Scooby Doo, Velma is Kissing Who?

Scooby-Doo, Velma is kissing who?

Velma sends away the Gang, to join Daphne (tied) for FF sex.

Tags: lesbian sex, soft bondage, BDSM, eating pussy, animation, poetry, damsel in distress, mystery, van, letters

### A contribution to the Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2022; and also to the Letters of Love 2022 Story Event.

The writer, Velma Dinkley, had already appeared as a character in one of my previous short stories in a series: https://literotica.com/s/12-labors-of-hercules-caged-pt-11 ###

### Disclaimer. Maybe, or maybe not, I may have found in an old chest a long handwritten letter sent by some Velma Dinkley to her lesbian lover, some Daphne Blake, recap how they two had spent the summer together and revealed some secrets to her.

It includes some elements of soft and safe consensual bondage (in happiness and serenity). No one was hurt or bruised. All characters are of legal age. Some details may be different than in comic books, cartoons, or movies with namesakes of different races and origins, and ages (IDK).

If these ingredients don't appeal to you, don't waste your time reading this tale, other better tales await you.

If you liked it please assign a good rating and write a positive comment to help me improve. English is not my native language, so I hope you enjoy the ideas more than the grammar. 😊.###

1. Here Is the Letter You Asked For, My Dear Love.

Monday, September 1, 1979.

Dear Daphne, my love, the light of my life.

Before you left to join your parents at Blake Mansion, you asked me to write to you, to brighten the short time between us and meet again as roommates on the college campus.

You have asked me to express, if I may, what I have not said to you during this agitated and convulsive summer. I know you are much more clever than you want to appear, but some of the gimmicks have only been accomplished by me, and I agree that you deserve to know everything. And you know very well that I adore giving a long and reasonable final explanation (it's like a superpower!).

If I were a male, everyone would accuse me of mansplaining, but instead, my remarkable twins clearly show that I am a damsel (even under a lab coat, or an orange sweater). So, no one ever interrupts me while I am explaining the obvious.

As you well know, the two of us were a perfect match: the richest girl in school, rooming with the smartest girl in school. Awards, medals, cups, and trophies confirmed both claims.

There was only one thing we didn't have: a driver's license. You used to say that a real lady does not drive but is driven (I disagree and you know it: in October we will both get our licenses). I didn't want to take even a quarter of an hour away from school study: I admit I made a mistake and in October we will work it out.

But at the beginning of last summer, we were in danger of being without a car! Intolerable, with the hot weather...it was necessary to find both a vehicle and a driver.

Two obtuse blocks did the trick. Perhaps, all males are easy to manipulate, but none were easier than those two. And think that they were even popular!

Jones, Fred Jones, was considered one of the most handsome in the school: but I knew, after months of stalking and watching, that he was completely asexual, that is, devoid of sexual desire, and therefore still single. He had two other positive elements: he was teetotal and opposed to any drugs, and the only exciting drink he took was coffee. He would have been perfect as a driver for the two of us, if only he had a vehicle. Unfortunately, he did not have one. Not for lack of money: with all the money he squandered on ascots, embroidered shirts, and fashionable boots, he could have bought a Porsche. No: it's just that being asexual, he never had to take a girl on a date, so he didn't need the vehicle.

One of his best friends was a guy named Rogers. No one remembers what his official name was (Norman? Norris? Idk). He had been, as a young boy, a promising champion in all sports: sprinting and hurdle running (mostly), but also a receiver in football, goalkeeper in soccer, pitcher in baseball, winger in basketball. He had been voted the best player in almost every sport.

He was tall, very tall, and might even have been handsome, if not for his obsession with 420 (as Zonker from the "Doonesbury" comics). Bad grades, zero sports performance, and zero accomplishments in bed: one night he slept with me, drunk and stoned, and as soon as he saw my naked twins, he cum after three seconds, scientifically time-tested.

But Shaggy (everyone calls him that: even me) had one virtue: he owned a van of the kind that had a real mattress inside, comfortable for sleeping (two girls).

