





                      HYPOTHETICALLY 

                            by

                         Joe Doe


THE "WHAT IF" GAME, WHEREIN A WIFE HAS A HYPOTHETICAL CONVERSATION 
WITH HER POLICE OFFICER HUSBAND.



"All I'm saying is 'What if'?" Lisa said.

"It's an absurd hypothetical," her husband replied.  "The girls we 
pull in are Spring Break bimbos."

"Are you saying I'm not pretty enough to be a bimbo?"

"No.  Of course you're pretty enough."  

"You're saying I'm not pretty enough.  You're saying none of the 
guys in your department would WANT to search me."

"No, I think most of the guys there would love to get their hands 
on you."

"Most of the guys?"

"ALL of the guys.  You're incredibly hot!  They'd love to...uh...."

"To what?  To shuck me down?  To peel me like a grape?  To snap on 
the glove and...."

"For crying out loud, you're my wife!"

"And that means I'm ugly?"  

"This conversation is driving me crazy.  What do you want from me?"  

"Answer my questions.  Stop telling me how absurd everything is, 
and explain how it would happen."

"How what would happen?"  

"How would I be arrested?  What would the charges be?  
Hypothetically."

"You wouldn't be.  You dress like a lawyer, for Pete's sake."

"I AM a lawyer, for Pete's sake.  But I can dress like anything 
I want.  Let's say I was wearing my pink tube top, my blue denim 
shorts, sneakers, and white socks.  My hair's in a ponytail.  
It's a hot day, and I stop at the Kwik-E-Mart to get something 
to drink.  I'm not wearing a bra, and it's hot and sweaty, so...."
 
"I get the idea.  Go on."

"I'm dressed like that, and I go into the store.  The clerk is 
talking to one of your fearless co-workers in blue.  What happens?"

"He might not notice you."

"The air conditioning is on in the store, and I'm not wearing a 
bra.  My nipples are...."

"Ok, he notices you.  Maybe he decides to let you off."

"Even after I tease him?"

"What do you say?"

"I tell him to watch out for the doughnuts with the sprinkles; 
they're the dangerous ones.  Then I make some 'oink-oink' sounds 
and wink at the clerk."

"You'd be lucky if he doesn't shoot you."

"No, that would be a waste.  Besides, I know how horny you boys 
are.  So what would he arrest me for?"

"He wouldn't arrest you.  Everyone knows you're my wife."

"What if they didn't know...hypothetically."

"Do you have your license and registration?"

"Of course."

"Is your car in good condition?"

"My Corvette?  Perfect.  I even changed the oil last week."  

"Did you buy beer?"

"A Squishee, which I rather obviously paid for in cash and didn't 
shoplift, before you waste your breath asking.  Looks like you 
don't have a case.  Maybe the clerk will give Patrolman Porker a 
dirty magazine so he can go into the restroom and...."

"Cash?  Ten to one he stops you before you pull away."

"On what grounds?"

"One of the bills is on the Secret Service watch list for 
counterfeit."   

"It was $2.  That's ridiculous.  Of all the bogus...."

"Are you resisting arrest, Miss?"

"No, I just meant that...."

"Please step out of the car, Miss."

"OK, I get out of the car...then what?"

"Then he frisks you."

"Frisks me?  Right in the parking lot?"

"You bet.  In fact, I'm sure he'd do it facing the road, so 
everyone could watch.   And don't forget the shop clerk either.  
I'm sure he'd shut down the Squishee machine to watch.  In 
cases like this –- 10-69s -– justice needs to be seen to be 
done."

"What's a 10-69?"

"When we catch two girls who are snotty and bitchy and perfect 10s, 
we make them 69 each other.  Of course you're one girl, but, if we 
busted another girl, then...."

"But I didn't do anything."

"Hush!  Officer Porker and I want to enjoy this.  I just love 
watching him run his hands up and down those long bare legs of 
yours.  Fingers through your hair...over your shoulders.  Nice 
round melons...flat stomach, tight little ass...now let's give 
that hot little pussy of yours a little squeeze.  Oh yeah, 
there's people pulling into the parking lot to watch you being 
put through your paces."

"People?  How many people?  Hypothetically."

"A bunch.  A couple of old men from the barbershop down the street. 
And some college boys.  And don't forget that shop keeper you were 
flirting with; he's seen how fresh you were, and now he's enjoying 
seeing you taken down a peg or two."

