Road Games Read online

  “Go ahead, Officer. Take what you want.”

  I knelt behind her and ripped away the thin string of cloth cutting through the center of her sex. She pushed down against my hand, swinging her hips from side to side.

  “Fuck me, hard. I need it, now.”

  My dwindling control vanished. I reached around, grabbed an erect nipple, and tweaked it between my fingers until she moaned deep and throaty. I pressed my face against the exposed flesh of her hot ass and licked my way down.

  “Fuck me!”

  The words fanned my already out-of-control passion and I drove my fingers deep inside her slick, wet opening. She clawed the hood of the car and pistoned against my hand. It felt like something inside me ruptured as I clung to her and my own desire ran freely down my legs.

  “I’m…gonna come…quick.” She reached back, grabbed her ass, and pounded herself harder into my pumping hand.

  “Oh, good God! I’m coming.” She placed her outstretched hands on the fender of the car and braced herself. The cheeks of her butt slapped against my fingers with every upward thrust. Seizing muscles clamped around my fingers as her tremors began.

  She suddenly pivoted on my hand, swung her leg over my head, leaned back against the car, and screamed, “Suck me!”

  With my free hand, I pulled her to me and buried my face in the swollen folds at her core. I stroked the soft moisture of her insides with my fingers while I took her firm clit into my mouth and sucked. She exploded against my lips as her orgasm milked my thrusting digits.

  “Oh, yes, that’s it.” Her legs trembled against the side of my face as she slumped forward. “Holy fucking shit.” She reached down and cupped my face in her hands. “Take me home, Officer?”

  I could barely breathe. The pain in my clit pulsed with unreleased pressure. I stared at her in disbelief. “Home?”

  “You said you’d give me a lift.” She retrieved her drenched coat from the ground, pulled it around her, and opened the passenger door of my patrol car.

  I rose on desire-weakened legs and walked slowly toward the driver’s side while my uniform pants chafed the raw flesh of my crotch. The short ride to her residence was a blur. When I pulled in front of her place, the rain had stopped. She directed me to follow the driveway to the back of the house. A U-shaped path led to the rear of the residence, a dense stand of cypress shielding the yard from view. I turned the car off and waited—for what, I wasn’t sure.

  She slid across the seat, ran her hand up the inside of my thigh, and grabbed my clit in her fist. “Aww…” My legs tensed as I pushed back to escape her grasp.

  “I know you want this, Officer. The car reeks with the smell of your sex.” She looked around the interior of the vehicle. “What’s your weapon of choice…the nightstick, perhaps?” Retrieving my baton from the floorboard, she stroked its length and sniffed the handle. “Lucky guess, huh?”

  “I…”

  “Take this uniform off. I don’t want to be charged with assault on an officer.”

  She tugged at the keepers on my utility belt. They unsnapped easily. I looked around the yard and tried to wriggle away from her.

  “We’re perfectly safe back here. The neighbors on both sides are gay boys, and I think they’d like what I’m getting ready to do to you.”

  Her lips covered mine. Her tongue plunged deeply and stroked the inside of my mouth, bringing chill bumps to the burning surfaces of my skin. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned my shirt, ripped the Velcro tabs of my vest loose, and shoved them both off my shoulders. She unbuckled the gear belt, drew it carefully from around my waist, and dropped it on the floorboard behind us. Unzipping the uniform pants, she slipped her hand into the wet curls at the base of my abdomen.

  “Come on. Jerk me off.” I tried to push her hand deeper but she resisted.

  Muscles tightened throughout my body as I prayed for one swift, hard tug on my clit. That’s all it would take. I leaned toward her, took a lace-covered breast in my mouth, and flicked the nipple with my tongue. The stroke resonated in my own breasts and pelvis. I pumped my hips toward her hand. She withdrew. “Oh, fuck!”

