Authors: Clarissa Fenton
By Clarissa Fenton
Clarissa Fenton/Cavendish Velvet Publishing 2013.
All rights reserved.
Cover image ©
I was about to give up for the night and go
home when I clocked her.
Early thirties, ash blonde hair,
good figure in a well-fitting business suit.
I could hear her kissing
and saying her goodbyes to the people she was with, colleagues I guessed from
the fact that they were all in suits. She swayed a bit as she walked out into
the pub car park, nothing too obvious but enough for me to spot it. I finished
my orange juice quickly and walked out of the pub, following her at a discreet
distance. As usual I'd kept my car in a dark corner of the car park, out of
sight of any
, and I
quickly took out my false number plates from my bag and tacked them over the
real ones, pretending I was just checking the tyres.
She got into her car, a nice shiny new BMW,
and pulled out slowly and a bit too carefully. I got into my car and got behind
her just as she drove out onto the main road and turned right. That was just
what I wanted - if she'd gone left she would have gone into town and there
would have been too many people about, even at this time of night. Pretty soon
she was out onto the stretch of road that I'd used before and knew well. Going
a bit too fast as well; up to 50 in a 40mph zone long before the
I checked my mirrors and saw nothing behind;
just as she passed the sign for the
it was now or never so I put on my cap.
Section 163, Road Traffic Act 1988,
a person driving a mechanically propelled vehicle on a road must stop on being
required to do so by a constable in uniform
and that meant I had to have my hat on. I was doing
everything by the book, just to make sure.
I flicked on the blue light and gave her a
quick blast on the siren, just enough for her to hear but not enough to attract
unwanted attention in case some copper was having a piss or a kip somewhere
nearby. I then flicked the fog lights at her rapidly so that all she would see
in her mirror was a blaze of blue and white light. At first I thought she
wasn't going to stop but then I realised, of course, she'd seen the sign for
and was heading for it; sure enough she
indicated left and pulled in. With a quick check in the mirror I reassured
myself that nobody else was on the road for a long way back. I kept my lights
on and slipped on my tie, stab vest, equipment belt and fluorescent vest with
practiced ease; as usual I'd been wearing my uniform trousers and shirt in the
pub so it didn't take long to complete the picture.
Quickly checking again for anything coming
along the road, I got out and sauntered slowly to her car, talking into my
radio while looking at her licence plate with exaggerated interest. I pulled
the peak of my cap down to cover my eyes a little then took a deep breath; this
was the bit where there was no going back and I felt the familiar adrenaline
rush which then gave way to a feeling of calmness, almost like being on
autopilot. Stage fright, the nerves that actors get just before they go on
stage, is the same, so I'm told. I leant down to the passenger window as it
I got my first good close up look at her; I'd
made a good choice. She was a bit older than I'd thought in the pub; about 35 I
guessed. I've noticed there's a sweet spot with women around that age. Before
30 or so most good looking women act like their shit doesn't stink and they're
used to men falling at their feet. Come early thirties, and definitely by 35,
they've still got their looks but they've noticed they're starting to go a bit
and the attention from men isn't there so much, yet at the same time their
appetite's reaching its peak. That's where I come in.
I saw the woman looking at me with slight
disdain, pushing her hair back and pouting.
'What's this all about? Have I done something
wrong?' Her voice was a bit posh, though I could tell she was putting it on a
I kept quiet, letting the pressure on her
nerves build a bit, while I pretended to look at her front licence plate.
She piped up again.
all about? I'm in a bit of a hurry.'
I hooked my fingers into my belt.
'Is this your vehicle?' I asked calmly.
'No, it's my husband's. Look, can you just
tell me what I've done wrong?'
She was getting flustered now, and like a
good martial arts fighter, I was going to use her own strength against her.
I stopped you because
back there you were doing 55 miles per hour in a 40 mile per hour zone. I've
also got reason to believe you're driving under the influence of alcohol.'
Her face fell at this.
Not so confident
now, are you?
I thought to myself. It was time to go in for the kill.
'Can I see your licence please?'
I knew she didn't have to carry it, but most
people do nowadays and it added to the realism. She fumbled in her handbag for
what seemed like ages, and while she wasn't looking I glanced round quickly, pleased
to see that the road in both directions was dark and deserted. Eventually she
passed the little plastic wallet to me, and beamed a smile.
'There you are.'
I realised why she'd been fumbling about: as
I opened the wallet I saw a fifty pound note tucked in with the licence. Bingo.
She'd just made everything so much easier.
I pretended not to see the note and handed
the wallet back, looking her straight in the eye.
'I hope that's not what I think it is.
