Digby Goode: License to Fuck Ch. 01

She threw herself at him. She would have knocked him over had he not been so close to the vegetable racks. As it was, he sent several pounds of onions and potatoes rolling across the floor. He was still off balance as she dug strong fingers into his belt and yanked down hard. Digby tried to help her, hoping to avoid injury, at least, but it was like trying to take a bone away from a ravenous dog.

She wrenched his trousers off with his boxers in tow. His swollen cock sprang free. She dove on it like a soldier on a grenade, practically inhaling it.

He looked down at her beautiful face, her brows were furrowed in furious concentration, but she held his gaze. He was deep in her mouth already, and she sucked on him like she was trying to explode the head of his cock in her mouth. Her tongue lashed at him furiously, sliding up and down his shaft, and caressing the tender edges of his glans. All the while she pumped up and down his shaft furiously with a tight little fist.

Digby thanked God that her husband was not getting up anytime soon. The look on his face! Needless to say, Digby would have to keep his eyes open for one more cuckold with vengeance on his mind from now on.

He decided, however, that he couldn't really make the husband want to kill him anymore. He had reached the finite limit of murderous intent, and the way her engorged breasts bobbed as she moved her head was just too tempting.

He reached down and sank his hands into the firm flesh of her breasts, feeling the hard little nipples like ripe cherries pressing into his palms. Through hooded eyes he met the husband's red veined stare and said, "You sir, are a lucky man." His compliment, however, was not appreciated.

She was quite ravenous, seemingly determined to turn him inside out by sucking him through his own urethra. It was, he thought (although he was probably not entirely capable of rational thought at this point in time), not the worst way to go. Digby, however, had other intentions.

"The complete satisfaction of the female participant(s), as well as patient X himself, is the only way to cease the pheromone production that the subjects might return to their normal, as much as can be expected, lives," That was the opinion of Digby's doctors anyway, and he was not one to question men of science.

Though it pained him considerably, he withdrew his cock from her drooling mouth.

He apologised profusely, both to the wife, who was making smacking noises with her lips and mewled like he had just taken away the ambrosia of the gods, and to the husband, before pirouetting the wife on her knees. He placed a hand gently on her belly and bent her so that she was on all fours. She grinned wickedly when she realized his intention.

She had a wonderful backside. She had clearly kept fit during the pregnancy, and the only effects it had had on her body were visible in her swollen breasts and belly. Her bottom was by no means small, but it fit her body type perfectly. Digby ran his hands over the denim that covered it with admiration.

He then bent over her and fumbled with the button of her jeans. They were pulled tight against underside of her rounded stomach. Her husband was actually twitching with rage. Digby was impressed. Most people in such close proximity were utterly incapacitated. He must have been a raging inferno inside to move even that much. Digby wanted to remain encouraging so he gave the man a thumbs up, before pulling down his wife's jeans and panties and exposing her bare, plump backside to the fluorescent strip lighting of the store. It was magnificent.

There was an audible gasp from the gathered crowd. Digby felt a twinge of guilt. She was probably a gentle, modest woman and here he was exposing her to, he did a quick head count, over two dozen strangers. Some of the men were practically licking their lips.

Digby cocked his head to one side. It really was a top notch bottom, milky pale and utterly without blemish. He patted it fondly, enjoying the playful jiggle it gave in response. He could see now the moisture that was running down her thighs from her dewed sex. He may have already have left it too late.

He addressed the husband again, "Now, out of sympathy for you, I am not going to put my dick in her vagina, tempting as that might be." He absentmindedly brushed at the folds of her cleft. She groaned deep in her throat and Digby looked down, impressed with how sopping wet his hand came away.

"Besides, I feel a little weird, what with the baby coming and all." He had slipped his hand between her legs and was massaging it over her labia and slick entrance. He could feel her clitoris standing out proud as a button. She grunted and panted when he slid his slick hand over it. He moved it up and down, in ever lengthening strokes, gradually lubing up the cleft between her ass cheeks, her perineum and, finally, her tight little anus.

"I think it will be better for all of us," he did not add "Myself included," as he felt it might be tacky, "If I just fuck her in the ass."

