Mom Gets Strip SearchedbyGeorge VI©
WARNING: This story contains graphic depictions of sexual assaults, as well as incest. If you are offended by either of these topics, then do not read any further. In real life, non-consensual sex of any kind is illegal and immoral, and not condoned by the author. All characters are over 18. This story and all characters are fiction. However, many of the events depicted are fictionalized accounts inspired by real-life incidents.
CHAPTER 1 - INTRO: BAD COPS
Patrolmen Coleman and Sikowski sat in their squad car in the parking lot across the street from the bar. They watched the young wife exiting the bar alone after sharing a few happy hour drinks with her co-workers. The brunette woman was wearing a blue long-sleeve blouse with buttons up the front, and a navy skirt hemmed above her knees.
"Nice rack." Sikowski stated matter-of-factly.
"I think I'll give her a try," said Coleman, the man behind the wheel. When the woman drove out of the bar parking lot, Coleman followed her. Within two blocks, he turned on his lights. The woman pulled into an empty parking lot of a closed store, just off the road. Coleman exited the squad and approached the woman's driver-side door. The woman rolled down her window.
"Can I see your license, please?" Coleman asked. She was already looking scared. "How much you have to drink today?"
"Just two," answered the woman in a wavering voice.
"I think you had more than two. You were weaving quite a bit," Coleman lied. "Should I give you a sobriety test?"
The woman didn't answer. Coleman could see her fear growing. "You don't want me to, do you? Maybe I should just take you to jail and book you."
"Please, I don't have far to go. I'm alright, really."
Coleman decided not to waste time, to go for it. "Want to make a trade? I let you go, if you'll be nice to me?"
"Uh, how much do you want?" The scared woman asked.
Coleman gave her back her license. He grabbed the shoulder harness just above her shoulders, and pulled it away from her chest. The woman saw his eyes admiring her breasts. Coleman used the back of his hand to open her blouse a little. Sunlight illuminated her lacy white bra. "I don't want no money. Just a few minutes with these."
"Oh, please, no," the woman begged.
Coleman watched her heaving chest. "A few minutes with them, and I let you go, ok?"
The trembling woman said and did nothing. Coleman unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse. He put his hand into the blouse, and gave her left breast a squeeze over her bra. Then he slid it into her right bra cup and felt her breast. "These are real nice. C cup? Huh?"
"Uh, huh," mumbled the teary woman.
While traffic whizzed by just a few feet away, Coleman pulled her tits out of their cups, and played with both of the firm beauties. The young wife sat in silence except for a few sniffles, and let the policeman feel her up, kneading and squeezing her breasts, playing with her hard nipples. Coleman reached down and put his hand on her thigh over her pantyhose. He pushed back her skirt, revealing white panties under her sheer hose. He reached between her legs and rubbed her crotch.
"Coleman! We got a call. Let's go!" called Sikowski from the squad car. Coleman let go of the teary woman, and said, "Use a designated driver next time." He returned to his squad car, climbed in, and drove away.
"How were her tits?" asked Sikowski.
"Great. White, firm, pink areolas, eraser-sized nipples. She let me rub her pussy over her pantyhose. I don't know what else she would have let me do. She was a little reluctant."
"Did she look scared?"
"Trembling like a puppy," Coleman said with glee.
"Miller might've tried for more," said Sikowski
"Yeah," said Coleman. "Miller always knows what he can get away with."
On the other side of town, Patrolmen Rapp and Crabbe were following a car that really was weaving. They followed the car until it turned onto a quiet street in a sparsely populated, wooded, residential neighborhood. Crabbe and Rapp both got out of the car and gave the woman a sobriety test; walking a straight line, touching her nose, and touching her toes. She didn't do too bad, but didn't do really well, either. Mostly the two cops enjoyed making the young Hispanic woman bend over in her short halter dress, revealing her red panties. Overall, she wasn't bad looking.
After threatening the woman with jail, Crabbe gave her an ultimatum similar to Coleman's. He told her he didn't want to send her to jail, but "You should be punished. Take off your dress."
"Why?" the woman asked.
"Don't ask questions, that's your punishment. Take off your dress."
"But I'm not wearing a bra," she protested.
"Just take the dress off!" Repeated Crabbe.
