Distracted Driving

Exiting the Hearst home, Mirielle crossed the drive and returned to her vehicle, climbing into the seat and positioning herself in such a way as to be able to reach down and feel the little pearl trapped in the folds of her vagina. Fastening her safety belt, she started the car, pulling out and starting back toward the city, Michael squirming occasionally and sending little shivers of pleasure through her body. As she had explained to Madison, it was true her intent was to reach out to Lucie to gain a better understanding of the whole situation and how it was accomplished. She would call the number and make arrangements to meet with the girl. If the number was a dud, then she would have to wait until Monday at the earliest to try and make contact, leaving her with little Michael until then, and that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

Glancing at the time display on the dash of her car, a little smile tugged at the corners of her full lips. With Michael embedded in her pussy as he was, before she called Lucie, she did want to go back and see Mortimer, his son and the heir to his financial empire was literally a slave to her whim. Was it being small and petty? To derive some measure of satisfaction from Michael’s subjugation and by proxy, Mortimer, to her quim? Perhaps, she mused. She could feel herself lubricating at the thought, Michael moved.

Sliding a hand down between her thighs, the juncture of her legs hot, she pressed delicately against the fabric, feeling his body driven against the sensitive flesh as she moved him around the excited area.

Had she been more focused on the road and attentive to how fast she was driving and less about how amazingly wicked it felt to masturbate using Michael, she probably would have seen the black and white Ford Crown Victoria California Highway Patrol car settle in behind her.

It wasn’t until the chirp of the siren drew her out of her heightened arousal that she looked up and saw the flashing red and blue lights behind her.

“Shit,” she mumbled, startled, as she slowed down, signaling before pulling over to the side of the road and onto the shoulder. She leaned over in her seat and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror, face slightly flush from playing with herself.

Taking a breath and trying to compose herself, she placed her hands on the steering wheel, giggling slightly and shaking her head. She had been so close to another orgasm.

The patrol car pulled in behind her and a policeman exited, tucking some type of clipboard or other under his arm and donning his hat before walking up beside the driver’s side of her car. He removed his sunglasses as she lowered the window. “Good afternoon miss,” he said, leaning slightly down, tone pleasant.

She smiled, still feeling mildly self-conscious about the color still her face. He appeared young, tall, athletic physique, maybe her age or slightly younger, good looking, the name tag on his uniform read Bartkowski.

“How are you today?” she inquired, reciprocating the friendly tone.

“Good,” he replied, “How about you?” he asked, “Having a good day?”

“Not bad, just feeling a little embarrassed at the moment,” she replied.

“You were moving at a pretty good clip there,” he admonished.

“How fast was I going?” she inquired, looking up at him through long lashes.

“I pulled you over because you were driving approximately 20 miles an hour over the posted limit,” he stated. “May I have your driver’s license and vehicle registration please?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied, removing her wallet form her purse and pulling out her license and handing it to him before bending across the seat and opening the glove compartment to get her insurance papers. “Sorry,” she said, “I was in a rush, I know that’s no excuse,” she offered contritely, straightening up, the motion forcing Michael to wiggle, little limbs trapped inside her brushing against a sensitive nerve ending causing her to inhale sharply.

The cop frowned, “Are you alright?” he asked.

Holding her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded, “Bikini wax, still a little sensitive,” she answered, shifting her bottom in the seat.

“Oh,” he acknowledged, eyes widening as he leaned back, “I see.”

She rolled her eyes back and forth, willing Michael to be still.

“I didn’t clock you with radar, so I’m only going to give you a warning today instead of a citation,” he said, grinning as he handed back her license and registration.

She nodded, gnawing on her lower lip as Michael was became more animated and bringing her closer and closer to climax.

“You should be more careful, distracted driving is a serious risk not only to yourself, but also to other motorists,” he encouraged.

“Yes officer,” she said, voice a little breathless, clamping down with her pelvic muscles to try and quell Michael and prevent herself from coming.

He looked at her a moment, then opened the clipboard, pulling out a business card with his name and official contact information on it, extending it to her. “If you have any questions or concerns about this traffic stop today, please feel free to call,” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” she answered, looking at the card with the CHP logo imprinted on it. Jovan Bartkowski was his name. “Thank you,” she added. She was so incredibly close now.

“You sure you’re okay, you look a little flushed?” he asked, slight frown on his face, eyes concerned.

Turning to her purse, “Just the heat,” she breathed, putting her license back in her wallet and the policeman’s card into her purse.

“Alright then,” he said, patting a hand on the roof of her car, “You have a good day and remember to drive a little slower,” he stated.

Turning her head back toward him, she smiled, eyes widening slightly as she felt herself approaching the point of no return.

Nodding once more, he turned, slipping his glasses back on as he walked toward his own vehicle.

Crossing her arms over the steering wheel, she leaned forward and climaxed, muffling the moan with her arms, pussy clenching and unclenching around the tiny prisoner held captive there.