Hot Pursuit

by maryjane

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Coercion, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Water Sports, Cream Pie, .

Desc: Sex Story: Jenny is stopped for Drunk Driving and Speeding. She offers the Deputy a blow job to forget about it. Bad mistake!

Chapter 1: Ric

It weren't mah fault. It abso-fuckin'-lutely weren't mah fault. OK, I had alcohol on mah breath, but it were just two lousy beers. Awright, so maybe it was eight or nine, I'd lost count. An' maybe I were speeding in mah little two seater rag top, but what the fuck would you expect at two in the fucking A.M. on a deserted road marked with a lousy 25 speed limit. An' so what if I wuz wearin' mah Daisy Mae cut-offs and mah scoop-neck blouse with mah bare tits showing for anybody tall enough an' ballsy enough to look down the blouse.

Enough of this hillbilly talk. It's just my way of telling you that this story happened in the heavily rural area of Hill County and Green County in the Great State of West Virginia. In fact, I'm quite civilized. I probably speak the Queen's English as well as anyone in these United States. Of course, it is quite likely that the Good Queen E R II believes that no one in this country speaks the Her English. But that's for a different story.

I live in a small hamlet known as Asshole, West Virginia. Of course, that's not the name you'd find in a triple-A map or Rand McWhatever. It's just that if the Good Lord chose to give this world an enema, that's where the tube would go. Mom and I live in a double-wide in a trailer park in Hill County. Oh, excuse me, it's not a trailer park, it's a 'mobile home community'.

And by the way, Your Highness, a County is what your people back across the pond call a Shire.

Mom's kind of over the hill, eye- and ear-wise, which means that I can pretty much do whatever I want at home, with whomever I want. When my (ex) boyfriend Eddie was living with us, he and I would fuck every which way and Mom would just sit there smiling and humming to herself. The only problem was that Eddie had a roving eye. That would have been fine if all he did was to make remarks like 'she's got a great rack' or 'I'd love to prong that one'. But Eddie really did prong that one, who just happened to be my kid cousin Lilly. And the bastard did it in my own bed.

The stupid fuck thought, just because Mom can't see or hear too well, that she's as stupid as he is.

"Hi Jenny, how was work today?"

What could I say? I worked as a clerk in one of the last 'local' drug stores in the area, stocking shelves and handling the cash register. When things were slow, I delivered prescriptions. And at least twice a week, I had to give the owner a blowjob in order to keep my own job. Not that I particularly minded that little task, especially the delicious mouthful he had given me that very afternoon.

"Fine, Mom. How was your day?"

"OK I guess. Your cousin Lilly was over today."

"Lilly? What'd she want?" I asked.

"I don't know. She and Eddie went into your room and closed the door. They made the same kind of ruckus that you do with Eddie."

A half hour later, all of Eddie's junk was piled into a wheel barrow outside the trailer door. When he showed up, I was waiting outside and I just held out my hand.

"What?" he said, even though he could see all of his clothing out there and he had to understand that he had gone too far. He bent his head and silently gave me the key to the trailer. He turned and walked toward his pick-up truck. I yelled after him.

"Don't step on your prick, Eddie."

So there I was, all alone at home with mental pictures of Eddie and Lilly rolling around on my bed, leaving their scents, their dried-up fluids to remind me of all the good time romps I'd had with Eddie. It made me horny as a sailor just home from the seas. I had no choice but to jump into my little horseless carriage and tool off down to the Roadhouse in search of some familiar cock. Or even strange cock for that matter.

I'm the only one in this cast of characters (so far) that you haven't met. I'm Jenny, if you haven't guessed, short for Jennifer. I was 19 then, still am. Five foot two, 120 pounds (a lot of it in my chest), light brown hair, cut short like a dyke but I'm definitely straight. I do get hit on by the occasional lesbian and the hair makes them treat me like a sister even when I turn them down, politely of course.

A little bit about geography, if you don't mind, because it has some relevance to the story. The Roadhouse is on the main highway over in Green County. To get there from my home, I have to drive down the only road that connects Asshole to the real world. About a mile from the house, it crosses over into Green County. Then I make a left and go a half mile to the Roadhouse. Tuck that information away for a little while; we'll come back to it.

The Roadhouse itself is nothing more than a large bar with plenty of stools and a smallish dance floor with some tables around it. It has sawdust on the floor under the tables and peanut shells to keep the sawdust company. They do sweep it every night before closing time. Off in one corner near the bar, there's a small office slash storeroom, an even smaller kitchen and His and Hers loos. (See, Your Highness, I really do speak your language.) The two bartenders that night were Ric and Frankie. Frankie's a female, real name Francine.

