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About:
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I couldn't hold on. And, my hand was in danger of being crushed on the steering wheel.
Sheryl was cumming.
I was cumming.
The light turned green. Toya pulled off. A car horn blew from behind us. I wasn't moving. Well my car wasn't moving. Me personally, I was moving mountains. Changing the flow of her rivers and streams. I was getting in some good, hard, strokes as her pussy clamped around me. Her pussy was biting. I fell into that pocket. This must be the mysterious snapping pussy. Her sponge-like muscles massaged my head as it swelled.
Her juices flowed freely. She held on and trembled against my body. No words escaped from our lips. She freed my tongue from between her teeth, and then kissed it tenderly. Lovingly. She nurtured it back to health.
My dick throbbed as I felt the pressure building. I was ready to erupt. I felt my hot lava rising. My legs trembled as the lava rose. I sucked on Sheryl's tongue as if the harder I sucked, the faster I would cum.
Sheryl knew I was cumming along with her. This was what she wanted. Her body continued its erotic dance as she wiggled and gyrated to the sweetness I was giving her.
The first shot was painful. The blast made me see bright lights all around us. I wrapped my arms around Sheryl tightly as my lava spewed into her, mixing with her juices; cumming as she came. I held her tightly, making sure that she got it all. The sounds of sex, wet sex, permeated through the vehicle --snapping and sloshing sounds-- as we continued to discharge our bodily fluids.
Sheryl screamed. It wasn't an orgasmic scream.
I opened my eyes. There were bright lights on either side of the car. Strobbing red and blue lights flashed from behind us. There was a tapping on my window. It was the police.
Sheryl tried to move off of me, but the officer shouted for her to stay exactly where she was and for me to let down the window.
There was one flashlight in my face: one in Sheryl's face. I had no choice. I had to let down the window. I was caught, so I had to play it as cool as possible to ensure that this didn't blow up too big.
I had to appeal to the man in them. "Good morning, Officer," I said politely, looking up but unable to see his face due to the bright light shining in my eyes.
"Do you know what you are doing could get. you killed?"
"I'm sorry, Officer...we just got caught up in the moment."
"Caught up in the moment?" the officer scowled, pulling his credentials.
"I know that you're an officer...you don't have to show me your badge," I chuckled nervously.
"You don't recognize the name?"
"I can't see shit...I meant...I can't see anything. You have that bright light shining directly in my eyes."
"Here, take a look now?" he said, taking the light out of my eyes and shining it on his badge and ID.
"Keith Barker," I read out loud, shaking my head. "No, I don't recognize that name. Am I supposed to know you, Officer?"
"Keith..."
"You, shut the fuck up!" he shouted, shining the flashlight into Sheryl's face.
Sheryl shut up and used her arms to hide her breasts.
"Officer, I'm the one that's responsible for this. There’s no need to speak to her that way."
"I can speak to her any damn way I please," he snarled.
Now I was getting worried. This officer was losing his cool. And his hand --the one that had been holding his badge-- was now on the butt of his service weapon. "Officer..."
"You don't recognize my name? Barker?" he snapped, cutting me off.
"No, Officer, I don't." I snarled, growing impatient also. "If you're going to give me a ticket, then go ahead and give it to me..."
"Ticket! You could lose your life..."
"There's no reason to blow this out of proportion," I said, cutting his tirade off.
"You're lucky that I don't blow your fucking head off..."
"Just wait one fuc... Just wait one minute. I know what we we’re doing is illegal but..."
"What is your name?"
"You want my license and registration?"
"I asked you a question. What.Is.Your.Name?"
"Ryan."
"Ryan, what is your passenger's name?"
"Sheryl..."
"Sheryl? That's a hoot. Is that the name she gave you? How long have you two been seeing each other?"
"Keith..." Sheryl started.
"I told you to shut up," the officer yelled. ''Well, Ryan, her name isn't Sheryl. Her name is Tameka. Tameka Barker."
"Tameka Barker," I repeated, looking at her. "This your brother?"
"Brother? Try her fucking husband," he snarled.
What the fuck...."Husband? Your muthafucking husband?" I asked, looking from him to her. I went slap-the-fuck off. "Bitch you trying to get me fucking killed? You're married...and married to a fucking gun-toting fucking policeman," I shouted, opening the car door.
Keith --her husband, the police officer-- jumped back and drew his weapon.
I pushed open the door and shoved her ass up off my dick, out of my lap, out of the car, and flat on her ass in the middle of the street.
Keith's reaction was one of a concerned husband. All I could say is that he took it better than I would have. For that, I'm thankful. He didn't shoot me. He holstered his gun and bent down to pick up his naked, cum-draining-out-of-her-pussy, cheating ass wife.
I reached over to the passenger side floorboard, picked up her bag and shoes, then tossed them out on both their asses. I was cussing while I was tossing her and her shit out too. I was fucking hot. "Bitch, you fucked up in the head. You trying to get me fucking killed? Suppose your husband started fucking shooting?" I shouted as I closed my door. I looked him dead in the eyes. "Man you need to handcuff her ass to the bed when you go to work. She could have caused you to shoot my ass and I didn't even know she was married," I said as I shifted the car into drive.
The light was green, so I drove off. I ducked, bobbing and weaving as I drove away. I kept my eyes glued to the rear view mirror the entire time, looking back to see if he was going to shoot or come after my ass. He wasn't paying my ass any attention. He was too busy helping his wife's cheating ass up out the street.
His partner wasn't checking for me either. He was too busy taking off his jacket to cover her up.
Shit! I stepped on it. I was gone.
One week of refusing to answer her phone calls. One week of listening to her messages while she was on her trip. One week of not being able to sleep. One week of paying extra attention to every police car that I saw. One week of not knowing if her husband was going to come after me.
One week of wondering. One week of stress. One week of missing that snapping pussy. Then I decided to answer her call after she left a message that she was back in town. I decided to hear her out.
She explained that it was by sheer luck --I wouldn't have used the word luck, though-- that Keith happened to come off at that exit at that time. He hadn't been following us. He didn't know that she was in my car. It was just our bad luck. Plain and simbple.
Fifteen minutes later, she was at my door. A minute after that, I was right where I belonged; back up in that nice, sweet, snapping pussy.
If her husband could forgive her good-pussy-having-ass, who am I to not extend her the same courtesy?
My motto is: "What don't kill you, makes you braver...and HARDER."
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