Lady bank robber gets caught

[Ticklish Girl]

OOC: I’d like to have one man to play the FBI agent in this scene, although I won’t mind if he has a cute female partner join later.
Description: Alison Chambers, 30 years old, 5’6”, 38-24-36, 130 lbs, shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes.

IC: I owed a lot of money to some very bad people. One day a gentleman came to my house and informed me that bad things would happen to me if I failed to pay up. One look at his face told me the guy was serious, so I knew I would have to get the money somehow. And the only way I could get my hands on a lot of money in a short amount of time was to steal it, so I sat down and planned to rob a bank.

The robbery went off as planned, although an odd thing happened. When I pulled out my gun and shouted my demands, my clit started tingling. A few minutes later, when I jumped into my car and drove off with the bag of cash, my pussy was wet and aching. As I drove I had to force myself to keep my eyes on the road and maintain the speed limit. By the time I got home, I was so horny I couldn’t stand it anymore. I grabbed the money and raced upstairs to my bedroom. I dropped the bag, ripped my clothes off and fell onto the bed. I attacked my clit with short, quick strokes of my fingers. I couldn’t have stopped even if the police were banging down my door. Orgasm took less than a minute, and it was so intense I had to stifle a scream. No man had ever made me cum like that (not that they tried).

That was a year ago. Since then I’ve robbed a dozen more banks, netting over half a million dollars. After the sixth job I paid off the last of my debts. I could have stopped right then. Nobody suspected my double life. I got away cleanly each time – no shots fired, no exploding dye packets, no high speed chases. There were stories in the news after each robbery, but nothing in them pointed to me. I didn’t need the money. I spent some and hid the rest. I was tempted to buy a lot of expensive things, but people would ask questions if I did. I had to plan each heist very carefully, because careless behavior would increase the risk of capture. Even with all my planning some little thing beyond my control could trip me up. Every time I pulled a bank job, I risked being arrested and locked up for life, or killed in a shootout. I could have stopped – should have stopped – but I didn’t.

Truth is, I didn’t rob banks in spite of the risks – I did it because of them. Every time I robbed a bank, my pussy became so wet, so tingly. Every time I got away, I headed home (or to my motel room if it was an out-of-state job), lay on the bed, and masturbated. And every time I climaxed, it was exquisite. It was the thrill of taking the risk and beating the odds that turned me on so powerfully and made my orgasms so intense. And after that first time, the thrill became an addiction.

It was the addiction that drove me to commit my latest robbery at an upstate bank this afternoon. As usual, I made a clean getaway. My panties were already drenched, but I made myself wait all through the two-hour drive back to my house. Those two hours seemed more like two days, because every second I was painfully aware of my clit throbbing and begging for my touch. Pulling into my driveway, I felt a thrill of anticipation. As I unlocked my front door, moneybag in hand, all my attention was focused on going upstairs and enjoying a nice long session of self-pleasuring. I didn’t know anyone was behind me until I felt a cruel hand grip my shoulder and heard a male voice whisper in my ear, “FBI, bitch. I’m armed. Get inside.”

I froze. FBI? How did he find me? I contemplated trying to knock him down and escape, but his cold voice left me with no doubt that he would shoot me. There seemed to be no way out. Numb with shock and fear, I silently opened the door and stepped into the hall. I heard the door slam and lock, then the moneybag was taken from me and I was shoved up against the wall. “Spread ‘em,” growled the voice.

I obeyed, feeling tears well up in my eyes as I pressed my burning face against the cool plaster. Rough hands patted me down, and I flinched as they passed over my breasts. They continued down my body and ended up at my crotch. Suddenly I remembered how wet and excited I had been up until a few seconds ago – could he feel how damp I was?

Abruptly his hands reached up and grabbed my wrists, pulling my arms behind my back. I felt cold steel on my wrists and heard the clicks as first one then the other hand was cuffed. A hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around, and I faced my captor for the first time.

 

[Always]

ooc:

you know, ticklies, you should write out a story for this. this is good... i'm suprised no one's said anything yet.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

OOC:
Shila: Thanks!
Pyrolisk: I think this will work fine. Would you mind describing your character so that I can get an idea of him?

