Call For Backup

The engine of my rental convertible purred as I cruised along the desolate country highway. I scanned the horizon, checking the expansive, empty fields on either side of the road. The four-lanes of the highway seemed unnecessary; I hadn't seen another car in twenty minutes. But the solitude was fine by me, listening in satisfaction to the only sounds that mattered: the reliably humming engine and the steadily whining tires on the blacktop.

My road trip across the inland countryside hadn't been solo at its inception. The empty passenger seat was supposed to be filled by John until a last-minute work trip arose. I rolled my eyes behind my aviator shades: there was always a work trip. However, John had been helpful before he dropped out, renting this car using some of his corporate points. His absence certainly hadn't hindered my enjoyment of the trip, and the meandering drive had never appealed to his ordered nature, anyway.

Invited to join my former coworker, Jack, at his beach house, I'd started my drive yesterday afternoon. I had a loose plan, following the rural route east lengthwise across the state until I reached the coast, but I didn't have an itinerary. If I had started my trip earlier yesterday and taken the interstate, I could have made it to the shore late last night. But the drive through the scenic country was its own adventure, and I liked the freedom of not having a schedule.

My untamed red hair whipped wildly in the open cockpit. Flying locks flapped in front of my sunglasses, and I tucked the waving hairs behind my ear, knowing they would be loosed again immediately. The floral blue fabric of my sundress clung to my chest and stomach, rippling in the air currents from my acceleration. I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling tendrils of wind reach exhilaratingly up my short skirt, and further depressed the gas pedal beneath my white pump. The lace crotch of my purple thong moistened at the intimate caress of the wind.

I crested a hill, and the tail of a yellow semi-trailer emerged in the right lane before me. This was the first vehicle I'd seen for miles, and the road ahead of us was utterly deserted in both directions. Switching lanes to pass as I caught him, I sped the length of the trailer, still relishing the sticky excitement between my thighs as my speed increased. Pulling alongside the truck, I looked up into the yellow cab and made eye contact with the driver as he grinned down into my convertible.

The man cheerily waved, trading his gaze between the road and the show of flowing skirts and buxom flesh in my front seat. I smiled and waved in return, tucked a blowing clump of hair behind my ear and adjusted my shades, then puckered my lips and blew an exaggerated kiss to the driver. He responded with over-the-top enthusiasm, casting his head back in adoration and patting his hand to his heart. 'He's probably even more bored with his drive than I am.' I thought as I flirtatiously laughed at his antics. The buzz in my loins kicked a naughty impulse to my brain. 'What if I made his drive more interesting?'

Grinning salaciously, I crawled my fingers along my bare leg until they reached the edge of my skirt. The wispy fabric caught easily beneath my dragging fingertips and retreated up my thigh. Casting a cautious glance at the empty road before us, I returned my aviators to the truck driver as I pulled the hem of the skirt to my waist and splayed my knees, flashing him a delectable view of my purple lace panties.

BWAH-BWAAAAAH The driver blared the truck's horn in approval. I threw my head back, laughing in the wind while returning my skirt to its less immodest home over my thighs. My hand fluttered a flirtatious goodbye to my fleeting acquaintance as I stepped on the accelerator. I watched the yellow semi ebb into the background in the rearview as I sped towards the coast.

Maybe flirting with a truck driver on an isolated rural highway wasn't the best idea, I acknowledged. I knew that a girl driving alone through the boonies might seem like a vulnerable target. Some of my murder-pod-poisoned friends had counseled against the trip. In a more extreme version, the motherly woman behind the desk at the rustic motel where I'd stopped last night had been concerned enough to offer me the gun from her truck while I slept in the roadside room. I declined her offer with an appreciative thanks.

I hadn't seen anything to lend weight to such exaggerated concerns. While my short dress and shiny heels might draw stares when I stopped for gas or coffee, everyone I had encountered on my trip had been friendly and harmless, like that trucker. When I stopped for an early lunch in the last small town, the elderly café owner had planted himself in front of me, engaging me in an extended, pleasant conversation. When I asked for the check, he gave me a free slice of pie, though he might have been motivated as much by generosity as by keeping the drooping cami-top of my dress hunched over his counter for a few minutes longer.