Digby was taken aback when the husband's hand actually flopped forward an inch. That should not have been possible. And the way his eyes were bulging out of his head, Digby was concerned the man might have an stroke.

He was, however, not so concerned that he didn't insert his thumb into the woman's painfully tight back entrance. She actually squealed in delight. It was not good for his continuing relations with her husband.

His touch, fortunately for her, could have a dilatory effect if correctly applied, and her tight little sphincter began to ease around his thumb slightly. He withdrew it when he felt she was prepared. She cried out in disappointment.

"It hardly matters to her." He continued his reassuring tête-à-tête with the husband, "My pheromones have her so worked up I could insert this," He unnecessarily grabbed his shaft, "into any orifice in her body and she would still have multiple orgasms."

"Although," he added quietly, "her hearing might be somewhat impaired afterwards." He did not think the husband was in a good position to appreciate his humor at the present moment. "There is just no pleasing some people," he mused, as he took aim with his cock, before forcing the tip, with infinite care, into the woman's uncompromising rectum.

He gave the husband a sympathetic shrug, saying, "Sorry, I really wish I could use a condom. But if I did she would not come out of this. "Hey," he added cheerily as he adjusted himself in her rectal passage, "It's not like I can get her pregnant, right?"

He knew it was coming, the delivery of his cock always arrived with an added bonus. He had barely moved past the ring of muscle at her entrance before she came, and came hard. He had to wait it out, a small boat being tossed in the storm of her climax. Her body shook and bucked, her hands balling into fists. Her pendulous breasts swung and quivered with each twitch of her body. Gentleman that he was, he waited for her gut-wrenching spasms to die down before he pushed himself deeper inside her.

Once he began to slide into her again, Digby let out a satisfied noise that rolled around somewhere in the back of his throat. It was like coming home to a long hot bath. She was silky smooth, skin-tight and pure comfort. Inch by inch he delved deeper into her and she clenched and squeezed and embraced him with warmth, the walls around his shaft still fluttering with aftershocks from her orgasm.

"Oh, that's nice," he sighed, not caring how lame he sounded, or how he looked with his eyes closed and a, no doubt, dopey smile on his face. Once he was buried inside her all the way up to his base, Digby felt he could have stayed like that all day. It was like a deluxe day spa for his cock. The soft undulations of her bowels were like a thousand tiny hands massaging his shaft.

She was the impatient one. She began to rock forward and back against him, drawing his length in and out. Digby watched the pleasing sight of her sphincter, a tourniquet around him, moving in and out like a diaphragm. He leaned forward and hugged her from behind, feeling her heavy breasts fold over, and spill around his arms. He began to move with her.

He kneaded her breasts. They were too big to fit in his hands, but he fondled the flesh, paying special attention to her highly sensitive areolas. He was thrilled when, after a long search over the very large surface area of her mammaries, he found her small, yet tumid, nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, tugging them to the point just on the edge of pain.

He was rewarded by her having another spasming orgasm that created fresh muscle contractions to tug on his cock. The noises she made were hardly human, more like the baying of an animal in heat.

Digby breathed in deeply the scent of her freshly washed braid. Somehow it reminded him of Hailey. There were few things more intimate that the smell of a woman's hair. He let his hands run over her breasts and to her tight round belly. One hand remained there, while the other slipped lower, over the sopping curls above her sex, until it found her drenched cleft. He gently unfolded the petals of her labia to expose her pulsating clitoris. With a cruel, soft and agonizingly slow caress he began to massage it.

"She's pretty far along, your wife," Digby hadn't said anything to the husband in a while, and he hated to make him feel left out. "I loved this stage of my wife's pregnancy. I think that was when she was at her loveliest. Your wife is lovely too, by the way. I don't fuck just anyone's ass in the middle of a crowded supermarket," The little chuckle he gave died on his lips. He cleared his throat.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" He asked as he began to pound deeper and faster, feeling slippery heat sliding over and around his tingling cock. "No, you probably don't want to talk about it now. Not appropriate."

