Bench Warrant

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A rebellious girl earns herself a hot, humiliating reprieve from her handsome arresting officer.

The police find Gloria Dean in a compromising position in a public park. When the Canal police play “good cop, bad cop,” you better believe they aren’t looking for a confession. But sweet Gloria doesn’t know this. After she finishes satisfying the kind young officer, she realizes—much to her chagrin—that she will have to ride the nightstick of the surly older cop, too.

No matter the length, Carnal stories are always dark and dirty. Each story takes place in the small town of Carnal, where it’s always burning, no matter what the season.

Excerpt from Bench Warrant

Suppose there was a small town. Suppose it held a little park, and suppose this park had a baseball diamond, some bleachers, a stand of pines. Suppose in the daytime children played on the playground equipment, laughed and ran and hid in the sweet smelling pines.

Now suppose the nighttime.

Suppose a young woman, suppose she was eighteen. Suppose she took a lover. Suppose that for picking this boy, her parents put her out. Sent her to live with family, an aunt maybe, in some little town that held a small park.

Suppose this young lady was about to receive a call.

Suppose the call came from a judge. Or if not a judge, someone who carried the same weight, wielded the same authority. Someone who passed a verdict and you instantly believed their finding. Someone who welcomed you home and made you feel like you belonged.

Suppose this call could only come from someone who lived in a town like Carnal. Suppose I welcomed you to Carnal.

Suppose I made you feel like you belonged.

In a deserted clearing in Carnal Park, a girl lay on a picnic table, the fabric of her light summer dress bunched up and riding high on her waist. Donnell Blackman stood over her, gliding his wet cock between her legs. She cooed a series of indulgent little groans. Felt a cool breeze tickling her bare bottom. Her cotton panties sat discarded, near her face, in exactly the place Donnell had laid them, not long after he’d slipped them from her boyish hips. With her knees almost touching her chest, the girl’s forehead and neck glittered with sweat. All wound up like a cheap tension toy, she loved watching her boyfriend fuck.

This was Gloria Dean.

Donnell was twenty-two and had the lanky, muscled body of a sprinter. He narrowed his eyes and gritted his fine white teeth. His powerful chest glistened with sweat. Pulling his wet cock from between her legs, he straightened his back and gazed down on her.

Gloria knew exactly what he wanted.

She dutifully raised her head and opened her mouth, her grip tightening on the edges of the thick wooden table. She wanted it, too. Extending her tongue, she waited for his juice. Crickets chirped. She squeezed her thighs together and twisted her trunk, trying to satisfy the deep need that still rumbled between her legs.

And then Donnell’s long pole erupted, sending his cream arcing through the air.

She took pleasure in the warm cum her lover splashed across her face. She swallowed quickly and kept her mouth open, extending her tongue like a hungry cat. His briny taste and soft sighs egged her on. She enjoyed the hungry noises he was making. She tried to move her mouth to catch as much as she could, but she couldn’t get it all. He was missing her mouth, spraying her cheeks and forehead. She giggled with delight. Felt the warm dollops of semen land in her hair, the front of her dress, and her bare shoulders and chest. Finally, Donnell’s deep moans gave way to satisfied sighs, and he stopped stroking himself.

In the next instant, Gloria found herself bathed in a harsh, unforgiving light.

The dark park suddenly changed from night into day. She stared at a wet spot on the front of her dress, trying to understand what just happened to the cool night air around her.

A voice shouted: “Police!

She cocked her head and squinted, holding her arm out and shielding her eyes with her hand. Donnell hiked his shorts to his waist, stuffed his cock into his pants, and broke into a run. Gloria sat up, quickly swinging her legs off the table and pushing her dress into her lap. She briefly considered following Donnell, but she wasn’t sure which way he had gone. Wasn’t sure where her flip flops or purse were.

That bright light disoriented her.

Instead of running, she squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head, and let out a low rolling whimper. Someone raced past her. She heard the slap of fast moving feet, the jangle of a utility belt filled with all manner of equipment.

The light continued to shine in her face.

She looked to see if she could spot Donnell or the person chasing after him, but the bright light ruined her night vision and she saw only the inky blackness of night. Turning back to the light, she stood up. She did this as much to allow her dress to fall back over her hips and cover her bare bottom as to confront the person shining the light in her eyes.

“Don’t move,” a voice commanded. This was Officer Jones.

Gloria stood still. Her blood thumped in her ears. She squinted, raised her arm, and tried to look past her hand to visualize the man holding the light on her. “Who are you?” she said. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Lower your hand,” Officer Jones said.

Gloria lowered her hand. She licked her lips and tasted Donnell’s salty cum. With a gasp, she realized her face and hair were still covered with his semen. She raised her hand to wipe her face, to clean herself up.

“Lower your hand,” Officer Jones shouted. “Lower your hand!”

His tone was demanding and urgent and Gloria froze. He instructed her to turn and put her hands behind her back. She sighed noisily and slumped her shoulders in the way that eighteen year olds often do. He repeated the command in the same no-nonsense voice. Gloria turned and put her hands behind her, slowly shaking her head.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “This is so stupid.”

In a few quick steps, he was behind her, slipping her wrists into handcuffs. As she felt the cold metal on her skin, she wanted to cry.

“Sit,” Officer Jones commanded. He nodded to the picnic table bench.

He shined the light back on her face and she winced as she sat. Gloria tried to duck her head, to hide the sticky mess that was on her face and in her hair. But the officer took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up. Shining the light in her eyes, he tilted her face first to one side, and then the other.

Gloria closed her eyes. She could feel her face heating up, her mouth go dry. Licking her lips, she tasted more of Donnell’s cum.

She thought she might really begin to sob, but then something happened—something snapped inside of her. She was tired of being pushed around. Pushed around by her parents. Pushed around by her high school counselors and teachers. Even by the pastor at her church. But mostly she was tired of being pushed around by her own needs. Everyone was trying to keep her from Donnell. Everyone thought they knew what she needed better than she. Everyone was judging her, finding her lacking.

Gloria opened her eyes, flared her nostrils.

She raised her chin from the officer’s fingertips and shook the long dark hair from her face. She raised her thick brows and her chocolate eyes glittered. If this cop wanted to see the semen Donnell had deposited all over her face, she would show him. Squaring her shoulders, she pursed her lips and proudly presented her wet face. A cool breeze swept through the isolated picnic area, making her damp cheeks and chest tingle. She opened her mouth and touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip. She turned her face first to the left, then to the right. She grinned and showed her teeth. Looking right back toward his face, she coyly tilted her head. If he hadn’t been shining that light in her eyes, she would have met his gaze.

The officer snorted. He wiped his hand on his pant leg and then shined the light on the table top where her panties lay in a bunch. He chuckled and then shut the light off.

The crickets chipped and no one said anything for a short while.

“You’re the Dean girl, right?” he said. He wasn’t really asking a question. “I know your mom.”

Reviews of Bench Warrant

Usually I don’t care for the cop books, there are lots of these around and usually read like a rape fantasy. Although I didn’t care for the sports references, the story was very well told, ad was not a rape book. It was also pretty descriptive which I loved. You can never have too much detail for me! Jessie on Amazon

This title was steamy, hot and kinky. Sony reader

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