Community Service
Copyright© 2025 by MisterMilkshake
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A wife is sentenced to a very unconventional community service program.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Cuckold Gang Bang Anal Sex Double Penetration Facial Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Voyeurism
The first time Sam Barden spent a night in jail, he swore it would be his last.
He walked into the house around six in the morning, hungover and reeking of alcohol. His wife, Monica, had bailed him out two hours earlier. She couldn’t hide the fury on her face as she’d signed the paperwork. She hadn’t said a word to him at the station.
Sam couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Thank you for bailing me out ... Honey? Are you upset with me?”
“You have the nerve to ask if I’m upset? Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?!” She threw her purse onto the kitchen counter hard enough that it knocked over a fruit bowl. “I had to call my parents to ask for bail money, Sam! My parents! You know how they feel about you. I’ll never hear the end of this!”
Sam stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped, head still pounding, unable to make eye contact. “I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Well, I’d sure hope you didn’t mean to get arrested for driving drunk.” Her laugh was bitter. “When you got behind the wheel, what exactly did you think was going to happen?”
“I thought I was fine.” Even as he said it, he knew how pathetic it sounded. “I only had a few beers.”
Monica crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up. Sam’s eyes drifted down from her face. Even the oversized sweatshirt she’d thrown on when she got the call couldn’t hide those incredible tits. She snapped her fingers at him. “Up here, Sam!”
“Oh, uh, sorry.”
“The breathalyzer said you were at .12, Sam. That’s not a few beers.”
“I know, I fucked up,” he said softly. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”
Monica stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “You better! And it better be the last time. I am not going through this again.”
Bernard Davis of the law firm of Davis Davis Davis Davis Fink and Davis came highly recommended. He was in his fifties, with silver hair and an expensive suit.
“It’s your first offense,” Bernard said during their initial consultation. “You got lucky with Judge Williams. We’re golfing buddies. He’ll be fair. We plead guilty, express remorse, and you’ll probably just get a fine and a stern warning, but keep your license.”
And it was exactly that straightforward. Three weeks later, Sam stood nervously in the courtroom as Judge Williams reviewed his case.
“Mr. Barden,” Judge Williams said, “you have no history of this kind of thing, but you understand that you put yourself and everyone else on the road at risk, don’t you?”
“Yes, your honor.” Sam’s voice was steady despite his nerves. “I understand completely, and I deeply regret my actions.”
Judge Williams nodded. “Since this is the first time, you’ll just pay a fine of fifteen hundred dollars.” He leaned forward. “But there better not be a next time. Do you understand me, Mr. Barden?”
“Yes, thank you, your honor,” Sam said. “It won’t happen again.”
Outside the courthouse, Bernard clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, that went about as well as it could have, but believe him when he says it better not happen again.”
Sam shook his hand. “Oh it won’t. You can bet on that.” He smiled with a sigh of relief.
Not even two months later, Sam lost that bet.
It was just dinner with friends at a nice restaurant downtown. Monica was in her little black dress that showed off her amazing figure. Sam would never admit it to her, but the looks she got when they went out made his chest swell with pride. He never imagined he could get a woman who looked like her, but that night nearly eight years ago, he was the only man in the bar that had the balls to talk to her, so now she was his.
All these years later he still felt like she was out of his league and he had to put on that extra bravado for her.
“I think we both drank a little more than we intended to. Maybe we should call an Uber,” she’d suggested as they walked to the car, but Sam waved her off.
“I’ve got this, babe. I’m fine,” he said. “I only had two beers.”
That was technically true. He’d only had two beers at dinner. But he’d also had three whiskeys at the bar before they’d sat down, and the room had a pleasant fuzzy quality that should have been his first warning sign.
As they drove home, Sam started to drift toward the shoulder as they laughed about their friend Fred’s poorly done hair implants. “Does he think nobody notices?” Sam cackled.
Then the red and blue lights appeared in his rearview mirror.
His heart sank. “Fuck!” He hit the steering wheel hard enough to hurt his hand. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
Monica turned to look behind them, then back at Sam. Her smile faded. “Just pull over. You said you’re fine, right?”
“No, I’m not! I just wanted to get home.” His voice cracked. “Monica, if I get another DUI, I’m screwed.”
His job as an industrial control systems sales rep required him to travel. If he lost his license, they could lose everything.
“Monica,” he said, already pulling over to the shoulder. “Maybe you could ... switch seats with me.”
“What?” She blinked at him, confused. “Sam, no, I can’t...”
“You don’t have a record!” he said frantically. “You’ll get a slap on the wrist like I did! It’s your first offense. If I get caught again I’ll lose my license, I’ll lose my job.”
