Unbecoming Behavior for a Young Lad

As I felt him pumping as he inseminated me, I simultaneously went into orgasm, my vagina then encouraging him further as I contracted even tighter, now like a tight fist, as I milked him totally of all his seed. He must have continued pumping for a good minute or so.

As he finally ebbed I panicked. Had I taken my pill that morning? Too late now, with so much semen in me, if I hadn't, I had no chance as it only took one fertile sperm to swim its course deep into my fertile young body and hey presto, I'd be fertilized. By someone I'd not only never spoken to, but also by someone I'd never even seen. I had no idea as to what he looked like, black or white, old or young, ugly or handsome. Shit! What would I tell my mom? All I knew was that he was uncircumcised. It was, as my mother would say,

"Unbecoming behavior for a young woman."

As the train entered the station, in its final approach, it slowed down to little more than walking pace. The lights from the station lit the carriage dimly. Still inside, savoring one another as long as possible, he very quickly withdrew. In the blink of an eye, I yanked up my hot pants and straightened myself up the best I could. As if he'd flipped a switch the lights began to flicker back into life. The carriage jolted as we ground to a final stop.

Wiggling my bum a little as I tried to get comfortable down there, I moved to get off. As I alighted, I looked around me. My underground lover had seemingly disappeared, mysteriously into the crowd. Could he already be on the prowl for another victim?

I took another Tube to return to the station where I should have alighted earlier. As I ambled slowly home on this glorious English summer's late afternoon, in my rather smelly, sticky, disheveled state, I could feel semen as it dribbled out of me from between my legs. What a state to be in.

I cursed myself as I suddenly realized in all the excitement that I'd left my bag behind on the floor of the train. As I calmed down, I decided it was no big deal. With little in there of value, I'd report it to the police later. But only once I'd had a chance to tidy myself up.

With no other engagements planned for that night, within a few minutes of arriving home, my flat mate having let me in, with a glass of chilled white Chardonnay I soaked myself in a delightful hot bath as I washed away my lover's issue. I mulled over my earlier sexual encounter as I went through all the intimacies. I smiled wickedly to myself as I thought of what naughtiness I'd committed. It made me feel quite horny all over again. I simply had to take care of it.

Just on the brink of orgasm, I heard the doorbell. Then the voice of Sue my flat mate, as she answered the door and spoke to someone, a man, whose voice I did not recognize. Assuming that it was someone for her, I recollected my thoughts and returned to focus my attention and continue my handiwork on my vagina and my engorged clitoris. Within a minute, as I orgasmed my body rippled in delight, and I made the bath water slosh out over the sides. Just as the water flooded the floor, I felt cold air as the bathroom door was thrown open. Sue looked in and seeing me in my post orgasmic state, blurted out apologetically,

"So, so sorry Katie, I didn't mean to disturb you - but there's a policeman at the front door and he wishes to speak to you."

My heart already pounding after pleasuring myself (which was nice), now beat faster. Had someone reported me for indecent exposure? Or, (my mouth went dry), worse?

"OK. Tell him I'll be down in a jiffy." I stammered.

I leapt out of the bath, quickly toweled myself off and on the back of the door was Sue's new silk dressing robe. I flung it around my still damp body, to find it was one size too small for me. But I decided it would do. It was quicker than getting mine. With a towel around my wet hair and barefoot, I anxiously went down to hear what fate awaited me.

As I anxiously descended the stairs, I glimpsed myself in the mirror. I looked very flushed and the robe I had borrowed was, because of its size, definitely more than a little revealing. Fresh from my recent sexual self pleasuring, the flushing on my face, breasts and legs was particularly evident.

At first the policeman had his back to me, facing away, but as he heard my approach, he turned and then, stood to face me. As he looked at me my breath quickened as I saw he was a true hunk of a police constable. I'd guess he must have been in excess of 6 feet, was in his mid to late twenties and good looking. Yummy.

Peering down, as he was grasping something, I saw that he held my bag, the one I'd lost on the train earlier. I felt elated, both at the presence of this handsome man and the fact that he had my bag.

With my attention more than gained, the policeman began,

"Good evening Miss. You are Katie Sharpenden, currently of this address?" I nodded in confirmation. PC Mike Kent continued,

"Earlier this evening, a person who wishes to remain anonymous handed this bag in to us which I believe you own. They told my colleague at the police station that they had found it late this afternoon on the Underground. We traced it to here because there are a couple of letters addressed to you at these premises."

"Oh, yes thank you.2" I nodded, "That is the bag I lost. I was going to report it later this evening."

And as I took the bag from PC Kent, so pleased that I'd got it back, I flung my arms around him and as I gave him a big wet kiss, the flimsy silk robe fell open in the process, giving him a full on view of my nakedness.

Embarrassed, he turned away, blushing.

