The police threw Jasmine into a cell, while they treated Simone with kid gloves.
“She works for the government?” one of the officers asked Simone.
Simone shook her head to indicate no, and then she confirmed for the officers that Jasmine was indeed drunk.
After about twenty minutes, Agent Gosling and three other unmarked FBI cars arrived on the scene. The officers filled Agent Gosling in on what had happened and why Jasmine was being detained. But the FBI had jurisdiction over Jasmine, so she was released into Gosling’s custody.
Gosling had one of the uniformed officers drive Simone home and informed them that he would drive Jasmine home. He placed Jasmine in the front seat of his squad car and made sure her truck was driven out of the toll bridge lane and parked in a spot right next to the holding cell.
Traffic had almost come to a standstill because of all of the cop cars near the tollgates. Even though it was real early in the morning, people looked on and rubbernecked, further backing up traffic.
Once Jasmine’s truck was safe, Gosling sped off and whisked her away.
“Jasmine, you can’t fuck up like this!” Gosling screamed. “You were doing phenomenal. Please don’t blow it now by reverting back to your rebellious ways. And, please, for heaven’s sake, lay off the liquor!”
Gosling looked over at Jasmine, and her cleavage and her thighs were turning him on. Jasmine also had on a pair of stilettos and Gosling loved to see women in them.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what happened.”
It was hard for Gosling to be angry and give Jasmine real stern looks now that he had feelings for her. He reached over and placed his right hand on her left thigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, caressing her knee.
Jasmine was drunk, but she was fully aware of what was going on. She looked over at Gosling, and Gosling locked eyes with her and didn’t remove his hand. He slid his hand up her thigh. She placed her hand on top of his to stop it from going any farther.
Gosling pulled over to the shoulder of the Cross Island Parkway. When the car came to a complete stop, he turned toward Jasmine and, without asking, started to tongue-kiss her, sliding his hand all the way up her thigh until he got to her pussy. Gosling’s dick was so hard, it was almost coming out of his pants.
“Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing, Gosling?”
“I want you! I always wanted you,” Gosling said, sliding his finger into Jasmine’s pussy.
Jasmine exhaled, her mind racing. She didn’t want to fuck Gosling, but she felt like if she didn’t, he might end up later framing her for something she didn’t do to get back at her.
Gosling got out of the car and got in the backseat and told her to come to the backseat with him. Jasmine felt creepy—like she was getting ready to fuck her father or her uncle or something, but she did as Gosling had told her.
Gosling was like a lion in heat, and as soon as Jasmine got in the car he pulled her toward him and pulled her titties out so that both were fully exposed. Gosling turned Jasmine around so that her ass was facing him, and he positioned her knees on the seat and bent her down so her head wasn’t hitting the ceiling. Gosling then lifted up Jasmine’s skirt and pulled her thong to the side. He took his gun out of the holster and put it on safety and tossed it on the front seat. Then he feverishly got out of his pants and stuck his dick in Jasmine’s pussy from behind and started to fuck her raw.
“Don’t come in me,” she said sternly to him while he pumped his dick in and out of her.
Speeding cars were whizzing by on the parkway, none of which had any idea that two people were fucking inside the car on the side of the road.
Gosling wanted to last long inside of Jasmine, but all the pent-up excitement caused him to fuck her like a jackrabbit.
Within three minutes Gosling had pulled his dick out and was shooting his load all over the backseat of his FBI-issued car. “Ahhh shit! Ohhhh yeah! Wooooo!”
Gosling was thoroughly enjoying the nut that he had just bust. Jasmine’s pussy was tighter and better than he’d imagined during all the times he’d jerked off in his house, fantasizing about his prized confidential informant.
Forty-Four
Agent Gosling cleaned up his come with some tissue he had in the car. Jasmine was dead tired and stayed in the backseat, where she was able to stretch out and close her eyes. She was feeling like she was going to throw up, but she knew that if she just relaxed she would be fine. It was now approaching five in the morning, and she ended up falling asleep.
While she slept, Agent Gosling reached into his glove compartment and pulled out the bottle of vodka he had stashed there. He took a swig and then put the cap back on the bottle and stuffed it back inside the glove compartment. The swig of vodka gave the agent an instant rush. He loved the way the liquor felt as it traveled down his throat and into his stomach.
Gosling had two houses, but the house he liked most was the one in Floral Park, Long Island, relatively close to Queens. With the influence of the vodka he kept taking swigs of, he decided to take Jasmine to his house.
Gosling knew it was a dumb idea, but he didn’t care. He wanted some more of Jasmine’s pussy. He had come too quickly when he’d fucked her in the car. He wanted to fuck her one more time so she would remember his dick. Gosling woke Jasmine up and told her where she was, and then he walked her into his tidy two-story brick colonial house.
“Let me make you some breakfast,” he said to her when they entered the front door. “Here. Have a seat on the couch.”
Gosling sat Jas