Attempting to bribe a police officer is a very serious offence. Let's just
forget that happened, shall we?'
She paused, pushing her hair back and smiling
again, looking me up and down. 'Look, maybe we can...'
Fuck me, I thought. I'm not even going to
have to suggest it to her. She's doing all the work while I just enjoy the
show. I hadn't stopped any women who were this easy before.
'Maybe we can what?' She had to be the one to
I was careful to
cover my back that way.
She laughed and looked me up and down again
under hooded eyes, gathering her resolve, I guessed, and came out with it.
'Maybe we can have a bit of a good time and
forget all about it?'
I walked quickly to
the passenger door and opened it, getting in and taking my cap off. I pulled
the door to with a soft click and savoured the feel of the expensive leather
upholstery. Her face fell a bit as she wondered if I wasn't falling for it and
was going to run her in, but then I reached up and clicked off the light. If
would think we were what used to
be called a 'courting couple' and hopefully leave us alone.
It was time for the get out clause.
'You don't have to do anything you don't want
to,' I said. 'We can sort this out at the station if you prefer. I guarantee
you'll get let off with a caution.'
It might sound crazy to let her off the hook
like that but I'm no rapist or pervert, I don't force women into anything. I
reckon I just set up the scene for
OK, some hairy arsed feminist would say I'm still putting pressure on her, but
then they don't understand female psychology the way I do. 'Anti-slut defence',
it's called; I've read about it on the internet; women will do pretty much
anything and enjoy it as well, if you give them the opportunity to convince
themselves 'it just happened' and they didn't plan it.
There was a bit of a pause and I wondered if
she was going to call my bluff. To be honest it wouldn't have worried me too
much, as sex is just part of it, not the be all and end all, but then she was
over the gear lever and straddling me, quicker than I expected
she was a live one, alright. Her
mouth sought mine and I got a taste of cigarettes and wine as her tongue drove
into my mouth. I was pretty sure she was a bit pissed so in a way, I might have
done some good pulling her over. She arched her back and pulled off her jacket,
chucking it onto the back seat, while she tossed her hair back and started
unbuttoning her blouse, which was stretched nice and tight in all the right
places. She pulled my hands up to fondle her tits through her bra, and she
sighed as my fingers groped for her nipples. She looked down at me with an
expression of pure lust as she ran her hands over my stab vest and down to my
trousers, unbuckling the belt and reaching in.
'Come on then Mr Policeman, I haven't got
long...' she breathed.
I unzipped her skirt and it fell behind her
somewhere, revealing hold up stockings and a lacy thong that formed a narrow v
between her legs. She was in good shape and I wondered if she wasn't getting
enough from her husband; probably some rich type too busy running his own
business to give
proper seeing to. Or maybe she
just liked sex and wasn't too particular about who she did it with. Expertly I
unclipped her bra and took in the sight of a good firm pair, not large but
still perky and well shaped. She'd got my cock in her hand now, working the
shaft up and down and stroking my balls with just the right pressure. She
lifted herself up and peeled off her knickers, showing a neatly trimmed bush
and glistening lips. Then she was on me, working my trousers down and sliding
herself slowly down onto my cock while holding on to my shoulders. She gasped
as it went all the way in.
'Oh that feels so good...' she moaned.
She started bucking up and down, working her
hips back and forth so that I didn't have to do anything except sit there while
she bounced on me. Her hair was draped across my head and I could smell
cigarettes and wine again, mixed with her perfume and the hot, musky smell of
her body. I felt suddenly extremely horny and thrust my hips forward to meet
hers, our bodies bouncing together as we hurried towards climax. She leant back
and balanced her arms behind her on the dashboard, grinding herself onto my
cock and showing off those pert tits nicely in the dim light, the nipples erect
and pointed. I reached forward and pressed her clit and started rubbing it,
savouring the feel of the slick bud below the thin strip of crisp hair. She was
making a rhythmic gasping now in the back of her throat and grabbed my hand,
working it in harder, her other hand sliding and groping my balls.
'Come on, come on, do it faster....' she
said, her thighs slapping into me now as I felt the familiar tingling rising up
in my thighs. Then she arched her back again and gave out a long sighing groan
as her body stiffened into orgasm. I raised myself up slightly to get a bit
more pressure so that I could finish, ramming into her and exploding into her
tight hole as the last shudders of her own orgasm died down.
She peeled herself off me and dressed quickly
in the confined space of the car, wriggling into her skirt and blouse and
leaving her underwear on the floor. She crawled over to the driver's seat as I
got myself dressed. Gripping the steering wheel she turned to me with a smile.