Caught Parking I

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Caught Parking I

My name is Jim, and I am a 30-year-old night patrolman at a large warehouse complex. Part of my duties includes patrolling a large lot where many of the truckers who come to the warehouses drop their empty trailers.

The trailer lot is private property owned by the warehouse company. Since it is outside the warehouse security fencing, it can be accessed from the county road that runs past by it. There is a gate that is usually securely closed. Signs are posted that state. “No Trespassing” and “No Unauthorized Parking.” The signs are posted in plain sight at several locations around the lot.

I was enjoying the warm spring night as I made my rounds. On this particular night, it appeared the trailer lot gate had been force open.

After securing the open gate, I began a systematic patrol of the trailer lot. It was a little after midnight when, near a dark corner at the back of the lot, I spotted a car I didn’t recognize. It didn’t belong to any of the warehouse workers or truck drivers authorized to be in the lot.

I quietly approached the car from behind. As I neared the rear of the suspicious car, I made note of its make, model, color, and license number. I then noticed, with the aid of the dim light from a distant yard light, the driver’s window was down. The car was occupied by what appeared to be a male sitting in the driver’s seat. His head was laid back against the headrest, and he seemed to be slowly moving his torso.

He didn’t notice me, even as I walked up to his door with its open window. By then I could see his eyes were closed and hear his moans coming form inside the car.

Looking inside the car, I saw what had his focused attention. The driver was not alone. He was stroking the long brunette hair of a young lady. She was busily bobbing her head up and down in his lap. She was giving him a Blowjob. Although she was only taking a few inches of his cock into her mouth, he seemed to be enjoying the hell out of her actions.

I just couldn’t bring myself to disturb their pleasure.

In a short time, he had wadded a clump of her hair into his fist and began to rapidly thrust his hips up toward her face. She seemed to be swallowing his load of cum. As she sat up, I could see a good deal of his cum had actually dribbled down his cock to his balls.

She sat up and smiled at him. As he hugged her close to his chest, she noticed me standing next to the car’s door. She gasped and froze in place.

The guy asked. “What is it, Honey?”

Staring at me, she replied. “The guard.” She didn’t move.

He snapped around with a shocked look on his face. “Oh shit! How long have you been there?” He asked.

“Long enough to see you get a blowjob. Do you know this is private property? Do you know anything about how the gate was damaged?”

He, of course, denied any knowledge of how the gate got damaged.

I told him that since, I couldn’t prove he did the
gate damage, I couldn’t charge him for it. However, they were trespassing, and I would have to call the cops to have them cited for that offense.

Both of them begged me not to call the police.

“I’ll consider not calling them. Let’s see some ID. I still have to write a report on this incident.”

They both handed me their driver’s license. It was then that I noticed a wedding ring on his hand but not on hers. Making notes from their licenses, I saw that Mr. Robert Clayton was 28-years-old and lived on the far side of town. Ms. Alexandra Boyd had just turned 18 and had an address just two blocks from the warehouse complex.

I asked them. “Why did you come here? Why don’t you go to one of your homes?”

Mr. Clayton said. “We can’t!”

“And why not?” I asked rather sarcastically.

“That’s none of your business.” Clayton snapped.

“Fine! If you don’t want to answer my questions, maybe you’ll answer the cop’s questions.” I reached for my cell phone to call the local police.

“No, please! I’m married, and my wife would kill me if she found out about this. Alex is our baby sitter, and I was just supposed to be taking her home. Please don’t call the police.”

“And what’s your story, Ms. Boyd?” I asked.

Nearly in tears, she answered. “I still live at home with my parents. My dad will ground me forever if he finds out about this. I need to stay home, so I can go to college next fall. He’s a hard hearted fundamentalist preacher. He’d cut off my college money, and probably kick me out of the house, if he finds out about this. Please, please don’t call the police. I’ll do anything, just don’t report us.” She begged.

Pausing to think about it a few seconds, an evil thought came to me. With a broadening smile, I asked her a pointed question. “Anything?”

Ms.