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Your Boyfriend Fucks Me, Too: A Sex Trilogy, Pt. 2

He’s already got his cock out.  It’s okay.  I can work with it.  He won’t open his belt, or unbutton the top of his jeans, so I have to suck him through his fly; something that is typically less than ideal.  I drop my stuff on the floor of the passenger side and assume the position.  There’s more room in the cab of his truck, so I don’t feel quite so awkward this time, on all fours in the well.  He’s grabbing for my junk.  I’m sucking on his.  In the back of my mind I’m already hoping for a quick ending. 
He’s grabbing my nips and pinching them slightly.  I return the favor and discover his are pierced.  He moans.  His bod is not in bad shape.  I like his fur.  Something about his moaning mouth makes me want to kiss him, and I do.  Smoker’s breath.  Ugh.  One of my least favorite things in the world.  A shame, too, because he’s an eager, generous kisser.  Mentally, I hold my nose and keep sucking face with him. 
Things escalate quickly.  As we kiss, he works his hand into the back of my jeans and fingers my hole.  Well, shades of twenty minutes ago, am I right?  I shuck down my jeans and resume my place in the well of the passenger seat with my naked ass in the air.  He wets an index finger with his mouth and drives his finger in me.  His dick is hard.  Hard to tell exactly how big it is, because of his jeans, but it’s enough to keep me busy.  His finger dives deep and something in me clicks. I want to get fucked.  I move in and deep kiss him again.  Without much beyond grunts and moans passing between us, we end up on the same wavelength.  He wants to fuck me, too.  And eat my ass.  Fine.  I untie my boots, shuck off my jeans and underwear.  This will allow me the spread and dexterity I will need to straddle him.  But first he wants to eat my ass. I turn it every which way I can, kneeling on the passenger seat, but the angle is all wrong and we abandon the idea.  I am just about to straddle him when… we see a white SUV approaching.  I plop back in the seat and grab my pants.  A quick glance up and I realize… It’s the PARK POLICE!
So, of course I can’t get back into my tight jeans quickly.  The black underwear I had on in wrapped around one of my ankles.  I struggle into the Jeans.  The space next to me is open and all the Park Police have to do is come up alongside us and they will catch me wiggling into my jeans. 
But they don’t.
They back into a space behind us.  WTF?  So they are watching us from a good six yards or so. I slip back into my pants and get my boots back on.  What to do?  Drive, I tell him.  Where? Just go.  We will leave and come back.  What if they stop us?  For what?  Sitting together in a car?  As we leave, I get the sinking feeling that I am leaving having left the doors of my car unlocked.
We leave the park.  They do not follow. We cross the freeway and move along a frontage road that mirrors the park.  The Park Police are still where we left them and something tells me they are watching our every move. We crawl along the frontage road and I tell him to pull into the parking lot of one of those multiple-business brick buildings.  We park.  By this point, I am pretty much put back together.  No coat and I wrestle my underwear from around my ankle and hold it in my hand.  We laugh.  Just a bit.  We’re still not out of the woods. 
We don’t stay put long.  We crawl along the parking lot, parallel to the park.  They’re gone.  Yay.  Sigh of relief.  We chat as we drive back.  Just as we’re crossing the freeway, entering the park, I spot the white SUV parked at the opposite end of the park.  My stomach sinks.  Time to abandon ship.  I tell him to drop me in the closest parking lot.  I get out and head down a hill, walking in the snow, headed toward a blacktop pathway.  No coat on, carrying my underwear in my hand.  I don’t look back… until.  “Hey, you!  Stop right there.”
It’s one of the officers.  It’s the big fat one who likes to run through the underbrush in summer, huffing and puffing and not fooling anybody.  This dude is the worst cop ever.  He asks what I’m doing.  I tell him I’m walking back to my car.  I stay weirdly cool… like mean cool.  Like come too close and I will bite you Mr. Mall Cop cool.  He tells me they have me on their cam pulling on my pants.  I tell him I very much doubt that, as I was doing no such thing.  Weirdly, he does not order me back up the hill, he tells me to walk over to my car and he will meet me there.  He wants to see an I.D.  Fine. 
I head back to my car, glancing over my shoulder to gage just how quickly they are going to get to my car.  They don’t seem to be in any hurry.  They’ve detained the dude in the red pick-up.  I make a dash for my car.  Stupid me.  Not only is the driver side unlocked, so is the passenger side.  And, to top it all off, my front seat is littered with all my sex kit stuff.  Talk about incriminating.  All those officers needed to do was walk up and look in my car and they would have known the score.  I cram all that stuff - plus my black underwear, which, surprisingly, the cop never asked me about - back in my bag and zip it.  I get my I.D. and just in time, because here they are.  They pull up, but don’t park.  I have the driver’s door open and offer up the I.D.
The cop gets out and says, “Hey, I’m gonna make this easy on you and easy on me.  We’re gonna drop the whole thing.”
Then, no lecture, no warning, nothing.  He and his bud get back in their vehicle and head back to the parking lot where the red pick-up (which is now nowhere in sight) dropped me off.  I take note that the bud is a real hot cop.  Damn… I wouldn’t mind being interrogated by him for a while.   In a daze, I pull myself back together quickly and get the hell out of there. 
I am elated.  Beyond elated.  I feel like I just cheated death.  I go over it in my head again and again and can’t make sense of it.  Unless… whatever cam he thought he had evidence on malfunctioned, was non-existent, or didn’t show what he thought it would.  Whatever.  I berate myself for taking such a stupid risk – especially with a dude I was not that into.  But, hey… I  got away with it.  All is good. The rush of the experience stays with me long after I get home.
I feed my dogs and continue to thank my lucky stars.  Then I hit the net.  I still want something.  Hell, now I feel like I deserve it.  It’s one of those rare days where my desires are aligned with the cosmos, for the moment I open A4A, a real hot dude hits on me. He’s a bit younger than me, thin, muscular, full of tats, handsome and versatile.  He wants to fuck my ass.  Within four messages back and forth, I have an address.  He lives in an area of the city that has been very lucky for me lately – as in – I have about five dudes I play with all living within two blocks of each other. 
I clean up, and then tell him I am on my way…
- End of Part 2 -


The Vintage Hottie known as O!Daddie said...

cant wait for part 3

Koba said...

Hot story! Can't wait for teh enxt installment!

Stan said...

men in uniform are hot as fuck. I love the symbol of authority.