Busted Taillights (Interracial Police Anal Erotica)

By Dana Bowman

Yasmin Cole is going too fast down the backroads, and faced with a challenge to her very right to ride, she chooses an otherwise forbidden option... One her friendly neighborhood officers are quite glad to drive down.

"Busted Taillights" is an erotic story featuring desperate offers and sizzling roadside passion. It is strictly for adults only.

An excerpt:

He looked down at the license again, dubiously, then said without returning my gaze, “Ma’am, I really don’t know how to explain this license. I figure you’re probably thinking, right, this guy’s just busting my chops. Something like that?”

I knew better than to answer.

“Well I’ll be honest, ma’am, I ain’t. My name is James Fraker and you can ask the sheriff when we get in and I’m sure he’ll be glad to tell you that I don’t play like that, and I am not doing this because I want to.” He trailed off, then, squinting as he cupped my license in his palm.

I took in a deep chest-swelling breath - and I leaned forwards slightly, asking as I did, “Officer, really, isn’t there any way I can...”

He looked towards me again - and then downwards.

An idea leapt into my head. I wriggled my shoulders to put a bit of a bounce into my chest as I said with another small laugh, “There’s no way that I could perhaps pay off that uh, that fine you were talking about, maybe, just up front?”

“Are you trying to offer - oh!” he said, as I actually went as far as to unbutton my top. “Ohhh. Ma’am, uh...”

He was blushing; it showed up on his complexion, pale like a lot of redhaired men.

“Well,” he said, “There is something.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dana Bowman
• Release date: Aug 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301486267

Dana Bowman

From the wild lands of central New Jersey, Dana Bowman now writes throughout time, space, and dreams, freed from the constraints of puritanical morality.

Book preview

Busted Taillights

By Dana Bowman

Copyright Dana Bowman, 2013

Published by Dana Bowman at Smashwords

Driving down these country roads, late at night, I lost track of time. The hills rose and fell; I could smell the greenery when I rolled down my window. The world passed by as the dark sky sat overhead, my headlights bright enough to hide the stars.

I drove alone at this hour while moving across the country, representing sales and giving product demonstrations, conducting training events, everything. I knew it was risky, or at least I’d been told that: rest stops late at night, the risk of picking up hitch-hikers fresh from the local asylum, and worse. A lonely woman out there late at night...

Except, of course, I went too fast for trouble to catch me, keeping the needle pegged at a comfortable seventy most of the time as I cruised through the asphalt paths between city and town and state. That was, of course, where the trouble started.

Shit! I said aloud as I saw the sudden flaring of lights in my rear-view mirror, as the police car pulled out from behind a low-slung billboard. For a moment I hoped maybe it hadn’t been