IC:
As the car pulls out, I’m as limp as a rag doll in the passenger seat. Not wanting to look at you, I instead stare out the window. I see people going about their daily business, and I’d trade places with any of them in a heartbeat, because they’re as free as I used to be. The cuffs bite into the soft skin of my wrists, reminding me of what’s waiting for me, and I can feel the tears start again. Dammit! I hate to cry, especially in front of a man.

Before long my shock and self-pity wear off, and I can feel my instinct for self-preservation taking hold. With only one captor to handle, I’ve got a pretty good shot at escape should the opportunity present itself. Just as this thought occurs to me, you turn the car onto a back road. I’m puzzled, and a little wary. And when you stop the car after about a half-mile, I turn to look at you for the first time, concerned now.

I can’t read the expression on your face, and for some reason this bothers me a lot. You stare at me for a long moment, searching my face. I glare back at you, playing tough. I can’t help thinking that under different circumstances I’d probably be attracted to you. I shift position and suddenly I’m aware of the sex musk arising from my body. Eau de Frustrated Pussy. Good lord, how could I have missed that until now? No wonder you’re staring at me.

“So why do you keep doing it?” you say at last. “Is it the risk?”

The question surprises me, but only for a moment. My first instinct is to tell you to go to hell, that I’m not going to incriminate myself. But then I reconsider. Maybe I can get you to let your guard down enough to give me a chance to escape.

I let my expression soften a little. “Maybe if you loosen these cuffs a little, I’ll tell you all about it.”

 

[Ticklish Girl]

You’ve effectively pinned me to the passenger seat with your body, momentarily driving the breath out of me. When I feel your erection against my belly I tense up, certain that you intend to rape me. Now I know what’s been niggling at the back of my mind all along: an FBI agent wouldn’t take down an armed felon all by himself. There should be an entire convoy of government cars taking me into custody. If I hadn’t been caught so badly off guard, I would have picked up on this immediately. No sense second-guessing myself. You’re good, I’ll give you that much. If you’re going to take me, I can’t stop you.

But you seem nervous, even though you have me entirely at your mercy. You’re fidgeting, looking at me as if you’d love to touch me but don’t quite dare. I stare back at you, evaluating, calculating, looking for any angle I can use to turn this situation to my advantage. The persistence of your hardon tells me that such an angle does exist. I feel a faint tickle of arousal – understandable, I guess. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to an aroused man.

“I'm not sure exactly how to put this, Alison,” you say. Then you fall silent for a long moment, looking at me. I don’t say a word, continuing to watch you. I’m not entirely surprised when you reach out and stroke my breast, but my reaction does surprise me: my nipple tightens immediately, and I can feel goosebumps break out all over my back and arms. An involuntary gasp escapes me. “I had originally planned to blackmail you,” you add.

That’s the last thing I expected to hear. I pause, thinking hard, evaluating all the factors. I can feel you watching me intently. Finally I meet your gaze again. “Well,” I say. “I guess blackmail makes sense from your point of view. I don’t know how you found me out, but you’ve got me right where you want me. If you wanted to turn me in, I wouldn’t be able to stop you. You could name your price, and I’d pay it. You counted on that, didn’t you?”

I pause again, searching your face. You remain silent, and your expression gives away nothing.

You’re still lightly touching my breast. I shift in my seat and push my upper body toward you, bringing my breast into firmer contact with your hand. “I’d agree to just about anything you wanted, as long as I got to stay free,” I continue in a soft voice, smiling at you. “If that was your original plan, it was a pretty damn good one. So what’s your new plan, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I had actually pursed my lips for a kiss as your face came so close to mine. Now I let out a low, frustrated groan as your tongue teases my upper lip. It’s a pretty strong reminder that in spite of your obvious desire for me, I’m not the one in control here.

