Scooby Doo, Velma is Kissing Who?

Is it necessary for me to write how I caressed you, my love?

Honestly, do you need me to graphically recount every gesture, every kiss, every lick, every caress, every sweet lash that I inflicted on my willing and eager Damsel in Distress?

I am sure you remember it all, and if you close your eyes, you can still feel my kisses on your skin.

I remember your stifled moans. But you already know that.

What you may not know, is that I was so excited, and happy, as I have never been before. It was beautiful to be alone in the middle of nature, with two silly knights to protect us along with their giant dog... If we had been alone, I would have been afraid, but instead, with that Gang of muscular fools, I felt safe.

I know that without a gag, you would have screamed louder than on any other night in the women's dormitory. It was a magical night for you too, I know.

And I never stopped myself from touching and licking you until I heard you scream, and then collapse hard, as only a true Daphne can do when she has a first-class orgasm.

At that point, you had enjoyed it, but I still hadn't.

I was horny as hell and didn't want to undo your restrainment at all.

I untied the knot of your green scarf, and in a hesitant voice I asked, "My love, do you want to sleep, or do you want to give me orgasm first? Answer freely -- you are bound but not a slave."

And you replied, "I am not your slave but you will forever be my Queen: and a Queen cannot be without her Throne."

It was a verse from a "Supertramp" song, "Like a Queen without a Throne," after "Goodbye Stranger," aired over and over again from the radio stations that summer.

It was just a song.

But.

Never have words struck me so deeply.

I wanted to answer "By Jove, patron deity of the Dinkys!" but my tongue had gone numb inside my mouth: not from physical fatigue, but emotional surprise.

I said only "By Jinkies!"

But perhaps the "By" was mistaken as a greeting.

You replied, "Bye-bye, Jeepers! Are we playing a game of who says the most out-of-fashion word? I warn you... now, it's quite another game I want to play with your pussy," you said, running your tongue over your delicious upper lip. OMG, if I didn't die at that moment...

I lifted you (you were always very light) into my arms as if you had been a rag doll.

I was surprised by my strength.

I had so much energy at that moment, that I could have held up in my arms not only you but also the whole gang: Fred, Shaggy, and the Dog. Maybe someday I will try to do that, like the muscular women in the circuses do.

I smiled at you. Your smile lit me up. I felt I was in heaven.

Then gently I laid you on the mattress. I had changed the sheets myself (you can never trust a stoner to maintain a mattress). Your spine was lying limply on top of the wrists tied behind your back.

"Do they hurt?" You said no, and I wanted to believe you: even the thought, that you were in pain for me without admitting it, made my heart pound.

Your curled toes were fumbling in the air because your ankles were still tied to your thighs. Me sitting on top of your face, I was rubbing my pussy on your nose and chin ... as I stroked your labia and clit gently.

When, to my surprise, you also licked near my rosebud, I cried out! I never vocalize, but you manage to wring emotions out of me that I've never felt... with one hand I reached for the scarf and gagged myself, while you continued to lick both front and back. I removed the bright orange anal plug, and I thought you would shirk, but instead, you licked deep into me, reaching even to my soul.

Then maybe I moved, involuntarily, and you sucked all of my pussy inside your mouth as we do to a boy.

I thought I was going to pass out from pleasure. I groaned, but my screams were stifled by gagging, and no one came to disturb us.

Then you did something unexpected. You, sweet Daphne. You, whom everyone judged the most generous and selfless person in the school.

YOU MADE ME WAIT!

You, Teaser!

You parted your lips and kissed my inner thigh. I would have wanted your tongue on the inside of the pussy -- but you fiddled with kissing my knees and the skin of my legs, and I thought I was going to die. I also thought I wonder if that lipstick will leave any traces. I wore only short schoolgirl stockings, anyone could see the lipstick marks on my thighs. But perhaps the two male detectives would never have picked up such a simple clue.

I wanted to beg you to start again, but I couldn't speak. I was sweating and tense as a violin string. So close to orgasm -- and so vulnerable...

Then you stopped torturing me with waiting, and you pounced on my clit. A fiery sword duel between the flames, my hot clit against your hot tongue... then you sucked my whole pussy inside your mouth, like when we blowjob a guy.

How long did you suck my pussy? Hours, I guess. I don't know. I thought I was going to die.

After a time that seemed endless to me, I collapsed on top of you, with my face close to your pussy, and kissed it softly as one kisses a newborn baby -- I thought I was dead, that I was in heaven, that I was born in that instant.

