Bad girl but Good Boy II...the continuing (mis)adventures...
I sat still, looking in my rear view mirror at the cop as he walked toward my car. This was a can of worms he was about to open and I wasn't sure about how he'd feel about it. You see, being a 17 year old boy in a brand new Porsche pulled over on a dirt road out in the middle of nowhere by some country Sheriff Deputy is bad enough. But, when you're a 17 year old boy dressed in a long, flowing skirt and a tight, sequined tank top with fake tits taped to your chest and maybe too much makeup on (I was going to a party, which would be my excuse if he called me on the makeup), and the Porsche you're driving happens to be your rich lawyer boyfriend's car? Well, that's a can of worms.
But I sat still. I didn't panic. I didn't act suspicious. I had no drugs, no alcohol and, hopefully, my boyfriend didn't have any stashed away somewhere, either. I just waited for him to walk up to my open window.
I took a deep breath. He was a hulking guy. One of those massively muscled gym rats, who probably had all sorts of issues with his dad, his mom and whoever molested him as a child. He'd probably take me out into a field and shoot me and fuck my corpse once he finds out I'm a boy in women's clothes, I thought. I shook my head. Or he'll be a nice and understanding, open-minded, country cop. Uh-huh...right.
Moments earlier we had passed each other slowly going opposite ways on the narrow dirt road, barely squeeking by, he in his early model muscle car and me in the somewhat ridiculous German sports car. I was lost, bigger 'n shit as my grandfather would say, having been told to meet before mentioned boyfriend at before mentioned party. The keys are in the bedside stand and you need to come pick me up as I'll just take a taxi out of the city, he told me, before launching on a long description of where this party was. Dress sexy, he said, but don't get weird. Look like a sexy lady. Have some fucking dignity, he said. Don't wreck the car, he told me.
Hence the long, pretty, spring-is-in-the-air skirt and bare mid-rift. I have nice belly, and the long skirt, which was somewhat poofy at the hips, gave me a shape I didn't necessarily have. The sequined top was a bit slutty, but it was a nice one; not cheap. The heels and my long runner's legs completed the look.
Anyway, I was fine with all of the instructions, and even confident I would find the place, until I actually got into the car and starting driving it. Luckily enough it was automatic and somewhat easy to drive, but the powerful car scared me and soon I was concentrating more on not breaking it then where the hell I was. That's when I found myself on a dirt road, slowly edging past the cop's car. He caught my eye right away. He was wearing mirror sunglasses and had a glorious mustache. His badge glinted in the low sun and he stared at me as we passed each other. I gave him a winning smile, hoping he wouldn't turn around and find a reason to pull me over, but my hope was for naught as I saw him execute a three point turn behind me and then come roaring up quickly and onto my ass. Once he got close blue and red lights started flashing from inside his car and I noticed he had a set of lights sitting on the dashboard.
So there I sat, all prettied up and lost when he reached my window and leaned down.
"Hello miss," he said. "May I see your license and registration, please?"
I turned to him and smiled. "Hello officer...of course..." I noticed he was holding a metallic binder in his hand, which probably held all the tickets and whatever else he carried for this sordid business of traffic stops. I grabbed my purse off the other seat and dug around for my license. "It's in here...oh here you go." I pulled it out, almost reluctantly. There, staring up at me, was me at age 16 getting my license. My hair at the time had a blue streak in it and was in the classic "New Wave" style of those days. It was had a bit of androgyny going, but I was clearly a boy in that photo. Not to mention my name. I cleared my throat nervously and gave it to him.
He took my license and opened his metallic binder, sliding my license into a little clip at the top. As he did that, though, he suddenly stopped and stared at the license, then he looked at me. I smiled up at him.
"Hi," I said, faintly. Please don't be a homophobe, I thought. Please don't kill me. "Is there a reason you stopped me? I wasn't speeding..."
"Just seemed out of place. Been lots of car thefts with kids bringing them out here to strip them down." He frowned and cocked his head. "Anway, uh...miss, it seems you gave me the wrong license," he said.
"I'm sorry?"
He pulled the license out of the clip and waved it in front of my face. "This isn't you...not sure why you'd have this kid's license. I can maybe see the resemblance. Your brother maybe? Regardless, can I get your license please? And I would return this to its rightful owner as soon as possible. Also, the registration for the vehicle, please."
I put my hands on the edge of the car door, clasping the fingers and rested my chin on top, looking up at him and batting my blue eyes. "I...uh...well, you see officer, that is me."
He blinked at me slowly and then he held the license up next to my face. "Okay..." he said slowly, drawing it out a bit. "The vehicle's registration please?"
"Yessir," I said. I turned away and opened the glove compartment, found the required document and handed it to him. "Um, the car is my boyfriend's..."
He sighed. "Does he know you have his car?"