"Oh, that's okay Miss." He stammered, then continued, in a decidedly excited state,

"This place is on the way to where I live anyway, so it was no problem dropping it off. We realize loosing something like this can be a real inconvenience."

So relieved to get it back, as I checked through, all seemed to be there. There were a few pounds and some small change still in my purse, a couple of letters from my parents back home, the keys to the flat, together with other odds and ends of a sentimental value, including my birth control pills one of which, I was so relieved to see, I had taken that morning.

As I looked through further though, I found that there were a couple of personal things missing. Absent was a rather explicit picture of me with Sean. It was one in which we were both stark naked with his cock clearly firmly rooted inside me. The photo had been taken by a friend of mine when I was at a drunken birthday party Sean had thrown at his apartment last year. Ouch.

The other absent item, was my personal diary for the year in which amongst other not so sensitive bits and pieces there were several very graphic accounts of some of my elicit rather sordid sexual encounters while I'd been in London. Someone somewhere must now be enjoying them.

"Is everything there Miss Sharpenden?" My mind raced as I thought how I should reply. In an instant I decided not to mention the missing items. After all they were only of sentimental value and there was next to little chance of getting them back. Telling him they had been taken could prove rather awkward. Especially if, in the unlikely event they were retrieved and this handsome policeman then had the rather difficult task of returning them to me.

"Yes, thank you kindly PC Kent, it's all here," I lied.

"I am pleased to hear that. If you don't mind please would you sign this as a receipt to say that I've safely returned it to you." I took the piece of paper, signed it and once again thanking him, saw the police constable to the front door.

As I climbed exhausted into bed a couple of hours later, I smiled to myself as I again pondered over the day's proceedings and what I should wear tomorrow. Perhaps the hot pants again? No. They were in the wash. Then it would have to be that Mary Quant mini skirt. Yes, that would do nicely.

As my eyes wearily closed, I wondered what adventures lay in wait for me on tomorrow's tube ride and I squirmed at the thought.

A couple of days later I finished work a little earlier than normal and on a not so adventurous way home, wearing a considerably less provocative but pretty Laura Ashley dress, I called in at the local police station to thank them again. Deep down I suppose I was hoping to see PC Kent, but unfortunately it was an older policeman, a police sergeant who was on duty on the reception desk. I spoke with him and asked him to relay my appreciation to PC Kent for returning my bag last week.

"You can thank him yourself Miss, he's out the back having a cup of tea. If you don't mind waiting, I'll go and find him.

My heartbeat quickened as I waited, not quite sure as to what to say.

The desk sergeant promptly returned.

"He'll be with you in two ticks."

A short space of time passed and the door to the rear opened and in walked a police constable, not however in his twenties but in his late forties. The desk sergeant mouthed something to him and pointed towards me.

"Good afternoon. I'm PC Kent. How can I help you?"

He had the same name and the same police number but this was definitely not the policeman I knew as PC Kent, the one who had returned my bag. I was bewildered and confused.

"I think that there must be some mistake. Is there another PC Kent here?"

"Sorry Miss, but we have no one else at this station with that name. I am the only one."

He smiled and pushing his luck said,

"Will I not do?"

I shook my head.

"It seems to be a bit of a mystery Miss," said the desk sergeant and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Perhaps he was from another police station, but having said that I know most of the PC's in the area and I'm unfamiliar with another PC Kent? Still, at least you got your bag back."

"I am absolutely certain that is his name and this is the correct police station."

"In that case Miss, it sounds as though we have someone who is impersonating a police officer and I'll have to make out a report."

With that he licked his forefinger, selected an appropriate form, picked it up, then with his biro poised in readiness, prepared to fill it in.

This was getting complicated. Deciding in that instant to take this no further I said,

"No, now I think about it, perhaps I did get the name wrong."

As I left the police station, with, I am sure the two police officers thinking I was a n idiotic spoiled young American woman, (which in a way I suppose I was), I was still absolutely certain that it was the right place. But, taking things further could have opened a can of wriggling worms and my little indiscretion on the Tube may somehow be discovered. It seemed pointless to take things further.

But as I thought harder about that evening when my bag had been returned, there was something vaguely familiar about that particular PC Kent. Something I hadn't quite placed earlier, but did now. It was his aftershave.

While not the rarest of scents, it now dawned on me that it was the same scent as the one I had detected on whoever had fucked me on the train that memorable Thursday afternoon. Having put him first above suspicion because he was a policeman, could it have been him, the mysterious PC Kent or whatever his name was?

I would never know. And to this day I still don't. But somehow I'd like to think that it was.

What was weird was that exactly a year later, on the exact anniversary of that event, I received a letter which had a Polaroid photo inside. Nothing else. The postmark was somewhat smudged, so I couldn't read where it was sent from.

The picture was of a man's very erect penis and on the reverse side, written in blue biro in capitals it read,

"THINKING OF YOU!"

Next time, would I use a little more discretion before taking a lover on the underground?

Maybe.