Rick Mallet and the Little Sister

Th'Gina Packer may be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but Velda is the sexiest, and there's nothing sexier than her face streaked and dripping with cum. I lay on top of her, licking her face and dripping the cum into her mouth as we kissed.

I worked my semi-stiff cock between her legs. She splayed them out, and it slid inside. Her pussy walls clenched at my cock. I pounded down into her, sliding the upper side of my cock over her clit, then mashing my pubic bone on to the top of it. Sweat beaded my back, dripped down my legs, pooled in Velda's cleavage. Every muscle in my legs, her legs, my arms, tensed and slid under the thin layer of our skin as we fucked like we were trying to become one being. A blue hammer pounded in her throat. I gulped at it like a fish on a sand bank. She squealed and moaned, shouting her ecstasy to the world.

Her legs came up and hooked behind my back. I grabbed a double handful of her asscheeks and rolled her higher. Now my cock head scraped the front wall of her pussy, stroking and rubbing the g spot and all the area around it. The spongy tissue released accumulated fluid, and it gushed out around my pistoning prick, spray-soaking our thighs and the bed. Velda's eyes rolled up in her head.

With a series of jerky spasms, I added my own fluids to the cauldron of her cunt, stirring and muddling the juices into a foaming cream that bubbled out of her and dripped into her ass crack.

Releasing Velda's legs, I collapsed beside her, my spooge-slick dick sliding from her gooey snatch. She turned on her side away from me, and I turned to cuddle and spoon her, smearing the dampness onto her buttocks. She reached a hand between her legs and managed to capture the end of my still-engorge cock and tuck in back inside herself. Then we napped.

I awoke within half an hour, my damp cock swelling again in the cold congealing goo between Velda's legs. I slid one hand down to press up on my balls and the underside of my shaft, working the head between her thighs and ass cheeks. My cock came fully erect, aching from two orgasms in the last hour, and aching for more.

I used my other hand to cup and spread Velda's ass flesh, and the head of my cock to smear the cold foam of our recent commingling against her anus. Then I gripped her firmly.

She awoke as I pressed the tip into her. "Uh! Wha--? Oh, fuck! Oh, yes, Rick. Fuck my fucking ass!" She pressed back against me, pushing at the same time to spread her hole for my pole. As it slid farther into her backside she gasped and wriggled, gurgling a low moan of pleasure. "Pound my ass! Unh--give me all that dick! Drill me like mine shaft, Rick!"

Securely seated in her pillowy posterior, I let the hand from her hip slide around front. The reach-around is just common courtesy with me. But when I slid my fingers up between her thighs, I found her hand already there, furiously frigging her love button. I covered it with mine, sliding my fingers forward to penetrate her still-spread and leaking snatch.

As I continued to furiously jackhammer her asshole, her pussy drooled goo onto my hand, and spread to welcome my fingers--and her own. She came with a shudder, three of my fingers and two of hers inside her to the second knuckle.

I rolled her facedown, moving to stay attached and now on top. I redoubled my efforts, slamming into her so the whole bed bounced and jolted. Breath slammed from her lungs and she grunted as if my cock were driving up into her voicebox. My hand and her hand were pinned beneath her, cupped around her pubic bone. I put my other hand between her shoulder blades, pinning her like an exotic butterfly in a collection box. She couldn't move and couldn't breath. All she could do was feel me probing her and clutching her. She went off like a roman candle and so did I. It was like going over Niagara in a barrel, but the cataract flowed from my cock into her intestines.

Sometime later I poured us each three fingers of bourbon--no Pappy, but not bad--and we threw them back.

Ch. 10

In the morning I woke from a dream I couldn't remember with the unsettling memory of Caril Holan sucking her brother's cock while his feet spurned that old couple's faces. It was the opposite of sexy and I couldn't shake it all weekend long.

On Monday when we opened the office the penny dropped. The newspaper headline read "Double Homicide in Kansas," the sub-head "Manhattan couple mutilated." The story was about Herb and Karla Holan, found killed and chopped up in their home. An unnamed source said a computer in the house held files documenting sexual abuse of the couple's children. Authorities sought their daughter Caril.

I was still skimming the story when my old partner Miles Harder walked through the door with a couple cups of coffee. I dropped the paper. "I see why you're here Miles, but it's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Rick. Listen this shit is just formality. We already figured out the Holan duo got on a late-night flight to Vietnam. We'll never get them back here. Also, it looks like the parents abused the hell out of them for years. As a cop I shouldn't say it, but they got what they deserved."

While Miles and I were talking, Velda took a phone call. When she hung up, she gave me a funny look.

"What?"

"That was the bank."

"And?"

"The Holan check bounced."