“Sam...”
“Please.” He was begging now, fumbling with his seatbelt. The cop car was pulling up behind them. “I’m sorry, but please. We’ll lose everything.”
Monica looked at him, then at the lights in the side mirror.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay, god dammit, Sam! Just move!”
They scrambled over each other, trying to stay low. Within seconds, she was in the driver’s seat and Sam was in the passenger seat. Even in the tense situation, as her ass slid across his lap in that tight dress, he felt some of the much-needed blood drain from his brain to his dick.
Both of them were breathing hard and trying to look normal as the cop’s flashlight beam swept across the car.
Officer McCoy was exactly the kind of cop you didn’t want pulling you over. Stocky, with a crew cut and hungry eyes that scanned Monica’s body up and down, lingering on her chest. She rolled down the window.
“Evenin’, doll,” he said with a stern drawl. “Having a little trouble stayin’ on the road, aren’t ya? Let’s see that license and registration.”
Monica’s hands shook as she pulled them from her purse and handed them over. Sam tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart was still racing.
McCoy studied the license, then looked back at Monica. His eyes drifted down to her chest again. “I’ll bet a looker like you gets a lot of free drinks sent her way. That right, ma’am?”
“Just...” Monica swallowed. “We just had a little wine with dinner.”
“I see.” McCoy smiled. “Why don’t you step out of the vehicle for me.”
It went downhill from there. Monica failed the breathalyzer. Then she failed the field sobriety test, but Sam was pretty sure that was just an excuse to watch her ass shake as she tried to walk a straight line. McCoy seemed pleased with himself when he put the cuffs on her, his hands lingering on her wrists longer than necessary. Sam watched from the passenger seat, guilt wracking him.
“I can follow her to the station,” Sam said, but McCoy barely glanced at him.
“You can pick up your vehicle from the impound lot tomorrow,” McCoy said. “Call yourself a ride.”
Sam took an Uber to the station where he posted her bail, dipping into the money they’d been saving for an upcoming cruise. When she came out from the back, he expected white-hot rage. Instead it was just quiet resentment, which was worse.
The ride home was mostly silent. “Monica,” he finally said. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll fix this. I promise.”
She didn’t look at him. “You said that last time.”
“I’ll call up Bernard. He got me off with a slap on the wrist. Maybe we can even get Judge Williams again.”
She turned to him with tears in her eyes. “What did I just do, Sam?”
“I’ll take care of this. I swear.”
Three weeks later, they sat in the offices of Davis Davis Davis Davis Fink and Davis to meet with Bernard to go over the case.
Sam glanced at the sign on the wall behind Bernard’s desk. “So, Davis Davis Davis Davis Fink and Davis, are you guys like, a lawyer family or something?”
Bernard looked at him puzzled. “No. None of us are related, why?”
“I mean...” Sam gestured at the sign with a wry smile.
“So ... it’s Monica’s first offense,” Bernard said, cutting him off and tapping his pen against his legal pad. “Unfortunately, we’re not getting Judge Williams this time.”
“Can’t you call in another favor?” Sam asked.
Bernard shook his head. “It’s been assigned to Judge Hendricks. New to the district. I haven’t worked with him before. None of us have. He’s only been on the bench here for a few weeks.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Monica asked.
“I won’t lie to you, I’m really not sure what to make of this yet. From what I’ve heard, he’s very ... unconventional. Has some interesting ideas about criminal justice and restitution.” Bernard met their eyes. “I’ve maintained good relationships with most of the judges, I could have gotten you off with just a fine like Sam. But Hendricks, is an unknown quantity. We’ll shoot for community service. Still a good outcome, no jail time.”
“Community service is fine. I can do that,” Monica said.
“Good. You go in there, show remorse, and we should be able to get a favorable outcome.”
The courthouse looked the same. Same marble floors, same smell of floor polish. Walking through those doors felt different this time. Monica was the one in trouble, but it was still Sam that messed up.
Monica had dressed professionally for court. A white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt that hugged her curves and showed off her plump ass. The skirt ended just above her knees, and she wore modest heels that still managed to make her legs look incredible. Sam had watched other men’s eyes follow her as they walked through the courthouse halls.
They met Bernard outside the courtroom. He was straightening his tie, but his eyes flicked down to Monica’s figure before he caught himself. “Remember, be respectful, be contrite. This should be straightforward.”
Sam noticed the way Bernard’s gaze kept drifting back to Monica as they waited.
