The name’s Piper. Peter Piper. But I don’t pick pecks of pickled peppers. I solve cases. I’m a private dick. That’s a detective for those of you who don’t know the lingo. A private eye.
It was a miserable Friday afternoon. Cold, damp, foggy. The weather was foul. And so was my mood. My bank account was dwindling at an alarming pace. I hadn’t had a case in weeks. I was sitting behind my battered desk in my shabby office on the second floor of the Burke building, downtown. Way downtown. I was sitting there and I was worrying. If something didn’t happen soon, I was in deep shit. I had bills to pay.
The rent on the office was coming due, and I didn’t have it. I also didn’t have the rent for my crummy one-room apartment with the rickety bed and the wobbly night table. That was downtown too. Further downtown.
I opened my top desk drawer and took out a deck of grimy torn playing cards. They were lying right next to the gun with the jammed hammer. I started dealing myself out a hand of solitaire as I brooded. I think it was when I was putting the queen of hearts on top of the king of clubs that I saw an ominous shadow darken the dirty opaque glass in my office door. I had yet to learn how ominous.
The door opened and there was this classy dame standing there framed in the doorway. Even from there I could smell her Pastiche perfume. It was overpowering. It was intoxicating. It was sexy, and I was getting a hard-on.
“Mr. Piper?” she asked in a low sultry voice.
“That’s me,” I confirmed. “Come in.” I motioned for her to take a seat in the ripped fabric chair with the stuffing and springs popping out across from my desk. She shuddered very slightly as she perched on the very edge of it. She didn’t want too much of her bottom exposed to whatever germs were crawling around on that chair.
She was classy all right. Besides smelling of Pastiche perfume, she smelled of money. She had on a tight black dress with a low cut V-neck, which emphasized her enormous boobs. They looked lickable. On her feet she wore very high-heeled black shoes. And over her shoulders she wore a sable stole. Her jet black hair was tied back in a neat bun, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat like they used to wear back in the 1940’s.
I folded up the cards and quickly shoved them back into the drawer. Then I got up and helped lift the stole off her shoulders. I hung it carelessly on the top hook of the coat rack. She winced.
I sat down behind my desk again and faced her. “How can I help you?” I asked.
“My name is Millicent Arbagast, and I’m having a problem. Fifi Applewhite told me that you could help me. She said you were very good.”
Ah, yes. Fifi Applewhite. The Stolen Baby Cup Case. I had helped Fifi Applewhite a lot. Someone had lifted the little sterling silver cup her grandmother had bought for her when she was born. It had the name ‘Fifi’ engraved on it. It had great sentimental value. I had helped her by finding the cup, (in her maid’s suitcase,) and I had helped her even more by plowing her with my big hard cock. When I first arrived at her house, she couldn’t keep her hands off my dick. She kept grabbing it, and licking it, and sucking it. I just had to get it out of her hands, and the best way seemed to be to hide it in her cunt. She went totally crazy. She grabbed my ass as I was fucking her and pulled so hard I thought she was gonna tear it off. I had black and blue marks on my buttcheeks for months.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Arbagast?” I asked. “I assume it’s Mrs.”
“Yes, it is. Unfortunately.”
She took out a cigarette from a gold case in her black pocketbook. She tapped the cigarette on the top of the desk, before putting it between her sluttish red lips. She lit it with a diamond-studded gold lighter. I hadn’t seen one like that in years. No cheap plastic disposable for her.
She puffed in deeply and blew out a plume of blue smoke. Then she continued. “My husband, Marvin, and I are separated. He wants my son, Harold. I don’t want him to have my son, Harold.”
“Isn’t Harold his son too?”
“Yes, of course.” She took another puff. She was annoyed with me. “I don’t want him anywhere near Harold. I want him kept away.”
“Who has custody?” I asked.
“No one has custody. We’re not divorced yet. But Harold is with me now, and I don’t want his father getting anywhere near him.” She looked at me, wondering how much to tell me. “Marvin has done things to Harold,” she said flatly. “Filthy things.”
“You should get a court order,” I advised.
“I can’t. This can’t ever be made public. It would ruin my son’s life. And I don’t know how to keep Harold away from Marvin. Marvin’s very rich. He gets whatever he wants. And he wants Harold. Can you help me?”
“What could I do to help you?” I asked.
“I want you to guard Harold. Stay with him night and day. I want you to keep Harold from being kidnapped.”
I was beginning to get the picture.
“You can move into my house. There’s an extra bed in Harold’s room. I would want you to sleep in Harold’s room.”
“I don’t know,” I considered. “Playing nursemaid to a kid. It’s not really what I do.”
“I’ll pay you three thousand dollars a week.”
