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“I’m not gonna make it. I’m not gonna make it,” I mumbled to myself. I was racing down the interstate and even though I was going 85 in a 55 mile-per-hour zone, I was going to be late to work. “Even if I got on a helicopter, I’d still be late,” I murmured.

I was passing cars left and right when suddenly I looked up into my rear view mirror and I saw him. His white police cruiser had its lights flashing and once I turned my radio down I could hear his siren blaring. He was hot on my tail and I cursed out loud. Now I knew for sure I was going to be late.

I slowed down, signaled, and moved into the right lane. I continued over until I was on the shoulder of the road and I stopped, rolling my window down. Heat from the morning rolled in, already competing with my frosty air conditioner. Today was to be a scorcher, and it was already hot out.

I blinked a couple times, looking at him in my rear view mirror where he sat in his cruiser behind me. My heart was thundering in my chest. This was so unlike me, driving so fast, but I’d been warned – I’d already been written up once for my tardy arrivals at my job. I really couldn’t afford any more.

But today I had blown it.

Big time.

I sat, waiting for him to come up to my car to have a chat with me. He was still in his cruiser, probably running my plate through his system. I didn’t have much to worry about there – I had a pretty squeaky-clean record. I’d gotten a warning once about a year ago but that was for a burnt out taillight. And, I usually drove close to the speed limit.


I watched through the rear view mirror as he got out of his cruiser. He was a nicely built guy, but he was taking his time, and he finally slowly sauntered towards me. When he finally did appear outside my driver’s side window, I was a nervous mess.

I looked over into his handsome face and into his aviator sunglasses that reflected myself, and I could see what he saw: I was a pretty average sized woman, five foot seven and around 160 lbs. I was wearing a red sundress with white polka dots on it that came a little bit above my knees. My legs were bare and I was wearing strappy sandals. My golden-brown hair was piled up on my head and I’d even swiped on some lipstick earlier. After all, it was Friday and on Fridays the dress code at work was thrown out the window. My lack of pantyhose and my bared toes proved that.

He disarmed me with a smile, and he was slow-chewing a piece of chewing gum. “Ma’am, license and registration, please,” he said.

I nodded and fumbled in my purse that was on the passenger seat beside me. My hands shook as I took my license out and handed it to him.

“My registration is in the…the…the thing,” I said, pointing, not being able to find the right word.

“In the glovebox?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Go ahead and grab it,” he said.

I did, though it took me a few seconds to find it as I had to dig through a bunch of clean napkins and tissues and around my car manual and through my oil change receipts.

Finally I handed it to him too, and he took it. “Be right back,” he said. “Hold tight,” he added, and he slowly walked back to his vehicle.

I sat twiddling my thumbs. My car was mine and not stolen, and my driver’s license said I weighed 145 pounds when I no longer did, but that wasn’t a crime. I sighed. My cell phone on the passenger seat rang and I noticed that it was my boss. I cringed, not answering it. I figured I needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. As a habit I checked my watch. I was late for sure now.

The cop was gone for several more tortuous minutes. Finally he came back and he handed my license and registration back to me. “Everything checks out, ma’am, but I have to ask why you were going 90 in a 55 mph zone?” he said.

“85,” I said.

“What?” He said.

“I wasn’t going 90. I was going 85,” I said.

He grinned another huge smile at me. “85, then,” he said.

“I’m late to work?” I said.

He shook his head, still slow-chewing his gum and he shot me another grin. “If you had left fifteen minutes earlier you’d have been to work early and would have gotten there much safer,” he told me.

I nodded. “I know. I’ll do that in the future,” I said.

To my horror he brought out his ticket book.

“Are you writing me a ticket?!” I gasped.

He nodded. “You were going quite fast, ma’am,” he said.

I put my hand over my mouth. It seemed like everything in my house was breaking. I’d had to replace my water heater, my washer, and my air conditioner all last month. I truly didn’t have any extra cash for a ticket. In fact, I was going to have a pretty hefty credit card bill the next time it came in the mail.

I explained my problem to him. He took his sunglasses off and looked down at me. He stared at me for a few seconds, and then his brown eyes began to wander. Was he looking at my breasts? Then his eyes moved down to…to maybe my bare knees?

I frowned. Was this cop checking me out?

He put his arm up and leaned on my car door and he smiled again. “I’ll tell you what. Pendik Escort I’ll make a deal with you,” he said.

“Um. Okay?” I said.