My original plan was to exploit your desire by tempting you with my body until your guard dropped enough for me to escape. Then, when you uttered the magic word “blackmail,” I figured that you wanted either money or sex, because they were the only things I had to offer you. I was prepared to hand over my strongbox if you wanted it, and I was prepared to let you have my body if you wanted that too. I was certain I could sexually service you and remain unaffected. I didn’t plan on your soft, sly touches arousing my own desires, or your soft, sly words stroking my ego. It’s been over two years since a man has touched me, and even longer since one complimented me.

Meanwhile, the part of my brain in charge of keeping me alive and free is busy analyzing and evaluating those words. Your mention of my sister caused my heart to skip a beat: yet another reminder of how I’ve lost control of my situation. The power you have over me is limitless. As if the threat of handing me over to the cops weren’t enough, you can also threaten to hurt the ones I love, or to expose my secret life to them. It’s obvious that I can’t refuse you. The strange thing is, you want something I never knew I had the power to give. Stranger still, it's an intriguing idea.

“I can't help but wonder what it would be like to work with you,” you said to me. Something in your expression and the tone of your voice was very familiar, and now it hits me: the idea seemed to excite you. Now I look up at you, amazed. Could it be … am I looking at my male counterpart?

I start to giggle, but quickly cut it off. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m not laughing at you. You just caught me off guard, is all. But … do you have any idea what you’re asking me?”

You don’t respond, watching me. I go on, “I mean, Bonnie and Clyde got killed by the cops. And every time I pull a job, I know I could end up like them, all shot full of holes. Actually, I’d kind of prefer that to life in prison. Go out in a blaze of glory, right?”

Still no response from you. But there is a certain gleam in your eyes that I know very well. “It’s not a game,” I tell you. “If you want to work with me, you have to accept the risk that comes with it. Maybe you’re right, and the FBI is hunting me. But if you join up with me, they’ll be hunting you too. And you can’t turn back. You’re in it till the end.”

I can see a slight smile on your face. I continue, my voice tight with emotion: “We’d have to trust each other completely, and we couldn’t trust anyone else. We’d have to plan every detail perfectly. Every job could be the last one. There’d no room for mistakes. Drive the getaway car too fast, run a red light, leave a fingerprint at the scene … the slightest mistake, we could be caught. And they wouldn’t show us one bit of mercy.”

The most amazing thing is happening to me as I speak these words. My clit is throbbing like a second heartbeat, chafing unbearably against my tight panties. I squirm slightly in my seat, straining against the tangled sweater and handcuffs that bind my wrists. I can feel the blood flooding my face and neck, feel the sweat break out on my forehead. I know this response very well, of course. It’s the feeling I get during robberies. But now, instead of thinking about lying on a bed pleasuring myself, I’m having a new fantasy. You and I racing upstairs to the bedroom, tearing each other’s clothes off, hands and mouths busy touching and pleasing each other, so excited by the risk we’ve taken that not even an armed SWAT team breaking into the room would stop us...

“Oh god,” I groan. “You asked me why I do it. It’s true, it’s the risk that makes me do it. Beating the odds – it turns me on so much! It’s the best aphrodisiac ever. That’s what makes it all worthwhile. It’s even better than the money.” I pause, thinking, trying to catch my breath. But there's nothing to think about. You've planted the idea in my mind, and I'm so surprised to find that I like it.

Finally I say, “You’d share in the payoff as well as the risk, of course. And, uh, I’m not just talking about the money. So, the answer’s yes. I’ll work with you.” I smile at you. “So, why don’t we seal the deal with a kiss?”

 

[mfucker]

OOC : Mind if I join in? I could be the real FBI...maybe someone could take up the role of my cute female partner..

 

[Ticklish Girl]

OOC: No disrespect to mfucker, but I think right now the story calls for just two people. Later on, things may change. Let's just see how things develop between Pyrolisk and me for now. We're at a critical juncture, I think.

I'll be back later on tonight to pick up my part.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

IC: Alison

The orgasm hits me with such force that I feel as though the top of my head is going to come off. All I can do is whimper as the pleasure courses through my body. My body strains against you, my legs gripping you so tightly that I half-expect your spine to crack. Your face is very red and dripping with sweat, and as your own ecstasy arrives you let out a low groan, all the tendons in your neck sticking out.

