Hot Pursuit

Hot Pursuit

By
WL Sweetland

Published by
Langley’s Lovelies

Copyright 2013
© Langley’s Lovelies

The sound of the Camaro's engine was a powerful growl in the night. Susan loved to drive fast in the dark and when the road ahead opened up long and straight, she pushed her foot down on the gas pedal and the Porsche responded smoothly and instantly, sweeping her along with the precision of a finely tuned machine. Warm air whipped long blonde hair into a mess of unruly curls around her face and Susan breathed in the dry, sweet odours of the moonlit desert landscape. She felt good, speed had always excited her.

The Camaro's headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the white stripes that flashed by beneath the sleek, metallic-black automobile. Susan cranked up the radio's volume when she heard Tom Petty singing American Girl. One of her all time favorite songs, it reminded her of college and she sang along to the chorus at the top of her voice. Susan shot a glance at the speedometer and registered the needle approaching 75mph. Singing and smiling, she pushed the pedal further down until the car seemed to fly across the two-lane tarmac.

It was 2am and Susan had not seen another car for at least an hour. She knew from the map that the road stretched almost fifty miles between towns with no discernible landmarks in-between, and for the most part was flat and straight. Susan trusted the Camaro. The way it handled, responding precisely to even the slightest touch of the steering wheel, big fat tyres gripping the road like jealous magnets, and the roar of the engine when she hit the gas, like a wild animal reincarnated as a piece of technologically perfect machinery. It turned her on. After long, midnight drives at high speed, Susan often returned home to find herself wet and with a desperate urge to masturbate.

The car swept her along, the wind in her hair, moon and stars above, Tom Petty became The Eagles and of course, Susan knew all the words to Hotel California. A derelict building suddenly appeared in her headlights. An abandoned gas station with faded paint, a rusty tin roof and sand piled high by the wind against it's rotten, wooden walls. She passed it in an instant, sending a flock of surprised, angry crows flying up into the night sky. No, Susan thought. Not a flock. A murder. She laughed out loud, pleased with herself for remembering the collective noun. She stretched one arm out straight above her, fighting hard against the breakneck wind that howled over the top of the windshield, and popped her middle finger at the birds.

''No pooping on the Porsche, assholes!'' Susan felt exhilarated, the speed, the wind, the smell of the desert, the music, she became aware her nipples were straining hard at the flimsy cotton of her blouse and there was a warm, tingling sensation in her crotch. All she needed now was some good, stiff cock. And, she thought with a devious smile on her lips, that part had already been arranged.

Susan eased her foot off the gas pedal and the Camaro's engine seemed to moan and whine in disappointed protest. She pulled over and stopped the car half on, half off the road. She switched off the engine and for a moment she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the sudden silence. Then she reached over to the passenger side and took a map and a flashlight from the glove compartment. The car was too old to have a GPS navigation system and even if it had, Susan would never have used it. Her father had been a soldier, he had taught her to read maps when she was 9 years old.

She held the light above the map and quickly found her location. A large red X marked a point in the road about five miles ahead. Anticipation rose inside her, making her feel uncomfortable and restless. She slipped a hand up her short skirt and pushed a finger against the crotch of her panties. Hot and damp. The Camaro's engine ticked and tapped as it slowly began to cool and all around, the desert lay open and empty, patient under the black sky. Susan scratched the nail of her finger across the cleft of her moist vagina and a tremor of pleasure rocketed through her belly and up into her erect nipples. With a loud groan, she forced herself to stop and take her hand away, not wanting to cum and gush onto the cool leather of the car seat. She held her hand to her face and inhaled the sweet, heady musk of her sex, then pushed the finger into her mouth and sucked. Susan was no stranger to the taste of her own love-juice and the flavour elated her taste buds, sending quivering bursts of pure lust back down between her thighs. She had to get to point X fast.

With a last look at the map Susan satisfied herself she knew exactly where she was, on the right road and heading in the right direction. She turned the key in the ignition and the Porsche roared back to life. Without so much as a backward glance in the rear view mirror, Susan sped off towards her rendezvous, the Camaro's tires spinning and squealing
on the sand covered blacktop.

