Chapter 1
I was driving across the desert, listening to a hysterical preacher on the only station the car radio could pick up when I first saw them. The merciless orange ball of the late afternoon sun was joined in my rear-view mirror by a flashing blue light.
At first I thought they were Highway Patrol, but when they got closer I realized they were local police. Gila Flats P.D. it said on their car.
I was starting to slow down to pull over, so I didn't think it was necessary for them to turn on the siren, but they did it anyway. Then, with absolutely no excuse, they ran me off the road.
My car lurched to a stop in a ditch. Fortunately I wasn't hurt. I was indignant, however.
After a few seconds I heard a couple of car doors pop open and shut. Then, through the mist of the dust I had kicked up, two figures in khaki approached me.
The color of their clothing matched the flying desert dust. They seemed almost ghost-like, appearing to materialize out of nowhere.
I couldn't help myself. I stopped being indignant and started being scared.
Then I could make out their faces. But it was no help-they were both wearing dark glasses and five-gallon hats. Each was chewing gum.
"Out of the car," one of them said. I couldn't tell which.
For a second I thought about defying them. Showing them what I really thought of their cheap stunt.
But I rejected it. I wanted to get to Dan and the kids and our new home. Trouble was the last thing I needed.
Besides, the air-conditioner had clunked off when I'd crashed in the ditch. It was suddenly sweltering in the car and I felt faint.
"Out!" the order was sternly repeated.
"All right, all right, I'm coming."
I opened the door and got out, immediately choking on the dust. My giddiness was starting to change to nausea.
The gritty dirt blinded me, too. It was only after thirty or so seconds of blinking that I was able to focus on what I'd gotten myself into.
Guns. They were pointing their guns at me!
"Up against the vehicle, lady," one of the cops said in a voice as metallic as his weapon. "Hands on the roof and legs spread behind you."
I was in no position to argue. Quickly I did as I was told. The top of the car broiled my fingers and I could feel the hem of my short skirt sliding revealingly up the backs of my thighs, but I made not a sound.
"Her legs ain't bad," one of them noticed.
"What are you doing out here, lady?" the other one ignored his partner and addressed the back of my head.
Seeing a chance to explain myself, I decided to answer. "I'm on my way to the East Coast," I said rapidly. "My husband was just transferred by his company back there and I'm on my way to join him and our children in the new house he's getting ready."
"Can you prove it?"
"Well, of course. Of course I can prove it."
"Then do it."
"Well, well, not right here. I mean I can't do it right here," my composure started to break down. "But, a phone. If I had a phone, a long-distance call to my husband would-"
"There ain't no phone within ten miles of here," he said disgustedly, as though I were an idiot for not knowing this fact. "Where's your I.D.? "
"In my purse," I panted, not knowing whether it was from fright or the intense desert heat. "It's in the car."
He brushed by me to get it. The instant he was inside, his partner moved directly to my rear.
This time when he admired my legs he did it with his hand rather than words. I could feel his fingertips running along the side of my left thigh. Soon they were under my skirt and touching the elastic at the bottom of my panties.
"Where you coming from?" the cop in the front seat wanted to know. I could see him checking the contents of my wallet.
"California," I said.
"Then how come your driver's license says Minnesota, Mrs. Fuller?"
"Oh, well, that's where we lived before my husband was transferred to California," I hastened to explain, trying to ignore the hand at my hip.
"You move around a lot, do you?" the cop with my wallet asked dryly.
"Yes. It's my husband's company," I hung in there. "They transfer their young executives around a lot. And when we moved from Minnesota to California and I still had several years left on my old driver's license, I just decided to keep it."
There was a silence as he apparently contemplated my story. At the same time the other cop's exploring fingers slipped under the leg of my panties and began searching for my cunt.
"What you're talking about, Mrs. Fuller, is a violation of the law," the interrogator broke his pause.
The obvious answer would have been to note one could hardly be held accountable for the motor vehicle laws of California while traveling in another state. My reply, however, was a squeal. One of the fingers filling my panties had just found my clitoris.