The highway narrowed to a single lane in each direction as it approached a small cluster of buildings cropped up at the roadside, supposedly a town. I eased off the gas as I passed through the outcropping. The couple of cross streets looked deserted at just under sixty miles an hour. My foot sank on the accelerator again as the road promptly widened back to four lanes beyond the last storefront.

I grabbed the bottle of water from the cupholder and held it between my thighs as I unscrewed the cap. I tipped my head back, keeping my eyes on the empty road as I took a quick drink. As I lowered the bottle from my mouth, its paper wrapper slipped in my fingertips, spilling water onto my exposed sternum and down my open "V" of cleavage. Distracted by the shock of the sudden wetness and my kneejerk efforts to wipe the beads of water off the inner bulbs of my rack, I let the car veer unattended partway into the passing lane. My vision returned to the road, and I jerked my path straight, but I finished the lane change without thought, breathing a sigh of relief that the road had been empty.

With the bottle safely secured in the cupholder, and with my chest and dress still a little damp, I glanced in the rearview. My stomach sank at the sight of the police cruiser following stealthily in the near distance, steadily gaining ground. I checked the odometer, and saw I was over the limit; too late to slow now, I could only stay cool and hope he passed me on his way elsewhere. I turned on my blinker and moved to the right lane to let him pass. The patrol car immediately followed me into the right lane, then turned on its lights. "Shit!" I hissed as I flicked the turn signal again and came to a stop on the shoulder.

I shut off the engine and pulled my license and insurance cards from my purse, then gripped the top of the wheel in both hands. My eyes switched anxiously between the desolate road before me and the motionless officer in my rearview. From my vantagepoint, I could see the large, featureless outline of the trooper behind the wheel of the cruiser, but couldn't make out a face or details. Whoever he was, he was taking his sweet time issuing me my ticket.

Five motionless minutes later, my eyes widened in alarm as a second squad car arrived and pulled in behind the first. My lips and nose wrinkled in an unattractive grimace at the sight of the second cop. I couldn't imagine what about a lone girl in a baby blue BMW convertible would warrant a call for backup on a simple traffic stop. "Just being careful, I guess..." I muttered as I watched the towering, black sheriff's officer climb out of the second car and stroll to the driver's window of the front vehicle.

The two officers chatted through the open window, and the upright cop stepped back with a laugh as the driver's door opened. The other imposing, black officer exited his cruiser, straightening his gun belt as he stood. With a casual gesture to his sidekick, the first cop approached my driver's side. The second positioned himself at the corner of my back bumper.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?" I tried to keep my voice steady despite my nerves.

"Captain." He corrected flatly. "License and registration..." The sheriff's office badge on his chest read "Lake", and his voice was emotionless as he towered above me. I gulped as I handed him the cards in my hand, growing nervous as I sat. He scribbled in his ticket pad as he studied my license. My own rose-gold aviators stared back at me from his mirrored lenses.

The reflection also revealed his perspective was filled with a plunging view straight down the front of my dress. A frisky tremble countered the anxiety in my belly at the idea that the handsome black cop was eyeballing my rack. The naughty thrill from teasing the trucker rekindled; fingers of warmth crept through my pussy like the wind up my skirt. I bet this predicament was solvable; how many free drinks had a plunging neckline gotten me? A ticket was the same song, different verse. I straightened my back, feeling the spaghetti straps shift on my pale shoulders as my chest pushed forward.

"Was I speeding? Sometimes I guess I let myself get carried away..." My voice rode a flirty spring, and I leaned toward the door, letting the bodice of my dress dip forward as I asked. Lake paused his scrawling for the moment.

The cop returned his focus to my license as he responded. "I caught you doing sixty-one in a forty back in town."

"Where was that posted? I don't remember seeing a sign..." I hoped my naive act would bear fruit.

"Around here, the speed limit is what I say it is..." Lake advised, somewhat ominously. "We had a report of a vehicle matching this description driving erratically; I observed you changing lanes suddenly and without using your signal. Have you been drinking today... Sarah?" He handed back my insurance card, continuing to stare at me from behind his mirrored lenses. My profile reflected in his shades was filled with cleavage, still dappled with beads of water.

"I guess you could say I had a bit of a drinking problem." I giggled, boosting my chest and gesturing at the water droplets in my cleavage. Lake's eyebrows raised critically, and I adopted a more serious tone as I rushed to clarify, "That's a bad joke! I spilled a bottle of water, that's what made me swerve back there!" I pointed across my body to the water bottle in the cupholder, feeling my breasts jostle with the movement.

