Poirot's Chronicles - Hercule Ch. 07byvelvetpie©
***** A great many people have undertaken to portray Agatha Christie's Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, but in my opinion, none has done it as well as David Suchet, star of ITW productions of Poirot. It is his image that I use as my visual and those of Hugh Fraser (Captain Hastings), Pauline Moran (Miss Lemon) and Philip Jackson (Chief Inspector Japp). ENJOY! *****
The next morning at breakfast, Hastings noticed another distinct change in the Belgian detective. He ate nothing, which in itself was unusual, but when he turned down his beloved tisane, he knew there was something wrong. The captain ate quietly, observing his friend between bites and wondering when he should say something. In the end, the choice was taken from him. Poirot spoke.
"Hastings, you are my very best friend, do you know that?"
Hastings set his utensils down, wiping his mouth while staring curiously at Poirot. "I didn't know that but thanks."
"You have always known that deep in your heart, Hastings. I may not always show it but I surmise that you know me well." Both men nodded to the other. "I rely on your advice far more than you know and right now, I desperately need your help."
"Just say the word, Poirot. I'll help you with anything you need!"
A small smile broke the serious man's features and Poirot gave his excited friend a small pat on the shoulder. "I am happy that you are most anxious to help me, mon ami, but it is a delicate matter and one not easily spoken of." Poirot paused to order a tisane from the passing waiter and settled into silence until the man returned with his order. He took a few calming sips, then turned to Hastings. "It is about sex."
"Sshh!" Poirot harshly shushed his friend, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed the outburst. When he was satisfied that no unwanted attention was being turned their way, he continued, giving Hastings a stern look in the process. "Please do not tell everyone our business, Hastings!"
"I'm sorry, Poirot. It was just ... " He searched for a word. "Startling to hear that from you."
"Why, mon ami? Hercule Poirot is a man, after all."
"Yes, but ... "
"But what? Do you not think I've had sex before?" The captain's uncomfortable silence lent him an answer. "Hastings! You do not think that I've had sex before?"
"Uh ... er ... "
"Do you think that I am a man who likes other men?"
"No, no! Not at all! It's just that you are always so involved in your cases ... and I've never seen you in a relationship with a woman long enough to consummate it."
Poirot sighed in defeat. "That has been true of late, my friend, but I have enjoyed sex before." Poirot took another long sip of his beverage. "But it was only once, as a young man and I fear that I did something wrong last night."
The great detective nodded. "I think I have made a mistake monumental and I wish to fix it. I do not want to lose her over my ... inexperience."
"Surely you wouldn't lose her over that, Poirot. Joceline doesn't not seem like the kind of person to rub one's nose in one's problems."
"No, she is not, but I ... last night, she did something to me that ... that I have never before experienced and I fear that I had the wrong reaction to it."
Hastings leaned close. "What did she do?"
Poirot's mouth opened and closed several times as he searched for words of explanation. "She ... put her mouth on me."
"Ah!" The captain sat back, a smile on his face. "She gave you a blowjob."
"Blowjob? This is what you call it?"
"Yes. The woman takes your cock in her mouth and sucks until you shoot."
"Oh, Hastings! These words you use!"
"Well, that's what happens, Poirot. No use mincing about it."
Poirot shook his head in understanding, fighting the uncomfortable feelings that went with this conversation. "So this ... blowjob ... is it a normal occurrence?"
"Sometimes. If you find the right woman."
"What do you mean?"
"Some women are not interested in it. I mean, think of it from the woman's point of view. She has a thick cylinder of hard flesh shoved into her mouth, stretching her jaws and throat. Makes is damned hard to breathe, especially when the man is persistent in ramming it."
"Is that not what a man is supposed to do?"
"A man should be compassionate and let the woman set the tone. She should have the control. If she is comfortable, she will give you back degrees of control. A lot of men force the issue and then the woman never gives them a blowjob again."
"That's one of the reasons I said, if you find the right woman." Hastings squirmed in his seat a bit, embarrassed to find himself hardening over this discussion. "The other reason is that she has to take your cum into her mouth or swallow it."
"Semen, sperm ... you know. Ejaculate."
"Ah, this word I know." Poirot hesitated, running the new word over his tongue. "Cum."
"Yes. Some women don't like to swallow and they'll spit it out. The best is when the woman takes you fully into her mouth or throat just as you're cumming and swallows every drop. Her throat muscles squeeze you as she swallows and that ... " Hastings gave his own cock a squeeze under the table. "That is magnificent."