I nodded, going back to leaning my chin on my hands on the door. I was trying to look as subservient as possible. The officer studied the registration. As he did I gave him a good looking over. His shiny name plate said HUNTER on it, a wonderful police officer name, I thought. He was, truly, massively muscled. His arms were as big around as my thighs, I guessed, and his chest was broad, the pectorals like great big slabs of beef under his shirt. His shoulders were massive as well, and his back was heavily muscled. He had a flat top hair cut, a strong, brutish jawline with a cruel mouth, a surprisingly small nose, that insanely bushy mustache, and mean looking green eyes. I looked down at his thighs and admired the size of them. He wasn't one of those muscle heads who worked on their upper body only and forgot the legs. He was probably a body builder. I instantly wondered if he did steroids, and if he had a tiny dick because of it. What a terrible thing, I thought, if he had a tiny dick. I tried to see what kind of bulge he had going, studying the crotch of his pants. He was tall, not as tall as my boyfriend, but tall and he'd have to lower his body a bit to stick his dick in my waiting mouth if he wanted. If his dick was big enough, that is. Before I could determine the state of his manliness he gave a little laugh.
"Wait a second," he said, holding the registration. "This guy is your boyfriend?"
I shrugged. "Yeah," I said softly.
"Huh," he said. "Funny. I know him. That fucking son-of-a-bitch is a criminal defense lawyer isn't he? For rich motherfuckers? He's the one who gets them off?"
"Well, he doesn't put it quite that way, but yes, that's basically true," I said. I swallowed as I saw the cruel look on his face. If I survive this, I thought, I'm going to slap the piss out of my boyfriend for being a good lawyer. "I mean, I think the only person he gets off, really, is me."
He ignored that and held up my license. "And your last name...your daddy. He's a lawyer, too, right? Same law firm?"
"Business law," I said. "Not a criminal defense lawyer. Same law firm, yes."
"Sure, but he was put on a case as a public defender once."
I really swallowed hard then. My father had defended a notorious gang member who had been caught in a sting operation by an undercover cop and had gotten him reduced jail time. The gang banger had gotten out after several months and immediately hunted down and murdered the cop who had arrested him. I shrugged.
"This is rich," he said. There was a small pouch in the metallic binder and he pulled a small point and shoot camera out of it. "Hold this next to your face," he ordered, handing me the license. I did as I was told and he took a photo. Then he handed me the registration.
"You're free to go," he said, smiling broadly and patting the camera. "And I think this film has become my own personal roll. Tell daddy and boyfriend I said hi." I watched him start walking back to his car and he was halfway there before I reacted.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I shouted. I opened the door and climbed out of the Porsche. Teetering in the rocks on the dirt road I ran after him. He turned when he heard me and held up his hand.
"Get back to your car...miss," he said, smiling. "I'd hate to add a charge of assaulting a police officer to everything else that's going to happen."
"Please," I said. I stopped and stood there, holding my hands up beseechingly. "Listen...please don't do this."
His eyes narrowed a bit and he walked back up to where I stood. "Why?"
I wanted to say, Because I have a great thing going and you'll ruin it for me you bastard, but I didn't. For a moment I had a vision of this cop and my boyfriend, who had been a world class wrestler, fighting. Naked. And me stopping the fight and saying sharing is next to godliness or some such and then getting the fucking of my life.
"Because...I swear, if you don't I will do anything you want. I don't have much to give, but...please...I can keep a secret, okay? And, I will gladly get down on my knees right here--" I knelt down, hoping my skirt wouldn't be ruined in the dust and rocks of the dirt road -- "and suck your cock like it's never been sucked before."
"Ha!" he scoffed and he held up the camera. "Give this up for a blow job?"
"Regular blowjobs, early and often," I said. "I would suck your cock every time you wanted it." I licked my lips, thinking about it, hoping he didn't have a tiny little steroid dick. "I would let you fuck me in the ass. As much as you wanted."
"You would LET me?" He grabbed my left wrist and squeezed. I gasped at the pain and put my other hand on his forearm, feeling the muscle there flex. "You know I could just fuck you and still get these photos published. And that would end a couple of careers, wouldn't it?"
"Please," I said, looking up at him. "Yours would be ruined, too. You don't want to rape me." I let go of his forearm and reached out to cup his crotch. He stopped still and stared at me, still holding my left wrist as my right hand began caressing the lump I found. "I would really, really like to do whatever you wanted me to do," I said softly. I found his zipper and pulled it down, tugging until his fly was open. I slid my hand inside and found his underwear. No tiny dick there, I thought, as my hand found the thick and half-erect penis under the cotton.
"Regularly?" he breathed. I nodded. His grip on my left wrist slacked and I pulled my arm away. Leaning forward I pushed my face into his fly, smelling his manly smell. I ran my tongue over his cotton covered cock. "Not here," he said. "Get in your car and follow me."
Deputy Hunter took me to a small shack down a long driveway about a mile away. I joined him at the front door, which was held secure by a chain and a padlock. "I just got off duty," he explained. "This is my little get away place. My partner keeps the cruiser at his house." After he had gotten the padlock opened and had unwrapped the chain from the metal loop on the door and the metal loop on the doorsill, I followed him inside.