“Follow me,” he said.

Bewildered, I watched as he got back into his cruiser. He drove around me and I followed him back out onto the interstate. He took the very next exit.

He drove to an older suburban neighborhood and pulled into the driveway of a little one story white house. I pulled in behind him and cut my engine. I got out when he did.

“What are we doing here?” I asked him. I walked up to him and he was several inches taller than I was. I had to shade my eyes from the sun to see him.

“If you want me to forget the ticket, you’ll need to do me a favor.”

I felt my eyebrows knitting together as I frowned. “A what?” I asked, wondering if I had heard him correctly.

He nodded. “A favor,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked him.

He smiled at me. “Come closer,” he said.

I leaned in a little towards him. He motioned me to come in a little closer still. When I did, he leaned in and put his lips right next to my ear.

“Fuck me, and I’ll forget the ticket,” he said.

I reared back and my eyebrows shot up so high they almost flew off my face.

He just grinned at me.

“Did you say what I think you just said?” I hissed.

He just shrugged. “Fuck me and I’ll forget it,” he said again.

“This…I mean…the rules…you have to be breaking about a hundred rules asking me to do that!” I spluttered.

“What can I say?” He said. “I’m a rule-breaker. I like to drive 90 on the interstate too,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I wasn’t going 90, I was going 85. And if you think…if…if…well, I am not going to fuck you just to get out of a…a like what, a 200 dollar speeding ticket?” I said.

He threw his head back and laughed long and loud. The sound was deep and jovial and it echoed off of the mature trees all around us. “Who said it was only going to be 200 dollars?” He finally said.

I just looked at him, a little confused.

“You were speeding through a construction zone,” he said. “So we’re talking more like a grand,” he said. “Maybe even jail time,” he said.

My jaw fell open. “One thousand dollars?!” I squeaked. “Jail?!”

He chuckled. “Yep,” he said.

“But I can’t…I mean…it’s too…” I spluttered.

He looked at me again. “Like I already told you: Fuck me and I’ll forget all about it,” he said.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I blinked. One thousand dollars? Jail?! Was he kidding me?

“Let me get this straight,” I said. Pointing at him. “If I…” I paused.

“Fuck me,” he supplied.


“Forget the ticket. Yeah,” he said again.

“But…h-how…and when?” I asked.

“Right now,” he said with a nod.

“Where? Right here?!” I demanded, looking around the quiet neighborhood. Surely he didn’t mean in the back of his cruiser!

He nodded towards the little house that was behind him. “In there,” he said.

“You’re…you’re serious, aren’t you?” I said.

He nodded slowly, shooting me another wide-mouthed grin.

I stuck my pointer finger out and it landed on his chest. “Just a minute. You’re not some kind of a…a weirdo serial killer…are you?” I asked him. “You don’t lure unsuspecting women in there and then kill them and skin them and turn their flesh into a suit…do you?”

He laughed long and loudly again. “Not even a little bit,” he said.

We stared at each other for a few more seconds. “Come on,” he said, turning and walking up to the front door. “It’ll be fun,” he said.

One thousand dollars, I thought. And jail? I shuddered.

Begrudgingly, I followed after him.


He unlocked the front door and I followed him inside. It was dark and quiet and thankfully cool inside his house. There were a few beer cans on the coffee table along with some men’s magazines and a Playboy. He had a huge TV on one wall with multiple remote controls scattered around on the coffee table. He had classic movie posters all over the living room walls: Jaws, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Rocky, and The Godfather, among a few others. His couch looked second hand and so did his rocking chair and recliner.

His house, if it were a poem, would be called: “Ode to a Single Bachelor.”

He sighed the sigh of a man who was home for the evening, though curiously, it was in the early morning. He must work the night shift, I figured.

I followed him into the tiny kitchen and watched as he grabbed a clear glass down from a cabinet. He filled it up 3/4 of the way with tap water and, still standing at the sink, took a big drink.

He glanced at me. “Thirsty?” He asked.

I just shrugged. “Sure.”

He got down an identical glass and filled it similarly. He pushed it towards me and I drank. It was city water, I could tell. We both eyed each other as we drank our water.

He put his empty glass on the counter. “Come on,” he said. “You can leave your purse in here,” he said, indicating the mail-cluttered Kurtköy Escort kitchen table.

He started down the hallway. I put my purse down on the table next to my half-full glass of water, and I slowly walked after him.

