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Husband arranges a first time experience for his wife.

I had a few offers, but-"

I found that easy to believe. He was never male model pretty-or even cop show pretty-but still very attractive. Middle aged and medium height, he was solidly built and a cheerful lecher, given to groping me in empty elevators and deserted grocery aisles. He made the admission a little wistfully, as though it were a failing.

"Do you want to?" I asked, as the wipers beat snow from the windshield.


"Have sex in your cruiser?"

We'd never done anything like that. Oh, a certain amount of kissing and patting-just affectionate. Maybe even a little necking when he'd drop me off before morning roll call. I'm not usually very daring but the cause seemed worthy. He grinned and kissed me. "Sex in a cruiser, eh? What did you have in mind?"

"Mmm, I don't know," I said. "How about a head job? I'd hate to see you go your whole career with a fantasy unfulfilled."

A blow job in the company car from his very own wife? His eyes lit. "Darlin' let's see if we can steam up some windows!"

He slid the seat back-these were the old bench seats-and unzipped his uniform coat, leaning back. I heard the Velcro on his duty belt go, as he unhooked and opened it, keys, cuffs and other accoutrements clanking.

He was already hard and getting harder as I tried to free his penis from beneath regular belt, uniform pants, longjohns and jockey shorts. First we tried threading his erection through the double flies of his underwear, but even though he's well endowed that didn't give me much of his dick to work with. I couldn't touch his testicles or belly at all, and the tuck-flap on his second-chance vest kept flipping down to cover everything. I squirmed around, half kneeling on the clipboard and poked by pens and other flotsom on the seat.

He lifted his hips and yanked his pants down, making his cock spring back up like a bent sapling suddenly released. Now I was finally where I wanted to be, nose buried in his pubic hair as I worked my way to the root, but it was still awkward. I sucked and he pumped, but between the radio mount, shotgun receiver, steering wheel, I felt like Quasimodo with lockjaw. His polyester uniform shirt over rigid kevlar did a nice job sanding the skin off my cheekbone.

The second time I clipped my ear on the steering wheel, I raised my head to gasp, "I think I know why you haven't done this before. It's impossible! Your buddies are woofing you."

"Come on," he said, opening the driver's door.

"Are you crazy? You'll freeze your pee-pee off!" I called.

"Don't worry, it'll be nice and warm."

"I'm not lying down in the snow!" I warned.

"Come here, woman!"

I slid out my side and went around, joining him by the rear fender. He unfastened my jeans and pulled them down. It was a bit of a struggle, since I was wearing long underwear, too, but he turned me towards the trunk. My shearling jacket was short-waisted, so I was bare from navel to knees. I leaned forward, forearms on the metal, my butt prickling with gooseflesh until he covered me from behind. I'm not very tall so he had to crouch a little, bending his knees. My pants kept me from being able to open my legs very far, and I panted as he fumbled back there.

I gave a little cry as he slipped a finger into me-finding his place? It must have worked because suddenly he was in, sheathed in my heat, his chilly thighs and belly warming where we touched. His gloved hands gripped my hips and his shirt and vest tails flapped across my back. I put my head down on my arms and leaned even farther forward, rising on my toes as he thrust.

The car doors stood open, like an abandoned vehicle, and the dome light cast a weak yellow light on the snowy gravel. I thought about the dark empty hills around us and cringed. I thought about him, back there-legs spread to hold his pants up, hunching into me-and moaned. Then he hit the right rhythm and the right spot and I stopped thinking at all.

Our breath made plumes of mist in the frigid air, mingling with the exhaust from the running ca

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