To Protect and Service

" . . . I can't believe dad listens to this shit!"

She reached over, ejected the CD and looked at it briefly.

"Golden Oldies?? Hate to break it to ya dad, but Elvis is dead."

With a quick flip of her wrist, she flung the CD out of the window of the moving vehicle. She looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the shiny disc tumble briefly in mid-air before sliding to a stop in the center of the dirt road behind her.

"I'll just tell him I lost it." She said with a smile. It was Saturday, and Sarafina was having fun. It was a beautiful day outside and her father had given in to her request to take the car for a drive. She didn't yet have her driver's license and she pleaded with him that she needed the experience. He relented, but only if she would stick to the back roads and drive safely. She had promised and was sticking to it . . . somewhat. She had criss-crossed some un-named county road several times in the past few hours, kicking up clouds of dust behind her. She left the windows open because she liked the way the wind made her long black hair swirl around her head. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Today is gonna be great." She said. She held the wheel with her knees, ran her fingers through her hair with one hand, and fumbled with the radio dials with the other. As she searched for some suitable music, she quickly passed by and didn't take notice of a particularly dense clump of bushes on the side of the road.

* * *

Officer James R. Clark held the folded People Magazine with one hand, and moved the half meatball sub to his mouth with the other hand. He was looking at paparazzi photos of the latest pop princess singing sensation and he liked what he saw. The young singer was lounging by some hotel pool, oblivious to the fact that some photographer with a high-powered camera was spying on her. The pictures showed her in several different positions. On her back, laying face down, up on her elbows. Her thin white bikini did little to hide her body, and it didn't take much for him to imagine her completely naked. One picture especially drew his attention. The young singer was on her back, raised up on her elbows and had her head thrown back with her eyes closed. To Officer Clark, she looked to be in the throws of an orgasm, and this excited him. He briefly wondered if her breasts were fake, and then he realized that it didn't matter, he just wanted to touch them. Fake or not.

The sub was very good on this day. And that made the magazine even more enjoyable. He had taken it from the Subway where he had purchased his lunch, like he did every day. 12-inch, Meatball, grated cheese, plain chips, and a diet coke. The same lunch from the same place every day for the 4 years he had been on the job. Nothing much happens in Whiteville, Tennessee. Which was double-edged for a young Officer. You were guaranteed not to be shot or killed on the job, but you were also guaranteed to be bored to death. There was always a side to Officer Clark, 'Jim Bob' as his friends called him, that wanted action. He wanted to be in on drug busts, chase down speeders, go on late-night stake outs and bust bad guys like he had seen countless times on tv and in movies. In 4 years, the most excitement he had on the job was busting a meth lab on county rd 415 back in April of the previous year. He rode that glory for a long time, telling anyone who would listen about how he crept around the house with his service revolver drawn, and saw the 'perps' in the open garage mixing up the illegal drugs. Every time he told the story, he would add a few new embellishments. Maybe a description of how fast his heart was beating, or how unusually warm it was that spring day, but in the end, it was always the same. He single-handedly cuffed 2 male and 1 female felons and charged them with illegally manufacturing a controlled substance.

He took another bite of his sub, getting an entire meatball this time, and chewed it while still staring at the magazine. He was aroused, and he didn't care who knew it. He was, after all, in his favorite spot, behind a clump of bushes on a lonely dirt road. There were no calls on the radio, there were NEVER any calls on the radio, and Jim Bob was relaxing and taking it easy. He thought briefly about masturbating to relieve some of his 'tension', but decided against it. "Maybe I'll save it for later." he thought.

He was hoping for more pictures, and just as he was about to turn the page, he heard a car in the distance, approaching fast. Sometimes, the local high school kids zoomed up and down this back road, and as long as it wasn't recklessly fast, Jim Bob would let it go. But this one sounded faster than any he had seen or heard so far. He tossed the remainder of his sub out of the open window and put the magazine aside. He reached for the radar gun as the car zoomed past leaving clouds of dust in its wake. He didn't need to clock it with the radar gun. He could tell from experience that however fast the car was going, it was TOO fast for this dirt road . . . too fast for ANY road.

