Zack Grant kind of fascinates me, you know? He's big and strong and sharp and sarcastic - but he gives the impression to me that he is very busy hiding his real self under this tough G-man exterior of his. He's also pretty good to look at - all that great hair, wads of it that he is always running his hands through, that messy beard like he doesn't give a shit what he looks like, his untidy look. I like men like that. They need a woman to come and sort out their wardrobe and insist they neaten up. Nag him while he grumbles and yet he secretly likes the attention. You know?

Hey, don't accuse me of being an un-liberated woman. I have phases. Some men make me one way and others make me another, but I do so like a bit of unreconstructed male from time to time. And I am not ashamed to admit it.

So I came in to the bar that night kind of wondering if I might hook up with Lachlan again but he wasn't about. So I took a bar stool next to Bud and we chatted for a while - now there is one unreconstructed male that I wouldn't mind taking in hand. It would require both hands, I am sure, though! But he was distracted and upset about having argued with Marie. She returned - and Bud was off like a shot.

Which left me alone at the bar on a really quiet night.  Well, not quite alone. There was Zack manning the bar on his own too and looking a bit sorry for himself. So, we began to chat. As you do.

"So Zack, you got stuck behind the bar while everyone goes and has fun? Join the club - except I'm sitting here in front of the bar on my lonesome. Tell you what. You get me a bottle of Stella and come sit here while it's quiet and tell me what an FBI man actually does."

"Hey ya, Cassie. Don't you look lovely tonight and so --- what? A fucking what? What the fuck's a Stella? Do I have to fall to my knees, rip my t-shirt off and do a Marlon Brando under the balcony bit? That's what you're wanting? Don't think so, cutie. No way."

I giggled. "It's a beer, as you well know! Not that you in a T-shirt going all Marlon Brando on me wouldn't have its attractions---"

"It's a what? A drink? Why didn't ya fucking say so then. Geez. Okay, here ya go.."

He chuckled and gave me the eye, slammed the bottle down in front of me and went off to serve someone else. Shortly after he was back, leaning on the bar, all friendly and smiles. Not your typical Zack.

"So tell me about this FBI thing. I'm just a little Limey. What do I know? Is it like our CID? Do you get to wear a sharp suit and go round looking mean? I can't quite see you dressed as a bobby though - you know with a big, tall hat and a truncheon? Well, I bet you could handle a truncheon, Zack me boy. Strikes me one of those would be a very familiar grip for you. Ooops, am I being a bit saucy again?" I was laying it on a bit thick actually. I suppose I was feeling a bit pissed of with Lachlan. It was days since I had seen him. What was he playing at?

He shook his head and waved his finger at me. "Naughty girl. What the fuck's a truncheon, anyway? You talking a billy club? The only billy club I ever carried was the one in my pants, okay? Billy clubs are for local cops. Like White. Bet he likes a billy club, but then he would. You know how those LAPD fucks are." The pride of the Bureau was showing here. They were the real thing - the rest were just toy cops. Then he beckoned me close with his finger as if he was going to tell me something really personal "You want to know about G-men? Cassie, let's be clear on one big thing. The day your home country across the big pond has any law enforcement agency that can compare favorably to the FBI is the day I hang up my badge."

I snorted and pulled away. "Oh yeah, mate, like we are all so scared of you big tough American G-men? CID would have you sorted. They are a bit more experienced that you rookies and take terrorist warnings seriously, but then - they have been dealing with the real thing for years. Not like you new boys on the scene---."

He gave me a look like he couldn't even be bothered answering me on that one. I smiled smugly and drank my beer, pulling out a cigarette that Zack lit with a surprising panache before putting his hands in his pocket and leaning back on the shelves behind the bar watching me. I blew out smoke slowly and watched him too, dressed casually in tight jeans and a grey T-shirt. My eyes strayed to the bulge between his legs that was accentuated by his posture and then I looked back up at him and the expression on his face told me that he had seen my glance - and I suspected he was standing there to flaunt himself a bit, to see if his muscular bulk was going to put me off my stride.  He had referred to his billy club and now he was letting me have a look. So he was playing dirty, was he?

