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“Everything about you is beautiful,” she went on, punctuating each word with a tender kiss on Dorothy/Kat’s exposed womanhood.
“The insides of your legs,” kiss, “this little crease where you legs meet your body,” kiss, “your soft little belly,” kiss, kiss, kiss, “everywhere. Delight after delight. I love you Dorothy.”
“Yes, yes,” Dorothy/Kat cried, her whole body melting.
Meanwhile, back in the real world:
The Magic Computer
This real world sucks. Those other cops won’t come in. They’re all across the street, hiding behind their cars and yelling at me to come out.
Are they crazy? I’ve got twenty-four throbbing cocks pointing at the ceiling in there, what the hell would I want to go outside for?
They all moan and try to squirm away whenever I go in there, but the way I have them tied up, they can’t get far. I keep loosing track of which one is next, but I still get cum out of one every so often. I think I’m going to drag a few into every room so I can keep an eye on what’s going on outside and still get a fuck.
None of them can eat pussy worth a damn. Their tongues poop out even faster than their dicks.
Holy shit, I missed one. He’s hiding under the bed. He’s a black one. How the hell did I miss a black one?
“Come on, honey. Nothing to be afraid of. I remember you, you’re that third cop, aren’t you?” How could I have forgotten that yummy black cock? “Where have you been all this time?”
I’ve got him under the front window, and I’m riding him as I watch his friends play soldier outside. I already got some cum out of him, and I think I’ll be able to get more in just a minute. He sure is a lively one.
There’s the phone, again.
“Hello?”
“This is officer Harris of the hostage negotiation team. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Dorothy. You have to help me. Come around to the back door and I’ll sneak you in.”
“Listen, Dorothy, you already got one of my men with that trick. Now what do you want?”
“I’m just a poor little sex-starved girl from Kansas. I want to get laid.”
“Is there anyone else there I can talk to?”
“Who do you want to talk to?”
“One of my police officers would be nice,” he said.
“I’ve got one right here,” Dorothy said.
Pulling the tape off his mouth, she held the phone to his lips.
“She’s not human! She’s sucking the life out of me. Help!” he said, before Dorothy put the tape back over his mouth.
“Anyone else?” she asked.
“Any other cops?” he said, subdued.
“Sure, just a sec.”
The next cop just kept blubbering, “no more, no more,” and the third said, “mommy.”
“Any other cops in here?” Dorothy yelled, holding up the phone.
“We can’t wait much longer,” officer Harris said. “Where the hell is that intelligence?”
“Right here, sir.”
“What’s the situation in there?”
“It’s just one naked woman. She’s got all the men tied up and she’s fucking their brains out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ve been watching her for over an hour. When Brown went in, she just ran up to him with open arms and wrapped herself around him. She was tying him up while she was fucking him. He had a smile on his face.”
“Why didn’t you get that information back to me right away?”
“I had to verify my findings, sir,” he said.
Several verification stains were on his pant leg.
“We’re going in, boys,” Harris announced.
“We’d better leave our handcuffs out here,” the intelligence officer said.
“And our belts,” said Harris.
“Don’t forget neckties,” said the intelligence officer.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Pants can be used to tie people up,” another noted.
“All right, everyone down to your underwear.”
“What if she ties us up with our underpants?”
“Or someone else’s underpants?”
They all blanched at this idea.
“Okay men, everybody strip. We’re going in naked.”
Squealing with joy, Dorothy threw the door open as more the fifty swinging dicks charged her house.
This would be a good place to end this story, since everyone is having such a good time, but dark clouds are hanging over both worlds. What evil plans did the Wicked Lawyer of the East hatch in her emergency staff meeting? Is the Wizard of Ooz the same kind of lovable buffoon as the one from Oz? What will happen to Dorothy once all those cops aren’t interested in sex anymore? And what the hell happened to that second pair of magic panties that were supposed to show up? The answers to these questions may very well be in the next chapter. Hit that feedback button and let me know that I’m not playing in this fantasy world all by myself.
Voting on a story is just like clapping at the end of a show. Picture, if you would, someone finishing their act on stage, and having six people in the audience clap while the other five hundred simply get up and leave.
Sure, I’d love it if everyone gave me a standing ovation, (That’s what voting a five is, by the way) but even the polite patter of lesser votes would beat the snot out of the silence that six votes represents.
Hey, I just did an experiment. Do you realize that casting a “five” vote takes less time and energy than a single clap? (I suppose lesser votes would be similarly effortless, if you want to get technical about it.)
