It has been a while since I’ve written, and I have to admit there hasn’t been a lot to write about. Oh, I am still involved with my former boss, I still am dating a couple nice guys, still working and still enjoying life.
At a recent luncheon with my friend Jennifer we reflected on our lives and the little and large things that make us happy. Jennifer has rekindled happy into her personal repertoire since breaking up with Max, a real jerk of a guy. Now she was playing the field, and having a whole lot of fun doing it.
I informed her that I’d been seeing a guy, a businessman. He was a respectable guy except in the bedroom where he liked me to wear flimsy, flirty things. One of his big turn ons was me wearing a garter belt and stockings, which I have to admit I thought was something from my mother’s time.
He was always a sweetie but was one who played the field and over our time together we had fun but it wasn’t all that serious. Still, he was a sweetie and once helped me out of a real jam with some cash so he was sort of special.
Yes, just two 30 somethings living life.
Jennifer and I have always been close, sharing some of our most personal occurrences. She had once told me about being caught in the act of being bent over and humped by a boyfriend in a stairwell by the mall, while I related a story of being caught in a car with me, er, bobbing my head on his throbbing cock in a Wal-Mart parking lot and we both laughed at our stupid, unaware history.
We left lunch and headed to my house, where we had a couple of glasses of white wine. Out of the blue Jennifer relayed the story about her messing around with a professor to get a grade. “I was flunking psychology, of all things, because I missed a lot of class and didn’t do any extra assignments. I just knew I bombed the final, and knew that would fill my GPA.”
I begged her to go on as I lit the gas fireplace to heat the room.
“Well, at the local watering hole that night guess who I ran into, Professor Brawley. We exchanged pleasantries and spoke and he asked why I hadn’t taken his class seriously. I told him about my bad schedule, my outside work, boyfriend troubles and basically said I just had to pass the course. He informed me that wasn’t likely, as even grading on the curve I’d flunked.
“You know the story. I mean, it’s not like a girl has never given a blow job for a grade, but I’d never been in that situation. He was standoffish, told me I should have studied, and after a couple glasses of wine I got up the nerve and asked him if I could do some extra credit to pass.
“He looked around the bar, looked back at me, and smiled. He basically said go out the back door of the bar and head left, he’d be waiting. He said a blow job would probably do the trick. I was aghast, but nodded.”
I was amazed at the story, looked at her, and asked to hear from happened. She was reluctant at first, but under some begging and egging on she soon continued her story.
“Apparently this wasn’t the first nor last time something like this had happened with the Prof. I mean, I went out the door and there must have been five or six people smoking over to the right. But sure enough, down toward the end of the building on the left, was the professor. He was about 10 feet away from another couple who were sucking face. It was quite embarrassing. But I took a deep breath and walked to him.
“I told him it was a little bit crowded, but he told me to pay it no mind. Only get on with my end of the bargain. I balked, he replied he’d give me a C plus and not just pass me, but it had to be now or never.
“Shaking my head, I said okay and began to stroke his cock through his jeans. I tried to block the view of the smokers, but noticed they were looking at the couple a little closer to them. That girl had dropped to her knees and was sucking off the guy with a riveted audience.
“I stroked the Prof’s cock and he begged me to take it out, which I did. Soon he was gasping as my stroking intensified. I mean, he was swaying and pounding my hand. I could tell he was enjoying my ministrations.
“Then he told me to suck him and I got onto my haunches and started blowing him right there in the alleyway. I mean, I didn’t think twice about it, the surroundings, anything. It was so hot and erotic, and he loved it. He led me work him a couple minutes as I heard the couple next to us finish their activities. The group at the end of the alley clapped at their actions and I knew that now all eyes were on me.
“I heard someone come out of the building and a girl’s voice said to look at the slut. I know she meant me and it was so hot. I don’t know if it was the drinks but I began working that cock to get him to cum fast so I could get it over with. He on the other hand was loving my mouth action and while I could tell he was pronging the excitement. Still, he couldn’t hold off much longer and soon he was shooting in my mouth. He held my head in place so I had to swallow, which I did. And I remember thinking how embarrassing the next couple minutes would be.