"I didn't get what you said, Mrs. Fuller," the cop in the car said. There was a tone in his voice subtly suggesting he knew what was going on with his partner's busy hand between my thighs.
"Uh, nothing-it was nothing," I lied, timid enough from the humiliation of being felt-up at gun point not to cause any trouble. "I guess I should have gotten the license changed. When I get back East I'll be sure and do it."
He paused again. I wondered whether he was doing it to think, or to permit his partner to stick three fingers inside my cunt without any distraction.
By the time the questioning resumed, I was being finger-fucked. I could feel the cop's nails scratching against the delicate knot of my cervix. This time I somehow managed to remain silent despite the initial shock of the unwanted stimulation.
"Let me put it this way, Mrs. Fuller," the guy in the front seat said. "If you were us, would you believe you?"
"But I didn't do anything," I protested.
"How about driving with a phony operator's license?" he chilled me with his forwardness.
What could I say? He was a cop and by his definition I had clearly broken the law. This wasn't a courtroom with judges and juries and lawyers. Out here, there was only one interpretation of justice.
"I'm sorry," I said with great sincerity, even though I had no idea for what. Intellectually I knew I was a law-abiding citizen, but emotionally the two cops had me feeling increasingly guilty of something.
What they were doing to me was so degrading I guess my innate shame had taken over. No matter how much in the right I technically was, it was difficult to cope psychologically with one cop brow-beating me, while his partner blatantly finger-fucked me. I felt improbably like a hooker picked up for soliciting in the middle of the desert.
Still, I wouldn't outwardly admit that I was squirming under their harassment. Somehow I still kept the faith that polite behavior on my part would eventually lead to my release.
Just be nice to these guys and they'll let you go, I told myself. However, even as I was trying to comfort myself with this wishful thought, the cop behind me inserted the rest of his fingers into my pussy. Balling his hand into a fist, he began fist-fucking me.
With knuckles ramming the sensitivity of my cervix, I had no alternative but to moan. An entire fist pumping within my twat felt like nothing I'd ever experienced before.
As though my sigh of pain were a pre-arranged signal, the officer in the car got out. As he joined his partner at my rear, I could see his reflection in the roof of the car eyeing the exposed distention of my crotch. However, he said nothing that would indicate he was a witness to his partner's lawless fist-fucking of my helpless cunt.
"You got any way to prove this car ain't stolen, Mrs. Fuller?" he dropped his bombshell. "Or are we gonna go on the merry-go-round again between Minnesota and California and the East Coast?"
"If you'll take me into town, I can call my husband," I desperately tried to make my case.
"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Fuller," he replied. "We were gonna take you into town anyway."
Despite the clarity of his words, I couldn't understand what he was getting at. It seemed apparent that his statement had a hidden meaning. I didn't know whether to challenge him and get it over quickly, or wait silently for the inevitable catch to surface.
While I tried to make up my mind I became suddenly aware of a wet, squishing sound. Finally I put two and two together and realized it was the noise of my pussy being fist-fucked.
Involuntarily my cunt had become soaking wet. There was nothing I could do about it. Friction had taken over and my abused twat was gushing.
The abrupt diversion of my attention to the moist condition between my legs resulted in a mute response to the cop's cryptic comment about being taken to Gila Flats. Thus, it was in passivity that I assimilated the latest development in this horrible incident.
"You're under arrest, Mrs. Fuller," the talkative cop laid it on me. At the same time, one of his partner's knuckles nudged a point deep within my pussy that had never before been stimulated. I gasped from both aspects of the double message.
It was beginning to seem more and more that I wasn't going to get out of this without trouble. Naturally, the prospect frightened me.
However, it was debatable whether the shuddering now wracking my body was generated by fright. The involuntary orgasm I was abruptly having probably had a lot more to do with it.
"Suspicion of car theft," I was formally accused. "We'il talk about proof of ownership and all the rest of this mess in town at the jail. It's air-conditioned."