I know that people of other genders use those vans to take advantage of girls who are drunk or worse. There's a whole page of TV tropes devoted to the subject of "Creepy Stalker Vans," and all I had to do was watch the movie "Whore" with Theresa Russell. But with those two puppets, we were safe. Besides, Rogers had a big dog, a Great Dane, which would provide you and me with additional protection, if only we trained him to obey in exchange for Scooby Snacks (the dog, not Shaggy; oh, well, Shaggy, too).

We could put the boys to sleep in tents and have the mattress to ourselves every night. Each of us had relatives and friends to visit along the way in the summer, and we could have been housed for free on farms and other homemade solutions: and it was likely that your prudes, fearful relatives would insist that we two girls always sleep together well away from the two dreaded stallions (giggle, giggle!).

The van was second-hand. Rogers had bought it used. Previously, it had been owned by a circus, and a self-styled amateur magician had it painted "The Mystery Machine" on the sides. As a joke, Fred said it would be great to use it to solve mysteries like Sherlock Holmes, unmask false supernatural phenomena, and reduce everything to the linear logic of Reason.

At the moment, I paid no attention to his words, although I must confess that like seeds of a plant, those words took root inside my mind and sprouted suddenly on the first warm summer night.

The plan proceeded in stages.

Step number one: getting invited to the Prom at the end of the school year.

I'm not that tall (my father is as short as Danny De Vito and my mother is a Japanese petite) and next to the tallest boy in school I looked ridiculous, but that was all part of the plan.

You, on the other hand, with your violet eyes and natural red hair, were perfect arm in arm with blond Fred.

I never confessed it to you, but that night, I bet a pretty large sum on your coronation as Prom King and Queen, and I won.

That money was going to help us have a good summer.

Now you know.

###

Another thing I never confessed to you was that with some of the money I had bought two cages for the enforced chastity of our two riders: in case one or both of them became molesting. But one thought only of hallucinations (he thought the dog would respond to him!) and the other saw ghosts and riddles everywhere, and in the end, their cocks remained unused even without having to lock them in the cages.

I, however, always kept the key hanging around my neck, under my sweater: it is perhaps one of the reasons I always wore it, despite the heat.

That Fred was completely disinterested in you, and that poor Shaggy was only thinking about getting his dongs: what a pair of useful wimps!

2. Split the gang, and Spread the legs.

We drove off in the van. The initial idea was to spend the entire summer traveling an extensive tour of the Southern States: from California to Florida, visiting friends and family. But the first stop was simply lakeside. A few minutes before parking, Fred thought he saw a monster walking on the shore of the marsh.

An idea came to me, as fast as a flash.

I confirmed that I, too, had seen the "Swamp Monster": and that it would be the duty of Bold Males to investigate, to ensure our safety as helpless young damsels.

Shaggy grumbled: "Hey, like we'll be safer if, like, we stick together, right, man?

I stared at him defiantly and replied: "Right! So let's split up, gang!"

Fred was thrilled! "Oh wow, what a great phrase! You filled me with new energy, Miss Dinkley! Looks like... I dunno... maybe we could manage a strange... our hands will grab it... Ugh! Enough with the words! Come on, you, Dog, and even you, Shaggy, let's see who this monster is! I don't believe in the supernatural, therefore: there will always have to be a rational solution!"

Shaggy was trembling. I had to be able to pull him away from our mattress and send him to the other side of the lake along with Fred.

I wanted to promise him something porny, like a titjob, but at the last moment I changed my mind: I knew Shaggy had a perversion for forbidden things, but not in the erotic sense, in the disgusting sense.

So it occurred to me to promise him that if he helped Fred, I would let him taste the dog cookies. A sentence gushed spontaneously from my throat in a seductive voice. "Shaggy... would you do it... for a Scooby Snack?"

Shaggy's eyes, already dilated by the weed, stared at me with unprecedented interest. "You would let me... Divine Keeper of Forbidden Snacks?"

Poor boy! He was born for sexual submission, but he hadn't realized it yet: at least, not that night. He would have obeyed any order I gave him (and I had many, to give!) but that night I was thinking only of you, Daphne my love.

In a regal tone, I assumed a majestic pose, and raising a hand I solemnly said, "If you and Fred and the dog (always TOGETHER) succeed in finding the Swamp Monster, I will allow you to taste my gorgeous twins ... oops, that is, I meant to say: two Scooby Snacks!"

