For the past month or so Felicia and Bart had been sexting each other regularly – sending sexually explicit text messages. Each sext was hotter than the one before and often Felicia found them very distracting. When, as often was the case, the texts arrived while she was working, her co-workers would find her red-faced and preoccupied – off in another world and not concentrating on the task at hand. And the timing of this particular sext was similarly inopportune. Knowing that this text message was probably going to be lengthy and detailed with the erotic descriptions that never ceased to turn her on, Felicia steered her car onto the shoulder of the road, rather than risk an accident. She read Bart’s text.
Even before she finished reading it, she could feel a warm tingle developing between her legs and a thumping deep inside. By the time she read the entire text, she was completely turned on. She felt dampness between her legs and realized that she had been touching herself unconsciously while reading it – one hand rubbing the crotch of her jeans and the other squeezing her nipples. How long have I been here? She thought anxiously and felt a desperate need to quench the urgency that now consumed her body. I have to get home! Before she maneuvered the car back onto the road, she unzipped her pants and slid her hand into her panties. One-handed she drove down the highway, while her other hand was occupied probing her pussy, touching her most sensitive spots. Her car veered side to side and swerved wide when she turned onto the next cross street. She drove past one red traffic signal and stopped for a while at a green. Almost home! As she continued on, Felicia imagined the sensual scenario that Bart had painted with his words. She steadily rubbed herself aching to be at home where she could better satisfy these carnal urges.
BLEEP BLOO BLEEP!
Suddenly the young woman’s erotic reverie was interrupted by the blaring sound of a police siren. She was blinded by bright flashes of red and white light from the lightbar atop the squad car that unexpectedly appeared in her rearview mirror.
“PULL YOUR CAR TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD IMMEDIATELY!” an amplified voice commanded. Startled by the barked orders, Felicia quickly pulled her hand out of her pants and nervously steered her car onto the gravelly edge of the road. The police car followed closely with its high beams illuminating the interior of her car. As soon as she brought her car to a stop she hurriedly attempted to zip up her jeans.
“HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL, WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” the policeman blurted through the loudspeaker. The frightened driver began to raise her hands hesitantly. This is so embar-- “NOW! GET THEM ON THE WHEEL RIGHT NOW!” the officer called out angrily.
Felicia sat silently with her hands shaking on the steering wheel. Although her car was bathed in the bright headlights of the patrol car, her legs were cloaked in shadow. She glanced down. Her open pants clearly exposed her panties, but her lap was beyond the reach of the intruding high beams and she hoped that the policeman would not notice. She inhaled deeply when she heard the crunch of gravel signaling his approach.
“Good evening, Ma’am,” the policeman’s voice was less intimidating now that it was unamplified. Felicia turned to face him and was blinded by an intense white light. After a few seconds the light moved away from her face and she saw the torso of the cop in the window opening of her car door. One hand was poised over his holstered gun while the other shone a club-sized flashlight into the car.
“Have you been drinking alcohol this evening, Ma’am?” She shook her head and uttered a barely audible, “No.”
“Ingested any drugs? Prescription or otherwise?”
“N-no.” The nervous young woman looked up at her interrogator’s face as he questioned her. The brim of his police cap was pulled down low on his forehead. Dark wraparound sunglasses concealed his eyes. Smooth chiseled cheekbones, a strong square jaw, and thin pale lips revealed no emotion when he spoke. This guy is taking his job way too serious. And who the hell wears sunglasses at night?! From the corner of her eyes she could see the beam of his flashlight dart around the interior of the car. Then she realized by the position of his wrist that he was shining his light down onto her lap. When he held the flashlight in that position for a while, she could feel the blood rushing to her face.
“You know, Ma’am, I followed you for several miles and I observed erratic driving patterns. You appear to have been driving under the influence of a controlled substance. I’m gonna have to conduct a sobriety test and give this vehicle a thorough search.” He leaned inside the window and, reaching across Felicia’s body, turned off the engine and removed the key. She smelled his cologne as his head passed within inches of her own. A clean musky scent with a hint of sandalwood lingered in the car after he withdrew from it. It was the first indication that he was not merely a Robocop. He smells nice. But he’s still a jerk.
“Let me see your driver’s license and vehicle registration.” Afraid to remove her hands from the steering wheel, the young woman nodded toward her open purse on the seat next to her.
“They’re in my wallet.”
The no-nonsense policeman reached across Felicia again and picked up her purse. Holding it open he shined the flashlight into it and inspected its contents. After pulling out her wallet, he extracted the documents. He removed his sunglasses and placed them in his shirt pocket. Felicia immediately saw that his clear hazel eyes, bracketed by his long dark eyelashes, were far from threatening, yet she thought that they were disarming in another way. She understood at once that he wore the sunglasses to appear more intimidating. Definitely handsome. But definitely annoying too. He studied her license for a few seconds and then smiled, “I see that you live just down the street, Felicia.” She sat silently while her mind raced. So now we’re on a first name basis. Just give me the damn ticket and let me get home!
“Remain with your hands where I can see them,” he ordered and then walked over to the passenger side of the car. He pulled open the door, searched under the seats and then sat down beside her. Without explanation he opened the glovebox and poked his finger through its contents. After scanning the front of the car for a moment he turned to her and said, “What’s with the open pants? Why are you undone?”
The young woman’s face flushed and she stammered, “I, uh, I had uh – I had an itch,” it was all she could come up with and she knew it sounded ridiculous as soon as the words passed her lips.
“An itch? You sure you didn’t hide anything there when you saw me following you?”
“No. I didn’t. I don’t have any drugs. I didn’t hide any drugs.” Please leave me alone!
“Well, regardless of what you say, I’m still gonna have to search you.”
“But, you’re not allowed –” she began to protest but stopped as quickly as the patrolman plunged his hand between her legs.
His fingers passed lightly over her mound followed by his palm and slid slowly downward, sandwiched between her panties and jeans. The hand curled underneath her until it squeezed between her buttocks and the car seat. Satisfied that there was nothing hidden there, the policeman withdrew his hand as slowly as he had inserted it. As he dragged his hand upward, his middle finger pressed into her flesh and rode the crease of her vulva.
“You’re a little wet down there,” he grinned as he swiped his thumb across his fingertips. “That must have been quite an itch.”
“I – uh – I –” before she could make up an explanation she felt his hand between her legs again.
“Tell me about it. Tell me what was going on when you were scratching your itch.” His voice was softer now and unintimidating. But as soothing as his tone was, she still felt compelled to answer his questions.
“I was just – I – uh – was –” she was distracted by the touch of his fingers sliding along the top of her thigh and then moving inside the leg opening of her panties.
“I’m listening. Now out with it,” he said calmly as his fingertips entered her moist slit. “What were you thinking about when your hand was down here?”
“You know,” she blushed. Why is he driving me crazy like this?! He knows that I must have been fantasizing about sex.
“I do know what was happening here,” he smiled and unsnapped her seatbelt and let it retract into its holder. With his free hand he unbuttoned the top of her shirt. “You were daydreaming about getting laid.” His hand slid inside her bra and squeezed her nipple. “Isn’t that right?”
“Y-yes,” she was already transported back to the state of arousal that she had found herself in before she heard his siren.
“Tell me about your daydream.”
She tried to retrieve the memory of the sext in which Bart had described how he would ravish her doggy style and the vivid images that she conjured up about it. But right now the only thoughts that crossed her mind were those of the policeman whose hands were driving her mad.