The Bunghole Mystery Ch. 01

Chapter One: A Blinding Storm

Mary Jones came right out with it. "I'm very sorry Betty, but I'm certain of it. You must not go through with this marriage to Ronnie."

Mary was a petite and unconventional young lady. Her hair shown coppery gold in the sunlight of the summer's day. Unlike most of her peers, her hair was cut short and fell straight in a practical bob. Her left eye was a solid blue and her right eye was greener. She had the face of an angel: a bob of a nose, twinkling eyes, and a wide and easy smile.

She was one of the prettiest young women in River Heights, a town abundant with strikingly beautiful young women. Many were her dear friends who settled there after Mary had freed them all from white slavery (see the Secret of the Old Cock Ch. 18). She was petite at 5 foot 2 inches, and her body was 110 pounds of solid muscle. Her breasts were lean and nicely shaped, as were her hips, but people rarely noticed her stunning figure. Her modest attire, less revealing than the norm, neatly hid her athletic form. Her calling in life demanded that she walk around looking like a perfectly ordinary rich and spoiled teenage girl.

She could take on a roomful of mobsters with her martial training, her wits, and her refinement. She didn't even need clothes. She would undoubtedly be the world's first G-Woman. Not even J. Edgar Hoover himself could hope to slow her down.

Normally, Mary had an unwaveringly cheery disposition, but not at the moment. "Believe me, delivering such upsetting news is the hardest thing I'm required to do as a detective."

"Is there no hope you're wrong, Mary?" Betty Bloom, Mary's new friend, wailed in despair. They had met over breakfast at the Woodpeak Hotel where Mary was vacationing. Betty was a petite and dewy eighteen like Mary with pale, smooth skin. Betty's long, lustrous jet black hair and dark brown eyes added striking contrast to her loveliness.

"I knew we would need to have a detailed and frank talk about what I've discovered," said Mary. "Thus the one-on-one boat ride."

What Mary had discovered was a lot more than she needed to burden Betty with. Ronnie had a nice looking face, but he was a complete dud in bed. He had never heard of foreplay. He was a liar and cheat who had repeatedly tried to hump everything in the hotel with a skirt. How did Mary know all this with certainty? Ronnie's creampie was simmering inside her rectum at this very moment. He liked the back door. His splooge dribbling into her after he took her without preparation or precursor had been singularly uninspiring. For most women, it would have been torture, but Mary was more rough and ready. There had to be a more delicate way to break this news to poor Betty.

"Why do you think I got you out here in the middle of the lake in this rented motorboat? I knew Ronnie is terrified of all things nautical and wouldn't come along." Mary had more than one reason for this private, intimate boat ride. Once this hard truth had landed in the poor girl's heart, Mary intended to console Betty by seducing her into a torrid lesbian affair.

Mary had turned off the motorboat's engine. They were drifting peacefully in the middle of the lake. "How can I put this?" said Mary, sitting pressed up close to Betty, face to face. "As a hardened detective, I'm used to staring down the depravity of the world. Even the words I might use are too coarse to despoil your innocence with."

"I need to know, Mary!" the desperate girl cried. "You must despoil me! Despoil away!"

"Well, I witnessed an encounter between Ronnie and one of the hotel's maids," said Mary. "I can't say the words to you. He did this." Mary grabbed Betty forcefully and lodged her tongue in her astonished mouth. She forcefully teased the underside of Betty's tongue with hers.

When Mary drew back to gauge Betty's reaction, they were both panting and a little flushed. "Go on," moaned Betty.

Mary said, "I must know that what I have to convey to you will not utterly destroy you. Has anyone told you about what happens on your wedding night?"

"Rest assured, my mamma has told me everything," answered Betty with a knowing smirk. "She told me that at some point the man will grab me and say words I don't understand. When that happens, I am to make sure that this part of me is uncovered." She indicated her pelvic region with a circling motion of her hand. "Otherwise, my wedding dress might be damaged. I am to lay down on the bed and shut my eyes. I am to spread my legs as far apart as possible, and think of Christ. I hope she didn't mean the Crucifixion. That sounds painful."

"That's modern 1930's sex education for you," said Mary, looking away gravely. "Well, Ronnie did the wedding night thing with the maid in the broom closet. That's a sin."

"Well," Betty said uncertainly, "My mother told me boys will be boys. It's in their nature. She says we must forgive them this else have an unhappy marriage."

This was going to be a harder sell than Mary had expected. Mary foresaw Betty's impending wedding night with horror. She saw the torture and the pain. She saw the gloating nonchalance of the cheating Ronnie heaving and relieving himself into this poor innocent. The names he would call her. The ways he would humiliate her. It couldn't stand. "Okay, how about this, Betty," she said gravely. "I spoke to the maid afterwards, and Ronnie did it wrong."

"He did it... wrong?" asked Betty.

"Yes, boys don't automatically know how," said Mary. "Their father has to teach them."

"Well, what part did he get wrong?" asked Betty.

"He went in the wrong hole," said Mary.

"Oh, that sounds serious," said Betty gravely.