  “I know you’re hot, but it’s not going to be that easy. Quid pro quo. Now lose these pants.” She got out of the car and came around to the driver’s side while I quickly shed my boots and the confining trousers. Opening the back passenger door, she motioned me inside. “Get in—on your knees.”

  I stood in her backyard naked and stared at her. Every rational thought in my head yelled “run” but my body craved whatever manner of pleasure or pain she intended to unleash on me. “I’m not sure I…”

  “I’m sure, Officer.” She reached down and ran a finger between my engorged lips. “Trust me.” She licked the evidence of my arousal from her soaked digit and nudged me toward the backseat.

  Desperate for release, the pulse in my temples pounding out the rhythm of desire between my legs, I stepped forward and pulled her leg between my thighs. Grabbing her ass with both hands, I stroked myself along the muscled length of her. My knees almost buckled. I knew I could come where I stood. I arched to ride her leg again but she backed away.

  Blinded by the pain that soared through my pelvis, I bent over and pressed a hand against my distended clit. “Please…I can’t stand it. I have to come.”

  “I know you’re hurting, so just get your ass in the car so I can help you.” Her hooded eyes flashed a combination of mischief and longing.

  I climbed into the backseat on my hands and knees like the single-minded creature I’d become. Every movement chafed the flesh between my legs that hung hard as stone. I dropped my head, forehead against the cool vinyl seat, and waited.

  After what seemed like an eternity, I felt the seat dip as she moved in behind me. I heard the distinctive rip of Velcro and the sharp snap of latex in the darkness. At the first sticky-cool touch of her gloved hands on the outside of my legs, I lurched forward, waves of need tightening in my groin. She caressed the length of my back and moved between my parted thighs.

  “It’s okay, Officer. I’ve got you.” She pressed her hot center against my butt and leaned over, rubbing her lace-covered breasts against my back. She nibbled the side of my neck and slipped a finger into me. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

  I jerked so forcefully, I almost threw her off me. “Oh, God, yes. Please. If I don’t come soon I’m going to explode.” I rocked back into her hand. She simultaneously filled and stroked me toward orgasm, once, twice, almost there…

  “I have a special treat for you,” she whispered in my ear, withdrew her hand, and sat back on her heels. My disappointed groan brought a small chuckle. “Look at me.” Her tone was more demanding.

  Turning slightly, I rested my cheek on the seat and looked toward her. She was attaching a leather strap around the palm of her right hand. From the top of the miniature harness a small ribbed protrusion extended about four inches.

  “What’s that?” My expression must’ve relayed more than my casual tone.

  “Don’t worry, copper. It won’t hurt—much. It’s called a butt plug and…”

  “I don’t think I like…” I started to sit up. She pressed her hand against the small of my back and guided me down.

  “I think you do and I’m going to prove it.” She knelt behind me and lowered the plug toward my body, explaining as she went. “It needs lubrication.” I felt slight pressure as the device slid easily into my vagina. My hips rocked to meet the welcoming penetration. “Back on all fours,” she ordered before I could establish a rhythm. “You’re gonna like this.”

  Any further objections vanished as her strong fingers kneaded the cheeks of my ass and teased them apart with her thumbs. When she rubbed my juices around the puckered rim of my anus, splinters of white heat torpedoed through me. “Oh God.” I could barely breathe.

  “Steady, girl.” She massaged the slick heat around my tight opening with her finger first, pressing and loosening me for her entry. “That’s it, baby. Just let me in.” />
  She rimmed my anus with the rounded tip of the plug and began to slowly ease it inside me. Every nerve ending in my body coalesced at that point of contact. Ridge after ridge of the probe passed through my sensitive orifice and sparked straight to my clit.

  “Fuck me, please. I’m dying here.” I humped back toward her hand, desperate for more. She withdrew the plug, and with each retreating rib it felt like I was being jerked off from inside. My knees slipped in the juices that pooled on the seat beneath me. I reached down to stroke myself, needing the direct pressure on my swollen shaft.

  “Don’t.” Her voice was raspy with desire.