Five minutes later, Susan slowed the car to 65mph, a speed that for her was almost pedestrian, but
still more than fast enough for a ticket.

She began to feel impatient, searching the rear view mirror for the tell-tale signs of a patrol car in hot pursuit.
'Where the hell is he?' The cop had to be around here somewhere, her instructions had been implicit and the agency prided itself on it's attention to detail. They had never let her down in the past. Then suddenly he was behind her, powerful headlights glaring angrily in her mirror, blue and red flashing lights adding to the realism, increasing her excitement.

Susan slammed her foot down onto the accelerator and the Camaro's rear wheels skidded in a split second of surprise, then gripped the tarmac again and hurled itself along the highway like a jet approaching take off. She knew her car was a lot faster than the souped-up police Ford behind her and she could easily outrun her pursuer, but the chase was only the beginning, an entrée to more illicit pleasures ahead.

The two cars swept through the desert night. Susan kept slowing down just enough to let the Ford catch up and then she would speed away again, laughing and singing along to the radio. The chase thrilled her, the steady, throbbing hum of the car beneath her, and each bump that jarred the vehicle sent shivers of excitement up and down her body. For one wild moment, she risked taking a hand off the steering wheel and touched between her legs again. Now she was more than just damp, she was soaking wet.

The Camaro hit an abrupt incline in the road and for a moment, all four wheels left the tarmac. With a sudden sharp intake of breath, Susan realized she was flying! It lasted less than three, endless seconds and the car was only a few inches off the ground but the unexpected sensation of weightlessness, the high pitched whine of wheels released from traction, brought a squeal of startled delight from her mouth and sent a deep stab of physical pleasure throughout her entire being. And when the car touched back down to earth, the impact of the tyres hitting the road, the jolt that shuddered up through the Camaro's chassis, felt to Susan as if she had just
been firmly and sensuously spanked. Breathless with excitement she felt as if she would cum at any moment. But she did not want to waste the joy of the sensation. She needed to fuck. Now. Desperately she scanned the shoulder of the road for a safe place to stop.

Susan watched in the rear view mirror as the cop emerged from his patrol car, put on his hat and walked towards the Camaro. This time the agency really had done it's homework, she thought. The illusion was perfect. The patrol car, the uniform, even the gun holstered at the cop's hip, every tiny detail looked genuine. He stopped a short distance behind the Camaro and spoke in a calm, but commanding voice.

''Put your hands where I can see them, Ma'am.''

Reluctantly Susan withdrew her fingers from her crotch and placed both hands on the steering wheel. It was her prerogative to stop the game whenever she wanted, and she was sorely tempted to simply get out of her car, bend over the hood and have him fuck her. But the agency was not cheap, and Susan was determined to make this guy earn every damned penny.

He approached her side of the car, asking to see Susan's license and registration. She leant over to the glove compartment, giving him ample view of her long, tanned legs and made a show of rummaging around for the documents. Her movements caused the hem of her skirt to hike itself even higher and Susan wondered if her sticky, wet thighs would glisten in the moonlight. After a moment she gave up the pretence and turned back to the traffic cop to find him staring down at her legs.

''I'm sorry, Officer, I think I left all my stuff at home.'' Susan said with her best, wicked-little-girl smile.

''Then I need you to get out of the car, Ma'am.'' He said, opening the driver door and stepping back, his hand resting lightly on the butt of the gun holstered at his hip. Susan obeyed, twisting in the seat and unfurling her legs from the cramped cockpit of the Camaro. She took her time, making sure she parted her thighs at just the right moment, exposing the tiny triangle of panty-crotch to the cop who by now, was watching her intensely.

For a moment the two stood facing each other, his eyes roamed, scrutinising every inch of Susan's slim physique. She in turn eyed him up and down, marvelling at the detail of his uniform and, she had to admit to herself, he was damned good looking. She saw he had short, brown hair and Susan was sure she had specifically ordered a blonde, but then she felt another pang of lust rush through her, and quickly decided to overlook the faux pas. He led her around to the front of the Camaro and ordered her to 'assume the position' bent forwards over the hood, legs spread and palms on the car.