As soon as the two males moved away, I did not waste a single moment. I stripped you naked on the van mattress, and tied you with ropes, with your wrists behind your back and your ankles tied to your spread thighs.

Oh, I had been craving all day-and from the way you looked at me, I could tell you had the same urge.

In our campus room, we had had sex a thousand times, but now we were on vacation, in a bus, parked by a lake--and my pussy was a lake itself.

Until that moment you had not said a single word, Daphne Blake. You had let me lift your purple dress, and you had let me untie your shoes, mute. You had let me tie your arms and legs without saying a single word.

I had started kissing you with my tongue, twirling and pulling, and you had kissed me back passionately. But as soon as I moved a hand to caress your reddish pussy, you pulled your mouth away from the kiss and said, "Gag me!"

Oh, just two syllables and two nails were hammered into my heart! From one side it meant giving up your kisses, from the other it meant that you surrendered yourself completely to me! Oh, I was about to faint!

I was looking at you petrified and unable to act.

You, you Genius, you said, "We must prevent the two stallions from hearing my orgasmic screams. They'll hear muffled moans as if the Swamp Monster is biting me, but they mustn't understand that I was having an orgasm, while I will have an orgasm, and yes: I will."

You've always been very clever, under that innocent and innocuous appearance. The girls in the dorm didn't mind hearing the cries of pleasure: it could have been a girl masturbating herself, or a girlfriend who had let her boyfriend in through the window-but these two knuckleheads might have become suspicious.

I took off my panties. It was not what you had expected, perhaps, but it was what I had desired, for some weeks now. I rolled up my panties and hesitated for a moment before putting them in your mouth.

For a second, I contemplated how beautiful you were, all tied up with an open mouth (two pairs of open lips). Nothing like the masterpieces of Japanese art, but considering we had only camping gear and very little experience (it was only the beginning of our long summer!), I was deeply satisfied.

I muttered, "My DD... stuck again, all for myself!"

"DD? What do you mean by DD?"

"Damsel in Distress, of course, or at least that's what they called them in nineteenth-century novels. But I'm afraid if dumb Fred heard me, he'd understand something... Perhaps he'll agree that I should convince him that DD means "Danger-Prone Daphne is stuck again."

"I always knew you were a genius." And you smiled at me with your graceful violet eyes. "Maybe I should call you VV: Versatile Velma, for everyone else ... and Voracious Velma, for me!" And I remember with what joy you laughed.

I smiled back and put the gag in your mouth as you still laughed. Then I wrapped your acid green silk scarf around my mouth, which contrasted beautifully with the color of your red hair wet with sweat.

"You remember the usual Safeword: knock three times with one hand or foot, and I immediately interrupt everything."

"Mmmff."

"I assume that sounds Okay."

You nodded. From that moment on, your mouth was no longer available to me, and I had to concentrate on other things

I started by sucking your nipples. My mother was devoted to the ancient Japanese art of bondage called Shibari (perhaps that was why my father, an aeronautical engineer, married her). I did not have time to make a work of art, but at least I had done one thing: I had squeezed your breasts between two vertical ropes so that they protruded forward. Your nipples were already as hard as pencils, and the more I sucked on them, the more excited they became.

I was also nibbling the breast flesh and then the nipples again. You had already known me for a long time, and I did not need to explain the meaning of those attentions: my Motto was "whatever I do to your nipples will be done to your clitoris twice as much."

3. When Boys Turn Back Too Soon.

I was about to kneel down to lick your pussy, when I heard the voices of the two boys returning toward the van. Too soon! What could I do?

I thought to myself, "Damn! I was about to give Daphne the most intense orgasm of her life! And I'd have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those two meddling boys, and their fool dog!"

It was too late to untie you, and I had to come up with something.

I was naked, but I wore the first thing that came into my hands (a baggy orange turtleneck sweater), and it was long enough to at least partially cover the fact that I was not wearing a skirt or panties.

I went down on all fours out the door (on the opposite side from which they were coming) and still on all fours I started calling to them, "Fred! Shaggy! Help me!"

The two boys walked around the van.

Fred was in front of me: even without glasses, I recognized his elegant leather shoes handmade by an expensive Italian shoemaker.

But, quite unexpectedly, Shaggy had appeared behind me: I could smell the dog's stinky breath sniffing my pussy, and maybe that one was a lucky chance because Scooby's big head hid part of the view from Shaggy.