I was on top of you for an interminable time and I'm sorry I left faint bruises from the ropes on your wrists but, believe me, I didn't have the strength to lift myself up

###

I think the two boys and the dog returned after several hours. Fred said the Swamp Monster was merely a rural scarecrow: an explanation that was logical, rational, and perfectly suited to his style.

Not even for a moment did our Sherlock Holmes realize that your testimony was false: you had said that the Swamp Monster had tied you up, and Fred did not understand the inconsistency.

Poor guy. But better for us. That event anticipated that in the following weeks he would take the bait for any kind of summer prank or catch.

I vowed to organize some better pranks for the following weeks. I also thought I might involve some of our friends or relatives to pretend to be a villain, distract Fred and Shaggy for several hours, and let us have some privacy alone.

I had even coined the phrase that the villain might say after we found out (leaving all the credit to Fred and Shaggy, to feed their male ego). My accomplice would have said: "I would have gotten away with it. if it hadn't been for You Meddling Kids... and that stinky dog, too."

That night I had guessed that you liked to be shown bound.

In the theater, I had seen you chained to a papier-mâché rock with chains made of gold cardboard, to impersonate the myth of Andromeda. You had chosen the costume: naked under a transparent linen robe: and I still remember your dark nipples and your red tuft on the mound!

I was so focused on looking at you that I almost forgot that the boys were there too (and that the whole audience was in the auditorium!).

But, like today, that was another clear indication of exhibitionism.

Two clues make proof.

How does the defendant plead, Your Honor?

Guilty! hehehe.

Therefore, I decided that in the weeks following your capture you would be a constant feature of our evenings.

Sometimes naked, sometimes in a bikini, sometimes just a skimpy silk dress with nothing underneath. Those two studs wouldn't have noticed anyway. But you did, and so did I.

5. I Wrote You A Rhyme, But I Didn't Have The Courage To Deliver It...

That night was early summer.

But all those sentences about the Swamp Monster triggered many memories for me related to Halloween parties in previous years. The two of us were not yet lovers, and friends were organizing scary pranks.

But I swear, Daphne, I have to confess this to you by letter, because I would never have the courage to tell you verbally, face to face.

Your orgasms were so intense, and your lust so intense, that for the first time in my reasonable life, I was frightened.

You managed, somehow, to spook me. It was a strange emotion, frightening but also exciting.

And I liked being part of it and, in a way, being the one to initiate it.

I never told you, but that night I realized that I could never live without your love, without provoking your pleasure, without feeling (again) that thrill of fear that you aroused in me every time you had one of your explosive orgasms.

And I especially liked that it was all secret: you played seduction on two distinct lines, a fake one with that silly Jones, and a serious one with me, but nobody noticed, and this secrecy made me wet up to my knees (that's why I never wore stockings!).

On a paper napkin, I had written a little poetry, one night when all four of us (us, and that huge dog) had stopped in the Diner run by the brothers Malcolm and Brian Young, and their friend Angus Johnson.

I was surprised to find Australian boys in Alabama.

They were nice, and they helped me set up two pranks on Fred: one related to an electric shock, which affected Fred in alternating phases, turning the Alternate Current and the Direct Current on and off.

Then, Fred was almost passed out, Shaggy was stoned, and we had sex until dawn without anyone ever interrupting us.

You were squeezing my temples between your thighs as you forced me to lick you, as you ate my pussy... you were so horny, you were about to crack my skull bones, but I was so happy, I wanted to tattoo the number 69 all over me.

And it's not true that without glasses I can't do anything: without glasses, I can detect the scent of your clitoris with my nose.

The next day, the Youngs told Jones that there was a Highway, which they said led straight to Hell: Fred and Shaggy rode the Mystery Machine until dawn, to no avail, but it was just a trick set up by them so the two of us could be alone in bed for hours on end.

Uh! And I was about to forget when Angus went to the top of the steeple dressed funnily, ringing the bells of Hell.

Fred dragged the dog and Shaggy to scour all the bell towers in town on foot, and we had the mattress to ourselves for hours! Giggle.

They were nice guys, the Youngs. I wonder what they do now.

Maybe we could visit them for Halloween. There are a lot of thunderstorms in their area, and if we tie a metal antenna to a fool like Fred Jones he might get hit by a Thunderstruck.

Well, this was my poem, and I want to send it to you: I wanted to play it with a very sweet guitar arpeggio, like Cat Stevens in modern Greek to respect the origin of your name (something like "Daphne, sugar, come again, come again for me, come in the morning, together with the dawn golden as a sunbeam, Daphne, my sweet sweat Daphne"), but then...I feared the judgment of your stern eyes.

I made up my mind to send it to you so I won't see the look on your face as you read it.

