It was 69 degrees out in the middle of December, and I decided to take my mountain bike out for a ride around the neighborhood.

Normally, I like to run at least a mile so I can keep fitting into my size-four jeans, but it was Saturday and I wanted to see more of my new neighborhood.

Almost everyone outside was dressed in T-shirts and shorts, trimming hedges, walking their dogs, or putting up Christmas lights, which seemed weird without any snow in sight. I’d moved to Florida from Vermont, and I still couldn’t believe I was wearing a tank top, cutoff jeans, and flip-flops in the winter.

I was nearly home when I spotted my incredibly good-looking neighbor washing his police cruiser in his driveway. He was shirtless, and I could clearly see his well-defined chest and arms, with just a hint of chest hair that matched the dark locks covering his eyes. His jeans were faded and rode low on his hips, so I could see the top of the defined V that disappeared below the waist. My panties grew wet as I thought of what was hidden behind his zipper.

Unfortunately, while I was getting an eyeful of my sexy neighbor, I wasn’t watching the road and I plunged my bike right into a ditch. My feet, not secured in flip-flops, went flying off the pedals. Already off balance with my naturally well-endowed chest, my body was propelled forward over the handlebars and I found myself free-falling, with barely enough time to avoid hitting my face.

“Are you all right?”

With one bike tire now resting across my chest, I looked up at the shirtless officer kneeling beside me. My face must have been three shades of red as I tried to save what little dignity I had left and push the bike off me.

“Wait just a sec,” he said, taking the bike tire from my grasp and removing it from my chest. “I was an EMT, so let me check you out before you stand up. You could have broken something.”

“Just my pride,” I mumbled. I’d seen this good-looking cop at least a dozen times since moving in, but never this close. Just as I’d hoped, his features were as perfect up close as they’d looked from afar. If this guy had ever pulled me over for speeding, it would’ve been worth the ticket.

“Really, I’m fine,” I said. “I just took a little fall.”

“Let me check a few things first,” he insisted. “Better safe than sorry. My name is Scott, by the way.”

The EMT turned cop touched my ankles, squeezing his hands gently over my joints, then did the same with my wrists. When his hands moved back to my legs, every hair on my body stood on end. Normally, I would have shoved him aside and stood up by myself, but my body was completely under his spell as his rugged hands continued to massage the sensitive flesh around my knees. My panties were already moist from watching him work bare-chested, and I felt my juices flowing again, completely saturating them as his strong fingers inched further upward along my thighs toward my crotch. It had been months since a man had touched me, let alone someone as seductive as this officer. If we hadn’t been out in the open, I might have pushed his fingers deep into my pussy so he could feel just how much he was turning me on.

As I imagined him fingering my dripping pussy, Scott said, “I think you’ll live another day,” and gave me a wink. Then, taking my hand, he helped me up off the ground and onto my feet with little effort.

“Really,” I said, dusting myself off, “I’m perfectly fine.” But when I tried to push my bike, I noticed the front tire was flat and the chain had fallen off. “Not sure if I can say the same about my bike.”

“Here,” Scott said, taking the handlebars from me. “I’ve got some tools in my shed that can fix this. Why don’t you come over for a drink and I’ll get you back on the road.”

Again, I found myself doing something I normally wouldn’t do. “Sure,” I mumbled, “I could go for a drink right about now.”

I followed Scott into his home. I figured since he was an officer of the law, plus a neighbor, there was no harm in having one drink.

I felt safe being alone in his house, which was pretty much the same layout as mine — three bedrooms, two baths, the kitchen toward the front, and the family room in the rear. Only his kitchen cabinets were lined with beer bottles from around the world, while mine had plants. The giant-screen TV, the men’s magazines on the coffee table, and the neon light above the fireplace screamed single guy with no kids and, for that, I was grateful. For six months, I’d been so busy with packing, moving, and then unpacking that I hadn’t been alone with a single man for at least that long. Tack on another three months since having sex with a real cock, instead of one that needs four AA batteries to function, and that constituted a really long time to go without having sex.

“Would you like a beer?” he asked. Then he added, “I also make an awesome Mojito,” while bending over to peer into the refrigerator. Of course, I couldn’t help but stare at his amazing ass.

“Oh, my God,” I said, and then realized I’d just said that out loud. “I love Mojitos,” I quickly added.