The newest patrol fleet the Hardeman County Sheriff's Department were 4-wheel drive SUV's built especially for stability on unpaved areas and dirt roads. They worked equally as well on highways and city streets. He flipped the siren, hit the lights, and put the SUV into gear. As he pulled out from his well-concealed hiding spot, he noticed that the speeding car was at least a half a mile ahead of him.

"This guy must be drunk!" he thought. There could be no other excuse for driving so fast. Clark slammed his foot on the accelerator and the SUV shot forward, automatically shifting through 4 gears and climbing past 90 miles per hour. The speeding car didn't slow down at all. The driver didn't even seem to care that he was being chased.

As he got closer, he could see through the dust clouds . . . hair. Long black hair being blown about inside the car. "The driver's a woman!?!? She must be crazy." He went even faster, closing to within ten feet of the green compact Ford. He made a mental note of the license number and briefly thought about calling for backup, but on this road, by the time they got here, whatever was about to happen would be all over.

* * *

"Holy Shit!" Sarafina screamed. She didn't notice the large black SUV closing in on her until it was nearly running her over. She fought the urge to slam on the brakes. If she had, surely it would rear end her and cause a tremendous amount of damage. "Why is it so close?" She thought to herself. In the rear view mirror, she couldn't even see the SUV's front end. She wanted to let it pass, but this road was much too narrow. She reached over and turned off the CD player. Only then could she hear the siren blaring from the open window.

"It's a cop!?" She slowly glanced down at her speedometer and gasped. It was reading above 100 miles per hour, and she was slowing down. Just then, the siren shut off and she heard a booming voice.

"Pull your vehicle over, Now!"

She slowly pressed the brake pedal and the SUV decelerated with her, matching her dropping speed. The road was still too narrow for her to completely pull over, but ahead, she could see a small clearing and slowly pulled into it. The SUV was still close behind her, but she could now see the flashing lights on top. She shifted the car into park, and put both of her hands on the wheel. She knew that she was in trouble, she just didn't know how much.

Jim Bob Clark exited his vehicle, reached back in for his shades, and then slowly walked to the driver side of Sarafina's car. When she looked in her side view mirror, she could see that he had his hand on his service automatic and was removing it from its hip holster.

"Driver, undo your seatbelt, open your door from the outside, and step out of your vehicle!" He was yelling, but he didn't have to. He was close, his voice was deep, and in this clearing surrounded by dense trees, it carried and echoed.

Sarafina complied, first undoing her seatbelt, then reaching outside the open window to open the door. As she got out of the car, she could see Officer Clark 10 feet away from her. His feet were shoulder width apart, and his hands were firmly gripped on his weapon, which was pointed directly at her. She felt like crying. How had she gotten herself into this mess? She didn't want to look at the gun, but she couldn't look away. She started shaking and could feel the tears well up within her. How would she explain this to her parents?

Officer Clark could see that the girl, and she was a girl, was frightened, but not drunk or high on drugs. Her long black hair framed her face. She was staring at his gun. When he realized it, he lowered his weapon, holstered it and snapped it in place with one quick motion of his fingers.

"Is there ANY reasonable excuse for why you were driving that fast?" he said, but Sarafina didn't respond. He could see that she was still visibly shaken. He took a few tentative steps towards her.

"Maam? . . ." He felt a bit awkward calling this young woman 'maam', but he didn't know what else to call her. "Maam, it's ok. I'm sorry I had to draw on you, but you were behaving kinda recklessly." He removed his sunglasses, clipped them on his shirt and held his hand out to her, but she ignored it. She was still staring at his gun, which was now holstered and secured. He could see tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"Maam!" He snapped. "Are you alright?" His outstretched hand now touched her shoulder lightly. She looked at it, and then back at him.

"I'm so sorry . . ." she began.

He heard an accent to her voice, but couldn't quite place it. Eastern European maybe, but he wasn't sure. In any event, he was relieved that she was looking at him now and didn't appear to be as shaken as she was before.

"I'll need to see your driver's license, registration, and proof of insurance." He said. He was back in SuperCop mode and it made him feel comfortable to say those routine things. His hand was still on her shoulder. He didn't want to move it. He could see the tears on her cheeks and held back the urge to wipe them.