All too soon you’re finished. You pull me off you as easily as if I weigh no more than a pillow, then position me so that I sit astride you. I’m gasping for breath as my nerve endings still tingle all over. I definitely could have cum multiple times if you hadn’t interrupted our contact, and I can’t help groaning. Another reminder of your power over me, as if I needed it.

My frustration begins to recede a bit as you gently kiss my breasts. I half-close my eyes, enjoying the feel of your lips caressing the soft skin. I’m so lost in the sensation that I don’t notice you reaching behind my back. Then I hear the clicks and catch my breath, understanding at once what you’re doing. There is a sound of metal clanking as the cuffs land somewhere behind us. You sit back, staring hard at my face.

Slowly I shrug the tangled sweater off my arms and hold up my hands in front of me, studying the marks of the handcuffs on my wrists. I rub my wrists gently, wincing a little. The flesh is very tender; I’m going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. I know you’re watching me, but I ignore you as I flex my hands and fingers to make sure they still have feeling.

When I’m absolutely sure I’m okay, I look at you and smile. You don’t smile in return, still watching me with slightly narrowed eyes. The challenge in your eyes is very clear: by unlocking me you’ve given me a chance to earn your trust. The direction that our association will take in large part depends upon what I do now. Your body is tense, as if you’re waiting for me to try and escape. The idea pops up for a moment (force of habit), but I quickly discard it. Not because it would be impossible for me to escape – I’ve done the impossible a couple of times in my career. No, it’s something else entirely, something new. It’s as simple as this: for the first time in I don’t know how long, I don’t feel like running away from a man.

I reach out and gently touch your face. “I’m not going to run, so relax,” I say. I trace the line of your jaw, then lean in and plant a soft kiss on your lips. “Truth is, I’ve got nowhere to run to. I’m placing myself completely in your hands.” To illustrate the point, I take one of your hands and raise it to my mouth. The skin on the back of your hand feels warm as I press my lips to it.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I can sense a change in your demeanor after I kiss your hand. My gesture of submission seems to have given you permission to relax and allow yourself to be gentle and tender with me. A contented sigh escapes me as you fold me in your arms. Two years have passed since I swore off men and sex, and during that time I had forgotten how nice it feels to be held.

We sit kissing and touching each other for what feels like hours, a delightful contrast to the frenzied pace of our first encounter. When our tongues touch I feel an almost electric shock – I want to experience it again and again. Your caresses make me shiver, and I can’t resist the urge to touch you too. I stroke your hair, then gently trace my fingers down your back. Your shirt is in the way, and together we manage to get it off you to reveal muscular, tanned flesh. Much better, I decide. I stroke your back and then your chest, reveling in the play of muscles beneath the warm, smooth skin. You respond by playing with my breasts, gently rubbing and pinching the nipples until I’m breathless.

So much has happened to me today that I can scarcely process it all. For a long time my life has been devoted to deception and manipulation. The only way I could stay alive and free was to think several steps ahead of any pursuers, so the need to outwit and outmaneuver everyone became my obsession. The price for my chosen path was isolation, because there was no way I could trust anyone with my secret life. But now you’ve caught me, unmasked me, and easily breached my defenses. I should be terrified of you, because of your power over me, but in fact I’m growing more comfortable with you every second. Maybe it's because I have the feeling that I’ve met my match, in more ways than one.

I reach into your lap and find that you’ve gotten hard again. Gently I trace your dick with my fingers, admiring its length and thickness. You moan slightly and kiss me even harder. After a few teasing strokes, I take my hand away and lift myself into your lap. You suck in a deep breath as I slowly lower myself onto your dick, allowing it to sink inch by inch into me. I’m already very wet, so it slides in rather easily. When I’ve taken it all, I wrap my arms tightly around you and give you a deep kiss.

“Let’s make this one last a long time,” I whisper.

[Edited by Ticklish Girl on 09-29-2000 at 10:27 PM]

 

[Ticklish Girl]

I move slowly up and down, keeping a steady rhythm, impaling myself on your rigid cock. The friction is delightful, and I can sense you love it too. Your moans and gasps excite me almost as much as your kisses and caresses. Your arousal is a thing to be savored, not exploited – this is a simple truth that I’ve only just learned in your arms. I’m looking forward to re-learning it many times.