Lake's lips seemed to flinch towards a smile, but he recovered his serious mien and spoke calmly. "I need your registration, too, please." He handed back my insurance card.

"It's a rental..." I explained as I reached into the glove box to look for the rental agreement. The flared hem of my skirt climbed up the bulge of my ass as I stretched across the car, betraying a hint of my purple lace thong. I grabbed the folded paper and looked back to the rear of the car and saw the other officer nodding as he gave Lake a thumbs-up.

Returning my butt to the seat, I handed the agreement to Lake. He unfolded the document, read for a moment, then tsked skeptically.

"This says the car's rented to a 'John'. Who's that and where is he?" He asked, refolding the sheets, and slapping the roll of paper against his open palm. I'd forgotten that John had rented the car with his points.

"That's my boyfriend. We rented the car with his corporate points, then he couldn't come with me because of work." I insisted. Nervous sweat beaded on my forehead and the back of my neck as the tall cop stared down at me.

"Huh. Well, tell me, Sarah..." Lake's voice was almost seemed flirtatious in its deep reply. Behind the car, his partner remained relaxed with his thumbs tucked into his belt buckle. "Where are you headed in such a hurry and dressed so nice, anyway?"

"I'm going to the beach. My friend's shore house... well, it's his summer rental..." I was confused by the relevance of the question.

"Ah, I see. You're hurrying to meet up with your boyfriend, that's why you're speeding and dressed so cute." The trooper behind the car responded teasingly.

I twisted in my seat to address him, but Lake directed my eyes back to him. "Jack's not my boyfriend, he's... anyway, my boyfriend couldn't make the trip." I shook my head, blushing in embarrassment. But Lake hadn't written any further on the ticket, and the teasing -- flirting? -- seemed reassuring and like I might be let off with a warning. I could stop at the next Kinko's to print out the rental receipt, so I'd be covered for the rest of the drive.

"Well, if you stay on this road, you might make it to the beach by evening." Lake mulled.

I cocked my head in confusion. "Tonight? But isn't it only like ninety miles?"

Lake nodded in agreement, then started writing again. "Yep, you're gonna have to work your way through three more counties after us: Clay, Jackson, and then Greene, before you reach the coast."

"Okay, but why would it take me so long to drive through four counties? Am I gonna have to show a passport?" I grinned at my own joke.

"Well, first we're gonna have to sort your situation out." He finished writing and shut the ticket pad. "Please step out of the car. Mind if we have a look around your vehicle?"

I sputtered as I responded, "What? But why?" Lake had already opened the driver's door, tucking the ticket book into his back pocket as he held out a hand asking me to climb out. The other officer was reaching into the open back seat to retrieve my suitcase.

"We've got you for excessive speeding, failure to signal a turn, improper lane usage, and I'd call that swerve-job back there 'reckless driving'. Plus, the car is rented in someone else's name, and you don't have valid registration." Lake sternly listed my offenses.

"But on my ph-" I was cut off as Lake held up a hand to silence me, now standing inside the sweep of the opened door. He then turned his hand palm-up, offering to help me stand from the driver's seat. Swallowing a lump of blunt panic, I took Lake's hand and let him lead me around the car to the rear wheel well on the side away from the road. My white heels clicked on the baking asphalt; midday heat radiated off the roadway and wafted up my loose skirt.

The body of the car protected us from any improbable traffic that might come along, and Lake instructed me to set my hands on the side of the car. I was close enough to read the other officer's badge: "Crowley". He had my bag sitting unzipped on the trunk beside me and was poking through my carefully packed vacation clothes.

"Jeez, how long are you gone for?" Crowley teased, seeing the quantity of clothing crammed into the bag. I turned in time to see him fish out a canary yellow bikini top, dangling the twin triangles from the knotted halter tie. As Crowley held the bikini aloft, I could almost hear his brain processing how I'd look in it.

"Are you sure you brought enough guys?" I scoffed, watching the cop hunt through the multicolored lace of my allotment of underwear.

"I guess we'll find out..." Crowley countered as the troopers exchanged a smirking glance.

I spun my head around, looking for Lake. "At the rental office in the city, they told me-" but Lake interrupted me again.

