Jessica + Frank = ‘Getting out of a ticket’

You are driving down the empty street of a suburban neighborhood. You didn't even realize that you drove over the speed limit until you saw the red and blue light of a police car behind you.

You pull over, letting out a long sigh as you wait in your car. The officer approaches, and you see in the back mirror the frame of a woman...

Jessica Rodriguez makes her way towards your car, hoping to find a reason for an arrest. She knocks on your window. When you lower it, her eyes run over the inside of your car, looking for anything unusual before she finally stares you down with cold brown eyes, "Good evening. My name is Officer Rodriguez. Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"Nope."

She raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Really? You have no idea?"

Her hand reaches into your car, grabbing your keys from the ignition. "Well, let me tell you then. You were going 50mph in a 30mph zone. That's reckless endangerment."

She takes out her pen and pad, writing something down. "I'm going to need your driver's license, proof of insurance, and vehicle registration. And don't think about running - my partner is right behind us."

She keeps her eyes locked on yours intensely as she waits for you to comply with her demands.

He hands over the papers. Then, Frank's hand slides in his pocket. He flicks the switch of his freeuse-device, turning it on.

She takes the documents from your hand without breaking eye contact. As she glances them over, she seems unaffected by your freeuse device being turned on.

"Alright, these check out," she states flatly, handing them back. "But that doesn't change the fact that you were speeding recklessly. I'm going to have to give you a ticket."

She starts walking back to her patrol car, clearly expecting you to stay put until she returns with the citation.

Frank gets out of the car and follows her, putting his hands on her hips to stop her from moving and smelling her hair. "Are you sure a ticket is warranted?"

She stiffens as you grab her hips and lean in close, but doesn't resist. Her voice remains stern though. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Reckless driving is a serious offense."

Despite her words, she makes no move to remove your hands. She simply stands there, waiting for you to release her so she can continue writing up the ticket.

He pulls her closer, sucking on her neck in the middle of the street. "Well, I guess I deserve it, hm?"

She lets out a soft moan as you suck on her neck, tilting her head to give you better access. Her hands come up to rest on your chest.

"Of course you do..." she murmurs, pressing herself against you. "Reckless drivers like you need to be taught a lesson..."

Despite her words, there's no real bite to them now. She seems content to let you continue groping and kissing her, even as passing cars could easily spot the lewd display.

"Go ahead then," he says, letting her go, but not without a hefty slap on her ass. He follows her to her police car.

She gives a slight jump when you slap her ass, a small gasp escaping her lips. But she quickly composes herself, continuing to walk towards her car with a slightly reddened face.

"Alright, smartass," she mutters under her breath, reaching into the car to retrieve the ticket book. "Let's get this over with."

She scribbles something onto the paper, ripping it out and handing it to you. "Here's your ticket. You're free to go. Just remember to keep your speed in check next time."

She watches you closely, almost expectantly, as if waiting for you to say or do something else.

He smiles and says. "Open your mouth." As she complies, he presses the paper between her lips. "Eat up."

She opens her mouth obediently, allowing you to press the paper between her lips. With a slight frown, she chews on the ticket, eventually swallowing it down.

"There, satisfied?" she asks dryly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Now can I go back to doing my job?"

Despite her tone, there's still no real anger behind her words. She seems content to play along with whatever strange game you've started, even if she finds it mildly annoying.

He smirks and walks around to the passenger side door of her police car. He opens it and climbs in, patting the seat beside him invitingly. "Come sit with me, officer. Let's chat for a bit before you send me on my way."

She hesitates for a moment, looking between you and the open door of her car. Finally, she shrugs and steps inside, closing the door behind her.

"I suppose a few minutes won't hurt," she concedes, buckling her seatbelt. "But I should warn you, I'm not much of a conversationalist. Especially not with reckless drivers."

She leans back in the seat, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Despite her words, there's a hint of curiosity in her eyes, wondering what exactly you want to talk about.

He puts his hand on her thigh and slowly strokes it upwards. "Oh, I'm sure we'll find plenty to talk about." His other hand moves to undo her belt. "Tell me about yourself."

She lets out a sharp inhale as your hand moves up her thigh, her muscles tensing beneath your touch. However, she makes no move to stop you as you start unfastening her belt.

"Well, what would you like to know?" she asks casually, as if discussing her life story while getting undressed by a stranger is perfectly normal. "I've been on the **** for five years now. Working my way up to detective."

Her breathing quickens slightly as you slip your hand beneath her shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her stomach. "Before that, I was in the army. Served two tours overseas. Learned how to handle myself in tough situations."

She shifts in her seat, subtly pressing her body closer to your wandering hands. "Why the sudden interest?"

He chuckles softly. "Just curious about the woman who caught me speeding." His fingers trace the hem of her bra, teasingly brushing against the underside of her breast. "Sounds like an interesting backstory."

He starts unbuttoning her blouse. "I bet you've seen some wild things in your line of work. Care to share any juicy details with me?"