There were weight sets inside the single room shack, lots of weights. To one side was a bed and a small table held men's muscle mags, the kind filled with pretty boys helping each other lift weights, shirtless and wearing tiny little shorts. I began to understand why Deputy Hunter was willing to take me up on the offer. I had fallen into his lap.
He turned to me, almost nervously. "Okay," he said. He unbuckled his gun belt and put it on a weight bench out of the way. I hiked my skirt up and got down on my knees, hoping my pantyhose didn't develop a run. He stepped forward and I reached out and unzipped his pants again, tugging them down his powerful thighs. His underwear were next until his thick, hard cock sprang free. His pubic hair was trimmed short, probably so he could wear his little speedos during body building competitions. I grabbed his cock, admiring it's girth. It was probably about 6 inches, but thick as hell and cut. The head spread like a cobra at my touch. I stroked it, looking at the big balls that hung incredibly low.
"I like low hanging fruit," I said. I leaned in and took one testy into my mouth. It was salty and filled my mouth nicely. I heard him groan and I ran my free hand up the rippling muscles of his six pack abs to his chest. I let his ball go and sucked the other one.
"Holy fuck," he said. I looked up into his intense eyes and his mouth opened. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss that mouth with that big mustache, or how it would feel if that mustache was tickling my balls as he sucked me and I sucked him. I let his testy go and pulled the cock down. Into my mouth it went, a hot, tasty, pulsing shaft. My one hand stroked the shaft as I sucked the head, enjoying the hot, bitter taste of his precum. My other hand slid around to his muscular ass and cupped it, kneeding the soft skin over the hard muscle. I imagined that butt clinching as he rammed his thick cock into me and I moaned around his thickness, my voice muffled.
I pulled back. "Fuck my mouth," I said, looking up at him. He obliged, grabbing my head as I took his cock back into my mouth. He began to thrust into me, my lips stroking his shaft, the head hitting the back of my throat.
"I wanna fuck you, you fucking little slut," he growled.
I felt my heart jump. I grabbed his ass and helped him thrust into my face. He was gagging me, nearly, but I continued on, showing him the rhythm. He finally pulled away and I knelt there, watching him stagger back with his thick meat swinging around, wet with my spit. He pushed his pants down and off, and then took his shirt off.
I admired his physique. "Incredible," I breathed. He was a mountainous man, all muscle and power. I grabbed my purse and pulled my lube out. While he was pulling his socks off I pushed my pantyhose down and lubed up my ass. He grabbed me and pushed me over to a weight set to one side. He pulled my panty hose completely off, throwing them to one side.
I straddled the weight bench, putting both hands on the barbell and leaning over. I felt him lift my skirt, his rough hands on my ass.
"Goddamit that's a nice ass," he said. He pushed his thick cockhead against my eager anus and began slowly pushing in. Impatient as always, I arched my back and bucked against him. He took the hint and thrust into me, balls deep. "Oh fuck yeah," he breathed. He leaned over me and I felt his mustache tickle my neck as he kissed my skin. He reached around and fondled one fake breast, which was nothing more than a bag of sylicone taped to the outside of my chest and held tightly by the top. He groaned and his hand slide down my belly to the front of my skirt where it found my hard penis poking out. As he thrust into me he stroked my hard cock through the skirt.
I arched my back as much as I could, looking over my shoulder at his straining face. He was nipping at my neck and I reached back over my shoulder and grabbed the back of his head with my hand. I pulled him so his face was next to mine as he fucked me doggy style and craning my neck I kissed his cheek. He turned his head and we kissed. I gasped against his mouth at the feeling of that mustache on my cheek, his soft lips and his hard tongue. I could feel my sphincter tightening, pulsing around his pistoning rod and then he suddenly stood upright, holding my hips as he slammed into me wildly. With one final thrust and a heavy jerk of his body, he came grunting like an animal, his cum shooting inside me deep.
The sight of him, as I looked over my shoulder, his muscles slick with sweat, bulging outrageously with the powerful thrust of his hips, the tight, painful grip of his hands on my hips, sent me over the edge and I began to cum as well.
We both collapsed to the bench, his prodigious weight covering me in a sweaty, muscular heap. I felt overpower, overmatched, and loved every second of it. As our breathing quieted I heard a phone ringing. The car phone. My lawyer boyfriend wondering where I was. I struggled from under the deputy's weight and ran outside barefoot, holding my skirt up. I reached in and grabbed the fancy car phone.
"Hello?" I was still a bit breathless.
"Where are you?" he asked, worried.
"I got a bit lost, but a nice sheriff's deputy is giving me directions. I should be there soon."
"Okay," he said. We hung up and I turned around to see Deputy Hunter standing naked in the doorway.
"Um...so...I guess we'll be seeing each other again?" I asked.
He nodded. "You said, 'regularly.'"
"I did...now, you wouldn't happen to be able to tell me where I am, would you?"