Most of all, Shaggy could not see the big orange glow that sparkled at the bottom of the anal plug I had been wearing the whole trip.

He, however, had not noticed anything, and kept talking to the dog, "Hey, man, Scooby Doo, what are you sniffing, you?"

Fred also did not understand and asked, "Why are you calling for help, Velma dear? Do you need anything?"

"I lost my glasses," I impromptu on the spot. When I had slipped on my turtleneck, the glasses had slipped between my firm twins, but the two boys could not know that. So I began to exaggerate, in a Greek tragedy tone, "My glasses! I can't see without my glasses!"

Searching the glasses, Fred opened the van door, and found you naked and gagged, with your pussy spread wide between your parted thighs and your nipples exposed between the ropes.

Your clit glistened all covered with my saliva: your labia were parted ajar ready to receive a tongue, a finger, a cock, anything.

A normal male would have gotten an erection and started masturbating, Fred instead exclaimed, facing me, "I have discovered the Mystery, Velma! The Swamp Monster captured Daphne, while you could not see because of the absence of your glasses!"

I blushed violently. "Ah... well... of course, Fred you're the boss, you're an Alpha male, it must have been as you say."

Fred continued, in a matter-of-fact voice, "and it's certainly not the first time I've found Miss Blake bound wrists and ankles in the nude... it must be something that runs in the family."

I blushed suddenly.

Could it be, that some of the boys had seen you tied up from the window of our girls' dormitory?

Only a few seconds later, it came back to me that in a school play you had played Andromeda chained to a cliff, while Fred himself played the part of the spotless hero (what was his name? Odysseus, Perseus, Theseus? A lot of yeuseus), and Shaggy himself and his dog, both slobbering, emerged from below to eat your feet...

Then I said, in the dull voice of a know-it-all teacher scolding a bratty child, "Danger-Prone Daphne is stuck again!"

Fred was overjoyed. He deeply liked these phrases.

But only I read in your violet eyes, that you liked to feed the belief that you were a stupid clumsy person when you were the smartest person I've ever known.

Shaggy also went inside the van. I understand being stunned, but he was really stoned: he finds the prettiest girl in school naked and tied up, and the only thing he can say is "Zoinks! By now, I'd be in the mood, like, for a dozen different hamburgers... all at once, like, what do you say Scoob, man?"

Here came the masterpiece: for you, Daphne dear, you are a Genius.

When Fred untied your gag, quickly you shouted, " Hurry, run Fred, the Swamp Monster did this, he attacked me and tied me up! Turn around right now, if you look over there you can see him!"

We all looked in the direction you were pointing your violet, darting eyes. Across the lake, we could see a wheat field, and in the middle of the ears of corn was a huge scarecrow. Only two perfect morons would have fallen for it -- I stand corrected: only two morons ACTUALLY fell for it.

"Quick, Shaggy: you and Scooby chase the monster!"

Shaggy hesitated. "Swamp... Moon-... Fred, you said, like, Swamp M-moonster?! Man!"

I was there on purpose, to save the day.

Pretending to untie you, I was hugging your boob, but those two didn't even notice.

I was so fascinated by the softness of your skin, I wondered what strange kind of cream you had slathered on (and it was your natural skin instead!).

Without my noticing, my mouth said out loud, "Looks like I got another mystery on my hands!"

Fred began prancing like a fawn, repeating that phrase over and over!

Poor guy, I thought the stunned one was Shaggy!

It was my duty to bring him back down to earth and force him to leave as soon as possible. And forcing them to stick together would have slowed them down-more time alone for the two of us!

"Don't separate, boys, it will take all your strength and manly courage to catch that horrible monster... go, all three of you, and always stay TOGETHER. I'll take care of freeing poor Daphne, and comforting her with some warm... uh... warm... coffee, tea, or... whatever!"

4 Finally, Two Girls Alone In The Van.

They went away. I gagged again. Both of us were thrilled to be almost discovered.

And you, I'm sure, had been aroused by seeing two men in front of your gaping pussy -- even if they were as harmless as two four-year-olds.

I felt it was my duty to let you know that even though those two slobs did not appreciate you, I adored you.