limit by 40 miles per hour?" I asked gently.
"No Officer, I don't," she said after a moment, casting me a look that carried both guilt and apprehension. I think she was getting the idea she'd screwed up royally about then.
"I need to see your driver's license and proof of insurance," I informed her, watching closely as she retrieved the first from her purse, and the second from the center console. I also noticed she was wearing a skin tight v-neck t-shirt, no bra, and a skirt so short I could see the lacy panel of cloth covering the junction of her thighs.
If the thing had been a little longer I would have suspected her of pulling it up a little to give me a peek, but I don't see how it could have covered her ass cheeks standing, and sitting, well it didn't have a snowballs chance in hell of covering anything important.
I also noticed she was a little flushed around the chest, what I could see of it, which was a lot. Her knee was bouncing up and down, doing nice things to the muscles on her inner thigh, but also telling me she was a little more nervous than a possible speeding ticket warranted.
"So what's your hurry?" I asked her as I glanced at her insurance card, verifying it was valid.
"I'm just ... well ... I can't really say!" she said, her tone exasperated.
"You mean you just felt like running nearly a hundred down the road here?" I asked.
"NO!!! It's an emergency..." She trailed off, and I could see the gears grinding in her head. "Look, I CAN'T tell you why, but believe me I have to get to Hardin as soon as possible," she said, glancing at her watch. She glanced down at her cell phone too, and while I looked at her appraisingly tears began to form in the corner of her eyes.
Now crying to get out of a ticket is another female trick I've run across, and I don't know about other officers, but it doesn't help one damn bit with me. I figure most of those types have gotten out of one or two tickets that way already, so they've had their breaks.
"Please officer, look, can you just follow me to the bar and then you'll understand, PLEASE?!!" Well the water fountain was really getting wound up now and she wiped angrily at the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her phone rang then, and I saw her reach for it before jerking to a stop.
"Go ahead," I said, "I assume it's to do with this emergency?"
She didn't answer but lunged for the phone, flipping it opened hurriedly.
"Janice, oh God sis, look, a cop stopped me and ... Yeah, here!" The last was directed at me and she stuck the phone into my face. I took it carefully, not sure what was going on at this point.
"Listen Officer," a female voice said softly on the other end, "I'm at the bar here in Hardin and I think there's going to be one of those Confederacy pickup things in a few minutes. I called my sister and told her to get here as fast as possible..." I didn't listen to the rest, just snapped the phone closed as I yanked the door open on the woman's car.
She was half fighting me, half trying to keep up, as I drug her to my squad and stuffed her in the front seat. Running around the other side I slid in, grabbing my seatbelt as I threw the car into drive. I punched the pedal to the floor, nearly hitting her still open door as rocks pelted her shiny red sports car.
"Buckle up!" I said to the brunette as I flipped the siren on. I didn't look to see if she listened, just concentrated on my driving. The big V8 in that car did well by me, and the Police Interceptor soon had us rolling along at nearly 150. The car felt like it was floating for a second or two every time we hit a bump and I knew I was pushing it as hard as it could go and still stay on the road.
"Look, I'll try to get you there in time," I said, not even looking her way. "What's your CAP?" I asked over the squeal of the tires as we rounded a curve. "S-S-Six point twoooo!" she cried as gravel from the shoulder flew from under the rear tires. I was taking the corners wide and fast, using the entire road. I think my driving scared her a little but I wasn't slowing down any.
I heard a phone ringing and realized I'd brought hers with me. I thought she was going to wreck us as she dug around in my crotch for the phone I'd dropped in my lap. She finally answered it and immediately asked me "HOW LONG?!!"
"Five minutes," I said between gritted teeth as I threw the car into another curve, thinking "or never" as the car slipped sideways toward the ditch for a heart beat before the Firestone Firehawks got enough traction to overcome inertia.
It was more like four and a half, and the car had a large scratch down the passenger side where a pickup hadn't got out of the way in time. I figured we either make it or I'd be looking for a new job, at the least. Visions of me in cuffs for official misconduct, reckless driving and anything else the boss could think of ran through my head as we bailed out of the car before it was completely stopped.
My passenger was trying to run in high heels, one of them broken and I lowered my shoulder as she came around the car, scooping her up into a fireman's carry. I ran for the door, thankful that grey wall I'd seen one time down in St. Louis wasn't anywhere in sight, and stumbled into the dimly lit interior.
We was just in time too, cause my burden, who's ass I had the presence of mind to be clutching with one hand, (hey, I had to hold on to her somehow), gave a gasp as that wall I was talking about sprang into existence scant inches from her nose.
"Glad you could join us," a big man said as I reluctantly let my burden slip to the ground. She felt good enough in my arms I held her there while she tried to catch the breath I'd driven out of her with my tackle.
"You know you caused four accidents getting here?" he asked mildly.
"Five," I said with a grin. "I'm pretty sure that guy crossing the street about a block back pissed himself when I went by." The big guy chuckled and turned to the half full barroom. It was one of those joints that serves food, well, anything fried or grilled, and at this time of day the lunch crowd was all in attendance.