The woman slowly grabbed her dress by the hem, and lifted it up. Her red panties came into view. She crossed her arms and lifted up further, pulling the dress over her head and through her long black hair. She was now wearing only her shoes and her red panties. Crabbe and Rapp stared at the woman's cone-shaped, naked breasts, capped with dark areolas and hard nipples.
"You say you only live three blocks from here?" Crabbe asked.
"Yes," said the topless woman with her head down.
"Then start walking home. We'll follow you."
The woman gave the officers a confused look, but then they got in their car, she began walking down the street toward her home, holding her dress in her hand. The cops followed her as she walked. They stared at her ass cheeks as they alternately jiggled up and down in her red panties.
"Not a bad ass," commented Rapp. "Not great, but not bad."
"How did I do?" asked Crabbe.
"Good," answered Rapp.
"I was with Miller when he did that on this street. Not too many roads I'd do that on in daylight. Shit, I'd really like to feel up a woman tonight. Do ya think Miller would've made her take her panties off, or felt her tits?"
"Hard to say. Miller always knows what he can get away with."
"Yeah, he's got a real sense about how far he can go with broads."
"And a lot of experience. He's been pulling this shit since I was a rookie."
After following the topless woman for two blocks, the cops pulled around her and sped away, getting one more look at her jiggling tits as she walked.
In an alley in another part of town, rookie patrolman Graham sat behind his parked squad car, listening to the rapid-fire slurping sounds emanating from behind him. Sergeant Miller sat in the back seat in near-darkness. A slender black hooker was sucking his cock with a speed and agility that only an experienced whore could do. When Miller came in her mouth, the hooker opened the car door and spat on the ground. Miller zipped his uniform pants up, and held up the vial that he found in the hooker's bra.
"What's this, Shawana, coke?" Miller asked.
"Yeah," said Shawana.
"I think I'll be confiscating this," said Miller.
"Damn, not the whole thing! There's a lot there!"
"OK, I only take half." After dividing the white powder in two, Shawana exited the squad car, and Miller ordered Graham to drive out of the alley.
"Kid, you sure you didn't want some of Shawana?" Miller asked Graham.
"Nah, I'm not into hookers. Getting a blow job from a hooker just isn't the same as getting some pussy from a chick that's not getting paid for it," said Graham.
"I know that ya mean," said Miller. "But sometimes you gotta take what you can get. Sometimes there's no opportunities for days. And then, boom, some good piece of ass falls right in your lap. If you know how to handle it. But the shift is still young, and I'm still horny. So," said Miller as he inspected his cocaine. "We'll keep our eyes peeled for an opportunity."
CHAPTER 2 - A BIG BUST IN THE PARK
Originally my dad had volunteered to chauffer me and five other players on my baseball team to our game, but he had to go out of town on business, leaving my mom stuck with driving us. All the guys I knew well were going in other cars with their parents. The guys we were taking are the kids whose parents are never around to take them to anything. Kids I mostly didn't know well. I learned something about them at the first game. They like my mom's body. And they aren't too discreet when they say something about a woman without knowing that they're sitting with her son. As soon as I heard, "Check out the woman over there with the big tits and the long legs," I turned to look along with everyone else, only to realize that they were talking about Mom. I pretended that I wasn't paying attention, as they made a few more crude comments about her tits and legs and wondering if she liked to fuck teenaged baseball players. I was offended and felt like punching them, but I was also wondering why I was getting hard listening to them.
I'd gotten hard before looking at and thinking about my mom. At first it was only when she wore a braless nightgown in front of me, or when we went to the lake and I saw some cleavage and some stray pussy hairs sticking out of her bathing suit, stuff like that. Then I'd jerk off in my room, imagining that Mom came in wearing that sexy black negligee that I found buried away in her closet with other ancient and unworn garments, and said, "Oh, Randy, I really need you," and then pulled off her nightie and fucked me.
Then one time a couple of carpenters came over to repair a wall, and I caught them staring at her tits, giving each other smiles after she leaned over and showed some cleavage. Suddenly this fantasy popped into my head that I wasn't home, and these big strong nasty carpenters were home alone with her, and they grabbed her and started feeling her tits and stuff. And I snuck into my room and jacked off fantasizing about them raping Mom. I began to notice that although in her forties, Mom is still desired by a lot of men. And I also began to realize that the thought of men doing things to women against their will could get me aroused, even though I never considered doing anything like that in real life.
