A Suspect Apprehension

This happened when I was just eighteen. My mom had sent me out to the grocery store down the block late once night for a pack of cigarettes and I was on my way home. I didn't feel like going straight back so I decided to roll up a joint and go sit in the park and smoke it. There was no one around on the street, so I lit it as I was walking. It was a still, stuffy evening, like it needed to rain. I remember I'd shaved all my hair off that afternoon to try to keep a little cooler. There was some kind of heat wave or something, the hottest it had been for forty years. Something like that.

So I was strolling along in my favourite army fatigue pants and a scruffy white vest, puffing away, and I crossed this dark alleyway. About halfway across, my bootlace came out and I stumbled on it. I swore, and with the joint hanging outta my mouth, I knelt down to re-tie it, and then suddenly I was caught in the bright white headlamp beams of a car. I jumped up as the driver's door swung open and a figure got out, putting a cap on. That's when I figured out it was a cop car, waiting in the alley to catch speed-freaks on the avenue. I took the reefer out of my mouth.

"Hold it kid!" the cop hollered at me. Female! That was something, anyway. I was still in deep shit though. I turned my back a little and threw the illegal smoke to the side, hurriedly lighting up a Marlboro instead. The blinding lights flicked off and she slammed the door and walked towards me. I didn't know what to do. I considered running but thought better of it. I was kinda curious, tell the truth.

She was about 30, taller than me, stocky. She looked fine in her uniform coming up that alley and I grinned in spite of the situation. "Somethin' funny?" she asked, facing off with me, one hand on her nightstick, casually scratching the back of her neck with the other. She was nice-looking up close too, kinda handsome in the orange glow from the sodium lights on the street, short dark hair, dark eyes. She stood with her hands on her hips, looked me up and down. "Wanna tell me what you're doin' out so late?" she enquired, focusing her attention on the smouldering spliff lying a few feet away from me. I took a drag on my cigarette. I felt sort of panicky and I didn't know what to say, so I said something really dumb. "Not really," I told her.

"Is that so..." She moved past me and picked up the joint. She sniffed at the smoke coming off it. "I believe you dropped this," she said matter-of-factly, waving it in my face. I smiled at her winningly. "Nope, don't think so officer," I countered. There's a fine line between brave and stupid. I put the Marlboro to my lips. "This is the only kind of smoking I do."

"That's real bad for you, y'know," she said, taking the cig from my fingers and looking at it for a moment.

"Yes ma'am," I answered coyly. She really was cute, there was no doubt about it. I remember thinking that I'd like to go for a coffee with her. I had the words ready to ask. She took a puff on my cigarette, and I felt a weird sensation watching her do it. Then she crushed it out with her boot. "You mind turning out your pockets for me sweetheart?" she said, but it wasn't a question, I knew that. I also knew I was screwed 'cause I had a dime-bag of top quality weed on me. "Step this way please," said the cop, deadpan, and I trembled over to the patrolcar.

I laid out my wares on the hood – a pack of Marlboros, my silver Zippo, a ripped-up pack of papers, a bunch of change, my doorkey...and left it at that. The cop looked at me. "That everything?" she asked. There was something teasing in her voice. She knew she had me. I guess I knew it too and I hung my head a little.

"Yes officer..." I mumbled without much conviction.

"You sure about that?" she smiled. I was silent as she forcefully manoeuvred me into the standard position and started patting me down. I leaned on the hood of her car, my arms straight, my head down, my hips against the grille while she crouched behind me and ran her hands up and down my legs, one at a time. I felt her hands on my ass as she checked my back pockets and she must've felt me stiffen 'cause I swear she did it again much slower right after. I sighed a little.

I let my breath out slowly as her hands moved over my body. I liked it. She ran her hands up the back of my vest and around my ribs to the front, then down my sides to my belt and then my side pockets. When she passed down my spine a shiver went through me and I groaned out loud, straightening up involuntarily. Her palm between my shoulder blades pushed me firmly forward, back down where I was supposed to be. And then her hands were in my pockets, and I felt her fingers through the thin cotton lining against the skin of my thighs. She was standing right behind me, close up between my spread legs, with her hands in my pockets. Too close. I could feel the heat from her body against my butt. Man, the bitch was making me wet and I guessed she knew it. "Oh man..." I breathed, and it wasn't because she had pulled out the little bag of weed with her right hand.