“I’ll do it.”
“I thought you would.” She handed me an engraved card. “That’s my address. Be there with your luggage. Nine tomorrow morning.”
I took the card. I had been hired. Now at least I’d be able to pay my bills and then some. She stood up. “I think I’ll be going now,” she said.
I went over to the coat rack to retrieve her fur. It snagged a little on the hook. She winced again. I walked behind her and placed it gently around her lush shoulders, looking at the exposed tops of her magnificent tits. My cock got stiff again and, through my pants, started poking her behind. As I draped the sable over her shoulders my hand accidentally brushed her breast. She moved away.
“Now. Now. We’ll have none of that. I’m your employer, after all,” she reproved. Fucking cocktease. She knew very well what she was doing to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. But I really wasn’t. I wanted to tear off her expensive black dress and plant my voracious jaws over her big mammary. I wanted to knead it, to twist it, to flick the nipple with my tongue, to suck on it. The more I thought about it, the longer my hard dick got, and even though I stepped back from her, my desirous pole kept reaching out to rub against her ass.
“Thank you, Mr. Piper,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” And then she was gone. There was nothing left but a cloud of Pastiche perfume. I pushed my cock back down in my underpants. It was really making a tent.
The next morning I arrived on schedule. Phipps, the butler, showed me up to the bedroom I would be sharing with Harold.
“Where’s the kid?” I asked Phipps.
“Out on the lawn playing croquet. Mrs. Arbagast is waiting for you in the garden. You can put your things in the drawers of that dresser.” He pointed to the one on the left side of the room. There was a bed on the left side of the room too. I figured that was mine. Harold’s bed and dresser were on the right side of the room. I unpacked my bags and put my stuff into the drawers. Phipps showed me to the bathroom, and I brought my toothbrush and hairbrush in and left them there.
“I’ll take you down now, sir,” said Phipps, and he escorted me to the garden. This was really great. Now I had a butler to show me around. I could get used to this.
Millicent Arbagast was lying in a deck chair, wearing a small two-piece yellow bathing suit. Her breasts were pouring out over the top. I still wanted to lick them. She was greasy from head to toe with suntan oil, and she held a silver reflector in front of her face. She was wearing dark green sunglasses.
“Mr. Piper,” she said, stretching out her hand. I took her hand and raised it to my lips.
“How chivalrous,” she observed dryly.
“Where’s Harold?” I asked. I wanted to meet my new charge.
“I’ll bring you to him.” She got up off the chair and put on a terry cloth robe and a pair of beach sandals. She led me across the great lawns, past the enclosed tennis courts, and the miniature golf links. Way down at the far end I could see Harold putting a wooden ball with a large wooden mallet, trying to get it to go through bent wires.
He was a slender kid, around eighteen or so, with very white skin and spiky yellow hair. He didn’t look anything like his mother. I wondered what Marvin looked like.
Harold had on a tight yellow pullover short-sleeved shirt, and I noticed how thin his arms were. And his hands were very small and delicate. He was wearing a pair of tight-fitting white slacks, which hugged his round bottom. On his feet were a brand new pair of bright white buckskin shoes.
“Harold, darling,” said Mrs. Arbagast. “This is Mr. Peter Piper. The gentleman I told you about, who’ll be staying with us for a while.”
“You mean staying in my room.”
Harold stared coldly at me. He wasn’t happy about this. “This was her idea,” he told me. “Not mine.” He wanted to make sure I knew he didn’t want me there. “Is she paying you a lot of money to watch me?”
“Now, Harold, darling,” Mrs. Arbagast soothed him, patting him on the back. “Be nice.”
“I’ll be nice,” he assured her. “What do you say, Mr. Piper. Would you like to play a game of croquet?”
“I never played croquet,” I explained. “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you,” he offered. Mrs. Arbagast smiled happily. Harold was going to try to be nice to me. She went back to her garden chair and her reflector, while Harold spent the next few hours instructing me on the fine points of croquet. I was just getting the hang of hitting that wooden ball with my hard wooden mallet when Phipps came out and told us we would have to go inside and dress for dinner. Fortunately, I had brought my blue suit. So it had a moth hole. You couldn’t really see it unless you got down on your knees and stared at my ass.
The next couple of weeks went without incident. Harold and I were getting used to each other. To being roommates. He was being civil to me, if not really friendly.
I think it was a Tuesday afternoon, when his mother had had the chauffeur drive her into town to go to the department stores. Harold and I were lazing around the bedroom, on our own beds. I was reading a pulp paperback detective novel, and he was reading a magazine. I didn’t know what magazine it was, but from a distance it looked like it might have had naked pictures in it.