At tonight's game, Mom sat in the bleachers with a couple of the other moms, and about five of the dads, including one that lives across the street from us. I was especially horny for some reason, and watched the other dads talking to my mom and looking at her, and I was getting aroused. She looked good tonight in a tight orange tank top that clung a little to her big tits, and a blue denim skirt that was hemmed a little below mid-thigh level. Nothing risqué, really, for a warm summer night, but they complimented her figure just right. Right before the game started, a couple of the players walked by the bleachers and seemed to be trying to look up her skirt. By now they figured out that she was my mom, so they didn't say anything to me. Later, I saw the dad from across the street walk by her, and appear to try to look up her skirt. Throughout the game, I kept looking back at Mom. As mom leaned forward on the bleachers, a couple of the dads seemed to be looking into her tank top as they talked to her. At one point Mom had her arms crossed under her tits, and her cleavage was getting pushed up out of her bra, and I saw a couple of my teammates looking at her.
Right after we lost the game, the sun was lowering, but there was still plenty of light. We headed over near the bleachers where the parents were. My mom was anxious to leave, but two of the players we brought, Paul Wilder and Jesse Carmel, had disappeared. We looked around for them, and finally spotted them walking out from behind a clump of trees away from the field. Mom, Paul, Jesse, Dylan Brown, Mike Taylor, Rick Savich, and myself climbed into our minivan. While Mom got the car started, a funny odor wafted through the van. Almost like a campfire smell. I'd only smelled it one other time, but I thought it might be pot.
Mom had pulled the van out of the parking space, and had just put it into forward, when a police car pulled into the parking lot from the other direction and stopped in front of Mom. Not understanding that they were after her, Mom tried to go around the squad car, but they immediately turned on their lights and siren and blocked her exit. With the lights still on, two cops got out of the squad car and approached our van from either side.
Mom started to roll down her window, while Mike and Dylan traded derogatory comments about cops. Mom turned back to us and said in a hushed voice, "You guys just don't say anything!" When she turned her head back, a big cop with greasy blonde hair poked his head in the window and asked her for her driver's license. Mom gave it to him. He glanced at it, and then looked us over. "Is that pot I smell?"
I saw Mom sniff the air, and then get an alarmed look on her face. She just sort of stammered at the officer, "Uh, uh... I..."
"Turn off the car, please," he ordered. The cop talked into his radio that was attached to his shoulder, rattling off police jargon and numbers, then "seven suspects, request backup".
"Step out of the vehicle," he told Mom. Mom, with a confused, concerned expression, unbuckled her seat belt, unlocked the doors, and climbed out of the car. "Step over to the front of the squad car." Mom tentatively walked over to the side of the squad car. I saw the cop lower his eyes and stare down at her body as she walked past him. "Turn around and put your hands on the hood," he ordered. Mom looked back at him and us, and placed her hands on the hood of the squad car.
Our van and the squad car were blocking the parking lot entrance. No one else could leave. Some people sat in their cars, while others gathered around the van to see what was going down. I could see several of my teammates and their parents standing nearby, as well as other teens and adults, looking at Mom with her hands on the car. Just then a second squad car pulled up.
The greasy cop walked around to the passenger side of our van, opened the passenger door where I was sitting, and said, "Step out." I got out of the van, and he made me walk around to the other side of the van. "Put your hands on the side of the van." The other cop, the one with the crew cut, watched me. The greasy cop then opened the sliding side door, and said, "Everyone step out, one at a time." One by one, he had the other players standing along the driver's side of the van next to me, with their hands on the van. Soon all six of us were lined up.
The two cops in the second car approached and looked Mom and us over. One had sergeant stripes on his shoulder, was older, very tall and broad shouldered, and had a pretty big gut. He seemed to take charge. Without being asked, the greasy cop told him, "Six males and the female. I saw two of the males smoking a joint, and then they jumped in the van. The female driver tried to get away from me, and then ordered the males to keep quiet and not say anything. We just got them out of the van, we haven't searched the van or the suspects yet."
That part about Mom trying to get away was a bunch of crap, but maybe he was right about Paul and Jesse sharing a joint. It was beginning to look like a bad night.
