Her fetish made her turn to a life of crime.
Shit. How had I got myself into this situation? I looked my captor in the eye and felt my stomach twist nervously. I’d really had it this time. My criminal behaviour had finally caught up with me.
Let me be clear: I’m not a bad person. And I’m not a rule breaker… ordinarily. Actually, I have a bit of a reputation for being a do-gooder. But, the thing is, I have a weakness, and it’s the kind of weakness that somewhat compromises a do-gooder’s reputation. My weakness is policemen.
Fancying a fittie in uniform is nothing new, but my fetish is particularly acute − I get knicker floods at the merest glimpse of a copper. Seriously, just the sight of a policeman’s hat is enough to set my clit throbbing to burst. Their crested badges glinting in the sun, the black trouser/white shirt combo – and don’t even get me started on bullet proof vests and utility belts! What’s more, I can’t get enough masturbating to of re-runs of The Bill. Utter heaven!
It’s the extremity of my fetish for the filth that has led to me becoming a very naughty lady.
For years I harmlessly fed my rozzer-led randiness by stopping police officers on the street and asking them the time. In the brief moments in which they were distracted, checking their watches, I’d get a close-up look at them; steal a quick yet deliciously exciting glance at the handcuffs hanging on their hips, or the crackling radios nestled against their chests, their coils tracing a ringleted path downwards to − but then that’d be it. Over. The time is half two, madam; good day − they’d be gone and I’d be desperate for more policeman perving.
Asking officers for directions only stole me another thirty seconds with them, and that was barely enough time to check out their CS sprays and truncheons, let alone to form a fantasy involving said items and my sopping nether region. Eventually I figured I <had> to find a way to spend more time with the beautiful bobbies in my area, and one night, while frustratedly pleasuring myself, I worked out how to. I hit upon the perfect crime − literally.
I decided to become a law-breaker. Nothing major – I didn’t want a criminal record − but something that would afford me longer time with the men I so desired. I started misbehaving. After nights on the town, at club closing time, I caused ‘disturbances’: once I joined some rowdy lads being accosted by coppers. After the coppers had told them to calm down and go home, I’d joined in with the guys’ continued rowdiness – just shouting a bit. A truly lush officer had taken me aside and threatened me with arrest unless I calmed down, during which time I visualised him rogering me senseless in the back of the police van parked mere metres away (well, us baddies need teaching a lesson). I was so enthralled by the fantasy that I did indeed calm down and he disappeared into the night, leaving me wet as a water fountain on the roadside.
One of my favourite things to do to buy policeman ‘perving-time’ was to accelerate to just over the speed limit whenever I saw a traffic cop. Oh, the thrill it gave me when they flashed their lights at me, beckoning me to pull over. Oh, the absolute sexiness as they asked for my licence and advised me that I was over the limit, allowing me glorious stretches of time to check out their bodies, towering over my open window, their thick, muscular arms leaning against the top of the car. The most I’d get for a teensy-weensy bit of speeding was an informal warning, but I would often sit in my motor after they’d driven away and imagine that I’d been arrested and taken off, cuffed, in their car. Down to the station for you, Miss. Speeding is a dangerous offence and we’re going to teach you a lesson in the custody cells. It was all I could do to stop myself wanking in my car right then. In fact, on at least two occasions it was all I couldn’t do.
I knew that with all my petty offences I was safe from any serious action from the police, but once I had a very close call. I took things a bit far… but it was worth it. The incident bought me some quality time with the sexiest policeman I’ve seen to date.
I spotted him on my way back from after-work drinks late one night. I was a little tipsy as I saw him coming towards me – about 6ft 2 with muscular arms, a confident stride and, of course, all the paraphernalia, including the horn-inducing hat. As he drew closer I realised more and more how stunning he was, and I just had to secure some time with him. As much time as I could. So that’s it – as our paths crossed (in which time I could’ve sworn he was looking me up and down in a non-policemanny way), on the spur of the moment I reached up and grabbed his hat. “Yoink, Officer!”
“Oi!” he exclaimed and my adrenalin kicked in − my legs took on a life and energy of their own as I ran and ran. I giggled mischievously in between breaths and even as I pounded away I could hear and feel him close behind me.
“Come here!” He yelled and in seconds I felt a pair of strong arms envelope my body. His torso bashed heavily against my back and together we fell to the ground. Oh, that was a blissful moment when we both caught our breath, him heavily on top of me, his utility belt digging into my back, his face against my neck breathing hotly on it. I swear my knickers had never been so soaked with excitement before.
“What you playing at?” He gruffly growled in my ear. My body went all fizzy. Then, sadly, I felt him getting up, his weight lifting. “Get up, joker,” he instructed me, tugging the hat out of my hand. I obeyed, then turned to face him and, with all the leisure in the world, observed his kit. Oh yes, he was a prime law-upholding lushy.
“I said, what you playing at?” He gruffly snapped me out of my inspection, but I was speechless with sexual excitement all the same. “Name,” he instructed. I somehow stammered it. “You been drinking?” he asked. I nodded dumbly and indulged in thoughts of kneeling down to take my punishment for the heinous crime of stealing a policeman’s hat: unzipping his trouser fly, unfolding his cock – yes, truncheon if you will − and sucking it till he came all over my dirty angel’s face.
“Hmm, and you’re going home alone?”
“It’s just down the road.” I pointed into the dark horizon, my arm swaying ever so slightly.
“What’s with the hat snatching?” he queried. I noticed his facial expression had softened from that of the enraged officer. In fact, I could have sworn that, yet again, he was checking me out. And it was that simple fact that made me come clean. I confessed.
“I have a thing,” I said coyly.
“A thing?” he quizzed.