I was wearing my tank top and my boxers, and my black socks. Harold had nothing on but a pair of skimpy white jockeys, that looked like they were three sizes too small. Everything was bulging. He started looking at me in a funny way. His eyes almost seemed flirtatious.
“Peter. Do you think I have pretty legs?” He started running his hand up and down his left leg as he flexed it. It was a nice leg. Smooth, with just a little sprinkling of golden fuzz.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I never really thought about it.”
“Well, look,” he encouraged me, and started showing off his long gams, feeling them all over. “I think I have pretty legs.”
“Do you?” I asked absently.
“Yes, I do.” He answered in a pout. “My father thinks I have pretty legs.”
I raised my eyes from my detective novel, and looked squarely at him. “Your father thinks you have pretty legs? How do you know that?”
“Because he tells me. He tells me all the time. He says I have the most beautiful long golden legs, as beautiful as any woman’s. He says I have a gorgeous ass… Do you think I have a gorgeous ass, Peter?” And now he got on his knees on the bed with his butt facing me and lowered his underpants, so that I could admire the two beautifully round firm fleshglobes. He put his hands behind him and started caressing himself. Then, with his ass in the air, he pulled the cheeks apart to expose his little pink hole to me. He did have a pretty ass. His cheeks were nice, and I was even liking his little pink hole. And my cock was liking it all too. I surreptitiously tried to push down my boner inside my boxers. “Do you like my ass, Peter?”
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, trying to sound sarcastic.
“How would you like to fuck my ass, Peter?” He started swaying it around hypnotically. I was getting into a spell. I had never done that, but it was certainly worth considering, now that the opportunity was so screamingly presenting itself. But, no. I couldn’t do that. He was in my charge. I was getting paid a lot of dough to keep him safe. If I fucked him and his mother found out, I could lose my job. My very nice well-paying job.
“No,” I decided finally.
“Are you worried that my mother would find out and fire you from your cushy job?”
I didn’t answer. He came over and stood in front of me, and he turned around and bent at the waist, moving his butt directly in front of my face. He started fondling it, and spreading the cheeks again. He looked over his shoulder and smiled as he tantalized me.
“Well, how about this scenario?” he proposed. “You don’t fuck me, but I tell my mother you did fuck me, and she fires your sorry ass. Do you follow my line of thought?”
“I follow it,” I assented, nodding my head, while focusing on the pretty pink hole. I took off both my black socks and pulled my tank top over my head. I raised my ass to lower my boxers, but they caught onto my hard-on and it took a couple of minutes to free them. When I was naked, I moistened my index finger in my mouth and began to explore his tender bud. When my finger touched the sensitive spot, he shuddered all over. The little mouth almost opened by itself to lick my digit. My finger went in. What a warm tight little space. My cock was raging. You know how your cock gets when your finger is exploring a hot fuckchannel.
He turned around and dropped to his knees by the side of the bed, and moved me so that my legs were on both sides of him, and my feet were on the floor. He suddenly sank his voracious mouth over my rigid member, and started noisily to ingest it. It was a great blowjob. I’d never had one like it, I must admit. The kid really knew how to appreciate a private dick’s dick. He took his mouth off the long pole, but only to move his head down between my legs and lick my heavy cum-filled balls. Wow, did that tickle. His hand was jacking my wet pole as he tongue-loved my giant nuts. He raised my legs slightly and I rolled a little on my own round cheeks, so that now my own bud was available. He moved his tongue between my cheeks and slobbered away. No one had ever eaten my ass before. That’s for sure. I right away knew that I could get used to this.
Finally, it was time to move on. He climbed on the bed. He was on his knees with his head and chest down, and his pretty rear raised high. It was just begging for a nice poke. I moved behind him, also on my knees, and positioned my wet dick at the entrance to paradise. I moved forward and heard the angels sing. Wow. I had never buttfucked before. I guess I hadn’t done much of anything before, but this job was giving me incredible new opportunities, and paying me a bundle in the bargain. I grabbed his hips and began fucking his ass. My tickly prick was scratching itself on his scorching sucking asswalls.
I pushed down on his rear, forcing him to flatten and I lay on top of him, so that I could flex my assmuscles into him and not just sway my hips back and forth. He moaned, “nnnnnnnggggg. Nnnnnngggggg.” He was really loving it. “Fuck me, daddy,” he begged. I wasn’t his real daddy but I was happy to oblige. No wonder his father wanted him so badly. But, too bad. I was being paid to keep his daddy from getting him. I felt the exquisite climax building in my balls. I think he felt my climax building also, because he started to move his ass in a frenzied fashion, squeezing his firm bubbles around my shaft, as I shafted him and shafted him, and wow, now I was shooting the most fantastic load I had ever shot in my entire life into his fucktunnel. His hot sweet fucktunnel.