“I got up, and he patted me on the ass. Soon we were walking- a walk of shame mind you- to the hoots, hollers and cat calls of the 10 or so guys and gals who watched me give the blow job. Damn. But I got a B minus.”
We laughed and laughed and drank another glass of wine at what then was not a laughing matter. I said I was hot for the story, and might have to go upstairs and have my “friend” make an appearance. Jennifer laughed, as we both had admitted having sex with our imaginary boyfriend – the fleshy fake cock – when the need hit us. Life goes on.
I asked if she ever say the professor again, and she told me only in passing. She never had another course with him, and she got over the embarrassment of blowing someone in front of a group of people. After her revelation we had a couple more drinks and were feeling no main. I’d relayed a couple stories in the past to her about my boss- not telling her it was my boss but someone I worked with, and she wanted to know my most embarrassing moment.
One story I never told her was from my stupid younger days when I was busted and did very naughty things to get out of the jam. Uh huh, I was a real bad girl. The drinks that night opened me up, and I relayed a naughty story from younger days, something I’d never told anyone.
In my early 20s I was caught in a drunk driving checkpoint and got a DUI blowing 0.08 on the meter. That was the limit in my state, and it was taken into consideration at court. I got off with a slap on the wrist, a fine, boost in insurance rates and a blemish on my record. It was a total embarrassment for me.
Never again I told myself.
As it was the cop that hauled me in, Clark, was nice, and we actually dated for a couple months. Nothing serious, although we had, well, had sex. He was a player, not a care in the world and a guy who liked to play the field. But he was great conversationalist and cunnilinguist. A lot better, I related, than my current beau.
But life gets in the way of reality. About a year later-spent in an affair with Lin, my boss, I broke up with him when he informed me- while I was sucking his cock – that his wife was pregnant…again. The nerve, in that he expected me to be his personal plaything while was wife was out of commission. Seriously?
I went through a period of despair, breaking up with my married boss and my cop boyfriend as well as his replacement, a guy who was hot and heavy for several weeks then dropped my\e like a hot potato.
Stupidity sometimes comes easy.
Stupid as in spending Friday and Saturday nights partying, usually with some friends. Never a problem, well, until the night Brittany and Tanya each found their own plaything and abruptly left our favorite watering hole. Normally not a problem, except that Tanya was the designated driver. And me, stupid me, thought a couple last drinks for the road weren’t a problem.
Two hours later I was pulled over by the local gendarmes, and back into the county lockup I went. There I was placed with a couple other inebriated ladies and two hookers. Not a pleasant fivesome.
Luckily Clark was working that evening and caught wind of my mishap. He got me out of the cell and into an interrogation room. Pissed, he said I blew .13 on the meter and was in deep shit. Crying, I said I couldn’t get convicted of aggravated drunk driving, something they charged me with because not only was I weaving but I’d hit several trash cans along the road.
Begging him to help me, he said he’d see what he could do, but that Judge Orner was an ornery bastard who would at best with my record give me 90 days in county jail if not six months. My mind remembered my last foray into the legal system cost me more than $3,500 in legal bills, a doubling of car insurance as well as the embarrassment of it all.
In this case, he told me my license would undoubtedly be suspended, and I worried all this would cost me my job. “Damn, Clark, isn’t there anything you can do?” was my plea. I wanted him to pull a string, any string, to help me get out of this ordeal.
He shook his head. “I know you’re not a bad woman, I know you didn’t mean anything, but I don’t think it will be easy to get this reversed. The prosecutor is a bastard on these things and the Judge is a by the book, headline loving, man seeking re-election.”
Still, Clark said he’d see what he could do and strode me back to my newly found “friends” in the holding cell. Ugh. That was embarrassing enough, sobering to some extent, except I knew I was still slurring words.
Listening to the girls in the cell was bad, worrying about my predicament was worse, and I tucked my feet under me and tried my best to stay away from any dealings with the other women in the cell. After a bit I must have dozed off, only to be startled with the guard’s baritone voice calling my name.
Shaking the cobwebs out of my head, I stood and the woman in blue pointed toward the cell door. “You are in a heap of trouble, missy, so get with it and don’t [piss me off.
I was led to that same room where Clark had huddled with me earlier. Directed to sit and be quiet, I followed those directions and sat as quiet as a mouse for the next 15 minutes. The only sound in the room was the tantalizingly slow “tick, tick, tick” of the old clock high on the wall that indicated I’d been there about four hours.
