If the Goddess hadn’t intended me to constantly fuck, she wouldn’t have endowed me with a body built for glorious sin, instilling constant, dripping arousal into that mortal coil. If the designers of the Porsche hadn’t intended us to drive fast, the speedometer wouldn’t go up to 180 miles per hour. It was the perfect day for speeding down the highway. The sun was shining, but not so brightly that it blinded; recent, gentle rain had cooled the air, bringing a mild summer temperature. The stereo was blaring hair-metal, perfect for driving, at eardrum-damaging volume, and very few drivers felt the need to litter my highway.

Dressed casually but seductively in a frilly, short, patchwork skirt and threadbare t-shirt, my usual lack of undergarments was obvious. With my hair tied back into side braids so my long tresses didn’t whip about in the wind, I had both windows down, never once noticing that I was cruising at the low, safe, comfortable speed of slightly over ninety miles per hour.

I crested a small hill, more of an incline, really, with a sudden drop-off. Airborne for a second or so, the tires of the sports car slid a little when they met the pavement. Skidding into a right-hand turn, I slowed down just enough to regain total control as an incendiary guitar solo erupted on the sound system. Deciding that my husband didn’t need to know about me jumping and almost losing control of his vintage Porsche, I thought, at first, that the sirens were part of the music. The flashing lights in my rearview mirror alerted me that the sirens were not cool musical effects.

Downshifting to tame the roaring engine, I put the car in neutral and coasted off the road. I do love a manual transmission; nothing’s more thrilling than having a hard gearshift in your hands and giving it a throbbing workout. I came to a stop between some large roadside shrubs, the police officer pulling up behind me. At least I had the decency to turn the stereo down and to put my hands on the wheel at ten and two, although it was more like 9:53 and 2:27. I watched him sit in his cruiser, all mirrored glasses and authority, for a very long-seeming time. He was running the license plates. Finally, he exited his vehicle. I put on my seductive, slutty smile, thrust my boobs out, and readied myself to be sweet and sexy.

He was cute in his uniform, sexy even. His taupe uniform fit him well. Even in the rearview mirror, I could see a bit of a bulge at his crotch. His imperial jackboots matched his gun belt, and his wide-brimmed hat accented his close-cropped brown hair. Mirrored wayfarers hid his eyes, which I imagined would be hazel. He popped the retaining snap on his pistol, just in case I happened to be a crazy delinquent. I am, of course, just not in that sort of way.

Grasping the top of the door, his arm muscles bulging nicely, he leaned into the window, his face showing no emotion.

“License and registration, ma’am,” he said. His voice was strong, stern, and commanding, and it made my pussy twinge with desire.

Slowly handing him my new license while shimmying my shoulders to bounce my breasts had the same effects as flashing a blind man from across the room, none.

“The registration is in the glove box,” I said in my husky, fuck-me, voice. “I’ll grab it for you.”

The State Trooper just nodded slowly, his right hand dipping under my field of view, presumably onto his firearm. I slowly leaned over to the passenger side, feeling the cool, summer breeze caress my nude ass. I hadn't intended on flashing him, but my pussy didn’t care if it was intentional or not. Trying very hard to not smile, knowing that he was staring at my round, firm, hard-on-inducing butt, I slowly opened the glove box, giggled at the condoms sitting on top, and pulled out the registration.

I handed him the registration, my body suppressing chuckles, which made my chest undulate with each swallowed guffaw. He looked it over, his big, hard nightstick thumping against the door.

“Is this your car, ma’am?” as if he didn’t know the answer; the registration was in my husband's name.

“It’s my husband’s car.”

“Does your husband know that you like to drive sixty-nine in a fifty-five?” Was that humor in his otherwise stoic voice?

Good thing I hit the brakes coming out of that turn! “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was grooving to the music and got a little carried away.”

He took off his sunglasses in a quick, smooth gesture and stared at my tits, my exposed thighs, the condoms, then my smiling face. “1990?”

“Huh?”

“The Porsche, is it a 1990?”

“Oh,” I said. “It’s an eighty-eight or eighty-nine, I keep forgetting. I just love to drive it.”

“Pop the hood, ma’am,” he ordered.

I complied, confused. He opened the hood, spent a few minutes making appreciative “oohs” and “aahs” over the engine, then closed the hood. He walked around to my door, again.

“I’m going to let you off with a friendly warning,” he addressed my nipples. “Just drive safely and under the speed limit, please. Not all the other officers appreciate a fine automobile.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The first time I drove my husband’s car, I nearly smashed it into a tree; the second outing resulted in my first, ever, speeding ticket. As he took a step back, I noted that his staring at my boobs had given him an erection. He turned to go.

“Officer, wait,” I cried seductively. I opened the driver’s side door and swung my legs out. The quick action spread my legs, my bare cunt on display as he turned. “What if I’m a dangerous criminal? Shouldn’t you at least frisk me in case I have a concealed weapon?” In case he didn't get the meaning of my words, my fingers caressed my soaked pussy lips to convey my intentions.

He stopped and looked at me, his jaw dropping when he saw my bare pussy. Grabbing the lapel-mic, he spoke into it. “This is Samson, I’m a code forty-three,” he said, the static coming through his radio as he let off the microphone trigger.

