{Stop reading right now if you are under 18, don't appreciate the joys of full-figured women, or are offended by cum, sweat, pee, toys, oral sex, anal sex, group sex, food/messy sex, watersports, light bondage/d&s, underclothing, masturbation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, marital infidelity or just plain fucking. Also don't bother reading it if you are expecting something that's violent or genuinely degrading or humiliating to anyone. *Do* consider reading it if you like a bit of story with your sensuality. I am the author of this fictional novella and I assert no legal rights over it. You may do anything you please within the limits of applicable law with the text.} Scorpio Madness, ch. 3 of 8 (mff, FA, w/s, light b/d, cons) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = by Green Onions (an434987@anon.penet.fi) ``JEE-zus, Rikki!! Willya plEEZ getyer clothes back on?!'' Sorry--I'm no mythical superhero--and the odor in the car was nothing if not compromising. How in the hell was I going to get out of this with a whole skin? The last thing I needed was to have Rikki sitting there practically stark-naked right next to me like some kind of buxom Buddha, giggling helplessly with her fat breasts dripping over the rolled-down champagne-soaked bra. Besides, I had to get my shorts back on and attend to my own fly. A quick glance in the mirror to comb my hair revealed a burly cop strutting in our direction, bandying a long thick flashlight between the fingers of one hairy hand. The much more menacing clipboard was raised in the other. I had a clear view of the death warrant's carbon paper fluttering carelessly in the breeze, proud as Old Glory. He leaned over the window and glowered at both of us. The smell of champagne lingered in the air, mixed with an undertone of Rikki's pussy juice. I thought I saw him repress a smile and replace it with a much more intimidating expression. Rikki had only managed to get her jeans and bra back on. She had cleaned up her attitude, but her attire was stained in a few places and dripping in others. It was one of those moments when an explanation would have spoiled the mood. ``Your LICENSE.'' I produced the required plastic card and proffered proof of insurance with an appropriately somber expression. As the warm wind blew in from Rikki's open window, I was initially grateful for the breeze which cooled the perspiration beading on my brow and under my armpits. Until I realized that the cop must have gotten a big whiff of champagne as a result. The bottle was lying right next to Rikki. He saw it, we knew he saw it, and he knew we knew he saw it. ``Yew stay right where you are--don't move a muscle!'', he bellowed, deftly thrusting a hairy forearm right in front of my nose and practically stabbing Rikki in the eye with an outstretched forefinger. He seemed to be looking at her moist breasts and full thighs, not at her poker face. ``...and _yew_ get outta the car!'' ``Yessir'', I said in a low voice. I wanted to make it clear that I was compliant without openly kissing his ass. ``Git yer hands on the side!'' I spread-eagled demurely and he patted me down quickly. There wasn't much I could have concealed. Then he went through my wallet and thoroughly inspected the contents. Fortunately I'd learned long ago never to carry anything there. But I did rather regret having a couple of joints carefully rolled up inside a pair of socks in my locked suitcase. `Officer Hardass' (as I'd started calling him in my mind) seemed almost annoyed that I had nothing incriminating in my wallet. I knew that the slightest display of sanguinity on my part could result in my face being shoved into the gravel, so I remained perfectly expressionless. He surprised me by thrusting his nose in my face and almost spitting at me, military-style: ``How much have you had to drink??!'' ``Nothing, officer...*I* opened it even though he told me it was against the law!'', Rikki ejaculated, leaning out the driver's window. She still hadn't put on her tee-shirt and her chest was pressed up against the door. ``Keep quiet lady...and stay where you are like I tolja!'' barked Officer Hardass in response. ``Yew LYIN' to me, Mister?'' This time he really was close enough to spray his spit in my face. I finally got it. Copper was smelling my breath. He glared at me for a second or two and strutted back to his car. A fierce parting look was enough to assure our continued docility. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It wasn't more than a couple of minutes before we were greeted by the return of civilization's foundation personified. He came complete with clipboard and what I assumed was the valuable revelation that my car registration and license weren't faked, and that I wasn't wanted in a dozen states for axe-murdering widows and orphans. I must have stared blankly at his furious expression for a long five seconds before he began to snarl, angrily waving the bureaucratic ordnance dangerously close to my face. ``Yew know whut? You _are_ a _stewpid_ _FFFuck_! You know that?!'' ``Yes sir. I should not have let her open it. But I wasn't going--'' ``Shuttup! Now git back into your car and pour out thet bottle!!'' No question about it. I was going to get a ticket, but at least I wasn't going to need a plastic surgeon. After I emptied the receptacle he jammed his nose right back into the car again, like an unwelcome grizzly probing an open tent-flap. ``Yew know the only reason I'm _not_ gonna to give you a citation is because I got way too much goddamned paperwork. But if I _ever_ catch yew messin' 'round here like this again I'm gonna *KICK* YERRR ASS. Got it?'' ``Yes, sir. Thank you.'' It was impossible to repress a small smile. All of a sudden his forearm was also in the car. Right in front of me. Before I knew it, he'd snatched Rikki's pungent panties from the dashboard and whisked them out the wide-open window. Again, the glare. ``And if you *ever* report _this_, *that* ticket is going to be discovered in the bottom of my drawer. It says you failed a field sobriety test.'' Somehow we both managed to avoid laughing out loud at the sight of the burly cop strutting back to his car with the elegant clipboard in one hand and Rikki's messy panties in the other. A `thin blue line' indeed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ``I'm sorry Honey...I'll try to be a little more careful next time.'' ``Shit Rikki, I'm so glad we're white! And thank goodness he was kinky. An open-container ticket would have jacked up my rates like crazy. Let alone what my _wife_ would have said....Sweetheart, you *really* have to learn to follow the rules in a case like this!'' ``Well, I know the cops around here often give people breaks on tickets. I've gotten out of one before.'' I was astonished, but I believed her. It was just like Rikki to put herself into a situation in which she got stopped and end up with something other than a ticket for her trouble. She stretched her sweaty tee-shirt over her full torso. It was as if two big grapefruits and a small watermelon were battling one another for space in the same overtaxed plastic bag. As I was ogling the Good Earth's Delights, I realized that I had missed some aspects of her Worldly Nature during my close brush with Insurance Hell. Evidently Rikki had not been able to pull her jeans up in time. Or perhaps they were just too tight. The stained crotch was partly unbuttoned. Some of Rikki's bushy pussy hairs boldly displayed a few tiny tell-tale droplets of cum and champagne, though most had dripped onto the visible portion of her round thighs and pudgy jelly roll. No wonder the law was a-lookin'. As the adrenaline began to subside I realized that it was going to be absolutely fabulous to go to bed with this lasciviously fleshy, hedonistically sexy, and superlatively sensuous sassy Goddess. Rikki was way out of control and I had a ticket to ride. What I couldn't understand is why the sign I could only dimly make out ahead appeared to say something like ``69 Motel''. *******************************************************************