“Why don’t you take a seat out by the pool,” he said, wetting a kitchen towel and handing it to me for my cuts. “I’ll be right out with your drink and some bandages for your hands.”

“Sure,” I smiled. “I can do that.”

Five minutes later, Scott brought out a pitcher of Mojitos, along with bandages and antiseptic. It was the strongest Mojito I’d ever tasted, and it sure vanquished the stinging sensation of the cuts and abrasions as he carefully tended to my scrapes.

As he dabbed at the wounds with the antiseptic, I caught him looking into my eyes more than a few times. My intuition told me that he wanted to kiss me, but he finished bandaging my cuts without making a move. I began to wonder if I’d just finish my drink, thank Scott, and go home to my faithful vibrator again.

“Why don’t you stay for some dinner?” he suddenly asked. “I was just about to put some sausage and steak on the grill, and it will be nice to have someone to share it with.”

I looked into his eyes and thought, Good-looking, masculine, and sweet. At that moment, there wasn’t anything I wanted more than this man’s sausage. Perhaps I’d get the real thing after all.

“Absolutely,” I said with a seductive smile, before taking another sip of Mojito. And I have a great idea of what would taste perfect for dessert.

Conversation flowed easily while we ate, and I felt like I’d known Scott for years. I found myself breathing a little heavier as I flashed back to his strong hands touching my thighs, and wondered if he didn’t make the first move, would I have the guts to do it? Another Mojito, and I just might.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, noticing I’d left half the steak and most of the sausage on my plate.

I smirked, thinking, If Scott only knew how hungry I was for his body. The moment I’d seen his washboard abs, I’d wanted to run my mouth down his chest, unzip his jeans, put his hard cock between my full lips, and suck it until his jizz ran down my chin.

“I know what I could use right about now,” Scott said, smirking back at me. “A body shot of tequila.”

I almost choked on my steak. A body shot? Being a naive bookworm in college, I’d never done any of the crazy, frat-party things most students experience. I had some idea of what a body shot entailed, but I’d never done it personally.

“I don’t know,” I said, wondering if I was up to the challenge.

“Oh, come on,” he teased. “It’s really easy.” And before I knew it, he’d gone back inside to get a bottle of tequila and some lime wedges and was directing me to lie down on the lounge chair. “I’m going to lift up your shirt and pour some tequila in your belly button. Hold this lime in your mouth while I suck up the tequila, then I’ll take the lime from your lips.”

Scott had a firm grip on my shoulder, pressing me down gently. He raised my tank top up to just under my breasts, but without that hand on my shoulder, I would have jumped off the chair as he poured the cold tequila into my navel.

My nipples turned rock-hard as Scott’s tongue and lips collided with my goose-pimpled flesh, running his mouth down my stomach and then quickly sucking all the liquor from my belly. Instantly, I began imagining his agile tongue licking my swollen clit over and over again. Our lips were a fraction of an inch from each other as he leaned over me, taking the lime slice with his perfect teeth. I swear, I might have come if his hands had been on my breasts instead of my shoulders, just from that image of his mouth devouring my pussy running through my mind.

This is it, I thought. I was so excited and turned-on at that moment. Scott had made his intentions clear, and our next stop, I had no doubt, would be his bedroom. I was going to see and hopefully experience what was behind those sexy jeans of his. If his skillful tongue was any indication, I was in for a wild ride.

So imagine my surprise when Scott said, “What do you say we fix your bike before it gets too late?”

I stared at him blankly as he pulled me up by the hand, snapping me out of my trance. After that body shot, he was seriously thinking about my bike? My broken bike was the last thing on my mind.

What the hell? I thought, as I followed him through the backyard along a gravel path toward a large, barnlike shed. I was 99 percent positive that Scott wanted me as much as I wanted him.

Scott unlocked the door, which had a sign that read bomb shelter, and we went inside.

To my surprise, the shed wasn’t some dirty, dusty storage room, but a very clean and open space with exposed beams, white pine walls, and neatly hung garden equipment. As I watched him shuffle through various tools, I looked up and spotted a pair of handcuffs hanging from a nail. My clit began to swell again as my mind raced with nasty thoughts of this lawman standing before me. If this cop was only going to tease me with his long tongue licking my navel, I was going to have to take matters into my own hands — literally.

“Have you put a lot of bad people in these?” I asked, dangling the cuffs from one finger.