"What's this then?" she hissed in my ear, shaking the marijuana in front of my face. I remember wondering why she hadn't backed off me yet. Not that I wanted her to. I sensed it was my turn to speak. "Umm." I straightened up. I had no answer. I felt her breath on my neck. She moved in even closer and I felt her breasts pressed against my back. Her left hand was still in my side pocket.

"Do you know what the penalty is for possession of dope, kid?" Her lips were almost touching my earlobe. I wanted them to bridge that gap real bad.

"No ma'am," I whispered back. That's when she started to move her fingers against me, inside my pocket. She reached as far round towards my pussy as she could, as far as the fabric would allow her, and fingered my mound. I moaned and pushed my body back against hers. She tossed the baggy onto the hood of the car and put her right hand back in the other pocket. She was stroking me from both sides. I remember wishing I had holes in those pockets as I tried to wriggle her fingers down lower.

"You like that?" the officer asked me. Her voice was low and rough and sounded kinda menacing. I could hardly collect myself enough to say "Yes ma'am," but I managed it somehow. She was still pressed hard up against my body as I stood braced over the front of the cop car. Her fingers caressed my inner thighs through the cotton. I wondered what the hell she was playing at. "Quiet night, Officer?" I asked shakily. But it wasn't my turn to speak. Without warning, she whipped her hands out and reached forward, grabbing my wrists and forcing my arms behind my back where she clapped the cuffs on before I could say a word. Next thing, BANG! She slammed me face down on the hood and held me there, dazed, her hand pressing hard on my neck. "Shut up," she growled. I shut up. I could already feel a bruise coming up on my cheekbone from the impact.

I thought about my mom, waiting at home for her cigarettes. I'd been gone almost an hour I reckoned, and things were only just starting to get interesting. But then I figured, what the hell, she'd probably have passed out on the couch a while back. I quit worrying about being missed and turned my mind back onto the present situation. The cop's left hand was on my belt buckle. She undid it in a second, busted open the fly buttons on my pants and yanked them down off my ass. They dropped to the floor around my ankles. There was a rasping sound as she unsheathed her nightstick and I felt the end of it digging into the small of my back. She took her hand off my neck then. I didn't try to move as she stood back to have a good look at me in the dim orange light. I imagined the scene – my ass in red panties, the car, the policewoman, halfway down a dark alleyway in a nowhere part of a nowhere little town. I don't think a single car had passed since she'd apprehended me twenty minutes earlier. No one was gonna come down here. Except maybe me if I was lucky.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I gasped up at her. I knew I was at her mercy, and that was just fine with me, but I didn't want her to think I did this sort of thing all the time, like I'm easy or something. Also, I was a tiny bit scared. "Is there a problem?" she replied, and I swear she was grinning from the sound of her voice. Time to choose. "No, Officer," I stammered. Then I closed my eyes and waited for what I prayed was coming next. Sure enough, I felt the tip of the nightstick move from my back and start probing gently between my thighs. I spread my feet a little further apart. The handcuffs were on tight, cutting into my wrists when I moved my arms. It felt pretty good. I silently begged for her to fuck me like a bitch. I imagined her pushing into me, her hands on my waist, pounding my helpless body into the steel. The juice was dripping outta me I wanted her so bad.

The shaft of the baton slid slowly back and forth between my legs, stroking me through the damp fabric. My clit was getting swollen up and more and more sensitive with each movement. I shivered in spite of the warm night. "That feels good huh?" the cop asked, increasing the pressure of the wood against my panties. "Ungh," I grunted. "What was that?" she barked, taking the stick away. "Yes ma'am!" I answered hurriedly, my voice shaking. "Yes ma'am it sure does." The nightstick resumed its rhythmic stroking. Another minute and my legs started to tremble. She took it away and laid it down on the metal beside my face. Then I felt her fingers creeping under the elastic.

"Jesus!" she whispered, feeling my wetness, my obvious arousal. "Did I do that?"

