Perv

I only said yes so he would put his fucking clothes back on.

That's the only fucking reason, I swear.

I didn't say yes because he looked so fucking sad that first day when I climbed back in to my truck.

Nope.

I didn't say yes because of his stupid song and dance either. No matter how good it was.

No way.

And I definitely I didn't say yes because I thought there was no point in saying no; he would just find me again anyway.

No fucking way.

I may have said yes because I was scared that he wouldn't.

Maybe.

I climbed down the ladder in a hurry, careful not to step on his fingers. I pulled my shirt out of my back pocket and wrapped it around his waist, whisper-yelling that there were fucking neighbors and what the fuck was he thinking?

My fingers brushed against his ass and I may have pinched it a little. What? So fucking sue me. He pressed against me, then humped me hard, and damn it, I got a little distracted, just for a minute. My hands roamed over his ass. Softly at first, then roughly. All I really wanted was one more spank. Just one. Maybe then I could stop following him down to First Beach.

When I glanced around and saw old Mrs. Cope staring out between her curtains, I told Punk to put on his fucking clothes. Before I got arrested for real.

He just shook his head.

Fuck. I knew it looked bad. So fucking bad. Worse than when Mr. Banner found us, and I had Punk's wrists tied up with my belt.

I held up his pants and told him to hurry the fuck up and put them on.

Mrs. Cope stood in the window, frowning and dialing a phone.

I yelled for him to stop fucking around.

Put. On. Your. Pants.

Still, he shook his head no.

So I kneeled down and grabbed his ankle, but he twisted and turned and squirmed and made it fucking impossible.

Really, he left me no choice.

I said yes.

"Yes what?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

I told him yes, I'd fucking see him again. Then I yelled, again, for him to put on his fucking pants.

He grinned a grin so wide that I couldn't help but smile. Then I looked up again and saw Mrs. Cope sitting on her porch swing, just waiting. I didn't want to hang out and see for what.

I told Punk to hurry up and give me the key to the fucking cuffs.

His mouth made a little O and he looked kinda shocked, like it truly hadn't occurred to him 'til then. What key?

Shit.

So I leaned over and pulled his jeans up, fastened the button, and maybe squeezed his cock a little.

He just laughed and told me to check the cruiser.

Motherfucker. I forgot about the fucking cruiser.

I had no idea how long you go to jail for stealing a cop car. No fucking clue, but I didn't want to find that out either. So I raced to the cruiser and searched through the glove box, then between the seats, until I finally found a key taped to the visor.

It wasn't long 'til I had him loose, then threw him over my shoulder and raced to the car. I shoved him inside and buckled his seat belt. It all felt oddly familiar.

Punk just laughed like crazy.

"Where are we going?" he asked. "Are we going somewhere fun?"

I told him to shut up. That we're taking the cop car back, and hope like hell that we don't get into any trouble. Punk just frowned and sank back into his seat, then said that he wished we were going somewhere else, somewhere far away.

I frowned too, then looked back over and asked what the hell he meant by that. Why did he want to go so far away?

He just shrugged and got really quiet. He barely said a word.

There was a cop hat on the floor, so I put it on and drove like a fucking model citizen. I sat real low in the seat and glanced at Punk over and over, hoping each time that he wouldn't still be frowning. He was.

Fuck, I muttered, and pulled off the road real fast. I drove into the woods until the trees were too thick and I couldn't drive anymore, then I shut off the engine.