Clue Ch. 4byT.R. Murphy©
Later, in the secret passageway, I had to bring Mrs. White up to date on what had happened to her during her interrogation of Professor Plum.
"I had his cock in my mouth?" Mrs. White asked, surprised and delighted.
"Yes," I said testily. "The whole damn thing."
"That's great," she said. "I always dream about sucking cock."
"Me too," I mumbled.
"I just wish I could remember it."
"Well," I said grumpily, "I'll remember it for you."
"Thanks," she said. "You don't think Professor Plum is responsible for the murder?"
"No," I said. "If Mr. Boddy was sending him videotapes of you masturbating and Ms. Scarlet getting pronged up the ass, he wouldn't do anything that would stop the flow of free pornography." She looked unconvinced. "Trust me," I told her. "Pornography is very expensive these days."
"So what's next?" Mrs. White asked.
"I want you to continue interviewing suspects," I told her. "And here's a tip…asking questions is easier when your mouth is free of obstructions."
"I'll try to keep that in mind," she assured me testily.
"Lead the way," I told her.
I followed as she led me up some creaky stairs. I could hear faint voices ahead of us.
"That sounds like Colonel Mustard," I whispered, recognizing the deep, husky voice.
"We're approaching the conservatory," Mrs. White whispered back.
She knelt down by a narrow, waist-high shaft that branched off the main passageway. "If we crawl down here, we'll be able to see him from an air duct that overlooks the greenhouse."
I examined the crawlspace. "Can we both fit in there?" I asked.
"It'll be a tight fit," she admitted, "but we can do it."
I shrugged, and we both wriggled our way in.
We finally came to a grate with a view of Mr. Boddy's impressive indoor garden. Colonel Mustard and Mrs. Peacock were still actively looking for Mr. Boddy's missing corpse. I tried not to let the smell of Ms. White's perfume go to my head while I strained to hear what they were saying.
"I don't have much faith in that detective," Colonel Mustard told Mrs. Peacock.
"Neither do I," she agreed, lifting the foliage of a big leafy plant to see if there was a body under it. "Apparently all you need are big boobs to get a detective license these days."
Mrs. White looked at me with sympathy. I dismissed her pity with a wave of my hand. "I hear it all the time," I whispered.
"Now this is interesting," Colonel Mustard said, pausing at a plant that caught his eye.
"What's that?" Mrs. Peacock asked, abandoning her search with a sigh.
"This is a variety of bush the peasant girls in New Guinea use to concoct a love potion," Colonel Mustard said. "They grind the leaves into a paste and add it to a potential husband's drink."
"Really?" Mrs. Peacock asked, studying the plant. "Does it work?"
"I don't know," Colonel Mustard said. "Never tried it, myself."
"I've had four husbands, and I haven't had to use a plant to snag any of them," Mrs. Peacock said.
"No?" Colonel Mustard marveled. It looked like the concept of marriage was so foreign to him he couldn't imagine it coming about without some sort of hallucinogenic drug being involved.
"I use my own personal bush," Mrs. Peacock smiled, and then blushed suddenly. "Oh," she said, putting a hand sheepishly over her mouth. "I'm sorry. That was quite fresh of me, wasn't it?"
"Not at all," Colonel Mustard said, as if he heard that sort of thing all the time.
"But it's true," Mrs. Peacock continued, encouraged by his carefree attitude. "My pussy is actually quite tight and moist."
"Really?" Colonel Mustard asked. "Even after four husbands?"
"I have special exercises I perform," she told him matter of factly. "To tell you the truth, I had been hoping to seduce Mr. Boddy this evening." She looked longingly at the huge conservatory. "I think he would have made an excellent husband number five," she sighed wistfully.
"He would have been quite lucky to have you," Colonel Mustard told her.
"I actually groomed myself especially for the occasion," she said. "Would you like to see?"
"Absolutely," Colonel Mustard agreed cordially.
Mrs. Peacock gathered up the hem of her dress and lifted it. Her back was to us, and all we saw was her tight, firm ass, but I could tell by the look on Colonel Mustard's face that her grooming talents must have been exceptional.
"You've trimmed it into the shape of a heart," he noted, impressed.
"It takes a sizable amount of care," she said. "And since I've been a widow for some time, it's very hard to go through the whole process without taking long masturbation breaks."
"It's come out quite well," Colonel Mustard said. "I'm sure the old boy would have appreciated it."
"I guess we'll never know," Mrs. Peacock sighed. "It seems such a shame to have all that effort go to waste. Perhaps you could fuck me."
"I'd be delighted," Colonel Mustard said, gladly reaching to undo his belt.
I was having a difficult time breathing. Mrs. White and I were pressed shoulder to shoulder in the small crawlspace, and my pussy was tingling. I watched Colonel Mustard pull his long cock out of his shorts while Mrs. Peacock lay obligingly down on a soft mound of moss, spreading her legs.
"Listen," I whispered to Mrs. White, "I can't move my arms underneath me. There's not enough space. If you reach over my ass and jack me off, I'll do the same for you."
"Okay," she agreed quickly.
I slid my hand over Mrs. White's warm ass and fingered aside her panties. She was moist and ready to go. I shivered while her fingers found their way to the right spot.
Mrs. Peacock shuddered while Colonel Mustard fit the length of his cock into her heart-shaped box. After a few tentative practice thrusts, he was rocking back and forth so hard I could hear the moss squishing underneath her over my own heavy breathing.
"Jesus Christ," I whispered, wishing I had the space to twist my tits in my hands.
Colonel Mustard was like a rutting animal, grunting and growling, pumping faster and faster. Mrs. Peacock looked surprised and delighted that she may have found someone that could wear her out. "Come on me," she demanded softly, in between high pitched gasps. Colonel Mustard groaned in reply.
Mrs. White shuddered next to me, rattling the thin tin of the duct we were in. The noise broke my concentration for a moment, and I was worried we were going to be found out, but the two fucking on the floor were oblivious. Instead of giving us a suspicious look, Colonel Mustard roared like a lion. Then he yanked out his prick and sent a thick white geyser of semen shooting over Mrs. Peacock's exposed belly and hiked up dress. Mrs. Peacock panted with delight, running her fingers through his hot load, smiling with deep satisfaction.
The sight of it was almost enough to make me cum, but the sound of a bloodcurdling scream coming from somewhere else inside the house stopped Mrs. White's fingers cold.
"What was that?" she asked, her face pale.
I looked at her with disbelief, feeling my mounting orgasm subside with the sudden lack of activity between my legs. "I don't care," I hissed angrily.
"We'd better go check it out," she said, and before I could say anything to stop her, she was wriggling her way back to the passageway.
It sucks being a detective, I thought, as I grudgingly followed.
To Be Continued...