I decided to pretend that I was completely unfazed by his behaviour. "So do you wear a suit to work? All sharp and business-like with a shoulder holster discreetly concealed?"

"Yeah, most FBI agents have their fair share of suits, ties, the bit. But in the field? You wear what works for what you're doing. In my case, I like jeans. Speaking of jeans, you like these? "He looked down again at himself with a smirk and I mentally smiled at how he had returned the conversation so deftly to how he filled his pants. "Still speaking of jeans, honey, I like the way you look in yours.," he continued smoothly. "In fact, I like the way you look in general. Like your sauce too. Cass, you can be saucy with me. Anytime. Any place. Any way. Any how. But if you do, fair's fair. I'll be saucy right back. Like this --- you got a permit for that ass? Because it's a lethal weapon---"

I gasped and widened my eyes at his comment. "What---?" I exclaimed. 

"Hey! What'd I say? Was that something other than saucy? You're not going to slap me, are you?"

"I might just slap you. Been itching to get my hands on your bum, all night. Anyway how do you know what my butt looks like? I'm sitting down!"

This was fun. He was rising to every bait like the pro he was.

"I know you're sitting down, honey. But you were on your feet when you wiggled your way into this place. Anyone ever told you that's what you do when you walk? So I took to you right off. See what a soft touch I am? But I have a good memory. Trained to remember every detail of a perp. Total recall. You think I haven't been looking? I'm good. You just can't see me do it."

"Oh yeah?" I played it cool but I was flattered. To be quite honest I hadn't thought he had ever noticed me before but you never know with men, do you? "So what's a perp? I hope it's polite. You might be calling me a tart or something---"

"Perp? Perpetrator. Someone who commits a crime. Under FBI surveillance." The slight tilt of his head and the widening of his eyes were getting to me. He was beginning to come on strong and we were both enjoying this. Time to have a quick think about what I wanted. Not too long, though. It wasn't a difficult question.

"What did I do? I'm not a criminal---!" I protested, giving him a coy look.

"I beg to differ. You're a thief. Just stole my heart!" He rested his hand over his heart in a gesture that was both flamboyant and affectionate.

"You cheesy devil! I thought you were all tough guy smart answers!" I laughed.

He hunched his shoulders. "Hey, a man gotta eat! I also know when I see a woman I like. I like you, Cassie baby, and you don't seem the kind of girl who plays about. I get off here as soon as Uma gets back - or even quicker if I can get someone to step in."

He gave me a look, a sort of unanswered question. "You asking me on a date?" I responded. "Because if you are, I think you need to go right out and say it, Zack. So we're in no doubt, you know what I mean?"

Leaning close, he pulled at a strand of my hair. "You English girls always so upfront? Thought you were all like Mary Poppins?" He whispered in my ear.

I turned and found myself eye to eye with him, our lips dangerously close. His hair was falling forward and brushed against my cheek. "You could be in for a big surprise, FBI man. Your intelligence is way out of date. And the answer is, yes we are. And no we're not. Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet again."

His lips broke into a sexy smile. "Look it's quiet here behind the bar---let's dance awhile? Seeing as we were speaking of getting hands on body parts.  I know you like music---and dancing---or so I've read---" Zack gave me a cheeky smirk. He was pushing his look referring to my little interlude with Lachlan. That was a rather sore point at the moment.

I gave him the eye. "Low blow. I'm not that easy, you know! But only if you behave yourself! Hey--- Fallin' ---I love that song---it's so sexy---come on!"

He slipped from behind the bar and we hit the floor. It wasn't real dancing, not like I had done with Lachlan. I don't expect that Zack ever went to waltzing classes. But he knows how to move in close and make a dance a bit of foreplay with out actually doing anything he shouldn't. But we pressed up close and I slipped my arms round his neck while we moved from side to side, more to rub up than actually cover any ground.