"I'm sorry. I don't have a license . . . I've been living in Germany for several years and . . ."

'Germany!' he thought to himself. The accent was now clear to him. It wasn't thick, like Schwarzenegger, but it was noticeable.

"We have laws here in America, and one of them is that you can't operate a motor vehicle without a license."

"I have a learner's permit." Sarafina wanted to reach into her pocket and pull it out, but hesitated. The officer's hand was still on her shoulder, and she was so close to the gun that it still shook her a little.

"Sorry, maam. If you only have a permit, you need a licensed driver to be with you at all times. Is this your vehicle?"

"No, it's my fathers . . ." Her voice began to quiver as she thought about how she would explain this to him. She had promised him that she would drive safely.

Officer Clark took a deep breath and thought for a minute. He actually considered letting the girl go and not giving her a ticket. He remembered his hand on her shoulder and slowly removed it. He wasn't sure what to do with it, so he put it down by his side. As he did, his wrist brushed against his holstered gun. He didn't think the girl was a threat, but he felt good about having the gun handy just in case.

"I'm sorry maam, but I can't let you drive the car home. You are unlicensed. I'm gonna have to contact your father and he'll need to come pick it up."

To that, Sarafina put her head down and started crying softly. Officer Clark put his hand on her shoulder again. He wanted to comfort her, but he also wondered what she looked like without anything on. His eyes slowly scanned up and down her body. She was dressed simply. Black jeans, not too tight, and a black oversized 'Jack Daniels' T-shirt. Her hair looked so soft that he wanted to touch it, just for a second. But he held back. It was long and black, and with her head down, it covered her face and fell below her breasts. It was the breasts that he stared at now. He wasn't sure, but he could tell that they were large, and nicely shaped, even through the oversized t-shirt. He wondered what it would be like to taste them, to hold them in his hands and nibble on the nipples. His dick stirred at the thought. The dick that was hard and looking at paparazzi photos just a few minutes before. He thought back to those pictures and the girl in them. She didn't even seem attractive to him now. He would rather see THIS girl naked. He pushed the thoughts aside and went back to being a police officer.

"Come on. You can sit in my patrol unit while I call this in." His hand slowly slid from her shoulder and down her back as he led her towards his SUV. Sarafina wasn't thinking about that hand. She was only thinking about how much trouble she was in, and how her father would react. She was sure that she would never get to drive the car again. This made her cry even more. By the time the two had taken the few steps and reached the SUV, Sarafina was crying openly. Officer Clark felt sorry for the girl, but he did have a job to do.

"I'm sorry again, maam, but I'll have to search you before I put you in the vehicle. It's department policy. Would you prefer I call in a female officer?" He silently wished that she said 'no'. That would give him a chance to search her. As he waited for her response, he stepped back and put his hands on his belt.

From his view, he could now see the girls entire backside. And he liked what he saw. She was thick. Not fat, just curvy in all of the right places.

Sarafina didn't really know what to do, but she had seen several shows on television and knew how to 'assume the position'. She placed her hands on the SUV and spread her feet apart slowly. The SUV was clean, washed and waxed. Even in the shaded area, she could see her face in the reflection of the glossy paint. Her eyes were red from crying, and she could see the tears on her cheeks. She was about to wipe them away when she felt Officer Clark close behind her. He placed his left hand on her back and gently held her toward the car, while using his right hand to slide gently down her side. He felt the soft curves at her waist and let his hand travel down her hip, thigh, lower leg, and briefly stop at the ankle. Then he slid the hand slowly inside the leg, stopped, and gave a gentle squeeze.

Sarafina didn't flinch. She didn't move at all. She didn't know what to do. She had never been searched by a police officer before, either in America or her home in Germany, so she didn't know if this was standard procedure.

Officer Clark paused. He waited for a reaction from the girl, but he didn't sense one. She didn't move, didn't say anything. She didn't even tense up. He thought for a second, and then slowly moved the hand from the inner thigh to her sex. His fingers gripped the seams of her jeans. He could feel the heat there. That excited him. He began to rub slowly back and forth.