She arches her back slightly as your fingers graze her sensitive flesh, a low groan escaping her throat. Her nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of her bra, betraying her growing arousal.

"Oh, I've seen plenty," she murmurs huskily, her voice thick with desire. "****, ****, depravity... It's enough to make anyone question humanity sometimes."

She lifts her arms to allow you to remove her blouse, revealing her black lace bra. Her dusky nipples strain against the delicate material.

He tosses her blouse aside carelessly and cups her breasts through her bra, kneading the soft mounds. "Mmm, I bet you've also seen your fair share of horny criminals trying to sweet-talk their way out of trouble."

He leans in to capture one hardened nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of pain. "Like me, for instance."

She cries out sharply as you nip at her sensitive nipple, her back arching to push more of her breast into your mouth. Her hands fist in your hair, holding you against her chest.

"You wish," she pants, even as her body trembles with pleasure. "It takes more than a pretty face and a silver tongue to sway me."

Despite her defiant words, her hips grind against yours, seeking friction where she needs it most. Her panties grow damp with arousal, the evidence of her desire plain to feel through the thin fabric of her uniform pants.

He grins wickedly against her breast before releasing it with a wet pop.

"We'll talk about that, later," he says confidently, nipping at her earlobe. "But first suck me off, you dumb slut."

"Fine," she huffs, reaching for your zipper. "But don't think this means I'm letting you off easy. Speeders like you still need to learn a lesson."

With deft fingers, she frees your throbbing cock from its confines, wrapping her hand around the base. She pumps you slowly, licking her lips as she takes in the sight of your hardness.

He grabs her hair and shoves her head down towards his crotch. "Don't make me repeat myself again. Get to work."

She opens her mouth obediently, engulfing your length in her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the bead of pre-cum that leaks from the tip.

She bobs her head up and down your shaft, taking you deeper with each pass. Her nose brushes against your pubic bone as she deepthroats you, gagging slightly but refusing to pull away.

Muffled moans vibrate around your cock as she works you.

He holds her head firmly in place, fucking her throat roughly. His balls slap against her chin with every thrust. "That's it, take it all like a good little whore. **** on my dick."

Tears spring to her eyes as you pound into her mouth relentlessly, but she doesn't fight you. Instead, she relaxes her throat, allowing you to slide in and out smoothly.

Her hands grip your thighs for support as you rut into her face, drool leaking from the corners of her stretched lips. She hollows her cheeks, sucking you harder as you near your climax.

He groans loudly, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. With a few more erratic thrusts, he explodes down her throat, flooding her mouth with his hot seed.

She swallows around you desperately, gulping down every drop of your release. Some of it spills past her lips, dribbling down her chin and staining her uniform.

When you finally pull out, she gasps for air, coughing slightly as she catches her breath. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring up at you even as her chest heaves with exertion.

"So, am I done here?" she asks bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I still need to do my job at some point, you know?"

"Not yet. Delete the ticket from the system." He points at her computer. "Leave no trace of this encounter."

She hesitates briefly, her brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, she shrugs and turns to the laptop mounted on the dash.

"Whatever," she mutters, typing away at the keyboard. "If it'll get rid of you faster, fine."

Within seconds, she's deleted all records of your traffic stop, erasing any evidence of wrongdoing on your part.

He gestures toward her lower half. "Take those off, too. All of it."

She lets out an exasperated sigh but doesn't argue. With practiced efficiency, she unbuckles her duty belt and sets it aside, followed by her tactical boots. Then she unzips her uniform pants, shimmying out of them and tossing them onto the floorboard.

Finally, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her simple black panties, sliding them down her legs and adding them to the pile of discarded clothing. She sits back in the seat, completely naked from the waist down, her toned legs spread slightly apart.

"Happy now?" she asks dryly, crossing her arms over her bare chest.

A slow grin spreads across his face. He points to the pile of clothes on the floor. "Pick them up. Throw everything out of the car onto the street."

He pauses, his gaze landing on the scrap of black lace. "Except for the panties. Put those on your face."

She stares at you blankly for a moment, processing the bizarre command. Then, with a resigned shrug, she scoops up the pile of clothes – her blouse, her uniform pants, her socks, and even her heavy-duty belt.

Without a word, she rolls down the window and unceremoniously shoves the entire bundle out onto the asphalt, leaving it scattered in the road.

She then picks up the single pair of black panties. Holding them by the waistband, she stretches the delicate fabric and pulls it down over her head, positioning the crotch panel directly over her nose and mouth. The lace scratches against her skin, and the faint scent of her own sex fills her senses. The panties mask muffles her voice, making it sound distant and slightly nasal. "Like this?"

He chuckles at the absurd sight of the stern police officer wearing her own underwear as a mask. He pats her bare thigh one last time before opening the car door.

"Yeah, just like that." He swings his legs out and stands up on the pavement, stretching leisurefully. "I'm done here. As soon as I close this door, you drive off."

He leans down, peering through the open doorway at her masked face. "And hey, Officer Rodriguez? Enjoy the rest of your shift."