“Oh, baby. Baby. Take my hot juice,” I screamed “Drink it up. Drink my hot juice into your ass.”
“I am. I am,” he yelled. “My ass is drinking your hot love juice, daddy. Drinking it all down.” After that we lay there, two limp rags, me on top of him with my very-relieved dick still deep in his assmouth. I sighed contentedly.
“How was that?” he asked.
“Do you have to ask?”
“Yes. I want to know. How did you like my ass?”
“Your ass is wonderful,” I said.
“Do you think my ass is beautiful?”
“Yes. I think your ass is so beautiful. I love your sweet ass. I never want to leave your sweet ass.”
“Oh, Peter,” he sighed. “I wish you never had to. I wish you could stay inside me forever. If I can’t be with my daddy, at least I have you now.”
“Yes, baby. You have me.” I kissed his golden hair. He smiled under me. My prick was still buried in his hole. His hole just didn’t want to let go of it.
After that we fucked every chance we got. I was loving my job, and praying my employer never found out that I was doing ‘filthy things’ to her beloved son, Harold.
My one mistake was driving back to my office to write out checks, and pay overdue invoices. Mrs. Arbagast was going to be home that day, and she gave me permission to go.
I had only been in my office around ten minutes, and was still opening mail, when I heard a knock at the door. Again I saw an ominous shadow darkening the dirty door glass.
“Come in,” I called, wondering who on earth it could be. The door opened, and a large well-dressed man entered. “Yes?” I asked.
“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Peter Piper?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m Peter Piper. And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“I am Mickey Morris. Big Mickey they call me.”
“Sit down, Big Mickey,” I invited and pointed at the threadbare chair. He shuddered. He was immaculately and expensively dressed, and my chair was beneath him (figuratively), but not literally beneath him as yet. Finally, having no other choice, he sat. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“You can turn over Harold Arbagast to me.”
My jaw dropped.
“Harold Arbagast?” I stuttered.
“Exactly. I know you’re working for his mother, trying to keep the boy from his beloved father. Well, I’m working for his father, Mr. Marvin Arbagast. Mr. Arbagast has hired me to get his son back. To return the dear lad to his rightful dad.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” I said.
“You mean you won’t help me.”
“I guess so,” I decided, my jaw tightening.
“In that case….” He never finished the sentence. He took out a revolver, and I thought he was going to shoot me, but he grabbed it by the muzzle, walked around the desk, and cracked me on the head with the steel handle.
I went down. Down. Down. Down. Down to another planet. Down to another world. Red smoke was swirling all around me as I fell and fell and fell. A hundred stories. I knew I was going to crash, but I never did. Finally I landed at the bottom, and took a step, but the bottom was only a ledge, and I fell and fell and fell. Down. Down. Down. Another hundred stories to another planet, which was only another ledge. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I knew I was going to crash and burn. Another swirl of red smoke closed around me, and I heard strange, echoey, ghostly voices in my head. I couldn’t make out what the voices were saying because I was falling, falling, falling. Down. Down. Down.
When I woke up, I was in a strange room. There were mats on the floor. There were mats on the wall. There were hooks and chains everywhere. It was either a madhouse, or a gymnasium, or maybe a torture chamber.
“He’s waking up,” said one of the voices.
I was lying on the canvas mat, and the first thing I noticed was that I was naked, and my hands were chained together with a chain, and that chain was chained to another chain which was chained into a hook on the wall. My feet were chained too, but they were not connected to the wall. Under the circumstances, my feet were relatively free.
“It’s too bad you wouldn’t cooperate with us, Mr. Piper,” said Big Mickey, looming over my prostrate body. He was again immaculately and expensively dressed. He even had a vest on under his jacket, and his fingers sparkled with large expensive diamond rings. “These are my henchmen,” he said, pointing out the four other men in the room. “My stooges, if you insist. This is Larry. This is Curly.” (That was strange. Curly didn’t have a hair on his head.) “This is Mo. And the mean looking one over there is Wilbur. Be careful you don’t get on Wilbur’s bad side. He can be dangerous.”
My heart was fluttering in the pit of my stomach. What were they going to do to me?
“We have someone we’d like you to meet,” said Big Mickey. He nodded to Larry and Curly who went through a steel door, I assume, into the next dungeon, because they came back dragging a forty-year old skinny, knobby-kneed naked man who’s hands and feet were cuffed as mine were. “This is Everett,” Big Mickey said. Poor Everett looked like he’d already been through the mill.