"Yes ma'am." I felt kinda shy for a moment, but I didn't really care. It was too damn exciting, sharing such physical intimacy so freely with a total stranger. A police officer had her hand inside my panties, caressing my pussy lips between her fingers. I spread my legs as wide as the trousers around my feet would allow without even realising I was doing it.

I heard her sigh as she penetrated me, slowly easing her way in with one finger and then two. After a couple of strokes she made it three. I gasped as she stretched me. I shut my eyes and the stairway to heaven was right there in front of me and I was halfway up already. She picked up the pace a little, twisting her fingers in my cunt, screwing me harder and harder the more desperately I responded. I was off and running by then, rocking my hips back to meet her thrusts. "Oh yeah, fuck me harder!" I breathed. "Please Officer," I added hastily, recalling her reaction the last time I'd failed to address her correctly. She responded by adding a fourth finger and pushing into me deep so I could feel her knuckles jammed against my hole. I moaned and cried out as she fucked my cunt, hammering her hand into me, her fingers reaching and probing deep inside me, massaging my G-spot, my cervix. She grabbed the chain of the cuffs with her free hand and twisted and a bolt of pain shot through my body. I knew I was on the brink. Then she picked up the nightstick again and replaced her hand with it.

I felt the cool, blunt end of the shaft nosing up against my pulsing hole and slipping inside, further and further into my wet pussy where her hand had just been. Damn, it was beautiful. I squeezed my muscles around the hard wood, tilted my ass a little to get a better angle. The owner of the heavy baton started her thrusts again, slowly at first, building me up again, letting me ride and squirm on her weapon, letting me work it, work myself. Then she reached her other hand around down the front of my panties and pinched hold of my clit and she was screwing me good and hard again, driving that big smooth stick right up into my contracting cunt, pushing so deep I knew I'd still feel it the next day. Within ten strokes it was all over: I gritted my teeth and yelled and came violently, hollering like a bitch, my whole lower body in spasm so I could hardly stay standing. Purple sparks danced in front of my eyes like they still do when I climax real good and I felt like crying. It went on and on, wave after wave, for a long time and she kept on moving inside me, dragging it all out until I was begging her to stop.

When my knees finally buckled she relented and let me come to rest. After a while with me slumped on the steel, she released the handcuffs and turned me round, supporting my limp body. I leaned heavily against the grille, panting. My pussy was clenched like a vice and pulsing with little aftershocks. The cop stood before me and smiled, her head on one side. I didn't know what to say. My entire body was filmed with sweat. She took off her peaked cap and put it on the hood and grinned. I smiled back weakly. She got hold of my sodden panties then and wrested them down my legs. And then, she knelt down to me and buried her face between my thighs.

She flicked her tongue over my clit and I felt a river of my creamy cum run down outta my cunt and into her mouth. "Shit!" was the only word I could find. I felt her tongue probing, licking me clean. She sucked on me until I let go again and emptied a few more sweet drops onto her waiting lips. If mommy could just see me now, I thought... My patrolwoman stood up, wiping her face. "You taste good sweetheart," she said matter-of-factly, putting her cap back on and smoothing down her uniform. "Umm, thank you ma'am," I mumbled. I sensed the game was over. Suddenly I felt like I could sleep for a week. I redressed myself as she helped herself to my mom's Marlboros and offered me one. I put the rest of my stuff back into my pockets. She didn't stop me when I reclaimed my weed.

We stood and smoked our cigs together in companionable silence and then she said, "You better get on home now, girl." I wanted to ask if there was something I could do for her, if I could see her again. If she maybe wanted to get some coffee. But she was walking away. "Stay outta trouble!" she said, climbing into her car. No strings. The lights flicked on and the engine roared into life. "Yes ma'am!" I hollered in a daze, giving her a half-salute. I stood back against the wall and the big car surged past me, up the alley and out onto the avenue. And just like that she was gone.

I wandered home with my head spinning, replaying the encounter like a porno movie with me as the star. The bruise on my cheekbone was throbbing good as I crept into my house and up the stairs to my room. I crawled into bed and slept like a baby, with a grin on my face.