"What are they doing?"

"They're smiling, laughing.  You can hear them talking about you: 
'little slut,' 'prick-teaser,' 'nice little titties."

"He can't just frisk me out in the street, with all those 
lip-smacking cretins hooting at me."

"Don't worry; he's done now.  He's cuffing your hands behind your 
back and locking you into the back of the cruiser.  You have a 
little chance to talk with him."

"What does he say?"

"He asks if your mouth is still feeling smart, now that you're 
cuffed and on your way to jail."  

"No, sir." 

"That's better.  See, you're getting rehabilitated already.  Are 
you going to fresh-mouth the police?"

"No, sir."

"Are you going to treat my badge with the respect it deserves?

"Yes, sir!"

"What do you say you prove it?  Why don't we pull over and I'll 
climb in back.  We'll keep your hands cuffed, and you can just 
lean over and polish my nightstick and show me how respectful 
you are, show me that you understand what you are and who I am."

"You mean you want me to -– you expect me to -– blow you?"

"What I expect, young lady, is for you to show me the respect I'm 
due.  Fresh little tart, running around in her scanties.  You 
belong down on your knees, servicing me in the way nature intended. 
You need to be taught a lesson, Missy, and those cuffs aren't 
coming off until you learn it."

"Go to hell!"  

"Well, look.  Here we are at the station.  I guess we can get on 
with your processing."  

"Processing?  Wh-what are you going to do?"

"I'd take you inside and put you in examination room three."

"What's in exam room three?"

"The same sort of stuff that's in examination room two, only it has 
a window, too."

"What can I see through the window?  Is it a nice view?"

"You'll see yourself, dumb-dumb.  It's a one-way mirror for the 
observation room."  

"What's in the observation room?"

"Coffee, doughnuts, and, if we're searching a hot little number 
with a smart mouth, about a dozen horny guys enjoying all three."

"Will you SEARCH me?"

"I most certainly will.  That's what this is all about, isn't it?  
You want to be searched, and this is the room where it's going to 
happen.  Don't you want to know what else is in the room?  There's 
a sink, an exam table, a wall cabinet, a toilet, and a cardboard 
box."

"What's in the cardboard box?"

"Every stitch of clothing you have on, about three minutes after I 
send Officer Davis in to search you."

"Tyrone Davis?  The big black guy?  You're going to let HIM search 
me?"

"Yes, I am.  I thought it might cure some of those racist attitudes 
of yours.  The whole world isn't that big old plantation you grew 
up on back in Georgia.  I think it will be good for you to meet a 
black man with some power.  It will be just like Georgia, only 
Tyrone has the gun and the badge.  You'll be the little nigra 
girl, and Tyrone will be your new massah.  And we know what little 
nigra girls have to do when they meet their new massahs, don't we?"

"No...I don't."

"They have to shuck down so massah can see the goods.  He's going 
to have to squeeze your titties and give that hot little hole of 
yours a friendly poke, so he can hear what sort of squeaky sounds 
his little nigra makes when he works his finger round and round."

"For crying out loud, there are a dozen guys on the force.  Why 
can't it be Jake or Steve or Fred or Sam...."

"Because it's Tyrone.  Now strip.  Everything."

"You'd expect me to strip?"

"I wouldn't expect anything.  Tyrone would be calling the shots.  
I'd be in the other room, enjoying the sprinkles on my doughnuts 
with the rest of the guys, watching the show".

"I'd have to strip?  In front of some big mean black man?"

"Yup, and Tyrone's extra mean, since I'd tell him you had a 
Confederate decal on your Corvette.  I'd tell him he had a 
real old-fashioned Southern aristocrat on his hands, one who 
needed to understand what it feels like to shuck down for her 
black massah.  You can start with the shoes."

"The shoes?  What else?"

"Socks, jeans, top, underpants...in the box.  Then you go up on 
the table."

"What table?"  

"Geez, dressing like a bimbo sure makes you dumb.  The exam table, 
airhead!  Or did you forget already.  Oh, wait...just a second.  
Tyrone has to snap the stirrups into place.  Now put those little 
heels in the little metal holes and scoot down to the end of the 
table so you're spread nice and wide."

"This exam table...it isn't facing the...the...."

"The window?  Yeah, I'm sorry, but it is.  Wow, tough break, huh?  
I mean, statistically you had a 3 out of 4 chance that it wouldn't 
be.  Who'd a thought that...."