“Everett, here, is a man who doesn’t pay his debts. He owes Big Mickey bigtime. That’s bigtime money. And poor Everett says he doesn’t have any money. So until Everett finds some money, he’s going to have to stay here and be punished. Nobody crosses Big Mickey. Larry, Curly. Let’s show Peter, here, how we deal with guys who don’t cooperate.” Larry started giggling wildly and insanely. Curly just smiled benignly.
They grabbed poor Everett’s bony arms and dragged him over a steel table, so that he was standing on the floor, but his chest and head were on the tabletop. There were steel wristcuffs built into the table, so they uncuffed Everett’s hands and locked him onto the hard table.
Larry went to the wall and lifted off a long leather strap. He held it by the handle and started snapping it in the air, like a rodeo star. Everett looked nervously over his shoulder. He was about to get some stripes.
“I think ten lashes for a start,” Big Mickey ordered.
Larry raised the lash and brought it down on Everett’s smooth white buttocks. Everett screamed and began to circle his ass around. It was really stinging him. Then another. Then another. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Larry was laughing hysterically as the angry red welts arose on his victim’s tender cheeks. It would take a while for them to disappear, if ever. I felt so sorry for Everett. But his punishment wasn’t over. After ten lashes, Larry laid down the whip. Everett was blubbering pitifully. Curly walked over and ran his fingers over the raised stripes. Everett howled. The wounds were sensitive to the touch. Now both Larry and Curly began to fondle Everett’s torn flesh. Curly licked one of his fingers, and Larry held the cheeks apart while Curly stuck his finger in the man’s ass. He moved it back and forth, and gave Larry a smile of approval. Larry started giggling again.
They both started taking off their clothes and letting them drop onto the thick mat. Curly got down on his knees and took Larry’s cock in his mouth to give it a good wetting. Larry had a very impressive rod there, and as a matter of fact, so did Curly. They were of similar length and thickness, but Larry’s was ramrod straight, and Curly’s bent upward a little. It almost curled. I wondered it that’s how he got the name Curly.
Larry burrowed into Everett’s ass, slapping the fleshy cheeks joyously with his flat palm as he fucked. It was like whipping a horse as you rode it. “Faster, faster, you bitch,” he screamed, and poor Everett tried to move his middle more. Anything to get Larry off and out of him. If he didn’t like this one, wait till he got the curly one, I thought. That was gonna be like getting fucked by Captain Hook.
Larry started making obscene noises and shivering all over. You almost thought that his cock was hurting him as the cum was spewing out. “GGGGHHH. GGGGHHHH.” And poor Everett who was getting the hot load in his guts remained perfectly silent. He just took it. What else could he do?
Larry stepped aside and Curly moved in. He seemed perfectly delighted with sloppy seconds. The hole was nice and wet for him now, and he wouldn’t have to scrape along. He was sliding in, and sliding down, just like on a ski slope. Only here, he didn’t have to wait for the lift to take his knob to the top. He just moved his hips back a little.
Suddenly I noticed that Everett was reacting. He was twitching his heiny around like crazy. Something was doing something to him. His ass was starting to be very happy. And then I figured it out. The curl must be stroking around on his prostate. Nothing but a great prostate stroke could make a guy as happy as Everett now seemed to be.
Everett was getting so into being fucked now, that he was starting to participate, which had the reverse effect of what he wanted. He wanted Curly to keep fucking him, but his behavior was making Curly want to cum. Curly’s load was cuming, and nothing was going to stop it. “Yaaach,” yelled Curly sharply as he shot. Having accomplished his mission he abruptly extracted his missile while it was still rigid and curly. A couple of more small jets of cum arched through the air onto the mat. Too bad. Everett could have had those.
“So now you see a little of what we have planned for you,” said Big Mickey evilly, smiling down at my helpless naked body.
“Please, no,” I begged. “I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“Anything? Then you’ll get the boy for me, yes?”
I paused. I did have my professional honor to consider. My reputation. I couldn’t let it get around that I had caved in to a big time hood. “No,” I answered. “I can’t do that.”
“Very well,” said Big Mickey. “You won’t do it now. Later on, you will. I promise you. Mo. Wilbur. He’s all yours.”
They moved Everett off the steel table and flopped him down on the mat. They moved me onto the steel table and cuffed my wrists. My vulnerable ass was in the air. I knew what was coming.
“Mo. Fifteen lashes,” announced Big Mickey.
I was outraged. “Fifteen!?!?” Everett only got ten.”
“Ahh, but your infraction is even worse than his. Go on, Mo.”
Mo raised the leather whip and splatted the straps against my tender ass. Whap. Whap. Whap. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. “GGGHHHHAAAA. GGGHHHHAAA. GGGGGHHHHAAAA.” That was me not the whip. The whip just went whap and thwack.