  I whimpered and started to tremble. I needed to get off so desperately. “It’s so good. Faster.” I dug my fingernails into the vinyl seat. Her hand quickened its pace, forcing the butt plug in and out of my anus with increased fury. “Can’t take…anymore…”

  Grabbing her left arm, I wrapped it around my thigh, closed her fingers around my throbbing clit, and squeezed. “Pull it. Hurry. I need to come.”

  She seized my painful flesh between her thumb and forefinger and stroked its turgid length. I rocked back and forth, unable to resist the sensation at either end. She drilled the probe into me harder. Her latex-covered fist slapped against my ass with each entry. The fingers of her left hand simultaneously milked my clit. I matched her motions stroke for stroke.

  “Yes, that’s it. I’m coming.” The muscles in my body stiffened as every ounce of energy gathered between my legs. As the convulsions clawed their way through me, I struggled for breath, desperate to come but trying to make it last.

  She buried the plug in my ass, draped herself over my back, and held on as I came in one hard burst after another in her exquisite hand. When the tremors finally ended, I collapsed onto the soaked seat with her still clinging to my back. I was vaguely aware of the probe being eased from between my butt cheeks.

  “I knew you’d like it. You cops aren’t as tight-assed as everybody thinks.” She nuzzled the back of my neck and sat up. “Now, why don’t you check off, D257, and come inside?”

  Suddenly the vulnerability of my situation hit full force. “How do you know my call sign?”

  “I thought you’d have figured it out by now—D257, go ahead for Comm Center.”

  The pieces fell into place. “You’re the new dispatcher?” I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

  “And I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last three months. Guess this worked for you, huh?”

  “But how did you know I’d—”

  “You walk around like you’ve got a permanent stiffie. I just wanted to check out my theory.” She leaned down, kissed me, and flicked a breast at the same time. “There’s plenty more where that came from, Officer. You coming in?”

  I smiled as she gathered the bits of my uniform scattered throughout the car and handed them to me. “Be right there.” I reached across the seat, keyed the mike, and signed off duty.

  Denver, Part Deux

  Therese Szymanski

  When I got into my car to drive to Denver, I couldn’t help but think about my last road trip.

  It’d been just a few years before, also when I was underemployed. Except that time it had been a fairly random, unplanned romp across the country and back again—this time it was to Denver and back with a very specific purpose in mind.

  I thought about the hundreds of hours we’d spent on the phone together, and all we’d talked about during those long conversations. And all we’d done during those conversations.

  “Take off your clothes,” I’d said one night. Previously, when I’d asked her to take off her shirt, or maybe to think about touching herself, she’d turned me down cold, so it was anyone’s guess why I’d become so bold and cocky. But finally, one night, when I’d carried through on a promise, when she started to realize she could trust me, she listened to what I said and took off all her clothes.

  She’d never had phone sex before, so we were charting new territory right from the start. And I got more and more excited when she was really needy—like the hormonal night when we talked much earlier than usual and she came three times.

  I could only imagine what I’d be able to do with her in person.

  It made me wet just thinking about it.

  When we first started with the phone sex, she was very quiet, even when she came, but still she moaned loudly when I told her I’d like to watch her masturbate—and when I asked her if she’d like to touch me back, she said, “Oh, God yes.”

  So I’d tell her to take off her clothes, all of them—to get naked for me—and she’d put down the phone for a moment while she did that, then she’d pick it back up. It was never the same twice, but usually I’d coax her into fondling her breasts and teasing her nipples until she began whimpering.

  “Can I go inside?” she’d ask a few moments later in a breathy, heated voice.

  “Yes.”

  “How many fingers?”

  “Two.” And I’d tell her where to touch while I whispered what I’d be doing to her if I was actually with her—how I’d stroke her cunt, explore her inside and out…flick her clit back and forth with my tongue as I fucked her with my hand. How I’d run my fingers over her tummy and breasts and squeeze her nipples with my other hand. And all the while I spoke, and listened to her moans, my fingers would itch to touch her skin and I’d imagine how she’d taste and feel.