"Very funny.  So I'm spread out in front of about a dozen horny, 
drooling cops."

"Don't forget Tyrone.  Of course he isn't drooling.  He's snapping 
on his glove."  

"I don't have any contraband."

"Talk to the hand, honey, cuz I'm not listening.  Talk to the hand."

"You'd really let him search me?"

"It's your fantasy!  Tyrone would take his time, running his 
fingers through your pubes, teasing your little button, 
separating your lips.  Tyrone just loves hot, white, plantation 
pussy."

"How long would it all take?"

"Five or six minutes.  It would take longer than normal since he'd 
be standing to one side, to make sure we could all get a bird's eye 
view."

"And, when he was done, could I go?"

"What's your hurry?  The guys are enjoying themselves.  Tyrone is 
enjoying himself.  It's really quite a show."

"It's over.  It's time to go.  You had your fun."

"Hypothetically, you might be right.  But, in reality, I think he'd 
put you through one other step."

"What?"

"He'd go to the cabinet and take out one a rubber bag.  You'd be 
confused at first, especially when you saw him filling it up with 
water.  But you'd get the picture when he attached the nozzle and 
the hose."

"An enema?  He'd give me an ENEMA?  In front of twenty guys?"

"Hypothetically?  Yes.  The water would be cold, and he'd hang the 
bag nice and high, so it went down fast.  You'd cramp a lot, and 
he'd rub your tummy and laugh.  When you'd taken the whole bag, 
he'd probably go enjoy a doughnut while you begged to use the 
potty.  Ever use a toilet in front of a dozen guys?"

"Of course not."

"Well, hypothetically, I imagine it might be an interesting 
experience."

		******************************

She had been driving around the tiny town all day.  Her husband 
had told her not to come, since he'd be filling in for the other 
police chief for only a few weeks, until he was back from vacation.

But she had come anyway.  There was something intriguing about 
being in a small town where no one knew that you were a cop's 
wife.  It added an element of intrigue...and danger.

Her husband had befriended the other man years ago because of their 
mutual interest in strip searches.  They were even less patient 
here with out-of-town bimbos than they were back home.

Not that she was a bimbo.  True, she wasn't wearing a bra, and her 
shirt did show off her cute little belly-button.  Her denim skirt 
was short, but it wasn't indecently so. 

She luxuriated in the feel of the wind blowing through her long 
blonde hair as she sped around town in her red Corvette, blowing 
off stop signs and burning rubber all the way.

She hadn't seen a squad car all day.  In desperation she stopped 
at a gas station.  Ignoring leers of the truckers, she made a 
beeline for the pay phone.

She scanned the yellow pages.

DENTISTS...

DISCOUNT STORES...

DOORS...

DOUGHNUTS (Aha!)

The portly black cop was so startled by the burst of light that 
he dropped his large twist into his huge mug of coffee.  When 
the startled officer turned, he was stunned to see the cutest 
little bimbo with camera in hand.

"I'm sorry, boy," Erica drawled in her best magnolia accent.  
"Where I'm from they don't allow no...um, colored po-lice.  
I wanted a picture for the folks back home."

Moments later, she was squirming uncomfortably in the back of the 
squad car.  She didn't like the way the black cop was ogling her 
jiggling breasts and bare thighs through the rear view mirror, but, 
with her hands cuffed behind her back, there was nothing she could 
do about it.

Her husband had warned her that, if she followed him to this town 
and purposely got herself arrested, he wouldn't save her.  

But she knew he was bluffing.  All talk, no walk.  All hat, no 
cattle.  She felt a deliciously naughty chill go down her spine.  

Her husband was bluffing.  

But...what if he wasn't?

		******************************

The orgasm was shocking, rocking, and unbelievable, but Lisa didn't 
have time to fully savor the afterglow.  She glanced at the clock 
and slid out of bed.  This prolonged appetizer was thrilling, but 
meatier fare would soon be arriving -- in the person of Rico, her 
burly Filipino yard man.  She scurried about, gathering up a large 
towel, sunblock, portable radio, swim suit....  She looked down at 
the bikini and immediately tossed away the bra; a moment later she 
shrugged and also dropped the bottoms.  

She wore a mischievous smile as she headed for the backyard deck. 


   
Edited by C. Lakewood