"Well, you ain't in the city now." Lake pulled my hips away from the car, hunching my shoulders over the rear fender and jutting my ass out towards the farmland beyond the shoulder. His hands started at my back, feeling along the narrow strip of my dress's zipper. Gradually, his fingers followed the frontward curve of my ribs. With stunning boldness, Lake cupped my tits through the gauzy fabric of my dress, seeming to gauge their heft and firmness before casually lowering across my belly. He patted around to my lower back below my ribs, as if I might have anything hidden beneath the floaty rayon.

"This all feels excessive. Look, I'm sorry I was speeding, but I've only seen like one truck on this road in the last thirty minutes!" I protested. The officers exchanged another conspiratorial look then resumed their inspections.

"This time of day, we likely won't see one for another thirty." Lake remarked, lowering his hands to investigate around my waist. His palms examined the curves of my hips, then took an astonishing detour to the tensed mounds of my buttocks. I squeaked in surprise at the grope but was shushed by both men. My palms strained on the panel of the car as Lake's fingers fondled and probed the meat of my cheeks, my anxiety shifting into confused, intrigued anticipation at the stern attention.

Lake's hands rode my butt's curving slope to the flimsy hem of my dress. Gripping the flared skirt, he lifted the dress to my waist, baring my pale ass and its purple lace divider on the pastoral roadside. Holding my skirt above my butt with one hand, Lake returned his fingers to my pallid cheeks. Caressing the firm, bubbly flesh, he molested my buttocks in riveted silence.

"What am I being searched for, again?" I asked, my voice a flirty chirp. "What were you expecting to find?" I winced as Lake's palm landed stingingly on my butt, gasping as my libido dumped another shot of endorphins into my simmering frame.

"I think we found what we expected," Lake spanked me repeatedly between words. "A smart-mouthed white girl from the city, who thinks the rules don't apply to her." He lay a final smack on my pinkening cheek, leaving his hand firmly in place and squeezing the meaty sphere.

"Yeah, a smart-mouth white girl whose boyfriend trusts her more than he should..." Crowley cracked. "So, if 'John' can't make the trip, who's this for?" I turned to see the cobalt blue lace teddy from my bag swinging before me. I blushed speechlessly; Jack and I had a history, and John's absence at the beach wasn't without its potential benefits. It wasn't that I was making this trip with the plan to cheat, but the contents of my bag didn't leave me unprepared to do so, either.

"Oh, so that's why she's speeding: can't wait for that side-dick!" Lake paddled my butt again as the two cops chuckled. I lustfully whimpered; the earlier smoking arousal now engulfing my pussy. "Damn, you're just breaking rules all over the place, aren't you, Sarah?"

"You think she feels regret for any of her mischief?" Crowley captivatedly evaluated the black pushup bra he'd found in my luggage, before stuffing the brassiere back into my pack and setting the bag on the asphalt between the cars.

"Let's see how she feels..." Lake said sternly.

He pulled aside the t-back of my thong, exposing the puffy, bald lips of my steaming gash. His fingertips rubbed analytically along the engorged folds before plunging through my lips and into my soaking pussy. I moaned at the abrupt penetration, tossing a wave of red hair over my shoulder as I turned to watch the imposing black cop fingerfuck me.

"Holy shit, she's wet as hell!" Lake announced. His arm cranked at the elbow, rhythmically driving two fingers into my drenched slit. "Is this for your two-timing? Or do you just like getting arrested?"

"Fuck, that feels so good." I whispered, planting my heels, and leaning my bum towards Lake to meet his thrusting hand. "Is this how you arrest people?"

"Like my partner said," Crowley answered as his fingers found the zipper tab at the back of my dress, "we've gotta sort you out."

The short zipper whirred down my spine to my waist, and the front of my dress sagged limply away from my body. Crowley pushed the slackened spaghetti straps off my shoulders, threading the straps off each of my arms until the bodice of the dress hung uselessly from my midriff and my tits were liberated into the roadside sun.

Crowley looped his arms around me in an open embrace, his large hands filling themselves with my ripe, hanging globes. His groping caress drew a quivering sob from deep in my belly. The thrill of his mauling hands mingled with the pumping pleasure of Lake's fingers in my slit. Lake withdrew his hand for an instant, tugging the flimsy loop of dress off my hips and sending it to the asphalt in a heap around my gleaming heels. I squealed in delight as his fingers pushed past the saturated purple lace and returned to my drenched pussy.