"Hi Jenny," Ric said. "You're looking spiffy tonight." I could see him staring at my tits and I smiled, giving him silent permission to keep looking. Because of a little beauty mark just above my right nipple, I call that one Chocolate, and the left twin is Vanilla of course. Ric finally caught himself. "You want I should put a Reserved sign on one of them tables before Eddie gets here?"

"Don't bother, Ric. I don't expect Eddie here tonight." It must have been something in my voice because he gave me a questioning look. Obviously he could tell that Eddie and I would never again have 'our' table. Ric was a good friend and he deserved an explanation.

"I just threw his ass out of the trailer. I probably could have gotten over him fucking my cousin Lilly, but using my own bed to do it was too much." That last part wasn't true. Fucking cousin Lilly definitely went beyond the pale and I likely would have kicked him out even for fucking anyone else.

Saying nothing, Ric walked away from me and went to the taps. He poured me my usual beer and brought it back. When I opened my purse, he held up a hand.

"You can't pay tonight. Courtesy of Frankie and me."

I thanked him and began to sip. My eyes ran over the crowd, still thin but growing rapidly. In truth, I don't know if I was just looking around or if I was looking for someone to pick me up. I do know for sure that I really needed someone to make me cum and I didn't want to go home to my vibrator. Mom's not that deaf, and I'd be embarrassed to have her listening to me getting myself off.

The Roadhouse was full of the usual crowd. As a result, many of the customers noticed that I was not at my usual table with my usual date. The men surely and even a few of the women did not care to know why I was alone. The simple fact that drew their attention was my solitary condition. Eddie could have been sick, dead or in jail, but they cared not. All it meant to them was that I became fair game.

Being hit on was not new to me, nor did I have any difficulty in fending off tentative advances. But those people were in fact correct. If anyone had tempted me, I would have invited them to join me at the bar or at a table. Alas, no one interested me enough to surrender my day-old celibacy. And so when Ric filled my glass for the fourth time – oh yes, I knew exactly how many drinks I'd had that night – and his eyes lingered over the gapped top of my blouse, my idle thoughts became much more specific.

He stood a full six feet, solidly built. Handsome with just a little bit of stubble on his face, he never tried to hide the fact that he looked over all of the good looking women, in which class I boldly include myself. Though clearly hetero, he never made a move on any of the women who he deemed to be 'spoken for'. Equally clearly, Frankie was nothing to him but a friendly co-worker. I motioned him to lean closer to me.

"Hey Ric, do you think Frankie can cover the bar herself for a little while?"

"How little," he asked, half curiously and half in understanding anticipation.

"That depends on your stamina," I said with a smile.

He walked away from me toward Frankie and whispered something in her ear. She smiled and nodded while barely glancing at me. In my mind's eye, I thought that she was forcing herself not to turn her head directly toward me, but maybe I was just fooling myself. Ric walked back and leaned toward me.

"The storeroom's unlocked," he said. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

I waited a half minute, then picked up my purse and walked toward the Ladies Room. Never looking back over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching, I walked past it and turned the knob in the door of the storeroom. I wondered why they would leave it unlocked, what with all the liquor stocked there, but it was none of my business.

As I surveyed the mess, the boxes lining every wall, the torn leather chair behind the chipped wooden desk littered with unopened mail and various papers, I wondered why I was there. Was I so horny that I was willing to fuck a virtual stranger in this virtual gutter? I mean, I knew Ric as a nice guy but I really didn't know anything about him. We had never bantered with each other, never dropped sexual innuendos. He had known of my boyfriend. The closest we ever came to intimacy was kissing the air next to each other's faces when we met on the street.

Yes, I was so horny. I cleared a space on one corner of the desk and peeled down my shorts and panties. I sat with my knees up and my feet flat on the desk, offering my bald pussy to whoever might walk through the (unlocked) door. Of course, if anyone other than Ric had walked in, it wouldn't matter, because I would have just died.

Still, my skin tensed up as I heard the door handle begin to turn. He smiled when he saw my condition, and made sure to lock the door behind him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before moving toward me. I knew why. He could sense the aroma of my pussy from the door. So could I. For the first time, I thought I understood how dogs fuck. The bitch doesn't tell the male that she wants his cock; she just generates that come-hither scent. Well, my pussy was saying come-hither to Ric.

