Chapter 2: Speed Trap
Sarah had been bored since she'd come on duty.
Sitting in her squad car, she had been going over the reasons she had wanted to become a police officer. There was the idea of helping people. And there was the personal reward of making her town a safer place. But the main reason she had signed up was for some excitement.
Boy had she been wrong on that count. She hadn't seen any action since she had graduated the academy and come home to Thompson, her hometown.
She had been assigned to patrol Hwy 9 for most of that time after offending the chief on her first day. He had tried to give her a strip search, and she'd kneed him in the groin in response.
Rather than filing sexual harassment charges, she told the chief she'd let it slide if he backed off. He agreed - after he got up off the ground.
But now she was paying the price. Traffic patrol was necessary, she knew. And every once in a while, there was the chance to bust drug traffickers or to be involved in a high-speed chase - or so she had been told.
That hadn't happened though, and she was wondering when she would have the chance to patrol the town. At least there she would be able to see some of the townspeople and maybe get some positive reinforcement.
Growing up in Thompson, Sarah had been known as the town's wild child - a reputation she had readily encouraged in most parts of the community. But now, as an adult, she wanted to shed that image.
She could still be wild in private (never a problem for her, her boyfriends found out), but her public persona was going to change. But it wasn't going to change sitting in a car behind a billboard waiting for speeders.
Absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel to the beat of a Violent Femmes song stuck in her head, she had almost spilled her coffee when the little black Honda Civic blew past her, narrowly missing the sign and the front of her sedan.
After securing her coffee and calling in to dispatch, she gunned the motor and was on the Civic's tail. To her disappointment, though, she hadn't even turned on her lights before the car was on the roadside.
"Damn," Sarah cursed to herself. "I thought I was going to get to open this thing up for once."
Pulling in behind the Civic, she flipped the lights and turned on the car's loudspeaker, saying "Driver, please place both hands on the wheel."
* * *
James had barely begun to collect himself when he saw the lights and heard the police cruiser's PA system.
The officer's request presented a problem. His cock was slowly going down after cumming just moments before, but it was not limp enough to be shoved back into his pants yet.
It wasn't often a man would curse good staying power, but this was one occasion he couldn't help himself. Karma be damned.
On the other hand, James didn't want to be shot because the officer - who sounded female over the loudspeaker - mistook him putting away his junk for a suspect fishing for a weapon. The dusky light played tricks on people and she would only see the upper half of his body fiddling around with something below her sight line.
Reluctantly, he did as the voice requested and just hoped the officer had a sense of humor and wasn't offended by the cum that was dripping down his shirt and pants.
In his driver side rearview mirror, James could see the officer approach. And even dusk was quickly approaching dark, he could make out her silhouette. Not bad.
* * *
Sarah approached the car cautiously, with her hand on her revolver. She'd been taught to treat all stops as though they could go wrong any moment - because they could.
This could be a drunk driver, or an amphetamine junky. He - she thought it was a he as she approached - could be transporting drugs, or guns, or have warrants.
This could be one of any number of scenarios she had trained for. But when she reached the driver's side door, she realized this was something totally different.
She had to suppress a giggle as she stared down at the scene caught in her flashlight beam. Here was a man with a semi-hard cock pulled through his pants, cum on his shirt and a look on his face that said "I can explain, but I know I am fucked."
On some men, this scene would have made them seem pitiful - and it did somewhat with this guy as well - but he had a couple of things going for him.
First, he was cute. A little older, with graying temples and a few wrinkles, he had a Sean Connery/Paul Newman sort of attractiveness about him. He could have been one of her father's friends.
But the second thing he had going for him - one she couldn't imagine her father's friends having - was his cock. It was rapidly deflating due to the pressure of the situation, but even in its withering state, it was still meaty and, she estimated, six inches long.
She imagined what it would look like fully erect and then decided she'd have to find out.
"So, you got a license for that thing?" she asked.
* * *
James felt a wave of relief wash over him as the officer spoke. He had felt a little self-conscious with her shining a light in his crotch, not realizing why it had lingered there.