I'm just a mathematician: I'm not a poet. Let's say it's just a rough draft: maybe a good editor could have improved it.

The title should have been, more or less:

"Jinkies! You Spooked Me, Daphne Blake".

It was a Mystery Machine, Fred kept its motor clean

It was the best comfy van that I had ever seen.

Daphne had those violet eyes, telling me no lies

Knocking me out under her shaved Irish thighs

taking all, all that her share, had me fighting for air

She yelled to me: "I come", while I was already there...

'Cause the van starts shaking! The Earth was quaking!

My head was aching 'cause we were making it!

And you (You!) spook me all night long

Jinkies! You spook me all night long.

Working double paths on the seduction line

You're one of a kind, you're just mine, all mine.

Wanted no applause, so I faked another Curse

To send away Jones, Rogers, and Scooby-Doo

and spend hours alone still eating You.

You made a meal out of me, and come back for more.

How to cool me down, to take another round?

How I'm back on the Ring, to take another swing?

'Cause the van was shaking, the Earth was quaking

My head was aching 'cause we were making it

And you spook me all night long

Yeah, you spook me all night long

And screwed me out, I said

You spook me all night long

You had me fucking, and you spook me all night long

Jinkies! You spook me!

6. Epilogue: At Least Is Not The Last Letter.

Many other memorable things happened that summer. In one letter I can't recount them all, it would take a series of letters to recount all the adventures (sexual, or terrific) we had that summer.

Me and Shaggy: exhibitionism.

You and Fred: tease and denial.

You and Blacky Blake, your cousin in Alabama: interracial and incest.

Me and your old Uncle Ebenezer Blake, who was still a virgin because he "hadn't found the right woman": Mature and First Time.

Group sex: when we met in Nashville the band "Josie and The Pussycats" (do you remember her pussy? I do!), and Fetish when we discovered that the three girls were the Keyholders of those two caged studs (when they forced them to kiss each other, does that count as Gay history? Idk).

And (almost Reluctant) Anal, when Josie laughingly decided to peg Fred Jones ("Split it, too, Fred!" hehe).

Perhaps, that time when Fred and Shaggy disguised themselves as women to catch the monster robbing the Pussycats' income, could be labeled as Crossdressing? The dog was hideous to look at, in lipstick: Fred, on the other hand...yummy! with his stylish ascot...

Sci-Fi, when I pretended you were abducted by Aliens; and Fantasy, when that Mr. Dicklace disguised himself as a dwarf miner to go along with my plans.

Poetry, Letters, and a long Novella, of course. And if you ever someday agree to marry me, in a Country where it is legal, you would be my Loving Wife, and both of us would be continually engaging in Erotic Coupling.

BDSM, whenever we had to rescue our dear Penelope Pitstop, whom her stalker always tied up on train tracks or other dangerous places. Until one day she confessed to us that she liked the lifestyle and that it was a kind of Game...

And that time we terrified everyone on Halloween: Sex, Horror, and Humor.

Not forgetting when we got the whole gang together for the winter vacations and told each other stories about Valentine's Day and other festive occasions.

But it all originated on that first night. Sul legno di una panchina degli autobus, ho inciso il nostro codice segreto. DD+VV=LL.

<3

Daphne Danger-prone and Voracious Velma, Lesbian Lovers.

<3

I love you with all my heart, Daphne, my honey.

<3

Yours forever, Velma.

THE END.

### Historiographical note. The first Damsel in Distress (DD) I ever saw on TV was Penelope Pitstop's Perils (PPP) from Wacky Races, but she was always surrounded by obnoxious men, and then she was too "perfect," too much Barbie doll.

Almost at the same time, I saw on TV the most charming undercover couple ever: Velma and Daphne, cheerful, intelligent, and witty. But mostly cheerful, I would say almost gay.

It is too easy to attribute all catches to clumsiness, and some monsters had paws that could not bind anyone: moreover, I was intrigued to note that the two young women of age always slept together in a queen-size bed, wherever they were housed, despite those who claimed to recognize an unrealistic ship between Fred and Daphne ("Daphred").

I imagined what might have happened if the two girls had kept a secret Sapphic romance locked in the closet; if Daphne had been so clever as to appear deliberately foolish and prone to capture; if Velma had been so ingenious as to even design pretexts to drive away the two fools and their dog.

None of the things written in this fiction ever really happened; they are simply figments of the imagination of an overly heat summer. ###

#### If you liked this tale please tell me if you would like a sequel. English is not my native language, I suggest focus on ideas rather than grammar.

If you enjoyed it, please leave a rating for the Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2022 and write a constructive comment. ###