I can feel you getting close and I slow down, wanting to prolong the pleasure. I lower my head and kiss you deeply. You respond enthusiastically, holding nothing back. Our tongues wrestle playfully inside each other’s mouths. Your hands creep up my sides to cup and tease my breasts – I moan into your mouth as you pinch the nipples. My own hands are busy stroking your hair, your face, your shoulders. I want to map every inch of you with my fingers.

Our bodies are slick with sweat, and the scent of sex permeates the car. Nothing else matters right now – the heists, the FBI, any future plans we might make. The only thing I care about is the two of us, right here. This is such a new experience for me, this desperate kind of passion that borders on madness – the kind of passion I've read about, dreamed about, but never experienced until now.

Bracing my hands on your strong shoulders, I speed up again, unable to hold back anymore. After a few strokes, the first orgasm hits me. My entire body goes rigid. The pleasure is so intense I can’t even make a sound. I can only squeeze my eyes shut, panting, digging my fingernails into your shoulders. The spasms hit me again and again, and right in the middle of them you groan and achieve your own release deep inside me.

We shudder and gasp for breath, locked together in a tight embrace, each surrendering completely to the other, until finally we collapse, our passion spent. We remain where we are, still entwined, although I manage to release my tight grip on your shoulders. I can see little crescent-shaped marks on your sweet flesh. Fortunately I keep my nails quite short, so I didn’t draw any blood. I kiss the marks gently and rest my head on your shoulder. Your arms clasp me loosely, one hand stroking my hair. As my breathing and heart rate slowly return to normal, I feel very content.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like you," I whisper.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

“Okay, sir knight, you can keep ‘em,” I agree with a chuckle. I’m in such a good mood, I’ll agree to anything. I grab my pants and after a brief search manage to locate my sweater. I start to look for my bra, and then I remember that you cut it off me. Shrugging, I put the clothes on over nothing at all.

When we’re dressed, you start the car and head back the way we came. Neither of us speaks during the drive. I stare out the window, just as I did on the way out, but I'm much calmer this time. In fact, I feel better than I've felt in a long time. Why should that be? I don't think it's due to the knowledge that I'm still free, although of course I'm thrilled to know that I'm not going to prison just yet. No, I think it's the simple pleasure of being able to let someone in, of being able to trust someone. It's heady stuff to have someone know your darkest secret and still want to be with you.

Before long we arrive at my house. I’m a little surprised to see that the front door is unlocked – but, of course, locking up wasn’t exactly number one on my list of priorities when you led me out. I push open the door and sure enough, there are my keys on the floor in the hall – I must have dropped them when you pushed me against the wall to frisk me.

I scoop up the keys and lock the door behind us. “Lucky I wasn’t robbed while we were gone,” I joke. “There are some pretty unsavory characters living in this neighborhood.” We both chuckle.

It feels as though I’ve been gone a long time, and yet a glance at my watch tells me that it’s only been about an hour since you seized me. With a smile I say, “Let me show you where the bathroom is, so you can get your shower.”

Taking you by the hand I lead you upstairs, stopping at the second door on the left. I open the door and plant a soft kiss on your lips. “Here you go. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with some extra towels.” You nod assent and head inside.

Humming to myself I stroll down the hall to my bedroom. After doing a brief inventory of the contents of my towel drawer, I select an armful of the softest ones and then go back to the bathroom.

The shower is already going full strength, and the room is beginning to steam up. I lay out the bath towels, then scoop up your discarded clothes and put them in my laundry basket. That done, I pause outside the glass shower door.

“How’s it going in there?” I ask. “Need any help with those hard-to-reach spots?”

 

[Ticklish Girl]

The soft warmth of my bed is a delightful contrast to the cramped confines of your car. I feel so clean and refreshed from the shower, it’s as if I’ve shed a layer or two of dead skin. One thing is for sure, I’ve shed quite a bit of emotional baggage in a short amount of time.