Digby was getting close. He puffed out his lips before asking, "Are you going to have a natural birth?" There was only blackness in the husband's paralyzed stare. "I'll just finish up, shall I? I am getting pretty close. Your wife's bottom, what can I say? Wow! But then," He looked at the man again, "No, She doesn't look the type to be into the anal stuff under normal circumstances so you probably don't... Well, if you ever get the chance. A+! that's all I'm going to say. It's important to have some things to look forward to in a marriage."

He shook his head, "Look at me going on. Sorry, I do find I get a bit chatty when I'm close to climaxing and your wife is not exactly in a conversational mood now, is she?" The pregnant woman had her mouth wide open and was panting hoarsely, the tendons in her neck standing out prominently as she approached yet another apocalyptic orgasm. Digby had been gradually increasing the pace and intensity of his massage on and around her clit.

"Ooh, here it comes!" Digby felt the tensing in his balls and the rising swell of his cock in her already cramped back passage. He arched his back and shoved one final, deep thrust into her center. He gasped at the air, unable to quite get enough of it into his lungs to keep up with the needs of his spasming body.

When Digby came inside her he unleashed a torrent of hot seed that sprayed her inner membranes and pooled in dark places. As she felt the pulsating release deep and hot in her bowels, combined with the rapid friction on her tortured clitoris, she came too.

The crowd of gawkers watched, fixated, as the pair twitched and gyrated out a shared orgasm. It forced Digby's back to arch to its very limit and reduced her to a pool of heaving flesh on the hard shop floor.

Digby had to draw himself out of her carefully, as she was still tightly clenched around him. She just lay on her side whimpering, her finger still tracing lazy little circles around her sated clitoris, while Digby's seed trickled out, over a quivering ass cheek, and down to and form a pearly puddle on the floor.

Digby patted her superb backside one final time, before turning to the husband. His wide grin slipped when he saw the that face. A single tear had trickled down from the man's eye and over his cheek. "Hey, hey. It's not as bad as all that," Digby tried to console him, "I mean, sure, you just watched your pregnant wife have multiple orgasms while a stranger fucked her in the ass in public. But, on the bright side, she seemed pretty into it. Who knows, you might thank me one day when you get a little anal action to spice up your marriage." He almost reached out to pat the man's face, before remembering the effects of his pheromones, "I can't help but feel that if we had met at a different time, under different circumstances, you and I could have been great friends."

"Kill... you..." were the words being silently shaped by the man's lips. The effects of the pheromones were already wearing off.

Digby looked up and saw the crowd was still under his dissipating sexual spell. He frowned while he thought a moment, then nodded to himself. "While I have you all here," He reached into his shirt pocket and brought out the photo of the beautiful teenage girl, "I was wondering if you would look at a photo for me."

To his surprise, for once, they actually looked closely at the picture. Digby raised an eyebrow. Apparently, if you want to get people's attention, all you have to do is ass-fuck a pregnant woman in the middle of the produce aisle. Who knew?

"I am a private investigator." He added, as explanation, as he picked up his pants from the floor. He retrieved his wallet and dug around in it before holding out his card.

"It says you have a license to fuck, dear." A small elderly woman said, once she had adjusted her glasses to scrutinize the card.

"My mistake, other card." He retrieved it and looked at the faces around him as he held up both the photo and the card. He was becoming very aware that he was naked in front of these people, and a very angry husband was soon to awaken from his stupor. He felt perspiration begin to bead on his forehead.

As he circled the crowd he saw no signs of recognition, until he spotted a head of scraggly blonde hair on top of a long neck, peering over from the back of the group. It was not so much a micro expression that he picked up on the odd-looking pimply face. It was more of a "Oh, fuck I'd better run!" Type of expression.

And run the kid did.

Digby only had time to grab his trousers off the floor before chasing, bare-assed, after the streak of blonde hair heading for the back of the store. No doubt cops would arrive here soon, someone usually called them after Digby had had a public incident. But, Digby knew there was no point in sticking around. It could all be cleared up later. He had his license with him and that usually got him out of some pretty sticky situations, often literally. Besides, he did not want to be around when the husband finally regained the use of his limbs.

He had to follow the kid. It was his first break in the case and, provided he didn't accidentally ass-fuck anyone else's wife today, he was going to chase it down.