His eyes fastened on my leaking, shining tunnel. I expected him to be unzipping his jeans as he moved across the gap between us. He surprised me by not doing anything of the sort. Instead, as he reached me, his hands slid out and under my blouse, kneading my tits. Then he knelt, bringing his face down to where the cock goes. Though there was no sound, I could tell that he was inhaling – and that he loved what he smelled.

Ric's tongue flicked out. My heart began to flutter, my pussy juices gushed out of me. He was going to eat me out. I couldn't remember exactly how long it had been since anyone had treated me to a good cunnilingus. Eddie had certainly never been willing to do that, no matter how often I let him do whatever he wanted with my body. Two or three boys in high school had done that, back when they didn't get laid enough and I had made them pay with their tongues for the blowjobs they craved. Daddy had been the first, but he's in Hell now and I don't want to talk about it.

Ric continued to play with my tits as his tongue did its job. It licked up and down my wet slit, drinking up my lubrication. Then he curled his tongue and pushed it right inside me, a two-inch tongue fuck. Finally his lips wrapped themselves around my clit and he began to suck hard, as if he was trying to get ice cream through a straw.

When I felt myself about to cum, which didn't take long at all, I threw my arm across my mouth and bit down, not wanting the entire bar crowd to enjoy the sound of my orgasm. But I moaned, and Ric smiled.

Stepping back, he reached out and began to pull my blouse off over my head. My arms raised up to facilitate that little task, which at the same time caused my nipples to push out toward his waiting lips. His head bent and he took my Chocolate spout to nurse on. You know, it's erotic to have your nipples sucked on but frustrating to have no milk to deliver. I can't wait to have a baby so that I can breast feed her. Yes, of course it'll be a girl.

As he sucked, I could feel Ric opening his jeans and dropping them to the floor, along with his boxers. I reached down, took his warm hardness into my hand and guided it towards my waiting wetness. As to size, it was nothing special; a cock is a cock is a cock. But when he plunged it inside me, stretching my vaginal walls, filling me as I love to be filled, I no longer thought of Eddie. He was history, for the instant and forever, replaced by a new cock. Yes, that new cock was a stranger to me, a temporary port in my temporary storm, but it was a cock whose handler had never lied to me, never cheated on me.

Don't get me wrong. I claimed no special rights to Ric's man-tool. When he was done with me, had emptied himself inside me, he could go back to the bar and just pick up some other girl. For all I knew, he was pronging Frankie, his fellow bartender, after they locked up for the night. You see, he had never promised me any fidelity, never asked for any special sexual favors with words of love. Ric and I were coupled with no more meaning that two stray dogs in an alley. Except that we were using each other to make ourselves cum. And it was good.

He pushed me onto my back. I wanted to scratch the itching caused by the crinkled invoices, the unopened letters, the metal spiral binding of a notebook. But I couldn't, for Ric held me down by pressing my tits as he thrust his cock inside me.

I came for the second time. He kept going. I came for the third time. Same response.

"Cum Ric, cum. I'm getting sore down there."

I really wasn't, but I was getting tired. My little white lie worked however, and he soon exploded inside me, filling me with what seemed like gallons of lust cream. He pulled out with a squish and then, for the first time, kissed me. Our tongues tangled momentarily.

"Thank you." We each said it, simultaneously, then laughed at the realization. Ric bent down, picked up my panties and used them to wipe some of the oozing semen off my pussy. Then he opened a desk drawer and dropped them inside. I wondered how many other pairs he kept there.

"Jenny," he said, "I know that Frankie wouldn't mind cleaning you up a little better than I just did."

I actually blushed at his suggestion. Bending down, I gave his damp cock a little kiss.

"I'm flattered, but she doesn't have one of these," I responded.

We dressed quietly, I without panties. No problem; it wasn't the first time that I'd gone that way. Erotic, actually. When we returned to the bar, Ric must have given Frankie some kind of signal. She gave me a friendly smile but nothing aggressive. After a few more beers, I got up to leave. Frankie came over and gave me a hug. She whispered in my ear, "Any time." I smiled, kissed her cheek and left. Oh yes, while the drinks were on the house, I still left a nice tip.


Chapter 2: Deputy Crow

I walked to my car for the five minute ride home. OK, maybe I staggered a bit, for truly I felt no pain. I put the top down to savor the warm breezes of the late night slash early morning. Making a right turn out of the parking lot, the car swung into the oncoming lane before moving back onto the correct side of the road. Looking into my rear view mirror, I saw a car, way back, suddenly turn on its bubble gum machine. Oh shit, I thought. Then, well fuck it, I'll turn up my road and he'll never catch me. I floored it.