 

 

Our eyes met and I could see the heat in his- and the question. I met his stare straight on. I think he's a pretty direct bloke. So he got a similar response. Zack is quick-I'll give him that. His lips dropped close to mind and we sort of nuzzled together, not exactly kissing but sort of nipping and tasting. His hands slipped down really slowly from my waist to my butt and I felt the gentle pressure as he pressed me closer.  "Uma's back. I'm free all night. You wanna doing something? A real date?"

I rubbed my nose softly against his and let my mouth just hover. "Thought you'd never ask!" 

He moved pretty damn quick then. We broke from the dance and he went to retrieve his jacket having a short whispered conversation with Uma at the bar. She looked up and smiled across, a dreamy expression in her eyes. East was leaning at the other end of the bar and he had the same laid back loose expression. Did they bathe more than the horses, do you think?

"Mind how you go, you two." John teased as Zack shrugged on his leather jacket. "Behave yourselves?" 

I smiled innocently and Zack gave him a smarmy grin. With his hand lightly on the base of my spine, he guided me out of the bar and into the warm evening. We got into his car; it was a cabriolet with the top down; he set off down the road in a squeal of tyres. He was showing off. I was loving it.

I played around with the CD and selected something I wanted to listen to. A bit of U2 for the road. Sitting back I looked over at Zack and he glanced at me.

"Where we going?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Just driving. I like to drive. Just feel the wind and breath. Some nights I just do this. Calms me down. Guess I need it," he replied with a wry expression.

"You get angry a lot." I said bluntly.

"Yeah. There's a lot to get angry at," he answered but did not enlarge upon that.

I nodded and scooted further over in the seat, to lie on my side and watch him drive, his left hand on the wheel - remember this is England!- and his right leaning on the window frame. His hair was blowing about as he stared at the road ahead.

"Relax, Zack. That's the point of this. You and me. Being honest. I like you, Zack, and I think you like me too but we also turn each other on, don't we? Cards on the table time? That's why we're here, isn't it? For sex? Friendship, too, but what's wrong with a man and woman wanted to get it on when they desire each other?"

His head turned slowly as he looked me up and down. "Not a thing. Especially when we're both on the same page. Yeah, I like you. And I like that you like me. But we ain't Romeo and Juliet, know what I mean?"

I nodded and turned up the volume on my favourite track, singing along to the lyrics: '-.but I still haven't found what I'm looking for-'

"Guess neither of us have, hey, honey? Who knows? Maybe that new boyfriend of yours will make his mind up if he's coming or going one of these days? Haven't seen him around in a while."

 

 

"Yeah, well, looks like we both been left behind tonight. Never mind. Maybe we can find some of what we're looking for together?"

I saw the change in his expression, that minute when a man softens enough for you to see what he really wants to say but doesn't think he is allowed. I reached out and touched his chest, running my hand down until I reached his belt. His right hand snapped out and covered mine. "You start that here and we could have an accident,' he muttered.

"Not an accident if I do it on purpose, is it?" I whispered back. His hand moved mine down a few inches and then slid away; he shrugged. But I felt it beneath my hand, below the snug covering of denim. My words had had an immediate effect. The soft bulge was now a solid shaft. Amazing how they do it. One word, thought, touch - and their anatomy changes so spontaneously.  I let out a soft purr as I measured his length in my fingers.

Cupping and squeezing, feeling the welcome response, I ran my knuckles up and down, stimulating him through the cloth. It was slow and lazy, taking my time, building up his anticipation. I wondered if he expected me just to stop at that. But I had other ideas.

Wriggling closer and dropping my head to his lap, I unbelted, popped the button and then eased down his zip. This time I heard his deep sigh as my fingers worked their way into his pants and boxers. It wasn't hard to find what I was looking for this time. It almost found me. Parting the vent in his shorts carefully, I got a grip and pulled him out, looking fondly at it.