"It's very serious. You're not going to have any babies out of your anus," said Mary.

"Oh Mary," Betty laughed, red faced. "Don't be so coarse. That's... back there... right?" With more seriousness, she said, "Maybe I could teach him."

"Boys like Ronnie don't listen to girls," said Mary. "Has he ever listened to you?"

"Oh," said Betty. "You're right." She added sadly, tears streaking out of her eyes, "I guess there's nothing for it."

"I'm afraid not, Betty, but I have some good news to go along with the bad," said Mary. "I can teach you how to tell if a boy can perform as a husband BEFORE you get engaged."

"I'm all ears!" enthused Betty.

"Well, first of all," said Mary, "have you ever given yourself pleasure... down there?"

"Mary, I'm surprised at you!" Betty scolded. "I would never risk my immortal soul merely to explore my own body where I should not."

"I'm very sorry to have offended," Mary said.

"I have washed myself though," Betty confided, cheeks flushing. "Real thoroughly. After all, cleanliness is next to Godliness."

Mary paused. Did she have the right to steal Betty's innocence? Mary reflected on an unjust world that rarely gave a girl any choice of whether, when, or where. The world did not even care who. She wanted no part of such barbarism. Yet she knew that in her loving care, Betty would always be cherished. She would always be empowered to express her own unique brilliance. Her voice and her choice would always be honored. And most importantly, Betty would always orgasm first. That settled it.

"Mary, are you okay?" Betty ventured. "I didn't mean to get all... flustered... when you showed me the other thing." She finished with resolve, "I can take it!"

"You need to have at least ten private conversations like this with a boy before even considering him." Mary's tongue invaded Betty's mouth and pacified her with a deep kiss. She reached under Betty's thigh length skirt and pulled her panties aside. She explored the brunette beauty's vulva with her fingers, stroked her lips, felt her clitoris and its hood. Betty squirmed at this new, unimagined, thrillingly pleasurable, and almost certainly sinful attention. Mary held her firmly. Her opening was small and tight, with an intact hymen. Every aspect of Betty's body should be her decision. Until she could teach her more about her own body, finger banging her was out of the question. This left only one other course of action for Mary.

"Don't do the wedding night thing with a boy or they might misunderstand," Mary informed her. "But for the purposes of my demonstration, I want you to do the wedding night thing for me now."

"The wedding night thing? Right here and now?" asked Betty. "It sounds sinful."

"Teaching happiness is never sinful, Betty," argued Mary.

"Oh all right..." said Betty dubiously. She removed her panties and her skirt. She lay back on the motorboat's wide bench seat. She closed her eyes tightly. She threw her legs apart in spectacular splits, laying bare both holes. Her impossibly tiny wet slit was crowned with a cute little black bush clearly managed for beach wear. Her tiny dimple of a pucker was scrubbed as clean as a nun on Sunday. "Our father who art in heaven..." Betty began.

Mary put her mouth on Betty's wet slit. It smelled and tasted of a combination of molasses and that weed they smoked down at the jazz club. It was such a marvelous, earthy flavor. As Mary's tongue and lips savored this new delight, Betty's tune changed. "... hallowed be thy-yi-yi! naaaaahuhuh... hnnnn! Oh God! Oh Christ! I feel strange. I feel strange! NAAAAAAHAHAWWW!" Betty's orgasmic cry echoed across the water of the lake like thunder. Or was that actual thunder?

The sky had been blue and cloudless! Little drips of rain washed over them and dewed their skin. Was God simply out to get her? If she was, it was probably about the priest (see The Forbidden Staircase Ch. 20). "Hold that thought, love," Mary said sweetly to Betty. She rifled through the motorboat's small storage area. There were no raincoats or life preservers aboard. She envisioned a swift kick from her foot forcibly dilating the rectum of the old man at the rental agency.

Mary fired up the motorboat's engine and went to steer the boat back the way they'd come. Unfortunately, that shoreline was already obscured by the onrushing storm. She looked around frantically for a safe alternative. She saw only one thing that comforted her. Betty's blouse had become soaked in the rain. With her bra cast aside, her perfect breasts pressed against the thin silk. Her nipples stood dark, erect, and luscious against the fabric.

But there was no time for such thoughts at present. Mary gunned the boat into motion, turned it sharply towards the far shore, and desperately raced the pressing storm. Within seconds they were overtaken, and visibility dropped to near zero. A moment later, there was a huge crash. Betty was thrown roughly against the windscreen, cracking it with her head. Freezing swirling water rushed over their feet. She grabbed her new love and made to abandon the craft. "But Mary," cried the terrified girl, "I can't swim!"

"Hold tightly to me then," Mary said calmly. Firmly grasping Betty, she leaned overboard and fell into the bitingly cold lake. Mary immediately saw that they'd hit a log at the waterline. The boat was sinking rapidly. She grabbed the flailing Betty firmly around the neck with one arm and set off side stroking to shore.

"I can't feel my arms, Mary," Betty sobbed. "You should leave me and save yourself!"

(To be continued)