Certain things you have to know about alcohol. One of them is that it affects your depth perception, so that the Deputy who appeared to be way back was really much closer than I thought. The second thing to remember is that alcohol clouds your thinking, so that you don't realize that he's got many more horses under his hood than you do, and he's been trained to use them effectively.

I was halfway up my road before I finally came to the conclusion that I couldn't outrace him and that he wasn't going to give up the chase. We pulled over in the middle of nowhere. I sat there shaking, realizing that I couldn't hide the alcohol on my breath, picturing a night in jail. And knowing that my mother didn't have a pot to piss in and that I'd never make bail.

The Deputy, a youngster still in his early twenties, got out of his car and yelled for me to do the same and to walk back to him with my hands exposed. I almost laughed at his caution; where did I have to hide any weapon? His spotlight blinded me as I walked to him, knowing with each step that I was convicting myself, proving my impairment. Then the light dropped to my chest, telling me that it had caught his attention.

Does getting drunk because I threw my cheating boyfriend out of my home constitute a legal defense? I knew better than that and yet there was no choice. After all, the boys in high school had taught me that a little tit goes a long way. Well, fuck it, I thought, here goes nothing. Say it fast, Jenny, don't hesitate. I spit it out the way those disembodied voices race through the small print at the end of a new car commercial.

"I'msorryOfficerIknowI'vehadtoomuchtodrink. IthrewmyboyfriendouttonightbecauseIcaughthimfuckingmycousininmyownbed. I'lldoanythingnottogetaticketpleasepleasedoyouwantmetosuckyourcock?

His face had that confused look that someone gets when the words flow faster than the brain can absorb them. It stayed that way even as he began to comprehend the fact that I was just trying to talk my way out of a ticket. Then a slow smile crept over his face when he recognized those last few words about sucking his cock. Silently, he sat back down on his front seat, sideways, his legs on the ground out the open door. He rose slightly to shuck off his slacks and underwear, letting them pool on the ground around his ankles.

"Take off your shirt," he ordered. It was actually a blouse but I knew what he meant, and I complied. His hands reached out and his thumbs began to flick my nipples. Then he pinched them and I yelped.

"On your knees," he ordered, and again I complied. His cock was in my face. It was hard of course, but nothing spectacular. I'd seen larger. I'd sucked larger. My hand wrapped around the shaft and my lips covered the crown. There was no sexual pleasure in it for me, no desire to please a lover. This John Crow, that's what his nameplate said, was just one more cock in my lifetime, albeit my first with a complete stranger. And actually the first time I had ever blown a man for what was the equivalent of payment.

I like it when I can feel a cock throbbing between my lips, love it when I can feel the spurt of his sweet cream on my tongue, when I can swirl it around in my mouth and feel it glide smoothly down my throat. I also enjoy it before the cum, when my tongue can play with his cock, but that night was not the time. That night I just wanted to suck him empty and get on home.

So I began to Hoover him as if I were one of the whores who hang around The Roadhouse. He reached down and took one of my hands, leading it to his balls. That was fine; jiggling his nuts would only get him off more quickly. Then he spoke.

"Jeez, Tommy is gonna love this."

I took my mouth off of his meat.

"Who's Tommy?" I started to get nervous.

Not wishing to interrupt my mouth work, he pulled my head forward and shoved his cock back between my lips.

"Little lady, don't you know where we are? Once a Deputy Sheriff chases someone across a county line, he's got to notify the local Sheriff, and the local Sheriff sends somebody out to help. Tommy's the Hill County Deputy who's coming out to assist me."

(Do you know where the word 'sheriff' comes from? Back in the old country, long before this Queen's time, the chief law officer of the shire was known as the Reeve. I have a friend who's job is Under-Sheriff. He refers to his boss as the Reeve. Anyway, the Reeve of the Shire became the Shire Reeve, which quickly morphed into Sheriff, as in the Sheriff of Nottingham, nemesis of Robin Hood.)

I stopped sucking and looked up at John Crow's face. He was grinning.

"That's right, little lady. I'm not the only one who has to be convinced not to drag your ass off to jail."

I began to sob.

"Shut up and suck, bitch. He'll be here soon."

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! My mouth opened, my lips closed over the hard six inches of flesh as I resisted the temptation to bite the prick's prick right off of him. Nor however could I bring myself to suck. This surprised even me, because from the night that I first took cock in mouth, I've loved fellatio, but not that night. And so Deputy Crow of the Green County Sheriff's Department was left with no choice but to fuck my face, doing all the work himself. Not that many guys would object to doing that, but it was simply my weak protest at the idea of having to endure the grunts and thrusts of a second Deputy.