  Thinking about touching her so intimately was not making my drive any easier. In fact, it was greatly inhibiting my lane-changing and fast-maneuvering abilities, so I determined to think about something else instead. Like how, during the few hours we’d spent together in real life, I’d neglected to do more than hug her or pick her up teasingly (of course, the last time I’d seen her, she had been wearing my shorts), or about how silky her hair might feel, how soft her skin would be, how good it would be to hold her in my arms and hear her moan into my ear. How nice it would be to finally be able to hold her tightly afterward, caressing her back and hair while whispering loving words into her ear.

  Or that’s what I couldn’t help but imagine. We had yet to say certain words to each other, but I was pretty sure that’s what we both were feeling. I knew I wanted to say them to her, and wanted the reassurance of her in my arms before I said them. But I also wanted to kiss her first, because…nothing was possible if you weren’t kissing compatible.

  But I was sure we were gonna be.

  And I was sure I already was.

  The last time I’d driven to Denver, it’d taken me thirty-one hours, but I stopped for two hours in Missouri to get my car serviced (which they hadn’t been able to properly do), and an hour in Kansas to unsuccessfully attempt to take a nap. Also, I’d had to drive the Penn Turnpike in a storm, so it took way longer to make it than it should have.

  I was leaving DC at 11 a.m., but it was a mighty long drive and a lot depended on whether or not I caught a break this time, so we really couldn’t be sure when I’d get to hers, so she was leaving a key under her front mat, just in case I got there before our estimate of 6 p.m.

  I was rather known for picking up women and having one-night stands. Alas, my last driveabout didn’t include any one-nighters, just a beer run on a fire truck during a wedding (long story). And this time, I really didn’t want a one-nighter. I hoped to have an every-nighter, plus some, in the future.

  Aw, the hell with it. I wasn’t looking for something temporary at all. And I was driving all this way because tickets for last-minute flights cost too much, and I had the time, and I couldn’t wait to touch her, hold her, love her.

  I drove, impelled by my need to be with this woman and Know For Sure. I drove on and on, hour after hour, occasionally wanting to undo my jeans and push them down so I could play with myself. But that was only because I was thinking about Her. Wanting Her. Needing Her. Getting really wicked turned on by Her.

  The way she said, “Oh, God yes!” thrilled me all along my spine. Her asking, “Can I go inside?” made my
clit twitch. Thinking about her in a certain dress (a little black one that she taunted me with), and thinking about me touching her in it, made me weak in the knees.

  As the drive went on and day turned to night, and I found a semi to rabbit for me through two states, I couldn’t help but remember all the times she’d told me what she was wearing. After the first time I asked, she volunteered. I loved how she’d also describe her underwear (although she wouldn’t give me details if she didn’t think they were particularly interesting, even though I always found it all fascinating and exciting because She was the one wearing them and She was inside them), and when she didn’t, I knew she wasn’t wearing any.

  And that was hot as hell.

  In fact, everything about her was hot as hell. Including her little Alabama accent.

  Especially when she’d drop lines in e-mails like, “as long as I can be dressed at least some of the time you’re here!” which made my knees disappear, just thinking about her planning on being naked so much of my visit.

  And I drove on farther still.

  And I thought, as night turned to day, about what it might be like when we saw each other again. Although I’d had sex with her over the phone, I hadn’t really imagined exactly what it would be like to touch her, or what she’d look like naked. I didn’t want to envision any of that too much, because I wanted to experience all the joy of our first time together—I wanted it to be our real first time together.

  But I’d wondered what our first kiss would be like, how we’d touch each other—how I’d touch her face, caress her hair, bring her into my arms. I wondered if she’d wrap her legs around my waist. She’d already told me she wanted to straddle me, and that she liked to be carried. She was smaller than I, so we’d determined I could pick her up easily.

  So I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d wrap her legs around my waist.