''Do not move,'' he said, ''this won't hurt a bit.''

His hands were quick and strong and they flew and fluttered through her hair and over her body. Susan felt her skin tingle when he touched her, his firm, capable hands expertly searching every inch of her and when he rubbed up the inside of her sticky thighs and made contact with her crotch she gasped, a deep, hungry moan escaping from her mouth.

''Turn around.'' He said and Susan complied. This was exactly how she had ordered the game to be played and her breath became shallow, a rush of anticipation built to exploding point inside her. She turned and saw he had taken his cock out of his pants, it jutted towards her, throbbing and twitching in the night air and he was huge.

''Oh my god!'' Susan exclaimed but then he was pushing her back onto the hood of the car, pressing his body between her legs and kissing her, his tongue invading her mouth, his hands firm on her taught breasts. Susan felt the tip of his cock pressing urgently against her crotch and she was powerless to refuse him. She had become a wild animal of wanton lust, her body whipped into a frenzy of passionate, physical greed. She reached down and grasped his hard, eager shaft, pulling her flimsy panties to one side and guiding him inside her. Her well lubricated lips parted easily, and her gluttonous cunt clasped each and every inch of his hot, thrusting cock.

His hands slipped under her blouse, forcing the thin silk up and over her heaving breasts. Buttons popped wildly and flew off into the desert. His fingers tore at her bra, freeing her nipples to his licking, sucking mouth and Susan groaned, arching her back to meet his lips and tongue. He pumped at her, long deliberate thrusts filling her, stretching her, his hips picking up the rhythm until she could fight her oncoming orgasm no longer. She felt his semen explode inside her and a climax struck Susan in waves of pure, drowning pleasure.

Susan was not in a hurry to get home and she drove at a speed that was languid and almost legal. She could still feel him inside her and enjoyed the slow trickle of his cum on her thighs. She was singing again, Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here.' The wind had cooled and calmed, her hair stuck with sweat to her neck and shoulders.

She decided she would not complain about the inconsistencies of her rendezvous. The agency had definitely made a few mistakes this time. The cop's hair had been the wrong colour and he had been waiting in the wrong place. The actual sex had gone a little quicker than she would have liked but the end result had left her gloriously satisfied. All things said and done, Susan was pleased with the performance.

She arrived back at the house, parked the Camaro in the driveway and sat for a moment looking up at the stars. She felt smug, the delicious ache between her legs and the sheen of aftermath on her face glowed
in the moonlight. Susan got out of the car and walked gingerly into the house. Damn, she thought, he had been so big!

She went directly to the bathroom, undressed and showered. Wrapped in her favorite bathrobe, she emerged a half hour later with her hair wrapped up in a makeshift towel turban and poured herself a large nightcap of straight bourbon. She sat at her desk, switched on the laptop and checked her in-box, as she did every night before going to bed. The email from the Agency was marked URGENT. She clicked on it and her eyes widened in disbelief as she read the content.

''We regret to inform you that your role play partner for the Hot Pursuit scenario has unfortunately and unexpectedly been taken seriously ill. We have endeavoured to find a replacement but at such short notice and with your specific requirements we find ourselves unable to fulfil the contract. We will of course reimburse the complete fee and hope you will accept our sincerest apologies and continue to use our services in the future. Kind regards...''

Susan took a large swallow of bourbon. It had all been real? She shook her head and read the mail again. Her mind raced, reliving the entire episode in her head. The wrong hair, the wrong location, the wrong penis? Suddenly she was laughing until tears ran down her face and her ribs hurt. She didn't care if it had all gone wrong. She had got what she wanted. And somewhere out there was a genuine traffic cop with the residue of her cum on his cock and balls and a huge grin on his face. She clicked off the laptop, went to bed and gently masturbated herself to sleep, wondering if maybe, the cop would be on duty again tonight?