I’m not ashamed to admit that the thought of him doing naughty things turns me on more than it would other guys because of him being a cop. Fantasies of him tying my hands to the headboard, then spreading my legs to take me as I lay there helpless made things tighten low in my body.
I wanted to ask him if he would bend me over and fuck me in his squad car while in uniform. I could picture it now, my skirt hiked up around my hips, hands planted on the hood. Him with just a few buttons undone on his shirt, one hand in my hair, the other on my hip. Mingled, desperate moans punctuated with the wet smacking sound of him slamming home inside my dripping pussy.
I can see why people confuse lust with love. As I thought about him my emotions raged, torn between wanting to be wrapped in his arms, kissing softly and sensually, or being pinned down by them as he slides his cock teasingly in and out of me.
We’d only met once, why couldn’t I stop thinking of him? But from his daily messages I was also a fixture in his mind. It made me wonder if he also often gets lost in thoughts of sweat slicked bodies sliding against each other.
My fingers trailed down my body as I gave into temptation…