Jaycee's Blog - Wed, Feb 17

Today, I left the house early because I had some travel arrangements to go see my dentist, whom I haven't visited in year because of confinement issues. He lives in a different city, which requires me to travel by train for about 4 hours. (The reasons for this largely involve personal loyalty, which should suffice for the purpose of this story.) I left at 8:00 AM, my appointment was at 2 PM, and the train back was at 6:30 PM. I'd taken the day off at work and didn't expect any trouble.

Except I didn't think things through. We have a curfew at 8 PM here in Quebec, and my train wouldn't arrive home until 10:30 PM, way past curfew. When I arrived at the train station, I (obviously) couldn't find a taxi, so I headed home on foot. I live about 30 minutes away from the station, so I took off at a brisk pace, hoping no cop would spot me and arrest me for breaking curfew.

And what do you think happened? Yeah, cops.

They accosted me about five minutes away from my place, flashing a bright light into my face. I heard a female voice call me out.

"There's a curfew, sir," she said. "Please turn around and put your hands against the wall."

I followed her instructions. I heard the car door open and close, and footsteps approaching me from behind. A bit worried about my predicament, a plan began to form in my head.

"Papers?" she said.

I removed my right hand glove, reached for the wallet in my back pocket. and handed her my driver's license. My hope was that she wasn't wearing gloves either, and that our fingers might touch. I can't nudge strong urges into women from a distance—a little tingle or flush at best—but when there's physical contact, I can do a lot more. In these COVID-19 times, I tend to confine myself, so that's not a very helpful ability. Here, though, I got lucky. I felt her warm fingers brush mine, and instantly pushed an urge inside her—to firmly hold my hand.

"What's your name?" I asked, nudging the truth out of her.

"Marlene," she said. She sounded puzzled.

"Who's your partner in the car?"

"Denise," she answered.

"Is she pretty?"

"I...guess so," Marlene answered. "What's going on here?"

I shushed her. "Marlene, you're feeling hot between your legs. Very hot. You need Denise to touch you there. No, wait, you want her to LICK you there."

I nudged the thought into her with all my strength. She gasped and let go of my hand. Seconds later, the car door opened again and I heard her scrambled onto the passenger seat. I risked a glance over my shoulder and smiled. My plan had worked. She was reaching for Denise and pulling her over to her side.

"Marlene, what the fuck?" Denise said in protest.

Last I saw, Denise was pinning her down with one hand while fumbling with her belt buckle and cursing out loud. I quickly rushed away, nudging as much of a tingle into Denise's crotch as I could manage from a distance. I don't know exactly what happened between them after that, but in my fertile (and perverse) imagination, I imagined their encounter in great detail, up to some explosive orgasms.

I finally got to my streets a few moments later. As I waited for the light to turn, I saw a bus slow down to a stop next to me. A man came out, and I recognized him. He was in the same train I took.

Apparently, the buses still run after curfew.

Wish I'd known that. Why won't people TELL me these things?