The courtroom was smaller than the one he’d been in last time. A handful of wooden benches, the judge’s bench, and a table for the stenographer. Besides them and Bernard, the only other people were the prosecutor, a tired-looking woman in a gray suit, the stenographer, and the bailiff whose name tag read “Dick Johnson”.
Sam nudged Monica and pointed at the bailiff’s name tag. “Is this guy for real?” he whispered with a grin. She was not amused.
Judge Hendricks entered, and everyone rose.
Monica stood as her case was called. “Your honor, I take full responsibility for my actions. I made a terrible mistake, and I deeply regret putting others at risk. It won’t happen again.”
Judge Hendricks looked down at the papers, then back at Monica. He let the silence stretch for a long moment. His eyes traveled slowly down her body, lingering on the way her blouse stretched across her chest, the way the skirt hugged her hips.
“Mrs. Barden, is that what you consider appropriate attire for my courtroom?”
Monica blinked, confused. “I ... your honor?”
“That skirt.” Judge Hendricks gestured vaguely. “Stand up. Turn around. Let me see.”
Sam felt his stomach twist. “Your honor, she’s dressed professionally.”
“I’m not talking to you, Mr. Barden.” The judge’s tone was sharp. “Mrs. Barden, if you would.”
Monica glanced at Bernard, who gave a tiny nod. She stepped out from behind the table and turned slowly, her face flushed with embarrassment. The skirt hugged every curve of her ass and hips as she rotated.
“All the way around,” Judge Hendricks said.
She completed the turn nervously.
Judge Hendricks made a disapproving sound. “In the future, Mrs. Barden, I expect more conservative attire in my courtroom. Do you understand?”
“I’m sorry, your honor? I’m covered up,” Monica said quietly.
“You could have fooled me. If I didn’t have my glasses I’d think that was body paint.”
“Umm, yes, your honor.” She sat down, red with embarrassment.
“Now then.” Judge Hendricks leaned back in his chair. “Driving under the influence is a serious offense. A very serious offense.” He leaned forward again, studying her. “When you got behind the wheel of that vehicle intoxicated, you became a weapon. A danger to every person on the road that night.”
Monica’s head bowed lower. Sam could see her hands shaking.
“You’re fortunate, that you didn’t hurt anyone. That you didn’t kill anyone. Because that’s what happens when people like you make selfish decisions.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Do you understand the gravity of what you’ve done?”
“Yes, your honor,” Monica said quietly.
Judge Hendricks sat back, tapping his fingers on the bench. “Normally, I would be inclined to impose jail time for this offense. Send a clear message about the consequences of such reckless behavior.”
Sam felt his chest tighten. Bernard’s hands pressed down on the desk, like he was preparing to argue.
“However...” The judge paused again, seeming to consider. “I do believe in rehabilitation over incarceration. When appropriate.”
Monica relaxed slightly. Bernard nodded, relieved.
“I’m sentencing you to six weeks of community service.”
Bernard smiled. Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
Judge Hendricks paused, grinning, “Through the Community Utility for Municipal Development and Universal Mating Program.”
Sam blinked. Bernard nodded along, still smiling. “Community service is very reasonable, your honor.”
“Or CUM DUMP for short,” the judge added, looking pleased with himself.
Silence.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “What?”
Judge Hendricks looked at him with mild annoyance. “The CUM DUMP program, Mr. Barden.”
Sam laughed nervously. “That’s ... that’s a joke, right?”
“Your wife will provide sexual relief services for city officials, VIPs, and what not.”
Sam’s smile faded. His laugh died in his throat. “You’re making that up. This is some kind of joke!”
“This is no laughing matter, Sir!” Judge Hendricks turned his attention back to Monica. “You committed a serious crime, you endangered residents of this city, and you will need to make amends for your poor decisions.”
He leaned forward. “Is that clear, Mrs. Barden?”
Monica bowed her head, looking sorrowful, and nodded.
“No way.” Sam stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “CUM DUMP??? There is no way in hell that is real. You’re making all this up!”
“Mr. Barden, sit down or I’ll hold you in contempt.”
Sam’s voice was rising. “There’s no such program!”
Bernard grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back down. “Sam, please...”
Sam jerked away from him. “You can’t seriously believe this bullshit!”
“Mr. Barden,” Judge Hendricks said, his voice icy now. “I’ve given my sentence. Your objections are noted.”
“A PROGRAM CALLED CUM DUMP?!” Sam couldn’t stop himself. “You can’t expect us to believe that’s real! The acronym doesn’t even make sense!”
“Mrs. Barden, do you accept the terms of your community service?”
“No she doesn’t!”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Mr. Barden. I will have you ejected if there’s one more outburst!”
Monica nodded to the judge somberly. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”