I love dicks. There is always that sort of "Oh, you have one!' moment with a new bloke as you thought he might not actually have one. When suddenly a man goes from a friend to a lover and reveals himself to you in that special way. I looked up and saw he was looking down. "Eyes on the road, Grant," I giggled.

"Yes, ma'am,' he replied. "Found what you were looking for, I see?" I gave him a deft squeeze. He groaned but did as he was told and looked ahead. I felt the car lurch dangerously and guessed that he had crossed a lane while not looking. He better go carefully from now on.

Returning my attention to his equipment, I gave it a few practice jerks enjoying the way his body sort of tensed and relaxed as I did and his legs fell open. He's a big guy - they all are - and his cock is kind of like him, which sounds like a funny way to put it, I know. It was swollen and angry looking, his head red and moist. The veins were bulging, engorged with blood as it grew harder and harder in my grasp and it seemed almost to jump in my hands as if it was shouting at me to do something. I ran my fingers down the shaft and played with the sprouting of thick hair at the shaft and tickled the solid balls still nestled in the protection of his shorts. That made him grunt. He liked having his balls fondled. I would remember that for later. The car made another minor swerve. I giggled some more.

He's cut. I haven't see too many without their coat. It isn't common over here. I must say they look prettier like this although I miss the glide of the skin when I play. Bending closer I inhaled his scent, that strong maleness even from a man who has clearly bathed recently. It is just their natural fragrance and it seems stronger there in the warm pit of their groin. It turns me on like no other smell. I hear myself whimper and go closer to place a soft kiss on his tip.

"Jesus Christ!" he muttered. You really gonna do this here? Fuck!" I looked up and he had laid his head back on the head rest, blowing air out in puffs as if he was trying to control himself. Or deliver a baby. I suppose it must have been the former.

Returning my attention, I gripped him hard at the base and took the finger of my right hand and ran it around his little hole. He hissed. It was dripping and I smeared the pre-cum on my forefinger then tasted it on my tongue. "Mmmmmmmm," I whispered. "Gimme some more of that, boy."

Zack began to slowly rock in his seat. I decided he had waited long enough. I lowered my lips and circled his girth, letting my tongue swirl around the helmet and trace the ridge below. Like most men, he responded to that with a shudder but before he could recover, I sucked down hard and felt him slip down to the back of my throat, having to control the gag reflex. There was a lot of Zack to eat, even apart from what was still wrapped in my other hand.

Suddenly the car swerved violently and I struggled against the desire to clamp my mouth shut - I didn't want to bite it off! But the next moment we were rolling to a halt on the hard shoulder and Zack was gripping my upper arms and pulled me gently away.

"Why not?" I began.

He cut me off. "---I haven't kissed you yet. That's not right. I want to kiss you. Wanted to all night." And he kissed me. What a kiss! His beard tickled my upper lip as he nibbled and the rubbed against my lower jaw as he turned his attention to my bottom lip. Then he pulled me close and met me mouth to mouth, his tongue burrowing deep with a grateful sigh as he wrapped his round mine. His hands raked through my hair as he went deeper and deeper and my hands clutched at his cock and jerked him steadily.

I suppose to the passing traffic we looked like a couple kissing, although I am sure that the view from the larger lorries, some who slowed down and horned us, it must have been more revealing. Not that either of us cared. We carried on making out and getting wilder by the minute. Just then Zack broke from the kiss and pushed my head back down. "Jesus, Cass---kiss my dick. You are so fuckin' hot---"

Ever a girl to see a job well done, I returned to my attentions, this time sucking harder while he held my head firmly and slowly jerked against me. I was afraid I would choke but I didn't want to stop. I knew he would be near and any moment I would feel the white hot splash of his semen and drink down his gift. There is something so erotic and exciting about doing that for a man by choice. I never know why some women dislike it so much.

That was the idea anyway. Unfortunately it wasn't the reality.

A voice broke through the haze of sex, Zack's muttered profanities, the scent of his intimate body and my ever-frenzied lovemaking.