Finally it was over. Mo had worked up a nice little sweat. He was puffing a little from the exertion of beating someone’s ass to death. But he was smiling. “Can I fuck him now?” asked Mo beseechingly.
“In a little while, Mo. Be patient, dear boy,” said Big Mickey coming over and standing behind my ass. He rubbed my welts reflectively. “Have you ever had a cock up your ass, Mr. Piper?” he asked me.
“No!” I sputtered outraged. How dare he suggest that I’d had a cock up my ass?
“I suspected as much. A virgin hole. Sorry, Mo. You’ll have to wait a bit. I want to be the first one in that hole.” Mo stepped aside, and Big Mickey edged up to me. I could feel the rough material of his pants on my ripped cheeks. I heard him pull his zipper down, and I saw him going through some contortions as he dug his gangster dick out through the opening. It was already starting to get hard. He started playing with it with one hand, and feeding his finger into my hole with the other. “Larry. Would you be so good as to provide us with a little lubricant?” he asked crazy Larry, who was only too glad to oblige. He fell to his knees as if he’d been shot and devoured his boss’ cock, making joyful noises as he got it wet.
“Now him,” said Big Mickey. Larry lifted off of Big Mickey and brought his wet sloppy mouth over to my rectum, where he slobbered it, and got it real wet. He even dug his tongue through the opening. That was kind of okay.
But then he moved away and I could feel the blunt end of Big Mickey’s pole knocking for entrance. I tried to hold the door shut, but my asshole’s strength was no match for the force of Big Mickey’s lustful cock. He broke through the door and scooted down the long narrow hallway. The enemy was inside.
I know you’ve heard this before from guy’s who never thought they would dig getting fucked. But, yeah, I liked it. I admit it. Shoot me. How come so many guys are so hung up about having a fleshpole up their ass, when it feels so good? People were really screwed up. They were afraid they were gonna like it, and wouldn’t that be just terrible? So they had a conniption if anyone even mentioned assfucking or touched their butt or anything. Dumb shits.
Big Mickey shot his wad inside of me and it was warming me from the inside out. It seemed like cum was a natural energy source, and if we could get enough cum awash in the world, maybe we could even stop pumping oil. My rosette licked its lips when Big Mickey pulled out, savoring his root beer.
Then Mo and Wilbur started to get undressed. I had forgotten about them. The goons. But why the hell not? I liked getting fucked, so let them knock their brains out. Mo had a normally large cock. But, Wilbur. What he was packing between his legs was obscene. Who could possibly ever take something more than a foot long and almost six inches around. Who could possibly take that? Me? It seemed it was gonna be me.
Mo was a piece of cake. He slid it in and out and all around and I was loving it. A little more to the right, guy. That’s it, sweetheart. Now just a wee bit further in. Oh, yeah. Right there. Hit it there. That’s real nice. Fuck your good buddy, Mo. Fuck his hot ass. Plow that big cock up there. Oh, man. Yeah.
But all good things must come to an end and so did this. The whole thing had been about Mo getting off, and he got off. I had another hot manload in me and my pussy smacked its lips one more time.
But now the test. Wilbur with his monstrosity. I was tensing up even before he tried to put it in. No. No. I advised myself. Be loose. Go with it. Relax your body. Relax your whole body. Open it up. Ya gotta be open. Open to everything. Open to Wilbur’s phallic deformation. More than a foot. Wow. He pushed against me working the tip against my tight unwilling round muscle. My asshole was spreading, spreading, spreading. I screamed. My eyes were screwed shut, so I didn’t know who it was who put a bottle of funny smelling stuff under my nose. When I inhaled it, everything went kind of dark, and I could see my own asshole spreading for Wilbur’s human eel. The long eel was now swimming in more open waters, it’s little tail aflapping. My ass was spreading around Wilbur’s dick. It was way way up inside me. They gave me another sniff of that pain-deadening, sex-enhancing narcotic darkness. I went into a warm flush, and again it was like my eyes were in my ass, watching the cock going in. I wanted the cock in me. It felt good now. If I could just keep sniffing that stuff and getting rammed with that big cock……..
But this good thing came to an end too. Another load of scum bubbled into my asshole. When Wilbur pulled out his enormous plug, the scum bubbled out and down my legs and onto the mat. Well. I had gotten through that. I had braved it, and Harold was still safe. I had kept the boy out of their evil clutches. I felt ennobled. If only I could have used that in my advertising. ‘I got fucked in the ass, but I kept my client safe.’
But I wasn’t finished. They had more fun and games in store for me. Larry went into the dungeon next door and wheeled in some kind of a machine. They wheeled it behind my behind. It was some kind of motorized dildo. A fucking machine. They plugged it into my wet ass, but they didn’t turn on the motor yet.