The sergeant said, "You and Coleman search the males." The two original cops went down the line and frisked us, starting with me. The crew cut cop started his hand at my shoulders, felt along my arms, then under my armpits, down my sides, down the outside of my legs. Then he went up my inner thighs, and felt my crotch over my jock and cup. The two cops went down the line and frisked the other five the same way.
The sergeant had disappeared inside of our van, and then reappeared holding Mom's purse. He said, "I'll do a pat-down on the female." I'd swear the greasy cop gave the sergeant a little knowing smirk when he said that. I wasn't sure I heard right about giving Mom a pat-down, but suddenly she was the center of attention. The squad car's engine was nose-to-nose with the van's, so my teammates and me had a side view of Mom leaning over the squad car's hood. Her skirt was tight and rising, showing off her nice bare thighs, and her tits were hanging down nice. The older sergeant walked over to Mom and stood behind her. Without a word, he put his hands on her shoulders and ran them down her arms. Mom had a shocked look on her face as he slid his big palms down under her arms and around her waist. Then he quickly ran his hands up her waist, and over her tits on top of her shirt. Mom let out an involuntary gasp.
I was at the rear end of the van, the furthest away of us six teammates, about twelve feet away, and I could clearly see the sergeant get a good squeeze of my mom's big tits over her shirt and bra. He quickly circled them with his palms, and felt along the underside of them. Just as quickly, he leaned over, ran his hands down her hips and outer thighs over her denim skirt. Then he ran his right hand up the inside of her bare left thigh, up under her skirt. Mom let out a squeal, as it appeared to me that he gave her crotch a good quick rub.
When the cop stood back up, Mom was panting and shivering. I looked at my teammates, who were intently watching everything that I saw. I glanced around the crowd. There were well over fifty people who saw my mom get felt, including all of my other teammates, five other dads that I spotted, and at least two other team moms. One mom close to me turned to her husband and said, "He can't do that, can he?" Her husband just shrugged. The noisy mom said to the sergeant, "You can't do that, you have to get a woman police officer to do that!"
The sergeant looked back at her with an annoyed look. "When there's no female officer at the scene, a male officer can search a female felony suspect."
"What felony?" one dad asked. "I heard the other guy say that it was just a couple of kids smoking pot."
The sergeant gave the guy an angry look. He reached into Mom's open purse, and pulled out a vial of something. "This appears to be cocaine. That's a felony here in this quantity, and it was in her purse."
The voices in the crowd grew silent. I was shocked, but figured it was a mistake, that the vial contained something else. It wasn't until later that I began to figure it as a plant. Still the crowd made their point. Loudly the sergeant spoke on his radio. "Request female officer to the scene."
Sergeant Miller told Mom to stand straight and face him. "Close your eyes," he ordered. "Put your hands out to your sides. Touch your nose with your right index finger." He was giving her a sobriety test. "Now your left." Mom followed his instructions, though I'm sure she was mortified at doing it in front of everybody. Miller told Mom to stand on a line between two parking spaces. He made her walk along the line, heel-to-toe.
Mom walked on the line toward Miller and the crowd. Then he told her to turn around and walk back the other way. After walking a few feet he told her to stop. "Bend down and touch your toes keeping your knees locked." Mom hesitated for just a second, and then slowly bent down. Her skirt stretched tightly around her ass, and started to rise in the back, exposing the back of her bare thighs. As her fingertips reached mid-calf, her pink panties came into view. "Stay down," Miller ordered. Mom held her bent-over pose as I saw all of the cops, and all of my teammates, looking at my mom's panties stretched over her pussy mound between her legs. Finally, Miller told her to stand up and put her hands on the squad car again.
CHAPTER 3 - PUBLIC STRIP SEARCH
One of the other cops came out of the van with one of the player's clothes bag. "And here's the pot," he said, holding up a bag of what looked like pot. I don't know whose bag it was but I was guessing that it was Paul's or Jesse's. Another cop returned from a squad car with what appeared to be thick yellow twine. "Too many of them to use the cuffs." Two of the cops made me put my hands behind my back, and wrapped the twine around my wrists behind me. They did the same to the other five guys, and then used real cuffs on mom. I watched Mom's tits stick out as she arched her back and got her wrists cuffed behind her, a scared and confused expression on her face.