“A fixation,” I continued. His face grew more and more interested. I snuck a glance at his crotch. Was that a truncheon in his pocket, or was he pleased to see me? “A fixation with policemen.”
It felt so good to say it out aloud. And to a copper, no less. There was a second of silence as he thoughtfully took in the information, and then – slowly and oh so sexily − his face creased into a smile, his lips parted and he laughed.
“And you fancied copping a feel of a policeman’s helmet?” He quizzed further, with a naughty cock of the eyebrow. I nodded. He laughed again, but was cut short by his radio suddenly stuttering into shocking life. I didn’t quite hear everything, but there was something about assistance required. He leaned his head down to speak into the radio.
“Hotel Oscar. On my way,” he replied seriously. He looked back at me. “How far down the road?”
“A few houses,” I replied.
“Right, come on, quickly.” He took me firmly by my arm, sending floods of fiery warmth through the limb, and swiftly walked me to my house. At my door he released me (sadly) and announced, “I won’t officially warn you tonight, miss, but needless to say, the next officer you do that to will not be so light. You’ve been very lucky.” With that he turned and briskly walked off. In the distance I heard a police car’s sirens going. The minute I got indoors I shrunk onto the floor, pulled my knickers off from under my skirt and pleasured myself, fantasising about my helmeted officer, with sirens blaring all the while, even after the police car was long gone.
You’d think that close shave would’ve taught my naughty arse a lesson, but far from it. I had experienced the heavy hand of the law and I wanted more. Still, I hadn’t quite counted on it coming to this.
“You’ve been a very bad girl,” the officer brusquely growled at me. I bowed my head in agreement and gently tugged my wrists, but they were firmly locked together in handcuffs behind my back. “Look at me!” he loudly demanded, but with so much control that it kind of frightened me. I looked at him. He was smirking.
“Stealing an officer’s hat is an offence,” he said.
Yes, I had done it again – stolen a copper’s cap. I’d figured I could worm my way out of it again. Boy had I been wrong. The officer in question had taken no mercy, cuffed me, and was now tormenting me. Still, beneath my fear, I was as excited as fuck at this display of police brutality.
“I’m sorry, officer.” I mumbled, directing a pleading expression at him. He seemingly mulled this over.
“Sorry, are you?” He mused. I nodded. “Well, you’re going to have to pay for your crime.” Oh shit, a fine! Still, better than prison I supposed. I waited to hear his price, but none was forthcoming. Instead his hands went down to his zipper and – to my utter delight – he slowly pulled out a large, shiny-headed cock. I swallowed. Hard. Oh what a vision – an officer, in uniform (utility belt and all), with his big, juicy cock out.
“Suck it.” He demanded and − as if I needed any encouragement! − firmly pushed my head down so I knelt before him. His pre-come crowned tip slid a trail across my cheek and then he directed it into my open mouth with his hand. Oh fuck, it felt and tasted so good. I looked up and saw him towering above me, hat on, baton swinging on his hip and a lusty, glazed expression on his face. “Suck it harder,” he instructed, weaving his hand into my hair so he could direct me. “You’ve been a very bad girl and you need to take your punishment.”
Fuck, yes I did, and I took it well. I sucked and slurped. I licked, I lapped, I nibbled and I gnawed. I tongued and teased and screwed him so hard with my mouth it was only moments before he exploded into it, his come dribbling out the sides.
I was in seventh heaven. This was my dream come true − I had an officer’s come pouring out of my mouth while he stood above me in all his uniformed superiority and orgasmic bliss. I thought it couldn’t get much better, but he proved me wrong. Pulling me up and pushing me against the cold wall, my cheek pressed against it, he pulled my skirt up, yanked down my panties and finger fucked me from behind, all the while holding me in place with a firm hand on my back. He pressed his body against mine – I could feel his CS spray can and radio digging into me as he did so. It drove me wild. As he plunged his fingers into me again and again he buried his head against my ear and told me what a bad fucking girl I was and how I needed to feel the heavy hand of the law and how he was gonna fuck me good and, and… oh shit, I was gonna come, I was gonna come –
“Fuck,” I half cried as an orgasm shuddered through my body, weakening my legs.
It wasn’t over though. Just as I was catching my breath, I felt something else digging into me, and it wasn’t an implement on his utility belt.
“One more thing and then I’ll consider you cautioned,” he quietly laughed into my ear. Well, who was I not to oblige? I’d been a very bad girl for so long. Feeling him undo my handcuffs, I flexed my hands. He turned me round and crushed me against the wall. I peered down at his cock – red, bulging and begging to unburden itself again. He roughly tilted my head up with a hand, so my eyes met his. He was smiling cruelly. God, he loved having a captive to punish. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his, not even as he rubbered up his cock.
Forcing my legs apart with a knee and pulling them up around his waist, there was a second’s anticipation before he thrust his cock inside me. My body convulsed with the force and pleasure and as he repeatedly retreated then re-submerged his cock inside my pussy. I gasped and he caught the gasps in his mouth, his tongue plunging inside, mimicking his appendage’s thrusting. Again and again and again he thrust; I felt white heat rage inside my pussy, building up into an electric storm. The pulses grew stronger. I gripped his shoulders, my fingers digging into his shirt-clad form until the waves of fever overpowered my body. I cried out, gripping him tightly with my legs, and shortly after he arched his head back, his hat falling to the floor as he growled an orgasm, face glistening with sweat.
Orgasmed out, totally, utterly orgasmed out, together we slid to the floor. Our bedroom floor. I curled into his arms and he kissed my forehead. He − my boyfriend; my copper whose hat I had now stolen twice, whom I had dated many times after that first theft, but who had still, thankfully, seen fit to take the law into his own hands on this occasion. He, my boner-fide policeman.