We passed a small bathroom in the hallway that I peeked inside as we went by, and then we were in his little bedroom.

The bedroom was almost pitch dark due to his blackout curtains. He turned on the light and I glanced around. He had a queen sized bed with black sheets and a black comforter. His bed was unmade. He had a nightstand and there was another Playboy magazine and a bottle of hand lotion and a box of Kleenex on it. I cringed when I saw all of that. Obviously he self-pleasured, and wasn’t shy about it.

He had a large dresser that he walked over to. He took off his police tactical belt and dropped the entire thing on the top of the dresser with a loud clunk.

He turned and looked at me. “Don’t touch my gun,” he said. “It’s not a toy,” he added.

I held my hands up and out. “Didn’t plan on it,” I said.

He started taking off his clothes. “What are you doing?” I asked him, taking a step backwards from him.

He grinned. “Gonna go take a shower. My shift just ended and I’m sweaty,” he said.

He made a half-hearted wave towards his bed. “Get comfortable. I won’t be too long,” he said. He stripped down to his tighty-whities and tossed his uniform into the corner of the room. Then he disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom.

I glanced at his police belt where he’d just discarded it. Was he crazy?! I thought to myself. He had just left his gun and taser and nightstick and…and handcuffs…right where I could just grab them!

Or maybe I was crazy for thinking that. I wasn’t here to shoot the man. I was here to…to…

I heard the pipes groan in the house as he turned on the water in the shower.

I sat on his bed and on his messy sheets. I felt weird doing that so I got up and made his bed and then I sat back down. I picked up the Playboy and thumbed through it. The centerfold was a bleach-blonde, fake-boobed girl with fake nails and a ‘come at me, boys’ kind of look on her face. I frowned. Was this what guys wanted? I sure missed the mark. I looked closer at her. Her inner pussy lips were even held open on their own somehow…and all I could think of was that they must have used museum putty or sticky tack to achieve that feat.

I chuckled to myself.

I then remembered that my phone had rung in the car. I went back into the kitchen to my purse to grab it to see if my boss had left a message from before.

It just so happened to be ringing again as I unzipped my purse, and it was my boss again.

“Where are you?” She asked me. “You’re late,” she quipped.

“Um…I’m running a fever,” I supplied. “I meant to call in earlier but I fell back asleep,” I lied.

“You have no more PTO,” my boss said.

“I know. But I feel like crap,” I said, coughing a fake cough. “I’m throwing up, too. Trust me. You don’t want me there,” I said.

My boss sighed. “Okay. I hope you get well quickly,” she said tersely, and she hung up.

I sighed. Lying wasn’t my forte and she probably could tell I wasn’t being truthful. But telling her I was about to fuck a cop whose name I didn’t even know – just to get out of a speeding ticket – wasn’t a good idea either.

I went to put my phone back into my purse when something pink inside of it caught my eye. Oh. It was my vibrator. I had stuck it into my purse so I would remember to buy batteries for it. I’d put my last fresh pair into it a couple days ago. Now I tried it out – and it hummed and shook like mad – so I turned it off again.

I went back into the bedroom with my vibrator and sat back down on the bed. I checked my watch. Had fifteen minutes passed by already?

The shower turned off and then all was quiet.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this, I thought.

The cop made his way back into the bedroom with just a blue towel wrapped around his waist. He chuckled. “When I said get comfortable, I meant get naked,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I didn’t know that’s what you meant,” I said.

He just grinned and dropped his towel.

“Jesus Christ!” I said in surprise.

The man was built all over and now he was even glistening with water droplets. Strong arms, near perfectly flat stomach, strong legs, and a dick that seemed to be interested in me. It started to rise as I looked at it.

“What’s that?” He asked me.

“Huh?” I said, slow-dragging my eyes up his body and to his face.

“That pink thing on the bed,” he said.

“Oh. It’s my vibrator,” I said.

He laughed out loud. “You carry it with you?” He then asked me incredulously.

“Only to remember to buy new batteries for it,” I said, flushing a bit.

“Phhht,” he said. “We don’t need that, anyway,” he said, waving his hand through the air. “But still…” He impulsively walked over, grabbed it, and turned it on. It buzzed and jumped in his hand. He turned it back off and tossed it onto Maltepe Escort his dresser right next to his gun belt. “Nope. Don’t need it,” he stated.

I chuckled. “Unless you have a magical dick, yeah, we do,” I said.

He crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at me. “I’ve never needed a vibrator during sex before,” he said.

I snorted. “It’s not for you,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, smartass. But you won’t need it either,” he said.

“So your dick’s name is ‘Merlin’, then?” I said with a smirk.

He laughed at my joke.

“You never told me your name,” I said.

“It’s Sean,” he said.


“Sophia Emerson,” he said. “486 Turner Road. Red Toyota Camry,” he said. “And you’re seven years older than me,” he said.

I closed my mouth. Of course he knew my name. As well as everything else about me.

But still…

“Seven years?” I said, aghast. I was 42. So that made him…35. He was no baby, but he was in his prime. I felt like the slightly spoiled banana he had in his kitchen.

He nodded, then shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” He said.

“Easy for you to say,” I scoffed.

“It’s a turn on. I like older women,” he said.

“You do?” I asked.

“Hot older women, sure,” he said with a grin.

I couldn’t tell if he was telling me the truth or not. Still, I guess an age fetish could be a thing.

“So. Are you ready for ‘Merlin’?” He asked me, with a tilt of his head and a smirk of his mouth.

I chuckled but I also flushed. Suddenly I felt flustered.

I was no stranger to sex.

But I was not all that familiar with stranger sex.

I’d been married before while in my early to mid 30’s, but I’d known my husband for five good years before we had even dated. My divorce three years ago pretty much closed the door to sex for me, unfortunately. I wasn’t promiscuous, and I figured that since I was pushing 45, I was now too old to be.

“It’s been…awhile,” I told him.

His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah? How much of a while?”

“Well, since things went to shit with my husband, and then the divorce. So around five years.”

His mouth dropped open. “Doesn’t a divorce mean you can have more – not less – sex?”

“Only if you have a supplier,” I chuckled.

He grinned. “Well. You’re probably primed to have about a million orgasms,” he said. “You’ll probably go off like a firecracker when Merlin touches you,” he said.

I chuckled.

Sean walked in close and sat down on the bed next to me. “You made my bed?” He asked.

I nodded.

He grinned. “It’s just gonna get messed up again. I doubt there will be any sheets left on it when I’m through with you,” he said.

I flushed a little more.

He placed his hand on my knee. It was warm and big. “Do people call you Sophie?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Come on, Sophie. Stand up and show me your panties,” he grinned. “Are they sexy? Or grannies?”

I rolled my eyes, but I stood, and I – very hesitantly – pulled up my sundress. I did it slowly more out of embarrassment than anything else.

“Wow,” he said, his eyes bright when he saw them. “Turn around,” he said.

I did. I was wearing lacy dark blue panties that hugged my hips and rode low in the front. But they rode really high in the back so that most of my ass cheeks hung out.

I glanced behind me and his hand was on his cock and he was lightly stroking it. “Wow. There’s a lot that I wanna do to that ass,” He said.

I chuckled.

He grinned. “Come here,” he said.

I turned back around, still holding my sundress up, and I took a step towards him and he put his hands on my hips. With a small tug my panties were skimming down my legs.

“You shave!” He said delightedly, looking at me.

I nodded. It wasn’t that I was necessarily shaving to be sexy. Just that all that hair down there was annoying. I always took the clippers to my bush every couple weeks or so just to keep it manageable.

“I do too,” he said, glancing down. I could see that he also groomed. He didn’t have any hair on his chest, for that matter, either.

He looked back up at me with a grin and he stood up. “Kiss me…Sophie,” he said.

We both leaned in at the same time and our noses bumped. He automatically turned his head to the side, and then our mouths fit together properly.

“Mmm,” he moaned. The deep sound made my nipples harden and peak within my bra.

He was naturally a leader and a good kisser to boot. I followed his lips as he kissed and kissed me, his tongue coming out to play with mine.

“Damn,” he said. “I like how you kiss,” he told me. He nodded to the bed. “Hop on,” he urged.

I untied my sandals, got onto the bed on my knees, and moved to the center. He followed, slowly crawling after me, his cock hard and pointing up between his legs.

His dick wasn’t huge…he was more of an average size and length. I wasn’t sure that Merlin was a very good name for it.

“Jeff” was maybe more appropriate.

He kissed me again and leaned over me, causing me to lie back on the pillows. He smelled amazing – his body wash or shampoo or cologne or the combination of all three made my head start to swim. I put my hands on his sides and he felt soft yet muscular – his recent shower leaving squeaky-clean skin under my fingertips.

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