42 Filthy Fucking Stories (58 page)

A silver jag flew by, but it was only going 62 MPH, so Blake let it go. Seven miles over the speed limit wasn’t worth the stop. Besides, it was a woman, and Blake didn’t like to ticket women unless they were going fast enough to deserve it.
 

Fucking slow today.

Blake looked at his watch, waiting patiently as several more cars flew by, all within a reasonable speed.
 

He was stationed at his favorite spot, a small rise where he could tuck himself discreetly behind the shade of a tree and wait.
 

At 3:00 in the afternoon, he was nearly invisible.
 

Blake felt a twitch in his dick, which annoyed him. An overproduction of cum meant he needed to jerk off or fuck three or four times a day. That was great for one night stands, who were always more than happy to sit a few times around the carousel, but not so great for long term relationships.

He had yet to find a girl who could keep up with his raging libido. Blake was too much, no matter how much they liked what he had. It was only a matter of time before they caught him jerking off. The first couple of times were always fine, but by the third or fourth, girls usually thought he was sick, or that there was something wrong with him, even though he was healthy as an ox and sane as the day was long.
 

He tried to be careful about when he did it, but he did it so often, getting caught by a regular girlfriend was usually only a matter of time.

A couple of times it had worked out well, like the time he thought his girlfriend, Leslie, had left the house, but was still in the kitchen grabbing herself a snack. She walked back in the bedroom to give Blake a final goodbye and found him whacking away. She dropped to her knees, pulled her tee-shirt over her head, then told Blake to cum on her tits. Blake was turned on as fuck, of course. So was she. But after the third time she caught him, both were only embarrassed.
 

Most mornings Blake would jack at home to relieve the tension which always built up overnight, even if he’d had sex the evening before. It was less compulsion than physical need. Once his cock started filling with cum, the buzzing could drive him crazy, so he tried to tend to himself as often as he could, including just an hour earlier, before the start of his afternoon shift.
 

Because Blake had an extensive, active, and creative imagination he never needed visual stimulation when tossing the spunk. He’d take a shower standing in front of the mirror, imagining one of the hundreds of women he’d fucked, or one of the countless women he’d pulled over and never had the chance to. He’d caress his balls and stroke his cock, running his hand up and down, then around the twins, always cumming in less than a minute.

Despite the overproduction of cum, Blake’s loads were always massive. He liked to shoot his spew on the mirror, then wipe it with Windex, though he’d been caught doing that a couple of times, which was a million times more embarrassing than simply getting caught with a shaft in the palm. Of course, shooting his cock snot into a gorgeous woman’s mouth, or inside her pussy always felt better, and was so much neater, but sometimes, most of the times, it simply wasn’t possible.
 

Blake could hold out for a long time when actually having sex, but had trained his imagination so well that holding out was hard to do without an actual real person in front of him.
 

Pay dirt!

Blake was pulled from his thoughts as a woman in a red Maserati blew by at 80 MPH. He shook himself from his mounting fantasy, looked behind him, then blasted after her.
 

She must’ve seen him as soon as he pulled behind her, because the Maserati’s red light’s flashed, lightly, as though she was just tapping the brake so as not to appear too obvious.
 

But she was way too late, and the radar gun didn’t know how to lie.
 

Blake flipped on his lights, and lightly brayed his siren. The woman pulled to the side of the road and threw on her hazards.
 

Half because he was already in the tangled thick of a budding fantasy when she blasted by, and half because it was the way he was wired, Blake’s dick was painfully thick, and getting thicker as he imagined the hot piece of ass behind the wheel.

In Blake’s experience, a woman who drove a car like that was the sort with plenty of money for regular haircuts, time at the gym, and the sort of facials that came with soft music in the background and left their skin creamy, rather than tissues on the nightstand because their skin had been creamed.

Blake told his baby maker to stop twitching, parked the bike, then approached the woman’s window and asked her to kill her engine. She did, immediately, then looked up at Officer Piccolo with wide doe-eyes filled with the hope that he wouldn’t give her a ticket.
 

But giving her a ticket was Officer Piccolo’s job.
 

And fucking A, Blake though, she wasn’t just Maserati hot, she was a Ferrari’s worth of fire, making his cock throb dangerously close to blastoff. She had shiny brunette hair, cut evenly enough to look like a curtain. Blake imagined it draped around his dick as she opened her pink lips and licked him like a lollipop, then opened her mouth wider, lowering herself over his shaft, up and down – slowly at first – then with increasing speed until he flooded her gullet with spunk.

Blake could feel the cum building at the base of his cock as the tension in his body continued to rise. If he didn’t wrench his attention away from the fantasy, he’d embarrass himself, along with the rest of the force.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
 

The woman nodded. “I was going 80 in a 55. Sorry. New cars give me a lead foot.” She smiled, then handed him her license and registration.”

Fuck, she was hot. And honest.
 

Cream and fucking sugar.
 

Blake looked over her license and registration, then back to her doe-eyes. It was rare to see a great driver’s license photo. Hers was a knockout.
 

His temperature was close to a boil, and his cock so hard he had to lower his clipboard to cover it. He coughed, said, “Excuse me,” then went back to check
Ms. Krissy Riley’s
license on his computer.
 

The entire time he was checking her license, Blake kept stealing glances at the gorgeous red car and the knockout behind the wheel.
 

She checked out clean, and he slowly returned to the car.
 

