A Driving Horn Fantasy: Getting Fucked by a Policeman

Driving by myself makes me really horny. It’s partly those other road users and partly just plain conditioning. I do believe I’ve fallen into a cycle of randiness that I now associate with lone driving.

This randiness is also caused in part by the music I’m playing. Some songs are just crafted in a way that make me feel powerfully sexy. At the moment, I’m hooked on Massive Attack, and Trent Reznor. Mmh.


Driving through the city on my way to or from work, I become a perv. I’m perving at random people who catch my eye, that wide guy there with the short beard, his headset on, head held high, walking with intention. That woman on her bicycle, the way her body is arranged over the huge frame, the power in her legs.

That person with the gorgeously hairy legs and their best smile on their face bouncing, and I do mean bouncing, along in a cut off T-shirt, a skirt and unlaced para-boots. I could swear their feet are only touching the ground out of politeness to gravity. Clearly so damned happy to be themself. It’s so fucking heady, seeing them, so mind-blowingly beautiful. That person made my day shine.

I love this age we’re living in, the (mostly) welcoming acceptance of sexual diversity. Especially here, in this city.

My perving gaze is automatically drawn to men around my age, not too slim, often quite wide, confident, ragged looking in their features, casual in their dress, usually bearded. Actually, always bearded now I think about it.

Then there’re the other road users, the drivers. I craft instantaneous fantasies in my head; they play out in my mind as I drive on, shamelessly perving.

It’s usually, well almost always about the driver behind me. I was followed for half an hour through winding country roads by a guy on a Harley Davidson today, by the time I reached my destination, my cunt was dripping.

Motorbike guy finally passed me by, as I was leaving the road to park. Uh, he was hot. I had a friend with me though, so no idle fantasies were played out. It really was just, that he followed me for so long, with no intention of passing me. I tested him too, stuck to all speed limits I passed through, even slowed down on some straights.

A random fantasy, just for you

So yeah, picture this. I’m driving into the city, Pray for Rain is belting out of my speakers and my horn levels are on the rise. Where the road becomes a dual carriageway, I speed up, overtaking the slowpokes, as my man likes to call them. Though the limit is 120 and I’m popping 140 kph, there’s a speed-freak right up my arse, who clearly wants to pass me.

I pull in at the next convenient hole in the slow-lane and brake hard, so I don’t freak out the driver whose arse I’m fast approaching. I glance in my rear-view, and hey, there he is still. Mr Speed-Freak. Right behind me. So fucking close, I can’t see the road beneath him. How he managed not to ram my rear end with his oversized bonnet is a mystery.

That he is sticking to me, the size of his car (yeah, I know it’s cheesy, but it counts) and the aggressiveness of his driving, I’m thrilling.

I pull out, speed up, glance in the mirror again. There he is, keeping the tiny distance between us steady through our acceleration. I can’t make out what he looks like, there’s just a clearly male silhouette and he drives with one hand on the top of his steering wheel. I’m a quarter past three driver; wouldn’t trust myself to drive one handed at these speeds.

Followed through Town

We approach town, the speed limit ticks down and I adjust my driving so I don’t fall too far out of the realms of the law. He keeps that distance behind me.

The second set of lights turns amber as I approach. Chancing losing him, I don’t slow down.  Driving through just before they turn red, and he’s still hard on my heels. I’m grinning now, feeling chased and deliciously vulnerable.

The next light is red before we reach it and I glide to a stop. I look in my rear-view at him. Though I know he can’t see me, he’s staring at my mirror, his thumb tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. I can make out his features. He’s bearded (of course) and he’s frowning, looks angry, serious. My heart is jumping in my chest.

The light turns and I drive on, join a new road at the junction. He follows. I thrill.

He follows me closely through town, someone tries to squeeze between us in the traffic, but he’s having none of it, sticking to my rear end.

I pull in, enter the multi-story near work. My numberplate is scanned and the barrier goes up. I glance in my mirror, watch him press a button for a ticket. Driving around and up, I lose sight of him, grinning to myself. My car is quiet, electric, I’m pop my window open, listen to the echoing silence.

Then suddenly I hear him. Tires squealing, engine revving he comes up the ramp behind me. I thrill, speed up in my excitement. I watch him narrow the gap between us.

At the top, there are no other cars. Choosing a spot near the stairwell, I park. He pulls in next to me and is out of his car before I’ve freed myself from my seat belt.

I open my door, step out and he flicks a badge at me. Police.


He tells me I’ve broken the law, tells me to put my hands on the bonnet of my car and I turn and do it. His words are clipped, he’s angry.

His hands pat over my arms, my shoulders. They glide down my sides, fingers slowly brushing over the sides of my tits in their mesh bra, I giggle. It’s a nervous reaction, because of my heat, this strange situation.

Ignoring my reaction, his hands continue over my hips, I know I’m not imagining this, they’ve slowed down. On they go, down over the outside of my thighs, past my skirt, over the bare skin of my legs to my ankles.

They begin a slow ascent over the insides of my calves, to my knees, up to my inner thighs, my skirt lifting on his forearms, his hands heading slowly closer to my pussy. I shift my hips away from the car to free my skirt where it’s catching at my knees.

I’m so fucking horny now, all my focus on his hands. Any second, he’s going to discover how wet I am. His hands travel higher, reaching the top of my inner thighs. He slips them out from between my legs, the tips of his fingers tracing along the edges of my knickers.

He traces the wetness that has seeped through the crotch of my knickers along the crease, where my arse meets my legs, slides his hand inside my knickers, cups and squeezes my arse in both hands.

… and Fucked

He rises to stand behind me, his hands still in my knickers, they’re caught on his wrists pulling them tight into my crotch, I whimper and rise with him, onto my toes. My skirt is rucked up around his arms.

He steps completely into my personal space, presses against me. I can feel the hardness of his cock, pressing into the crack at the top of my arse. I grind against him, my knickers putting so much pressure on my clit, it’s pulsing.

His hands leave my arse, run up my sides again, around to the front, and with his body pressing into mine, I watch his hands exploring my tits, teasing my nipples hard through the mesh of my bra. I lean back against him, grinding my hips against his cock, watching his groping hands. I slip a hand inside my skirt, into my knickers, and he doesn’t stop me. I play with my clit, the lightest touch. Already nearly tipping.

He pulls my knickers down, presses me into the bonnet of my car. He frees his cock and trespasses his way in, to ravish my sopping wet cunt. Still playing with my clit, I come hard and fast, my cunt clenching around his pumping dick, thoroughly degraded and humiliated, and loving it.

And right there, at the top of the multi-story car park, he uses me, this policeman, he fucks me over the bonnet of my car until he comes hard, thrusting deep he spasms inside me, grunting with his release.

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