"Excuse me, sir. Have you broken down?"

I froze and so did Zack, his hands suddenly untwining from my hair. I raised my head, heard the unmistakable 'pop' sound as the suction was released and winced as Zack made an involuntary "Oh!" sound.

"I see there is a lady down there. Perhaps you could sit up straight, Miss, and we can see what you're up to?" The impassive voice continued.

I stayed where I was for a moment, struggling to push Zack's now wilting cock back into his shorts. Once he was covered, I raised my head to find myself looking into the face of a rather burly motorway policeman. He was not amused. "Well, well, well, what have we here? Outraging public modesty? Indecent exposure of a male member on a public highway? Lewd acts in a public place? Driving dangerously while committing a public order offence? And that's just for starters, love. You a working girl or do you actually know Teddy Bear here?"

I opened my mind to give him a piece of my mind. Zack got in first. "Cut the crap, plod. I'm FBI. Over here on a case. Move along." Zack flipped his badge at the policeman. I grimaced. This was so not how he should be dealing here.

The policeman bridled but I could see he was also enjoying the occasion. Why wouldn't he? It isn't every day you get to arrest a couple having oral sex on the M40 plus find out that one of the consenting adults is a G-man - and he has just tried to put you down. Open season now, Zack.

"That so? Well, I am sorry to inform you that badge has no relevance or authority here, son. A public order offence is still a public order offence. Applies even if you are Bill Clinton himself. And, let's face it, we know he likes it that way too, don't we, sir---?"

"He ain't the president, no more, dick. You ever read a paper?"

"Yes sir, I am fully cognizant of the fact that you have a different president now but somehow I have never pictured Mr. Bush with balls, let alone a penis, therefore the analogy would not have worked quite so well. But that's just me. Right, can I see your driving licence?"

Zack pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed it across. 

"I suggest you redress yourself, sir." I reached over to pull up his zip. The police man spoke again. "On your own. I'm sure you don't need the lady's help."

Zack glared at him and zipped up, rebuckling his belt and tucking in his T-shirt.

"Are you carrying any identification, Miss? By the way. Do you know his name?"

I pouted. "Of course I do! Mr. Zack Grant. He's a very good friend of mine---"

"Well, that's heartening to know," the policeman replied sarcastically.

"Look, you've got it all wrong, officer," I pleaded. "We were just driving along when my friend Mr. Grant complained that he had a pain in his tummy so we pulled over and I proceeded to massage it. I think it was the curry we just ate, you know?" Zack gave me a look. I shrugged.

"Traffic cameras for the past six miles have picked you up several times driving erratically as if there was something unusual occurring within the car. That's suggests you took up your position rather prior to your explanation. Furthermore, if the pain was in his 'tummy' as you so coyly put it, why was his John Thomas exposed? Is that some sort of new method of pain relief? Or were you just kissing it better?" he added dryly.

I blushed, Zack grunted, the policeman smiled falsely. "I think we better have this conversation somewhere else." He spoke into the receiver attached to his shoulder flap "Jim, get over here and drive this car in. I'm taking the lovebirds to the nearest station. What have we got?

Jim, his partner, came over and joined him. He was younger and quite cute. Blonde hair cut short, blue eyes and tanned. He was grinning. "Banbury Station, Warwick Road. Mile or so off the slip road."

"That'll do. Come along, sir, no funny business. I will refrain from handcuffing you as I am sure an FBI agent can be trusted not to do a runner, hey? This joker reckons he's with the FBI, Jimmy me lad. Must be here on some undercover business. Except he forgot to get a room first."

Jimmy continued grinning broadly as the senior man, stepped back, opened the door and let Zack get out. He then slipped in next to me and started the engine.

"Just sit there quietly, Miss. No sudden moves, eh?"

I tutted and threw myself back on my seat, fastening up my seat belt. "You'd be so lucky!" I retorted.