Poirot thought back to what Joceline had done to him, how she had licked him up and down like a child's candy pop, then had taken him deep in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him and sucking until ... a shiver ran down his spine as he remembered spilling into her mouth. "That was what Lina did to me."
"By Jove! You've got a good one then!" Hastings exclaimed, then quieted, noticing his lack of response. "How did you react to it?"
"I left her."
"Sshh!" Heads turned at this outburst. Poirot picked up his cup and sipped until the interest faded away while Hastings shoveled cold eggs and kippers into his mouth.
"Sorry, I just can't believe that you left her after she did that for you!"
"I ... I wasn't prepared, Hastings."
"So you want my advice?"
"Go upstairs, throw her onto her back and lick her until she screams your name."
Poirot nearly choked. "Lick her, Hastings?"
"Yes. Lick her. Spread her legs and lick her pussy until she cums all over your tongue." The expression on Poirot's face was laughable but Hastings didn't laugh. He was disgusted. "Don't tell me ... "
"I have never done that, either, Hastings."
"Then what exactly have you done?"
The Belgian carefully set his china cup down and patted his lips dry. "Her name was Amelie and we were in her father's tool shed."
"I stuck my fingers in her ... "
"The word is pussy, Poirot."
Poirot nodded. "I stuck my fingers in her pussy, rubbed it a few times, then got on top of her."
"Did she cum?"
He thought for a long moment. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Sshh!" Poirot held his head in his hands, ignoring the impolite stares of the waitstaff and the maitre 'd. "No, I don't know." He took another bracing sip of his tisane. "It took me a matter of seconds before I finished and her father called for her."
Poirot raised his head, staring angrily at his friend. "What did you say?"
"I said, pathetic. Damned pathetic!" Hastings took a breath. "Poirot, don't you understand what a woman is? A woman is a beautiful flower with petals that you stroke and the more you stroke, the more beautiful the scent is. We men don't need the extra attention to reach our release but a selfless woman knows what to do to bring a man to her level; to a level that is only reachable by a man who's willing to leave the world behind." He paused to let the words sink in. "Anyone can have sex, Poirot. It takes a special man and a special woman to make love. And it begins in the details."
"Joceline is a beautiful woman. You know that she's beautiful on the outside. Find out what makes her beautiful on the inside. She's willing to let you inside her, not just physically but spiritually as well." Hastings' voice lowered to a soft murmur. "There is no greater joy than to know that the reason she's cumming is because of what you've done to her. That you've spent time sucking on her nipples, that you kissed your way down her stomach, that you tongue her pussy until she's creamy. And then, when you slide in and you're moving together and you see the look in her eyes when she's about to cum ... " He closed his eyes, quickly unzipping his pants and stroking his cock. "She whispers your name, closes her eyes and her pussy grips your cock as she cums."
His cock spurted into his palm and his face flushed under the sweet exertion. Poirot's eyes were closed also, his nostrils lightly flaring. Their eyes met across the table and both broke out into brays of laughter, reaching for their napkins.
The detective's eyes shone with mirth. "That, mon ami, is the best advice you've ever given me."
"Then go to her, Poirot, and give her everything that you have. Don't hold back. Leave the world behind."
With the tangy-sweet smell of his own cum wafting into his nostrils, he carefully folded the napkin and signaled to the waiter. Yes, time to leave the world behind.
* * * * *
The door knocker was heavy but she managed to lift it three times, starting nervously as the booming reverberations echoed behind the well-built portal. Through the leaded beveled glass, she saw someone approach, first opening the inner door, then the outer door. A man in an immaculate butler's uniform eyed her, his expression haughty.
"May I help you?"
Sister Lilia stepped forward, her habit swaying in the gentle breeze. "Yes. I'm Lilia."
"Yes, you are expected." The butler stiffly moved aside to allow her entrance. "Please follow me."
He led her to the library and left her alone in the expansive room. She made herself at home, choosing the chair in front of the roaring fire and kicking her shoes off. It was just a few minutes before she felt the warmth of his hands on her shoulders and she sighed deeply. He came around the front of the chair and knelt between her legs, pushing the gown up and exposing her naked body underneath.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't wait." She said breathlessly, watching as his hands ripped the fabric apart, leaving the reflections of the flames to lick her honeyed skin. His thick fingers traveled up her thighs, pulling them apart as his mouth bent to awaken her hidden nub. The breath left her throat in a single, long gasp. "Ah, yes. Suck me, my love."
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