"How long will I be tied up?" I forced myself to ask through teeth that were clenched from unwanted but intense orgasmic spasms.
"Could be days," he chuckled. "You might wind up as a non-paying guest if you don't come up with better answers than you have out here."
What he was suggesting was unthinkable. Dan and the kids would go out of their minds wondering what happened to me. It was time to stop playing things by the book and think of some way to slither out of this bind.
"M-maybe there's s-something I could do," I stammered, self-conscious in my first attempt at bribery, and breathless from continued sexual climax.
"You mean to make it up to us so we'll let you go," my interrogator said without affect, putting all the burden of proof on me.
The hot sun had been making me sweat all along. Now I drenched my clothing as I contemplated how far I was willing to go to obtain my freedom. Accompanying my thoughts were the steady grind of probing knuckles in my gooey cunt and constant orgasmic convulsions.
"Yes, I'll do anything you want," I surprised myself with my extremism.
"I like the sound of that, Jack," the cop with his fist in my twat spoke for the first time since his comment about my legs.
In my agitated condition, this statement seemed like a possible light at the end of the tunnel. Impulsively, I decided to follow up on it.
"Look, my cunt is already wet," I astounded myself by reporting the obvious. "I could fuck you both without any trouble if you let me go when we're through." There was no doubt that the condition of my pussy, in conjunction with the broiling sun and my fear, had affected my thinking. I knew it, but I couldn't help myself.
All I wanted to do was get away. Nobody need know what happened to me out in this desert once it was all over.
I thought of having sex with them in the same vein as the figurative tree falling in the uninhabited forest that makes no noise because no one is there to hear it. Once I was back with my family, this incident would seem like it had never happened.
"I'm sure you can lay us without any trouble," the cop now identified as Jack said. "But what makes you think you wouldn't have to anyway?"
That took all the wind out of my sails. I was speechless. I'd never felt so helpless in my life.
The silence was even more explicit than the words. It was filled by the unmistakable whine of two yielding zippers. Then, in the reflection from the car I could see them both pulling their cocks out of their open flies.
It was clear that in any screwing I wasn't going to have the upper hand. In trying to call the shots, I'd made a fool of myself. Suddenly I knew that after they were finished with me, I would be worse off than before.
Now that he was going to use his prick on me, the cop fist-fucking me removed his hand from my cunt. It came out with a loud, wet pop that reverberated in the still desert air.
My pussy throbbed moistly from his prolonged assault. Whether I liked it or not, it was in perfect condition for fucking.
While I remained spread-eagled against the police cruiser, the cops went to work disrobing me.
They'd probably done it plenty of times when searching suspects and operated with quick efficiency. In little more than a minute, the sun's rays were burning every pore of my naked body.
Then, inevitably, I felt the head of a prick working its knotty way between the sweat-licked cheeks of my ass. Falling right in to my gaping pussy, it began fucking me.
It was the first hard-on I'd felt in my cunt since Dan, my husband, and I had made love a month ago on the night before he left for the East. I had missed the sensation of several inches of hard male meat engorging my slit, and was now paying the price for my abstinence with feelings I couldn't control.
"I think she likes it," my attacker turned out to be Jack's nameless partner. "Her pussy muscles are grabbing my cock like a noose."
"Point your gun at her head and she'll wiggle her ass," Jack replied like an old hand at this sort of thing. "The more scared you get these roadside bitches, the better they put out."
Just like that the muzzle of a .38-special pressed menacingly against my temple. It was the only cold thing in the desert.
Yes, I wiggled my ass.
"Mmmmmm, she's a tiger," the one fucking me responded favorably. "She's got a cunt like a teenager's."
"Well, let's see what her mouth is like," Jack said.
He got back in the car, sitting on the edge of the front seat with his legs dangling outside. His stiff prick seemed to loom almost a foot from his lap.