PC Jim laughed. "I've had stranger offers, love, and you're in a bit of bother. Not that it would do you much good. Officer Blenkinsop is not known for his leniency. And I hope your mate doesn't offer him a blow, 'cos he's very homophobic," Laughing Boy added. We moved off and I took one last look at Zack who appeared to be engaged in a heated exchange with Officer Blenkinsop (what an unfortunate name!). I don't suppose the orgasmus interruptus had helped to improve Zack's mood much.

Some time later down at the police station, the fun started. I was left sitting there quietly on a bench until in came PC Blenkinsop and Zack. They were still arguing. Zack was saying:

"Keep your fuckin' hands off me! I can walk unaided, you jerk!"

"Watch your language, son, and count yourself lucky we don't handcuff people like in the States. We can handle ourselves, so watch it, sunshine. " Blenkinsop muttered.

"You just threatening me, man? Police brutality? Just fuckin' try it---" Zack glowered dangerously. I tried to give him the eye. Don't do it, Zack. This is not the States!

"Got a real clown for you here, Dave," he shouted over to the desk sergeant. "FBI no less and getting a blow on the M40. Seems to think we're a push over. He could be in for a rude awakening any minute. Get his particulars - and you, too, darlin'. You should be arrested for bad taste apart from anything else. Can't you do better than him, love?"

I was thus summoned and given a form to fill in. "Am I actually being arrested?" I asked. "I mean---surely you can just let us off with a caution? I wasn't doing anything---much---" I pleaded.

" 'Fraid not, love. Sunny Jim 'ere is getting on my tits. He's pushed one too many buttons. And you need your bottom smacking. If you were my daughter---"

I put my head in my hands and groaned. Zack sidled up and put his arms around me. "Jesus, I'm sorry, honey. This what not quite what I had in mind for our date---" I looked up at him and he looked so sorry that I couldn't blame him for anything. Even his lack of tact and international diplomacy.

"I started it off. I shouldn't have done it---you are just so---adorable---specially when you look like that---"

"Cut it out, you two." Blenkinsop interrupted. It's like a bloody Romantic novel in here. I suppose you're going to produce some guy up at the top to bail you out---"

Light bulb moment!

Zack was on to it straight away. "I get a call? My lawyer?"

"Of course," The desk sergeant said in a bored voice. "We are not a police state here, sir. You do have rights."

"Yeah, well here's my lawyer. Terry Thorne. I want to call him now."

Yabbadabbadoo! Go, Zack go! You are thinking at last.

One call to a Mr. Thorne and things started to happen. Five minutes later someone, obviously very important from the way the sergeant jumped to attention and put on a posh phone voice, rang in and after a very short exchange, the three police man went into a huddle. Next:

"OK, we have decided to waive charges. Just this once. Mr. Thorne has come up with a suitable alternative. The infant school down the road has 'Police Awareness' week. If you 'volunteer' to do a bit of community service and talk to the kids about being a cop in the States then we will call it even. And, Miss, you go along and do your bit, too. You are lucky to have friends in high places. But, if I were you, I would find a nice English boy and behave yourself in future. Mr. Happy here is not what you're looking for---"

I stood there with my hands on my hips. "So you're giving relationship counseling now as well, are you? Go and sort out PC Laughing boy over there. You annoy me some more and I'll file a complaint about him."

"Me? What did I do? Whined PC Jim, the pretty blond.

"You suggested I might get off if I gave you a bit of the same as Zack got on the way to the station. Police demanding sexual favours to allow someone to get off? Sexual harassment of an innocent woman? Naughty naughty---" I was on a roll.

Zack grabbed me from behind and hissed: "Not too much, honey! Terry can only do so much---and he is shitting us already. You think he couldn't have had this dropped without the kiddy caper? Fuck, the prick set us up. Just sounds like something he would find very funny."

I reckoned he was right. Boy, will I give Terry some earache when I next see him!