Krissy Riley had both of her arms and hands on the top of the side panel of the car, looking tastier than a Krispy Kreme. He tried to pull himself out of his fantasy, but couldn’t.

He’d ask her to a nice local bar, then after a couple of glasses of wine they’d walk to his place. After a hot and heavy kissing session outside, he’d invite her inside. More wine, or whatever the hell she wanted, then he’d sit beside her with the soft music painting their background as he kissed her deeply beneath the dim lights. He would kiss her tits, move to her pussy, then put himself inside her and make her scream, like every woman did, before filling her with a bucket of cum.

Blake had to suck the drool from his lip as he reached into the Maserati and saw that Ms. Riley wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were nearly spilling from the top of her dress, which made his cock twitch at the thought of laying her on one of his soft rugs and squeezing her tits together, then fucking her fun bags until she caught his throat yogurt in her mouth.

A groan escaped his lips.
 

Krissy Riley smiled. “What? Are you all right, officer? Is something wrong?”

Blake took a large step back, distancing himself from her lips. He could smell her arousal, making things even worse.
 

He was one proposition and two minutes away from her taking his load.
 

“Ah...you check out clean, Ms. Riley. I just have to write you a ticket for speeding. I suggest you pay it right away so there’ll be no bother with anyone contacting you.” Blake smiled. “If you have any questions my badge number is on the top of the ticket.”

“Officer, isn’t there anything we can do about this? There must be some way I can show you I’ve learned my lesson.”

Goddammit, she was hot. And the way she twirled the word
lesson
around her tongue, Blake was certain she’d never paid for a ticket in her life. But he wasn’t going to let her go, and wasn’t going to trade it for sex. He liked his job too much to do that.
 

Blake was silent, as she leaned toward him, bending just enough so he could see the dusty pink of her areola.
 

He had to give her the ticket and get the fuck back on his bike before he came in his pants.
 

She was a sure thing, all he had to do was agree. He could picture her, legs splayed in a V as he tasted her perfectly trimmed pussy – probably tended to every other week in some fancy pants salon – the feeling of her hot and hungry mouth on his dick as she cupped his balls, squeezing them gently.
 

In his head, Blake channeled his tongue between the flaps of her fuck folds, exploring her insides until her juices flowed down his chin. He’d drive her to a screaming orgasm as he felt the tension building in his cock and balls. He’d cum in her mouth, then do what he loved best – relax for a few minutes, then lay her flat on her back, her eyes growing wide with pleasure as he shoved his massive cock inside her.
 

Blake was so deep into his fantasy, and even though Krissy Riley was still talking, all he could do was imagine her asking, “Hey, Officer Piccolo, how about I let you eat my asshole? All you have to do is not write me that ticket.”
 

But he couldn’t do that.
 

Blake handed her the ticket and repeated, “I’m gonna have to write you a ticket for speeding. I’d love it if you could get down to the station right away, so I can contact you.”

“And why would you want to contact me?” she smiled, brushing her hand across her breast.
 

FUCK.
 

Blake stammered, then found his confidence. “Because I have to give you a ticket, it’s my job. Fortunately, I’m sure you can afford it. But I promise on my pension, I can do all the things you would’ve let me do to get out of the ticket. You’ll beg for more, and be happy to pay it again.”

He wasn’t sure whether or not Krissy Riley would slap him or not, but she laughed out loud, lightly slapped the steering wheel instead of his face, then opened her mouth in a wide O to show Blake how well she’d be able to swallow his cock. “Okay, Officer Piccolo,” she said. “I’ll be certain to contact you if I have any questions. I hope you’re able to take care of that little problem behind your clipboard. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

Blake looked down, his face bleeding pink. “Have a great day, Ms. Riley,” he said.

She smiled once more, gunned her engine, glanced over her shoulder, and then in the rearview, and pulled her Maserati onto the empty road.

Blake signed, then smiled as he walked stiffly to his bike. It would be damn hard to ride with his massive fatty, so he’d have to risk a quick rub.
 

Road traffic was light and so far, no drivers had passed. Blake reached into the small compartment on the back of his bike, then removed a clean rag he’d use to polish his knob instead of the gleaming metal of his bike.

He took one final look around the deserted road, then took the rag with one hand, made sure he was facing the bike, unzipped his pants, and wrapped his hand around the small tree trunk of his cock. He was jacking his shaft for only a few seconds before he was spilling his cum into the rag, shooting tension in a violent blast from his body.
 

Blake tucked his dick back into his pants, zipped up, then threw the rag into a nearby roadside trash container.

x

Four days later and off duty, Blake sat alone in a local bar.
 
He’d been so busy that there’d been no chance of having sex with a real woman, so he’d been battling the purple headed yogurt slinger morning, noon and night.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, then heard the purr of an engine as someone idled a powerful vehicle in front of the bar. Blake’s cock jumped along with his heart as Krissy Riley entered the room, looked around, then sat on the stool beside him, her thigh brushing against his.

“Paid your ticket, Ms. Riley?”

“Yes, right away, Officer Piccolo.”

He sighed. “That’s great, Ms. Riley. I’m glad you could make it.”

“I think we can move beyond the formalities, Officer Piccolo.
 
May I call you Blake?”

“Absolutely. May I call you Krissy?”

She smiled. “As long as you call me.”

“Well, introductions are over. What would you like to do now?” he asked, trying to stare at her shiny black hair, deep brown eyes and perfect heart-shaped face, instead of the large tits spilling from her silky dress.”

“Let’s fuck,” she whispered in his ear.

XXX