Sarafina tensed and inhaled deeply. She wanted to say something. Wanted to move away. She didn't know what was happening, but he CERTAINLY wasn't looking for drugs. Even if someone did drive down this secluded road, they were behind a large SUV. No one could see them. And if she told anyone, who would believe her. She was an unlicensed driver, admittedly driving above the speed limit. She wasn't even an American citizen. She thought that maybe if she let him touch her, he would let her go without giving her a ticket. The thought made her feel better.

Officer Clark was pleased with himself. He had gone farther than he had ever thought of going, and she didn't say a word. She was scared. He knew it. But she didn't pull away. "This was good.", he thought. "Let's do more.", he thought. He stood up, moved his body closer to hers, then placed his hands on her hips and slowly slid them up her sides. He thought he heard her moan, but wasn't sure. It didn't matter. This was too good to stop now. With her arms raised, it was easy to reach around her and feel her breasts. He held them in his hands. Felt the weight of them. Squeezed them. They were large, round, and soft. He put his face into her hair and smelled. It was clean and sweet. He liked that. Liked it very much. He moved his head beside hers, so that his cheek was against her ear. He grabbed her breasts harder and squeezed them tighter.

Sarafina was confused, but it did feel good. Very good. She could smell the meatball sub on his breath, and it excited her even more. She wanted to move her hands onto his. She wanted to moan. She didn't want him to make all of the moves. She wanted to participate. Slowly, she arched her back and he responded by grinding his crotch into her ass cheeks. She could feel the thickness of his belt, and quickly remembered the gun in his holster. It scared her, but he was making her feel so good, surely he wouldn't hurt her.

As she let her fear fade away, she could feel him moving his hands downward, stopping at her waist for a moment, then moving them upwards again. He was under her shirt! She could feel the warm touch on her sides just above the waist. The fingers tickled and danced on her skin like spiders. She held back a giggle and inhaled deeply again. As she did, his hands moved from her sides to her bra-covered breasts. He was squeezing them harder this time, using the palms of his hands to press them against her chest. The bra was smooth and silky, but sturdy, and the breasts within it were large, natural, and begging to be touched.

"God, you are all woman!" she heard him whisper. She moaned in reply. He was gripping her tighter and still grinding his cock into her ass. She didn't know what to do, but her body moved back and forth on its own. She could feel his length in the center of her asscheeks and it felt good. Jim Bob would have been happy to continue the grinding until he came in his pants, but he wanted REAL relief. He released his grip on her breasts, spun her around and looked her in the eyes. Although they were still red, she didn't look afraid any more. In fact . . . she looked horny. He wondered just HOW horny.

He placed both his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her downward. Slowly, she kneeled down so that she was eye level with his massive belt. She looked at it. The size of it. The thick, black leather. Handcuffs, gun, several 'pouches' that contained who knows what. She didn't like it. She wanted it gone. She wanted to remove it so that she could push the image of the gun out of her head. Clark sensed this and unhooked the belt and pants, sliding them both off in one motion. His underwear was black. Not boxers, but not briefs either. They fit him snugly and from inches away, she could clearly see the outline of his cock. She looked up at him. Expecting a sign. Their eyes met and he smiled. She smiled back and raised her hand to touch his thigh. She could feel the muscles beneath the skin tensing. Maybe he was as nervous as she was? The thought instantly made her feel better. She slid her hand upwards until it reached the bottom of the underwear. She gripped it, and slowly slid it down his legs.

Once it was free, the thick cock sprung upward and bounced a few times before resting. She had only seen one real one in her life and this one looked so much bigger. Thicker. Longer. He half-stepped forward and she knew what he wanted her to do. She wasn't exactly sure about how to do it, but she was determined to try. She reached out a hand and touched it. The shock of the touch almost made him pass out. She was examining him. Running her hand up and down the length, carefully cupping the balls. She moved her head closer, closed her eyes, and kissed the head. It was heaven for him. She could feel him trembling. She wrapped her hand around the shaft. Her fingers barely fit around the entire thing. She let the head slip past her lips and into her mouth. It was warm and hard. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, but could only get a few more inches in. Her tongue began moving back and forth slowly under the head. She couldn't believe this was happening.