Scott turned around and smiled. “Generally the guilty ones, anyway,” he said.

“In that case,” I said, snapping the first cuff around my left wrist, and with my left hand closing the other behind my back, “I’m guilty of wanting your cock.” I bit my lip, trying not to wince from the pain. I had no idea these pieces of metal could pinch so tightly.

“I think that can be arranged,” he said, and unzipped his jeans, dropping them to his ankles along with his boxers. Already semi-hard, his cock reminded me of a patrolman’s baton, and I wanted nothing more than to take it into my mouth. Since my hands were secured behind my back, Scott ripped my tank top down the middle, exposing my sheer white-lace bra. Using more restraint with my bra, he pulled the delicate lace below my breasts, then sucked my nipples, giving equal attention to both.

As I moaned in ecstasy, Scott told me to get on my knees, so his now fully erect cock was right before my eager lips. While looking up into his eyes, I opened my mouth wide and took his long tool as deep as I could without gagging. I did this several times, slowly at first, trying to devour as much of his cock as I could, each time taking him deeper.

I could tell by the way his groans grew in volume and frequency, and the hard, deep thrusts, that it wouldn’t be long before I got a load of come in my mouth. I closed my eyes, wanting to swallow every bit of it like the Mojito. But Scott suddenly withdrew and pulled me to my feet.

“I want to fuck your sweet pussy,” he growled in my ear.

“Take my shorts off,” I said, and felt my cunt throb at the thought of his amazing cock sliding into me. After so many months of being celibate, I was finally going to get the fuck I’d so badly needed.

Within seconds, my cutoffs and panties were down past my ankles and tossed aside. Scott reached behind me and turned a lever on the wall that lowered a board, which was actually a seat. Before I was able to wrap my mind around the idea of this ingenious sex chair, Scott lifted me up and placed my bare ass on it. With my hands still trapped behind my back, he spread my thighs wide and placed the tip of his cock into my slit.

“Wow,” he moaned, kissing me on the cheek. “You’re so wet, baby.” With his hand clasped behind my neck, he pushed his thick cock right in to the hilt. I couldn’t help but scream in ecstasy as he plunged his cock in and out, over and over, inside my drenched pussy. The sensation of his slick penis pushing in and out of my swollen labia made me cry out with each stroke. I had to wonder if any of the neighbors could hear my wailing. They might think he’s killing me inside this “bomb shelter,” but I couldn’t care less if they called 911. The fucking was so good that getting caught would be so worth it.

The seat was the perfect height for him to shove every inch of his dick into me and hit my sweet spot. What a brilliant man, I thought, as I started to feel my insides quiver. Suddenly the sensation spread, engulfing my entire body, and I saturated his glistening cock with my juices.

I gasped, surprised that I came so fast. I never come that quickly, especially without oral stimulation. I now understood why Scott led me here instead of the bedroom. This custom-designed seat was way more erotic than some standard mattress. Everyone has done it on a bed, but a chair that comes out of a shed wall? Now that’s unique.

Suddenly, Scott’s entire body went rigid and he let out an intense moan. With lightning speed, he pulled his thick-veined cock out of my cunt and shot his load all over my tits, covering my nipples with his cream. He stroked his cock a few more times, milking every last drop onto my tits.

After a deep sigh, he stood back to admire his work of art.

“Beautiful,” he said, smiling as drops of his come slid off my breasts and coated my bra. “I suppose you’d like me to help you get off there,” he said, hoisting me back onto my feet.

As I caught my breath after that intense flood of serotonin, I realized my arms were tingling a little. Time to lose the handcuffs.

“Yeah, you can take these off now,” I told him.

“That might be tricky,” Scott said.

“What?” I asked, my voice rising slightly. “Why?”

“Well, I had to replace those cuffs because the key got misplaced.” Scott shrugged, like it was no big deal. “That’s kind of why I left them in here.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” was all I could say. My first time being wild and adventurous, and I get trapped in real cop handcuffs. I wanted to cry, my fingers were so tingly.

“Yeah,” Scott chuckled as he pulled a set of keys from a drawer. “I am.”

“Oh, thank God,” I gasped. As he turned me around and worked the lock, I noticed a nice long piece of rope lying on the floor. Dirty ideas and images began forming in my head and I smiled as the perfect idea came to me for round two — in the shed.