"Bend down and suck my cock, Mrs. Fuller," he ordered. "And in case your hands being free gives you any funny ideas, remember Charlie and I will have our guns pointed at you the whole time you're servicing us."
So now I knew both their names. Jack and Charlie. The dynamic duo of the Gila Flats P.D.
Needless to say I had no desire to force Jack and Charlie into a put-up or shut-up situation. I doubted their capacity for restraint in light of their option of attributing anything violent to resisting arrest.
In other words, if Jack wanted me to suck his cock like a slave, I'd suck his cock like a slave. I was beginning to realize something about myselfthat I'd rather be alive over anything.
He didn't have to worry about my free hands. I wouldn't use them for anything more than squeezing his balls-and maybe fiddling with his sweaty asshole.
All I could do was play it by ear. Take one thing at a time. Get through the sex and wait and see what happened next.
So, right now, I was parting my lips and lowering my mouth over the throbbing head of Jack's prick. It seemed as big as a fist.
At my rear, Charlie had his cock in my pussy to the hilt. His balls were churning against my sticky labia. He was really fucking-I could feel it so deep.
The prick in my mouth was surprisingly sweet. Before I knew it I had gobbled it half way down to the root.
"Deep throat me, Mrs. Fuller," Jack rasped. "Eat my cock to the balls."
I did. Just like that I swallowed so much hard-on I was gagging. The head of his tool was blocking my windpipe.
But I didn't let go. I just kept on sucking.
And fucking. Charlie was plowing away from behind. It seemed that every minute or so he would discover a sense-rippling new way to twist his hilted dick.
Let's face it. It felt and tasted good. A month without sex had left me more susceptible to stiff cock than a respectable, middle-class woman would like to be.
To assuage my guilt at becoming so aroused in this degrading situation, I tried to close my eyes and imagine that it was my husband's cock plowing a furrow up my snatch. And also, miraculously, Dan's hard-on engorging my throat. Somehow I felt I could retain my virtue by doing this.
It was a fizzle. I couldn't concentrate on the imaginary Dan for more than a few seconds.
I kept coming back to reality. The tough cops with the big cocks fucking me in the cunt and mouth. Their action was what was making me horny, not anything in my imagination.
Suddenly I had an intense desire for nothing else in the world but male cum. I had already orgasmed several times, but knew a couple of loads of hot jizz would top all that.
To make it happen, I shook my ass and suctioned my mouth like a second pussy. Just to make sure with Jack, I grabbed his balls and rubbed them together.
At once both of their pelvises slammed forward. Their hard-ons seemed to grow an extra inch a piece in the wetness of my orifices. I could feel their balls slam violently together, one set in my hand, the other against my pussy lips.
I'd had enough experience with men to know they were ready to come. Almost automatically, I shoved my finger up Jack's asshole and pulled the cork.
The jism exploded in simultaneous twin bursts. All of a sudden it was steaming in my stomach and backing up into my womb. Both of these characters shot their wads like fire hydrants.
The feeling was intense. As I'd anticipated, the climax I now had put all the others preceding it to shame.
If I had dared to admit it, I would have had to acknowledge that even my husband had never made me come like this.
They kept blowing in my two fuck-holes longer than I had ever dreamed possible a man could spurt. Apparently the desert climate was good for a man's virility. I couldn't get enough of their cum.
It was only when the last of their spunk had flowed that I started to think about what I had just done.
I had let a man fuck me without a struggle. Worse, I had sucked his partner's cock and swallowed every drop of his sperm.
My climax was ebbing. Guilt was seeping in. My whole mood was changing.
Quickly the heat of passion gave way to the heat of the day. It seemed to ignite my guilt.
One minute I was writhing with orgasm. The next I was quivering with shame. It didn't seem that both of these people could be me.
I was hopelessly confused. And not only was confusion wracking my brain, the naked sun was frying it.
When the cops finally pulled their cocks out of my body it was like a couple of props had been removed. Overcome by the torrid desert and my own degradation, I pitched forward and fainted.