Time must fly when you are having fun or having a buzz and nodding off.
The door opened and Clark came in and the guard left. He didn’t look happy.
“I’m going to lay this on the line, Robyn, your ass is grass. They got you nine ways to Sunday, and it’s not going to be pretty. The prosecuting attorney wants to teach you a lesson and send you up the river, and Judge Orner is going to do just that. There’s no attorney that will get you out of this one. Sorry.
The tears began flowing once again. “You have to help me,” was my sobbing request.
Clark looked at me, and said it wasn’t going to be easy. But, if I was willing to go the extra mile we might be able to work this out.
“What do you mean,” I slurred.
Looking back I couldn’t believe it, but Clark had spoken with the particulars and there was a way to skate. The prosecutor hadn’t gotten blown in a year, as his wife – who blew him regularly before marriage – lost her lust for his cock about two years after the wedding. He was agreeable to some quid pro quo.
“You mean I blow him and I’m off the hook?”
Clark’s look shot knives at me. “Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“Well, treating him right would get some of the evidence tainted, but the judge still had the final say and he’s not going to carve a deal unless he, well, he wants to bang you. And since you are in a spot, Officer Dawson doesn’t want to get blown or bang you, but there’s something he wants.
Sheepishly, he looked at the floor and spoke.
“He wants you to lick his ass while he jerks off.”
I couldn’t believe it, I was being blackmailed, coerced, forced, incented to lick ass, something I’d never done, as well as suck cock and fuck the judge to get out of the jam.
“It’s the best I could do,” said Clark in a matter of fact, firm voice. “They are serious of sending you up the river. This is a way out.”
My mind totally jumbled. I was embarrassed and humiliated I’d gotten myself into this predicament. We spoke for a couple minutes and it was almost instantaneously noted that this was the best deal I’d get. Thinking I was stupid to get into the jam, this was a way out, so I agreed to the terms. It was better than being some bunkmate’s hussy in the lockup, that’s for sure.
Looks as if I had to essentially whore myself out to get out of the jam. I didn’t want to do it, but what could I do. I looked at Clark, nodded my head, and asked when. He quickly said “Now.”
As in right away.
I stared at him, thinking on one hand I will be bankrupt, lose my job and so forth, while on the other I lose my pride, my virtue and all that.
The latter won as I resigned myself to my degrigration and punishment.
We walked from my cell through a dungeon like hallway away from the bustling front of the jail. Entering a small room, Clark sat me down and had me look over a sort of statement. It stated I was not coerced, was treated well, and was not forced to do anything untoward. I think this was best called a “weasel document” to keep what happened from being used against those who partook in the activities. Smart thinking on their part so that if I caused a ruckus there would be paperwork.
Moving to a new room, I sat for about 15 minutes stewing before Officer Crawford, the arresting officer, stride into the room. He looked me up and down and shook his head. “Well, missy, I understand you have begged your way out of the pokey if you behave. And you will…take off your clothes.”
Off came the one piece orange jail suit and I stood there in just a bra and panties. There was no reason for modesty, as I knew my purpose. I slid down to my knees and reached for his zipper.
Down it came, and off came his trousers. There was a tent in his boxers.
“I’d never cheat on my wife, so guess what, kiss my ass.”
Nasty. He turned around and with a little bit of hesitation but spurred on by my predicament, I leaned toward the man’s ass. He reached around and spread his cheeks and his puckered bunghole was on display. I was disgusted, but didn’t have a choice. I leaned over and kissed his cheeks.
Slowly I kissed the man’s ass, dreading what could come next. He told me in no uncertain terms to lick between his ass cheeks.
“Only a whore would do that, lick my ass bitch,” was his demand.
I followed instructions, licking his ass all over before getting to the asshole itself. While Officer Crawford stroked his cock I licked, kissed and tongued his asshole, nuzzling my nose into his nasty smelly crack. He hadn’t cleaned back there and it smelled. Ugh.
But I performed my penance, licking ass as he jerked off. All of a sudden he pulled away, turned around and jerked off with his cum spurting all over my face and hair. I knelt there and took it like a trooper as the man panted and rubbed his dick all over my face.
