Heather Brown - Raped policewoman

Running red lights and taking short cuts the wrong way up one-way streets, with our siren screaming, we sped toward Tyler Blvd., our eyes glued to the streets whizzing by for some sign of our quarry.

Tyler Blvd. was one of the most run-down streets in town, and when we got there, we realized from the total darkness that the streetlights were all out of order. The wind howled through the skeletons of abandoned and burned out houses that dotted the street like remnants of a siege.

Suddenly a small streak of color darted across the desolate landscape of the bleak void of Tyler Blvd.

"Jesus Christ, did you see that?" Ted said.

"Who, what…"

"A man," Ted cried. "I'm going to get him."

"Wait for me," I said after I caught my wits, but by then he was already out of the car and disappearing into the darkness, his form almost instantaneously eclipsed by the looming shadows.

I looked puzzled for a moment, then decided with a sigh, "I guess all there is to do is sit and wait."

But I still felt uneasy. I felt that it was my responsibility to be backing Ted up in some way in case anything happened, and I felt frustrated that there seemed no way at the moment I could fulfill it.

"Did you see where he went?" I asked the driver.

"You gonna try and cover him?" the driver said, turning to face me. We had been so busy that it was the first time I'd ever really noticed what he looked like. He was in his early twenties and just out of the Police Academy.

"I think so," I said tersely, trying to conceal the franticness I felt inside.

"Well, good luck, ma'am, but it's impossible to see out there. You might wind up shooting each other."

"Yes, that's good thinking…" I said, pausing for a name that I suddenly realized I either couldn't recall, or in the arrogance of my recent sense of self-importance, had been too selfishly busy to ask.

"O'Hara. Thomas O'Hara, but my friends call me Red."

I could see why, a lock of flaming red hair poking out from under his cocked cap. "Red O'Hara," I laughed spontaneously, "at least that's a swell name for a cop."

I'd kind of embarrassed him and I saw his naturally red face get even redder as he blushed at my teasing.

"You're shy," I said in surprise, my mind suddenly a million miles away from the dreary blackness of Tyler Blvd. "How did such a shy young guy become something as violent and blusterous as a cop?"

"By relatives," he admitted, his green eyes twinkling from telling one on himself. "My dad was a cop, my uncle's one, a couple of cousins, and my mother's father -so you can see…"

"Well, you must have inherited something from them because I think your reasoning about going out there after Ted is very sound," I said, getting back with a lurch to the reality at hand. "My body tells me to go out there after him, but my head tells me you're right – it would probably only make things worse."

"Anyway, he'll probably be back in just a few minutes," O'Hara said. "It was probably just a stray cat he saw. An orange one, maybe."

"Maybe," I said pensively.

"You cold?" O'Hara asked.

"You better believe it," I said, feeling the cooling night air.

"Then why don't we roll up the windows and you come up here in the front seat where the heater is so it can warm up your legs. It must be cold back there with those bare legs."

Bare legs. Funny, but when he said that, I suddenly became very conscious of them and could feel goosebumps rising all along them past the tops of my stockings all the way to my inner thighs, pinching against the elastic of my panties.

It occurred to me that the cold had not seemed to affect my legs at all until O'Hara made his remark about them. And now there were tingling, sending vibrations all the way up to the base of my crotch – and it didn't seem as though it had anything to do with the cold.

"No, that's all right. I'll be okay back here," I said, trying to defeat the sensual tingling coursing up and down my trembling legs.

"Okay, ma'am," O'Hara said, "but if you'll pardon me for saying so, you look a little blue."

"Really?" I blurted, anxious to believe that the cold actually was responsible for the strange way I was feeling.

He nodded his head.

"All right," I agreed, and rolled up the window, starting to get out of the car and come around to the front.

"No, no, wait, don't do that," O'Hara said, reaching over the seat and putting his hand around my wrist to stop me from opening the door. "You'll let out whatever warm air is already in the car and it'll be a bitch… uh, tough to heat it up from scratch."

"Then how will I get into the front?" I asked.

"Just climb over," he said, and then added with a subtle but discernible wink, "I'll help you."

Was he kidding or what, I wondered for a second and then drove it out of my mind. I decided I must not be as good under pressure as I'd thought I was especially if Ted leaving for a few minutes was going to get me as disoriented and jumpy as this.

"Sure, sure," I said after taking a deep breath, leaning forward in order to clamber over the seat on the passenger's side.

I hoisted myself up and balanced myself on my waist at the top of the seat. I put my hands down on the seat for a grip to let myself down, but the surface was slicker than I had anticipated and my palms slid forward, throwing my torso off balance on the backrest and lurching my hips and ass abruptly forward, the back of my skirt flying up in the process.

Literally humped in the ridiculous position, jack-knifed over the seat, at first I felt embarrassment about my lack of coordination and loss of dignity, especially the latter when I felt the still cold air lapping against the cheeks of my upturned ass through my flimsy panties.

Then, the embarrassment turned to shock when without warning the cold air changed into a cold hand, the fingers grasping strongly over the bulging cheeks of my ass, the feeling of flesh on flesh highly vivid to me through my gossamer panties.

"C'mon," he said, "let me give you a little help here and I'll ease you down."

I looked up from my ridiculous vantage point and got a clear view of his young Irish face, and couldn't think of anything to say.

He took my silence as an okay and immediately I could feel his hand repositioning itself down further so that his fingers no longer just grabbed my ass but were now cupping my cunt, straining against the filmy crotch of my panties.

My pussy, functioning as though it had a mind of its own, responded to the stimulation of his fingers by abandoning its restraint and suddenly spilling a trickle of creaming juice. As I felt the dampness abruptly spreading in a widening circle on the crotch of my soon-to-be-sopping panties, a gulping flush came over my body, and reflexively I quickly opened my thighs, allowing his fingers to pop into the gushing slit of my cunt. Then, just as reflexively, I closed them, trapping him inside my cunt with only the invisible panties separating his hand from the throbbing oozing meat of my pussy.

He moved his fingers like they were ostensibly trying to get out, but the combination of both of our movements seemed to only drive them further into my cunt so that my pussy muscles started to contract uncontrollably and the aroused membrane excreted more and more sticky cream to seep through my panties and drench O'Hara's probing hand.

"Oh, God," I moaned, finally admitting my condition and the situation out loud, "don't you think we should stop?" But then I impulsively wiggled my ass and felt his fingers expand deliriously inside my cunt, his nails gouging thrillingly into my ultra-sensitive pussy walls.

"But we've got to keep warm," he said with a big lopsided grin, "and I can't think of a better way, ma'am."

He had a point there. Every time I moved my ass, his fingers jammed more tightly up my pussy, and a new flood of heat roared through my body, starting at my cunt and spreading warmly all over me.