I lie back on the bed and watch you finish drying yourself, relishing the full-length view of your body. My lust must be pretty obvious, because you smile and begin to show off for me, bending and flexing your body, letting me watch the play of muscles beneath your skin as you whip the towel around your body. You seem to enjoy my scrutiny, because your hardon is perking up again.

I watch you for a few moments, then I can’t take anymore. “Get in here, you,” I giggle, patting the bed. You don’t need a second invitation; you drop the towel and climb in beside me, taking me in your arms.

“Mmm.” I love the feel of your strong arms around me. My lips part automatically as we kiss, and your velvety tongue slips between them to touch my own. I hold you tightly, stroking your back and shoulders. We lie there for a long time, belly to belly, kissing and nuzzling each other. I can feel your hardon between us, nestling against my tummy.

Staring into your eyes, I feel completely safe. I know I’ve been somewhat forced into this association with you, but there’s nothing forced or fake about the way I’ve surrendered myself to you. It turns out I’ve been lying to myself for the past couple of years, telling myself I didn’t need to be close to anyone. It’s so nice to be able to trust someone now.

I pull away from you and move slowly down your body, planting kisses all the way, until I reach your hard cock. Gently I hold it and wrap my lips around the head, then flick my tongue over the slit. You suck in a deep breath and moan softly.

I turn my body around so that we’re head to toe, then busy myself licking and sucking your cock. My tongue traces it all over from the root to the tip, then back again. Then, when it’s completely wet, I open wide and slide as much of your cock inside as I can handle. I slowly move my head up and down, forming a tight seal with my lips around your cock. I can fit all but a couple of inches into my mouth, and I rub the rest of the exposed length with my fingers. Your appreciative moans and sighs are powerfully exciting.

 

[Ticklish Girl]

Your tongue lashes my clitoris so sweetly, alternating between light and firm pressure. I can’t help moaning and pumping my hips, shoving my pussy into your face. My entire being seems centered in my clit and the exquisite tonguing I’m receiving. Not to be outdone, I lick and suck your cock, taking it as deep as possible. Your moans and gasps tell me that you’re so close to the brink – your pleasure excites me in a way I’ve never known before. Then your tongue flicks a particularly sensitive spot on my clit and I let out a long moan, quivering all over. You shudder and groan, then erupt inside my mouth. I continue to suck you, intent on not spilling a drop, as the tremors wrack your body.

My heart is pounding in my chest and my clit throbs in time between your lips. Each stroke of your tongue pushes me farther over the edge. The muscles in my lower belly begin to cramp in anticipation of ecstasy – in fact, I’m twitching so much you slip an arm around me to keep me still. I can feel your cock softening in my mouth, but I don’t slow down.

It seems as though the only two things that matter in the universe are your cock in my mouth and my clit in your mouth. Even in the fog of your own pleasure you’re aware of my need, and your tongue speeds up, swabbing up one side of my clit and down the other. My clit throbs once, twice, and then I shudder as my own ecstasy finally overtakes me.

Every muscle pulls taut as I shudder and moan. Liquid heat fills my belly and spreads through my limbs. Your tongue keeps stroking me, coaxing pleasure from me with each stroke. I return the favor upon your cock, until I’ve drained it of every last drop – only then do I let it slip from my lips. Your tongue keeps up its work, and I gasp with appreciation as the jolts continue to hit my pussy.

Slowly the pleasure subsides, and my body relaxes bit by bit. Only when all the tension has left my muscles does your tongue stop its motion. We both lie slumped on the bed for a moment, and then I climb off you and move back up so that we’re lying side by side. Neither of us speaks; we just lie there staring at the ceiling as our breathing slowly returns to normal.

I doze off for a few minutes, waking to find my head pillowed on your shoulder. I look up and see that you’ve been watching me. You smile at me and stroke my damp hair. I kiss you softly on the lips, tasting my own juices. “We’re gonna need another shower, I think,” I tease, and you chuckle.

Gently stroking your shoulder I muse, “I’ve got to admit, I never thought being caught would feel this nice.”