It wasn’t long before he was dressed and left the room, leaving me unattended to wipe the crusting stuff from my face. There wasn’t a basin to wash so the cum was sticky wherever it dried, and I sat back and sobbed. Reminding myself it would all be over soon.
# # # #
I felt so degraded and swore to myself I’d never drink and drive again if I could only make it through the night. Clark came into the room and shook his head. “Aren’t you the sight, Robyn, but you are okay, right? He didn’t hurt you or anything?”
“Only my pride. That was so very embarrassing Clark. But I know, I got myself into this mess.”
We spoke for a minute before Clark led me to a larger room down the hall. It had the look of those interrogation rooms you see on cop shows on TV. Square, table in the middle, chair on either side of the table. We weren’t there a couple minutes before a tall, good looking man entered the room. It was the prosecuting attorney, Riley Cloverfield. I’d seen him on TV before, and he was much bigger in person.
Clark bid us goodbye, smiling at me and mouthing it would be alright.
The attorney was to the point. “See, before I got married Ginny sucked me off at least three times a week. She loved it, or so I thought. I was so hot getting blown by her. Once we did it in a bathroom at a party, another time up at the top of the lighthouse. Damn hot, I tell you. But once we got married, they became lesser and lesser, and now she tells me she hates sucking cock. That it’s degrading. Okay, well, sweetie, you’re going to get degraded tonight….and I expect it to be a great, wonderful blow job. Okay?”
Nodding at the man, I said I was there for him, that I loved sucking cock, and that I wanted him to be totally satisfied.
“How many guys have you sucked off?” he asked.
What? I mean, I had to count.
He murmured something about me being a pretty fellatrix, and I merely smiled at him. Maybe it was the presence of booze in my system, maybe it was the officer cumming on my face, or maybe it was licking his ass. Whatever, I was horny. I wanted cock. There was one in the room with me, and I wanted it.”
“I want to blow you,” was my request.
Again, I went down onto my knees, unzipping the trousers and unleashing a stubby cock. Licking the man’s thighs I played with the dick, jerking it. I licked all over his balls before looking up at him.
“Can I suck your cock?”
He shuddered and nodded.
Licking the tip, I realized he was at full attention. Thick, yes, but not all that long. Maybe five inches. If I put my full hand around his cock there wasn’t much room to suck, so I used two fingers and a thumb around the base and jerked him with putting the rest of his manhood into my mouth.
Slowly I sucked him, up and down, listening to him groan. With my other hand I reached around and played with his ass.
My head slowly rocked back and forth on his cock and I could tell he loved my ministrations. Groans were heard from above as he caressed my head in his hands, gently guiding me up and down his dick. I liked the size of his cock, not too big, and it filled my mouth.
A couple time she stopped and rubbed his dick on my face. “This feels so good, I don’t want to cum too quick,” was his reasoning. “I love your mouth action. Now, suck me more.”
I knew the drill and took his cock back into my mouth, alternating speed and delivery. I felt at home between his legs sucking, as I was practiced in the art so to speak. Never any complaints.
We moved in tandem, slowly at first, but then rocking my head faster and faster as the man enjoyed his plaything. It wasn’t long before I felt him tighten his grip on my head and I began to taste his man sauce. There was no option of jerking it off or doing anything but swallowing the seed.
“Suck my dick you whore, suck my dick. Swallow it. Eat it down.”
He was really into the blow job and after he’d cum he didn’t pull away. I merely munched on his shriveling dick as he luxuriated in the aftermath. Damn it had been hot.
Finally, minutes later, he said he needed to get to court. He advised me to not drink and drive again, and warned me that I’d better be on the straight and narrow.
# # # #
Sitting down in one of the chairs, I reflected on what I’d just done. It wasn’t so bad, I kept telling myself. But maybe because I was sobering up I realized how humiliating it was. I mean, I’ve sucked dicks because I’d wanted to, but this was different. I didn’t really want to, I had to or else I would not get out of the jam.
I’d have wallowed and my mind would have been more jumbled but the door open and in walked an old man – he had to be sixty or older. Judge Orner.
The man tore into me, asking me what I’d been thinking earlier that night. He said he should have sent me away but Clark had stood up for me and asked for a break. And a break I’d get…as long as I took care of his dick. Something his wife hadn’t done in “years and years”.