It actually didn't take very long. He held the back of my head with one hand. With the other, he pressed fingers on my upper lip and under my tongue, assuring himself of a tight fit. And boom, it was over, my mouth filling with his creamy discharge. Usually I swallow, with pleasure, but that night I just spit out his cum onto the floor of the car. In the afterglow of his orgasm, he never noticed. Nor was it likely that anyone else would ever notice, but if they did, I fantasized that he would have some explaining to do.


Chapter 3: Deputy Thompson

I still had the taste of Crow's cum in my mouth, was still naked above the waist, when the Hill County Sheriff's car slid quietly behind the Green County vehicle. The absence of flashing lights or blaring sirens told me that he knew that there was no police emergency awaiting him. Crow pushed me into the back seat of his car, not to hide me but merely to keep me from running away.

Claude Thompson, nicknamed Tommy, slowly unfolded himself out of the car. Six feet tall, graying hair mostly covered by a Smokey Bear hat, he was a muscular man in his late forties. He strolled casually over to the open back door and without looking at me, began to speak to Crow. Though they were from different departments and were apparently of equal rank, I could see Crow's stance as he sort of snapped to attention, showing respect for if not deference to the older Deputy.

"What do we have here, Crow?"

"Nineteen year old female, speeding and drunk," he said with a grin. "Much better looking than the skank we had last week. Gives a pretty good blow job but got sullen when she found out that we were in your jurisdiction and I couldn't let her go without your OK."

"Well, my OK may not be enough, but let's see what she looks like."

My heart began to thump. What did he say? Was I going to have to blow the entire law enforcement community in the State of West Virginia? Despite the summer heat, my body started to shiver. I mean, sucking more than one cock was a small price to pay for not going to jail, but I really did need some sleep.

Tommy's flashlight was one of those six cell jobs that cops hold near the bulb part so that they can just flick a wrist to clobber a bad guy over the head. The light blinded me as it circled me face. Then it moved up to my hair.

"You a lesbian, young lady?" he asked. I shook my head. "No."

The light moved down to my tits. It stayed much longer than was necessary to determine that I was topless. Not that I was surprised; my tits always attract attention. Then the light dropped down to illuminate my jeans.

"Step on out here and get out of those shorts." His tone had become crisp.

"Why?" I asked, though the answer was obvious. This one wouldn't let me get away with a simple blowjob.

"Because I like a nice tight cunt. Besides, I don't trust what you might do with your teeth."

I climbed out of the car and stood before him. Slowly I unbuttoned the top button of my shorts. That's 'slowly' as in reluctance, not as in teasing. When I got them halfway down, his voice stopped me. Temporarily.

"How come you don't wear panties? Are you a whore?"

I didn't bother to answer him. He didn't deserve an explanation. I dropped my shorts the rest of the way and stepped out of them, showing my bald pussy.

"How much did that tattoo cost?"

"Are you kidding?" was my only response. It was a picture of a red rose just above my pussy slit. I had gotten it done in Charleston (the State Capital) when I was still fifteen, by some grimy looking guy in a little shop in some seedy neighborhood. I had never expected to pay, nor had he expected any money. It had been understood that he would take it out in trade and it had been my pleasure to honor that commitment.

"Did you shave your cunt hair just for me?" I knew that his question was not serious and ignored it. Tommy stepped forward and fingered my pussy.

"Is that somebody's cum I feel inside you? Who've you been fucking?" They were more rhetorical questions. Again I ignored them. He ran his fingers around my vaginal walls and scooped out some of Ric's remaining sperm. And wiped his fingers off on my hair.

"Enough," I yelled at his insulting action. My hand moved to slap his face but he was too fast for me, clamping his hand tightly around my wrist.

"Well, since you're already so wet, I guess you're gonna need a good fucking." With that, he pushed me back down onto Crow's back seat. I raised myself up on my elbows to be able to watch him. Although I had expected his eyes to focus on my pussy, or as much of it as he could see with my legs still together, he instead stared at my face, my eyes.

He was trying to scare me, to terrorize me. He wanted me to beg him not to fuck me. And that was just what I wanted to do, yet I knew that it would be a total waste of breath. He was going to do whatever he wanted to do to me, and there was no way to avoid it. Oh sure, my legs would stay together, but his strong hands would easily force them apart, probably even farther apart and more painfully apart than in consensual fucking. And that would be followed, or maybe preceded by, a slap on my face.

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