This is for all of my Lush Friends and Followers who thought that my last story wasn’t “wham-bam!” enough… It had been over twenty years since I took the badge out of my wallet and hung up my gunbelt for the last time. But, every once in a while, I’d forget that I no longer had “diplomatic immunity” behind the wheel of a car. In those instances, I was always able to talk my way out of the speeding ticket that I rightly deserved pretty quickly. But then, late one night… It was a little after one a.m. as I zipped down the empty interstate. The posted speed limit was seventy, so I had my cruise-control set at seventy-six; six over being the standard “cushion” for troopers running radar. So when I started on the downside of a rather steep overpass, I wasn’t really concerned about the patrol car I spotted hiding in the shadows. But, as I went past, the headlights, and then emergency lights, popped on and I knew that I would have some explaining to do. I immediately pulled over and turned on the interior lights. The trooper pulled in directly behind me, about ten feet back. I pushed the button to let the driver window roll down, and kept my hands at the top of the steering wheel, waiting for the trooper to come alongside of me. I could see the beam of the heavy metal flashlight searching the floorboards as he approached, even though the interior of the car was pretty well lit. I remembered how cautious I was on solo night stops, and wasn’t concerned. Finally, the bright light shown into my face, and I heard those familiar words, “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Familiar, except that the voice was obviously female. And even though she was making a concerted effort to sound both tough and experienced, eryaman escort to my trained ear the voice sounded like it was coming from a rookie; one that was a little tense and a little afraid; a dangerous combination regardless of the sex of the trooper. “Boy, that sounds familiar,” I said, hoping to break the ice a little. “Oh, do you get pulled over often?” she said back, sounding just a tad judgmental. “No, it’s just that I’ve said those same words myself so many times.” There, I put it out there: “Fellow LEO, no need to be worried. It’s okay to dial it down.” It didn’t work. “Oh, so what, you think that you can just haul-ass through my town because you’re a cop, too?” was her angry reply. “Her town”? It suddenly dawned on me that even though I was out on the interstate, I had been pulled over by a city cop, not a state trooper. “No, ma’am,” was my polite, even reply. “Are you carrying?” “No ma’am.” “You’re a cop, and you aren’t carrying? Somehow I don’t believe that.” Now she was getting sarcastic, which was a disturbing escalation. “Former police officer, ma’am. I’m retired now,” I offered as explanation. Suddenly the car door flew open. “Get out of the car, sir. And keep your hands where I can see them.” I complied, the flashlight the officer was holding still bright in my eyes. As a result, I stumbled slightly. “Have you been drinking?” “No, I have not.” “Yeah, we’ll see. Step back to the rear of your car and put your hands on the trunk.” “Um, I don’t know how much experience you have, but that is an incredibly dangerous thing to do. If someone were to rear-end your car with us standing between the front of yours sincan escort and the rear of mine, we could both get killed.” I still couldn’t see her face due to the light being directed straight into my eyes, but I could tell that I had given her pause. “Okay, stand along the passenger side rear and put your hands on the trunk.” This time I did as she asked. She put the big flashlight on the trunk to free up her hands to pat me down; another rookie mistake. “Um, you should really put that back in the holder on your belt. Putting it right next to my hand on the trunk makes it a weapon for me to use.” I was starting to get a little concerned about just how inexperienced this officer was. She quickly snatched the light off the trunk, and I could hear it slide into the ring. Then she began a methodical pat down, starting with my collar and sleeves, the moving down my torso. Her hands stopped as they felt my chest, and I couldn’t imagine what gave her concern. “You’re pretty buff for a retired cop,” she said. “All the ones I know are pretty flabby.” She continued going lower until she got to my waist, then ran her fingers inside the beltline. “Mmm,” she said, almost to herself. “Not even an empty holster.” Then, to me she said, “Look, don’t make me find your piece. Tell me where it is now, and it’s just between you and me. Otherwise, I add it to the other charges.” “I’m not carrying,” I repeated. “Okay, it’s your funeral.” She continued the frisk, but now she started at my left ankle and worked her way up. As it happens, I was wearing some loose boxers under my khakis, and as I “dress left”, my cock was hanging down along that same upper thigh. etlik escort I didn’t think that it registered to her the first time she touched it, but my dick sure took notice. By the time that she came back to it, it had already started to harden. This time she couldn’t help but feel it, but it still apparently didn’t occur to her what she felt. She patted it a few more times, making it even harder, yet it seemed as if she still had no clue. She stood up suddenly, reached around to the front of my waist, and undid my belt. Before I could react, she had pulled down my pants. “Not carrying, huh?” she said, in an accusatory tone. Then she grabbed to where my dick had been; only now it was sticking up. She seemed confused, then started searching around until her hand wrapped around what she now immediately recognized as a raging erection. “Oh my god,” she shrieked, “I am so sorry!” Yet, interestingly, she still held onto my boner. “Um, could you let go now?” I asked politely. She slowly took her hand back. I turned around to face her. Standing there with my pants down around my ankles with my eight-inch woody tenting out my boxers, I must have been a sight. But all she could do was stare at my protruding member. “Look, am I free to go now, or what?” I asked, rather testily. She just stood there, kind of frozen in place, staring at my extended member. Finally, she tried to stammer out an apology, which was rather incoherent until the end, when she said “Is there any way that I can make this up to you? I’ll do anything. I really can’t let this get reported to the chief.” Without the glare of the flashlight, my eyes had now become accustomed to the dark. I got my first real look at the woman who had pulled me over. Even with the chunky body armor and gunbelt bristling with equipment, it was obvious that she had a pretty good body. My cock continued its salute. “I’ll tell you what; you let me frisk you the way you just frisked me, and we’ll call it even.” I was mostly joking, but she appeared to take it quite seriously.