We spoke for a while before I took my favorite fall, onto my knees, unzipping trousers and sucking cock. Unlike the prosecutor, who was smaller and fatter, the judge had a long thin cock. Maybe even seven inches. It was very suckable, so I sucked it.
Apparently he liked it as I licked its underside, especially down near his balls. He also liked it when I just held the tip in my mouth and used only my lips to suck. No movement, just sucking the tip. That was something I guy I’d blown named David loved, and I’d worked it into my cocksucking repertoire.
My mouth started getting tied from all the sucking, so I used a little more hand to jerk his dick off. It was quite erotic knowing I was sucking an older man’s dick. Especially a judge. I mean, how many girls can admit to that?
His cock was hard as a rock and he was using my mouth as its home away from home. Still, he soon pulled out and directed me over the desk. Again my jail clothing came off. I lay there in my bra as he slid down my panties and bared my ass to his view. He played with my pussy from behind, fingering it as I became even more soaking wet to the touch.
“You want this, don’t you,” said the judge. “You are soaking wet.”
I guess I was, as his finger fucked me easily, sliding in and out, back and forth. Soon his finger was replaced his hard cock. We were still for a bit, but then he began slowing fucking me from behind. I like doggie style, and from this position and angle his cock was hitting all the right places as I actually was enjoying it.
We rocked together for a couple minutes and I swore he was going to cum, but like the attorney he slowed and pulled out. “Not so fast, missy, not so fast. This is punishment, not a race. You are awesome, though, you feel so very nice.” All the while he talked he played with my wet pussy. Sometimes he slipped a finger into my ass as I groaned. But he just laughed.
“My wife doesn’t like to fuck,” said the judge. “But even when we were fucking it was the old in and out, me on top, humping away. She hated doggie style, and I love it as you can tell. In fact, I want some more right now.”
With that the judge bellied on up to my backside, rubbing his dick up and down my pussy and ass crack, talking about how great I felt, how good he felt.
And then he started pushing at me once again, but instead of into my sloppy wet pussy it was higher.
“STOP, that’s my ass. That’s the wrong place. It’s lower,” was my direction.
“To bad, girl, it’s the right place!” The judge held my ass in place with one hand and used his other to direct his cock at my asshole. Seriously, at my asshole.
“NOOOO, I’ve never,”
There was a smirk on his face, I just know it. “You are going to now. You’re going to take my dick up your ass.”
Damn, it was in there, and inch at a time. That seven inch monster made its way deep into my ass greased only by a little pussy juice. It hurt like hell, and I let out a scream. Guess the room was soundproofed, as not a single body came in to help me.
The judge pummeled my ass, fucking me with abandon. He held my shoulders as he fucked me, rutting faster and faster.
“Oh my, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum in your ass!”
My dishrag body lie there as the judge has his way with my hurting asshole. His dick slid in and out as I held onto the table. Even after he came he kept slowly fucking me as his cock began to deflate. But it wasn’t for another minute or so before it slipped out of my ass.
“That was awesome. My wife Melody would never let me near her ass, much less fuck it!”
I knew why, as it hurt like hell.
Thoroughly fucked, I’d made it through the gauntlet of punishment. Soon I was ushered into a shower stall and cleaned each orifice, nook and cranny. I was humiliated, yes, but I knew I’d don’t what was needed and that consoled me.
Soon Clark had me in his personal car and we were driving back to where my car had been stopped. It hadn’t been towed, Clark had made sure of that. And by now the booze had mostly gotten out of my system. I was street legal.
Thanking the man, yes I actually thanked the man who set me up as the law’s little whore that night, I smiled. “Clark, you were a lifesaver tonight.”
He mumbled something about me needing to get my life under control. He wouldn’t be there to protect me all the time.
Nodding my head, I said I learned my lesson. Never again.
With that I kissed his cheek. Then I bent my head down, unzipped trousers, and sucked him off. I mean, he deserved it.
Looking at Jennifer I realized my story had an effect on her, as her fingers were dancing on her clit as she stroked it under the hem of her dress.
“You made that story up?” was her calm question.
Smiling at my close friend, I merely shrugged my shoulders.