He grinned down at her, then ran his hand over her body, stroking her breasts, then easing in between her legs.

"Nice, real nice pussy," he sighed. "I ought to arrest you for walking around keeping a nice hole like that all closed up. It should be a crime fer a body like yours not ta get fucked every day."

He pulled her legs together, lifting them again, then sliding her shorts over her feet. He pulled them down to her thighs, then let her legs down and jerked her pants up around her hips, grinning as he zipped them up.

"You be a good girl now," he grinned, getting out of the car and slamming the door.

She lay there, still panting for breath, still sniffling in misery as he got back in the front and started the car again. They drove for another five minutes before she sat up. The tank top fell down over her breasts again, so she could almost pretend nothing had happened.

Almost.

Her pussy still stung from the cruel raping that had ripped out her cherry. Her thighs ached from his hard rutting, and her panties were laying on the floor by her feet.

He drove into a dusty small town and parked in front of a small stone building with one door and one window. There were bars in front of the window, and a sign on the wall said POLICE.

He got out and opened the rear door, then dragged her out of the car and marched her into the police station.

It was as hot inside as out, maybe hotter. She found herself in a small room with a couple of desks, some filing cabinets, and a small table which held a coffee maker and toaster. A man sat at a desk, holding an electric fan up in front of his face.

He looked up as the door opened, his eyes going to her, then the man behind her, then settling back on her.

"Well, now. What we got here!" he asked.

"Found this California slut doing near ninety up on I-14, Sheriff," the fat man said. "Brought her in to pay her fine. 'Cept she ain't got no money."