Next they went and dragged Everett off the floor. They laid him down on the table with his legs hanging over, his cock in front of my mouth. They cuffed his hands above his shoulders onto the table. They moved me in closer, and now they raised Everett’s legs and hung them over my shoulders. He was triangularized around my face.
“Suck him,” ordered Big Mickey.
I bent my head down and took Everett’s floppy wiener in my mouth. His wiener had been cold, but now it was cooking on the grill that was my tongue. It was getting bigger and stiffer and longer and harder.
“That’s good,” appraised Big Mickey. And suddenly my head was forced all the way down till my lips were tangled in Everett’s pubic bush. The cock was lodged in my throat and I was choking. I thought I would vomit. I thought I would pass out. I struggled to accommodate Everett’s rigid penis. Suddenly hands were everywhere. I didn’t know what was happening, but after that I couldn’t move. I was locked in place with the stiff cock down my gullet. I coughed and dribbled, as I realized that they had wound a mile of duct tape around us. Around my head. Around Everett’s ass. We were taped together from here to eternity.
I had so much agony in my throat, that I had forgotten about the machine in my asshole. Now Big Mickey flipped a switch and the motor started, and the artificial cock was mechanically and rhythmically plunging in and out of my increasingly sore tunnel. I tried to moan out in protest, but Everett’s big dick was down my throat and only gargles came out.
“I think they’ll be fine for a while,” Big Mickey said to his thugs. “Have fun boys. We’ll be back later.” They left, and Everett and I and the machine were alone together.
I think Everett knew what his cock was doing to my throat, and he was trying to will it down. “Sorry about this, man,” he muttered to me. I just sputtered.
“I’m trying to lose the boner, but it just won’t go down. Your throat is so fucking hot,” he was complimenting me, I think. I sputtered again.
“AAAAGGGGHHH. AAAAGGGHHH. AAAAGGGG.” He was tossing his juice straight down my esophagus into my stomach. I didn’t even taste it. At least now his cock would shrink and I would be able to breathe.
Wrong. He came, and as my throat closed down on his tube, it hardened again. Over the next hours, he shot and hardened, he shot and hardened. It was endless. I think he was getting weak, but my throat action was too much to resist. His cock was just not going to rest in such a hospitable location. And there was no dinner break. Everett was probably starving, but the protein shake I was ingesting from his cock and balls was at least giving me some nourishment.
Meanwhile the machine was assplugging me. In and out and in and out and in and out—endlessly—the machine was not going to shoot a load. In and out and in and out and…..to infinity, and my asswalls were on fire. I never felt such pain. I was being fucked raw. Between the pain and the lack of air, I was starting to lose consciousness. I was gonna pass out. Yeah. I was gonna pass out.
And then I went down. Down. Down. Down. Down to another planet. Down to another world. Red smoke was swirling all around me as I fell and fell and fell. A hundred stories. I knew I was going to crash, but I never did. Finally I landed at the bottom and took a step, but the bottom was only a ledge, and I fell and fell and fell. Down. Down. Down. Another hundred stories to another planet which was only another ledge. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I knew I was going to crash and burn. Another swirl of red smoke closed around me, and I heard strange echoey, ghostly voices in my head. I couldn’t make out what the voices were saying, because I was falling, falling, falling. Down. Down. Down.
As I painfully opened my eyes, I saw Big Mickey’s face peering into mine. I looked at him sideways, because I still had Everett’s big cock down my throat. And it was still hard. “Grraahh,” uttered Everett weakly as he shot another weak watery load down my gastrointestinal tract.
“Well?” asked Big Mickey. He cut the tape on one side and lifted my head so I could answer.
“The kid’s yours,” I assured him.
“Good. Now you see. If you’d only been reasonable to begin with, we could have avoided all this unpleasantness.” He turned to Everett. And what about you? When can I expect my money?”
“I’ll sell my house,” Everett decided.
“There. You see how easy life can be,” said Big Mickey. His smile was a mile wide. The goons looked at each other and nodded happily.
The next night we went to collect Harold. Big Mickey got out his big black stretch limousine. Larry drove and Curly sat next to him in the front seat. Way back on the wide back seat, I sat at one window and Big Mickey sat at the other. There would be plenty of room between us for the boy. Mo and Wilbur sat facing us in the rear of the long limo. I stared fixedly out the window at the night sky, because every time I looked across the small space in front of me, Wilbur would catch my eye and start stroking his enormous bulge. At least it was dark enough so that he couldn’t see how red my face got every time I looked at his crotch. Despite myself, he was making me hot.