 

 

That was why, instead of an afternoon of unbridled lust and dirty sex with Zack, we found ourselves escorted to the local Junior school by the absurdly titled PC Flowers, who just happened to be the neighbourhood school liaison officer. We were then ushered into a class of unruly eight year olds and introduced. Well, Zack was anyway.

"Children, we have a special visitor from America to talk to you today. Agent Zack Grant of the FBI!"

You could hear Zack's teeth grinding as the ripple of excitement ran through the classroom. "You'll be fine, Zack," I whispered. "You're good with kids of that age. Eric, you know?"

"I'm shit with Eric. What the fuck?" Zack grunted in reply but he stepped forward, ran his hand nervously through his hair, changed his stance a few times, opened then closed his mouth and then said: "Any questions?"

"You got a gun, mister? Can you take it out? Do you shoot people? Have you met Jack Bauer?"

"Jack who?" Zack asked brusquely.

"The guy off 24," I whispered.

"I'm not a TV cop. I'm a real agent," Zack snapped back.

"REAL?" they all called out as though it had never occurred to them that America was a real place. It was just movie land to them.

Well, it might have got off to a shaky start but all in all he acquitted himself quite well once he relaxed and stopped being so uptight. He sat down and chatted, answered all sorts of questions about America, most having nothing to do with his job and even talked about his own son and his school and ended up showing them a picture of Eric in his baseball team kit. Zack was a hit. They all wanted to grow up and join the FBI by the time he had finished.

The bell went for afternoon playtime and the children were all herded out. PC Flowers went off for a word with the headmistress (I think those two are doing a number) One of the teachers sent two cups of tea in for Zack and me who were left in the classroom until after break and the next session.

"Tea?" Zack said with a look of disgust on his face. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

I laughed. "Well, what else do you suggest?"

"How long we got?" He ventured, with a very naughty look on his face.

"Half an hour---'bout twenty five left now---" I replied crossing the distance quickly.

"Come on---that store cupboard---quick one?"

OK, I know we shouldn't have done it. It was absolutely stupid of us. But isn't it one of the things you have always wanted to do? Go back to your old school and have it off in the store cupboard? Better than giving the bird to that teacher you hated any day---

There we were then. Picture the scene. Zack hoisted me half sitting on  the shelving, my knickers on the floor and my skirt up around my waist, he standing squarely with his jeans around his ankles, pumping in and out and muttering hoarse encouragement like: "Give it up, baby, come on for Zack. That's it---oh God---that feels so fuckin'good---.let me hear you, oh yeah---oh yeah---tight---so fuckin' tight---"

I expect I was doing my fair share of muttering nonsense as well or at least huffing and puffing. He was so good, really strong and wild and rough enough but gentle too and so out of it that he didn't know what he was doing---.

"I'll just get the digital camera out of the stock cupboard---."

The door swung open and there we were, caught by the classroom teacher, another member of staff and PC Flowers glowering in the background.

Poor Zack. The second wilting erection in a few hours! I could almost feel how blue his balls were.

Which left us back at the police station getting the benefit of another bollocking from Blenkinsop and his other pals. We both stood there like naughty teenagers with our heads hung down and took it. Not much else you can say when you're caught with your pants down. Literally. Twice in the same day.

"Can I make another call?" Zack asked tentatively.

"No. But you can get the fuck out of Oxfordshire. Or better still there's a Travelodge down the road. Get a room and don't come out until you've got this out of your systems. Might as well earn the tourist dollars while you work off your libidos. But if I hear you have touched each other in a public place again, I swear you will go down, son. And they will love you in an English prison, Kojak. Believe me, they will love you."

The end result? Well, we found the Travelodge and in the privacy of a double room, we made a day of it. And a night. And another day. By the time we came out, neither of us could walk straight. But we were both smiling. And sitting properly in our seats in Zack's car. I doubt if he could have flown the flag for a while again anyway - even if it had been July the Fourth.

You know Zack Grant is a really sweet bloke. He still fascinates me.

 I think we're going to be really good mates.

 

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