At first, I had to stifle a giggle.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and there was a cop patrolling for speeders on a long stretch of highway. A woman was out for a drive after church, oddly enough wearing a cat suit and heels. Her makeup looked more like she was a stripper than a devout worshipper. She barreled down the dusty road in a sporty cherry-red convertible, the top down and the wind blowing her already artfully mussed hair. Out of nowhere, blue and red lights came on, swirling around the screen with a siren blaring, and the brunette bombshell looked surprised she was being pulled over.
A well-built cop practically bursting out of his tight uniform swaggered over to her car, and she leaned out the window, her lips all pouty.
“License and registration, please.”
“What did I do, sir?”
After a few moments of flirtatious banter, ripe with sexual innuendo, the cop ended up following the woman back to her apartment. As soon as they made it through the door, he slammed her against the wall and pressed his body against hers, kissing her. The kiss was deep and hungry as he practically devoured her, and the camera moved in tighter to pick up every stroke of his tongue. She shoved her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as he pushed his pelvis against hers, grinding his erection into her, which elicited a wild moan from her lips.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel like giggling anymore. The lust was palpable. Passion emanated from them as if they weren’t acting. It was a feeling I wasn’t familiar with, even though I wasn’t a virgin. I’d lost it to kind and sensitive Robby Barnes in high school. He’d lasted thirty seconds, which was for the best because I was barely lubricated down there. It was nothing like the lusty scene in front of me, and I began to squirm in my seat.
I knew it was wrong the way the woman was being portrayed. She was selling her body so she didn’t get a ticket. The cop was rough, not treating her with respect. If I had to guess, Stanwick would make all these points.
The cop dropped his pants and—surprise!—was commando. Duh. The woman dropped to her knees and grabbed his enormous length, licking and sucking her way around it as if she’d known him for years. He leaned his head back into the wall and growled while gripping her hair and guiding her up and down his length.
Still busy with the blow job, the brunette moved one hand down her cat suit, sliding down her zipper. Then she shoved her hand inside and began rubbing herself. She looked to be in pure ecstasy with the man’s penis in her mouth and her own hand on her clitoris.
The sucking sounds became louder, his moans increased in intensity, and then he came all over her breasts, now bared and out in the open.
They both stood and laughed, kissing wildly before chatting about what fun it was to role play. Apparently, they were actually lovers, and they liked to pretend to meet in precarious ways on Sunday afternoons.
So, there’s a plot?
The movie didn’t end. Instead, the pair went back to their bedroom, where the guy performed oral sex on the woman before flipping her on all fours. He shoved himself inside her, gripping her hair as he rammed himself in and out until they both reached orgasm.
I was uncomfortably turned on. It was wrong, but I was. I wanted some of that heat; I couldn’t help it. Some primal force rose in me, waking up my libido, taking up residence in my heart and my girlie parts. I wanted to have hot sex.
Like now.
I reached for my water bottle and took a long swig of the cold liquid in hopes it would cool me down.
Stanwick went to the front of the room and started a second movie. I wasn’t sure I could take another. I wanted to run far away—to the nearest sex-toy store or male strip club.
I felt the telltale prickle of eyes on me and looked to the right to find Blane Steele staring at me from under his hood. How long had he been doing that? Was my squirming noticeable?
Luckily, the second flick was focused on bondage, more whips and chains than actual sex, and I didn’t suffer any more sexual panic attacks.
Until class was dismissed.
Blane
Cate was right—that professor was a tough one. Crap, I almost shoved my hand in front of my dick for fear she was going to rip it off. I could tell right away she was a jock hater, so I went with a fake identity.
Plus, I certainly didn’t need to get Cate into trouble.
Settled in my seat, I caught a quick glimpse of her. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, a different color than I’d seen her wear before. Her hair was a wild mess of curls, her face glowing. And her ass filled up the seat in just the right way. God, I’d been a legs man until a week ago, but this girl’s curves were doing it for me.