"Alright, as the rest of you know this is a pickup of volunteers for the Confederacy Evacuation of Earth. Counting Deputy Done Wrong here, we have six Sponsors, five male and one female, with a total of eighteen spots available for concubines."
"Yolanda Williams gets six, Jason Galloway gets four, and the rest get two each. So ladies, if you're interested in going along, move over there by the jukebox." A definite migration took place, and some of them had obviously heard about how these things went down because they were already starting to strip out of their clothes as they went.
"Any men interested in going along head over by the stage there," the man continued pointing, and a half dozen or so headed that way, although they weren't stripping down like the females were.
"Now, the rest of you, grab a seat and enjoy the show," the big man said with a chuckle.
The woman in my arms started to pull away and I stopped her, speaking down into her soft hair that smelled of jasmine and honey.
"If you're interested, so am I," I said quietly. She stopped trying to pull away and I let her go, making it clear it was her choice. She turned to study my face, looking up at me for a moment before hitting her knees and reaching for my trousers.
I helped out the best I could, unbuckling my gun belt and unclipping the radio mic from my shoulder. I handed the whole thing to one of the Confederacy Marines, by which time she had my cock out and in her warm wet mouth where it was beginning to swell up.
Now I'm no John Holmes, but my seven inches is the most your average girl has ever come across. The only thing is, I'm a grower, not a shower, and the poor dear on her knees found that out the hard way. She'd buried her nose in my pubes, not that hard when I'm limp, but when I began to swell, well, I found out she had a definite gag reflex.
She didn't puke on me, but I think it was a close thing. She jerked off me with a gasp, gagging and coughing a little when she couldn't take anymore and just watched me stiffen as she slowly stroked me, using her own spit for lubricant. When I finally stopped growing she looked me over from the top and side, shaking her head a little.
"Do you plan on making this thing any bigger?" she asked, looking up at me. I shook my head no and she nodded, giving me a smile. "Good, because right now it's perfect, just big enough to be a challenge without being too big," she said, still stroking me slowly.
"You want to be my concubine," I asked her, "or do you want a full test drive first?"
"No, I mean, you can if you want, but I'm satisfied you'll be just what I was hoping for," she said before gently inhaling half my length. She paused there, drawing a deep breath through her nose before once again trying to deep throat me. She got all but about two inches before she gagged and backed off.
"Sorry," she said, looking up at me with the greenest eyes I've ever seen.
"What, for trying to shove my cock down your throat?!" I asked. "Jesus woman, the sight of you gagging on me is one of the sexiest I've ever seen!" I could see she was a little puzzled by this so I explained. "Hey, you were trying your damnedest to please me, even though it was uncomfortable for you. That's sexy. A woman that does her best to make me happy is just what I want. The fact that you did it without having too, I mean, with the knowledge that even if you didn't I was still going to take you, well, that means a lot."
She nodded, slowly stroking my spit soaked rod, her hands soft and delicate on my skin. "Do you want me to finish you?" she asked.
"I'd love that, but I've got to find one more woman to accompany us..."
"Would it weird you out to take my sister?" she asked, interrupting me.
"No," I said with a wicked grin, "but is it going to weird you out when I have her licking your cunt while I fuck your ass." I'd been blunt on purpose, hell a threesome with two hot chicks had always been my fantasy. Now that it was going to come true I wasn't going to let anything stop me. If she wanted her sister to come with me, she was going to have to get past the incest taboo in a hurry.
"Oh my, he's a big one sis," I heard a semi familiar voice say, looking up to see a mirror image of the woman on her knees stroking my cock standing before me.
She had the same long brunette hair, green eyes, and build as her sister; only she wasn't wearing any clothes. Her firm C cups sagged just enough to show they were real, and her firm flat stomach and small waist sat above hips that would make the Pope pop a woody.
As my eyes traveled the length of her body she blushed just a little but turned in place, watching me over her shoulder, without any request from me. Her ass was a perfect upside down heart, and a giggle from the matching bookend on her knees before me let me know she's felt the reaction in my cock.
"Oh, he likes your ass sis," she said, stroking me a little faster.
"Quit being a greedy bitch," Janice said, sinking to her knees beside her sister with a grin. "Get naked," she said bossily as she took my erection from her sister.
Janet ... I finally remembered her name from the driver's license she had handed me, rose to her feet and peeled her tight top off over her head, the movement sending her breasts into delightful motion. She shimmied the short skirt and panties off her hips in one swift move, standing before me, thrusting out her tits proudly.
Like her sister her nipples were puffy mounds on her full breasts, the turgid points, rigid from the excitement of all that was happening, standing out like two large pencil erasers. Her flat stomach led to a mound shaven except for a thin dark landing strip and I thought I saw the glint of moisture on her lips before she dropped back to her knees.
Janice wasn't trying to deep throat me, but her tongue was doing delicious things to my cock while her hand fondled my balls.
"Isn't he perfect?" Janet asked as she knelt beside her sister, slinging an arm across Janice's shoulders. "Sis, uhm, would you have a problem with us ... you know?"