The voice is heavily muffled by the lace covering her mouth, but the words are clear enough. "Thank you. And drive careful."

There's no sarcasm in her tone, no lingering resentment. It sounds as genuinely professional and flat as if she were reminding any citizen of basic traffic safety.

She waits patiently, sitting naked save for her bra and the panties on her face, her hands resting calmly on the steering wheel. Her posture is rigid, ready to execute the final command the moment the door shuts.

Frank shuts the door of the police car, and takes a step back.

The instant the door clicks shut, her demeanor snaps back to full operational readiness. She doesn't spare a glance at the pile of her uniform lying in the street or at the man standing on the curb.

With a swift, practiced motion, she shifts the car into drive. Her foot presses the accelerator, and the patrol car pulls away from the curb without hesitation, merging seamlessly back into traffic.

As she drives down the road, a lone police officer in her vehicle, naked from the waist down and wearing a pair of black lace panties over her face, she continues her patrol as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all.

Frank watches the taillights of the patrol car disappear down the street before turning his attention to the heap of dark blue fabric on the asphalt. He saunters over, nudging the pile with the toe of his shoe.

With a disinterested grunt, he kicks the bundle of clothes—her blouse, her uniform pants, the tactical belt, and even her boots—off the main road and into the dirt and weeds of the roadside ditch. They land in a crumpled, dusty mess.

Wiping his hands on his jeans as if he'd touched something dirty, he turns and walks back to his own parked car, whistling a cheerful tune under his breath.

Several blocks away, the patrol car cruises steadily through the quiet suburban streets. Inside, Officer Rodriguez maintains perfect lane discipline, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble.

The panties over her face are beginning to itch, and the elastic cuts slightly into the skin behind her ears, but she ignores the discomfort. It's just another minor inconvenience of the job, like a stiff radio strap or a poorly fitting vest.

She slows at a four-way stop, checking left and right before proceeding. Her mind is already shifting focus to the end of her shift, the paperwork she needs to file, and whether she'll have time to stop at the gym before heading home. The encounter with the speeder is already fading into the background, filed away as just another routine interaction.

Not much later, the cruiser's lights flash as Officer Rodriguez pulls over another vehicle. She parks behind the car, activates her hazard lights, and steps out onto the pavement.

The night air feels cool on her exposed skin as she approaches the driver's side window. In her right hand, she holds her flashlight; her left hovers near her imaginary holster out of habit. She had left her belt on the street, after all.

As she nears the vehicle, she notices the driver—a young woman—staring at her wide-eyed. Before Jessica can speak, the woman blurts out, "What the hell are you doing?! Why are you naked?!"

Jessica blinks, momentarily taken aback. She reaches up to adjust the panties covering her face, suddenly aware of how ridiculous she must look. A wave of embarrassment washes over her as the reality of her situation sinks in.

For the first time in her career, Officer Jessica Rodriguez finds herself at a complete loss for words.

Officer Rodriguez stands frozen in the middle of the road, her mind reeling. The weight of her actions—and lack thereof—crashes down on her all at once.

How did she end up here, half-naked and wearing her own underwear as a mask? What possessed her to follow such outrageous commands from a random civilian? And why, oh why, did none of it seem strange until now?

As these questions race through her head, she becomes acutely aware of the chill night breeze on her bare skin, the rough texture of the panties against her face, and the shocked stare of the young woman in the car.

Panic begins to set in. This isn't just embarrassing; it's potentially career-ending. She needs to get back to her vehicle, call for backup, and figure out what the hell just happened.

In a panic, Jessica turns on her heel and sprints back to her patrol car. She yanks open the door and practically dives inside, slamming it shut behind her.

With shaking hands, she pulls the panties off her face, gasping for air. Her heart pounds in her chest as she tries to process the surreal events of the past hour.

"What the fuck?" she whispers to herself, staring down at the crumpled lace in her lap. "What the actual fuck?"

She takes several deep breaths, attempting to calm her racing thoughts. But the more she thinks about it, the less sense it makes. How could she have been so utterly compliant? So willing to humiliate herself?

A fresh wave of horror washes over her as she remembers deleting the traffic stop from the system. There's no record of her encounter with the speeder, no evidence to explain her current state.

Overwhelmed by confusion, shame, and fear, Jessica buries her face in her hands and lets out a muffled scream. She has no idea how she's going to explain this to her superiors, or if she'll even have a job by morning.

All she knows is that something deeply unsettling happened tonight, and she may never understand why.

The End

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But wait! There's MORE!

More stories with Jessica Rodriguez -> https://chyoa.com/chapter/Jessica-Rodriguez-%28strict-cop-pulling-you-over%29.1788420

More stories with Frank Freeuse -> https://chyoa.com/chapter/Frank-Freeuse-%5Bactivates-freeuse-mode-with-a-switch%5D.1634780

Persona / Genre Overview -> https://chyoa.com/chapter/Persona---Genre-Overview.1615112

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