“Roger, Samson,” a female’s voice responded. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Deftly tossing his sunglasses and Mountie hat into the police car, then turning off the lights, he looked towards me and smiled. He walked around his cruiser, to the passenger side, interposing the vehicles between himself and the highway.

“Ma’am,” he leered at me, groping at his impressive bulge. “Put your arms behind your back and slowly approach my side of the vehicle.”

His voice was so stern, so commanding, that my pussy gushed. My nipples responded to my inner lust, growing hard and sensitive. Every step towards him caused the thin, soft fabric of my shirt to rub them into tingling jolts of pleasure.

“Face the car and spread your legs,” he commanded, although the big smile on his face belayed his stern voice.

“Gladly,” I cooed.

As soon as I had turned, he forced my head onto the sun-warmed metal, his feet kicking my legs further apart. I moaned in pleasure, sticking my ass out as far as I could.

He firmly, roughly grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back, his breath growing ragged. I heard the jangling of metal, abruptly followed by cold, hard steel, clicking around my wrists. He had handcuffed me!

Feeling his hard cock pressing into my ass, shoving my entire body against the side of his car, his hands groped at my sides, traveling under my shirt, kneading and squeezing my flesh.

“Harder,” I begged, “I need police brutality.”

I moaned excitedly when his hands grabbed my breasts. He was rough, pinching my nipples, squeezing them, tugging on them. I ground my ass against his hardness in return, moaning, feeling my sex dripping down my legs.

“Any concealed weapons?”

His hands pushed me over the hood of his car, bending me over.

“Don’t move, or I’ll haul your ass in.”

Beginning at my ankles, he groped, caressed, and stroked all over my legs, then flipped my skirt over my back, exposing my ass to the world. A few cars drove past, the passengers looking at the scene on the side of the road. They couldn’t see what was really going on. To their eyes, a sexy redhead was being handcuffed by a police officer.

His finger jammed into my cunt, making me weak in the knees. “So fucking wet,” he observed. My arresting officer fingered me to the brink of orgasm.

“So fucking close,” I screamed. “I’m going to cum.”

The bastard stopped. I felt him shift position and heard some rustling behind me. “Now a cavity search to make sure you’re clean,” his harsh tone panted. I glanced behind me and he had lowered his uniform pants, revealing a nice, thick cock, all for me.

“Yes, please, yes. Fucking take me.”

I felt the head of his hard cock rub against my cunt lips. I didn’t want gentleness, I needed to be fucked. His orders disobeyed, I lifted myself off of the hood of his car, thrusting my aching pussy onto his cock.

He got the hint and drove his cock deep into me. I was so wet that there was no resistance. His moan mingled with my ecstatic scream.

Forcing my body back onto the hood, he lectured me, fucking me hard, fast, and deep from behind. He ended every word with a deep thrust. “Speeding, resisting arrest, indecent exposure, being a slut.“ The word "slut" got me a few extra hard, deep thrusts.

“Fuck your slut, make me pay for my crimes. Fucking harder!”

“You like it rough, don’t you? You like being fucked on the side of the road, bent over my cruiser.”

“Pistol whip me! Fuck me with your nightstick! Fucking fuck me; I love your cock. Harder.”

Cuffed as I was, I couldn’t finger my clit. Luckily, my policeman took care of that. His hand abused my aching clit, exactly how I wanted. “Show me that you respect the law,” he commanded.

“Fucking cumming,” I announced as an intense orgasm ripped through my body. My pleasured convulsions were so intense that I pulled the muscles in my arms and shoulders, spasming against the restraints.

He pummeled my cunt into another orgasm, overpowering my body. I ended up on my knees, his cock slipping out of me as my second orgasm overtook me. Then, he removed the cuffs.

“Turn and face your punishment,” he commanded. His handsome face was red from exertion and lust, sweat pouring down his cheeks.

”I’m under a gag order,” I laughed, taking his hard cock, covered in my cum, and plunging my mouth down on it until I had engulfed the entire length.

I worked his cock as if I were starved for cum. My hands kneaded his balls as I pumped my lips up and down his shaft, my tongue swirling and whirling all along the length. Sucking as hard as I could, I pumped him with my mouth until I felt his balls tighten. By then, his hands were on my head, furiously pulling my mouth over his cock.

I felt the first spurt hit the back of my throat, and I kept on pumping and sucking, my hands squeezing his scrotum as hard as he had handled my clit. His cum dripped from my lips, as he pulled back, shooting all over my face, neck, shirt, and hair. I pumped him for all he had, then plunged my mouth over his shrinking cock and sucked every last drop from the shaft.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he brushed the dirt from my cum-covered clothes.

“If I had known that this was punishment for speeding, I wouldn’t have slowed down at that turn,” I laughed.

“How fast were you going?” he asked with dismay.

“Let’s just say that the only thing faster than that car is me. I appreciate you getting me off with a warning. Have a nice day, sir.”

He laughed and bade me a good day and to drive safely. I returned to the car and drove off, driving under the speed limit for at least another mile.