My job was to return to the house as if nothing had ever happened, and bring Harold out to the car. I wasn’t looking forward to the task. We drove for about an hour, and I could see the Millicent Arbagast estate looming in front of the windshield. Larry pulled up about fifty yards from the front gate and I got out. I walked to the gate, feeling nervous and exposed. I rang the bell. The voice box answered. It was Phipps.
“Yes? Who is it?”
“It’s me, Phipps. Peter Piper. Open up.”
“We expected you back two days ago.”
“I got delayed,” I said. “Open up.”
I heard a buzzer and a release in the gate. I pushed on it. It opened. I was in. So far, so good. I walked down the long path from the gate to the steps leading up to the front door. I climbed the steps and rang the bell. The door swung open. Phipps stood there. I pushed past him.
“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“Mrs. Arbagast and Master Harold are in the library,” he answered. I nodded and walked down the hall. I could hear the television through the door. They were watching Jeopardy, and Harold was showing his mother he was smarter than any of the contestants.
“Wonderful, darling. How do you know all that?” she enthused.
I pushed open the door, and she and I looked at each other. “Where have you been?” she asked. You were supposed to be back two days ago. I should fire you, you know.”
“I know. You should. You really should,” I admitted. “Hello, Harold,” I said nodding to the attractive blonde boy.
“Hello,” he said, smiling faintly. I think he was glad to see me. I think he maybe was missing a little something when I wasn’t around.
“Mrs. Arbagast, I’m afraid we’re going to have to have a little talk.” She looked up at me with a puzzled expression.
“I’m going to have to take Harold.”
“What?” She didn’t even know what I was talking about. I pulled out my pistol and held it on the two of them. Harold’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Come on, Harold. Come over here. I’m taking you to your father.”
Harold started walking over to me like a good boy, but his mother was not so agreeable. With a samurai shout, she came tearing across the room, aiming to put me down for the count. I put out my arm and shoved her backwards. She went sprawling on the floor.
“You, bastard,” she screamed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t have any choice.”
“How much is he paying you? I’ll double it.”
“It’s not money,” I said. “It’s my life. If I don’t do this, there are people who will kill me.”
She burst into a crying fit. “No. No. No,” she sobbed. “Harold, my baby.” She threw out her arms, beseeching him not to go with me. He came with me. He walked in front of me down the hall to the front door, while I held the gun in my hand. Phipps was standing there like a statue, his eyes glued to the weapon. I waved the gun a little to tell him to get out of the way. We went out the front door, and back down the long path, and through the gate. Larry gunned the motor and the big vehicle pulled up directly in front of us. The back door opened, and I helped Harold get in the long car. Big Mickey took his arm, and sat Harold down next to him on the back seat. I climbed in and sat at my window, on the other side of Harold. Nobody said anything. We drove in silence. Occasionally I would glance across from me, and note that Wilbur was tenting for Harold as well as for me. Horny hung bastard.
We drove more than three hours and pulled up in front of another big estate.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“My father’s mansion,” said Harold.
“Holy hell. It’s bigger than the other place.”
“My father’s richer,” stated Harold.
This time the gates swung open on their own as we approached, and the big limo proceeded down the long driveway, stopping at the very front door. Larry shut off the motor and we all got out. The front door opened. Standing there was a well-tailored English valet.
“Mr. Arbagast is in the library,” he told Big Mickey. He said ‘library’ funny. He kind of slurred it.
“Thanks, Mason,” said Big Mickey. Apparently he was a frequent visitor. We walked down the hall. Big Mickey had his arm enlaced with Harold’s. He pushed open the library door, and there in a big fancy lounging chair was the impressive Mr. Marvin Arbagast. He was a big, powerful, lion-like blonde man. An older more masculine version of Harold. His complexion was pink under his blonde whiskers.
He got out of the chair and held his arms open. “Harold. My boy,” he said.
Harold immediately broke free of Big Mickey. He ran across the room and threw himself into his father’s large embracing arms. Harold hugged him desperately around the waist.
“Oh, daddy. Oh, daddy,” he cried. “She wouldn’t let me see you.”
“I know, honey. I know. But you’re here now.” They hugged each other like sumo wrestlers. Harold tilted his boyish face up, and Arbagast tilted his down, and before I knew it, they were madly soulkissing. They were sucking each other’s tongues. Harold was playing with his father’s bulge, and Arbagast was stroking the back of his son’s pants. All this, right in front of everyone. Big Mickey smiled knowingly.
“I’ll send you a check tomorrow,” Arbagast told Big Mickey.
“What do you want us to do with him?” Big Mickey asked, meaning me.
“Get rid of him,” said Arbagast.
“Oh, no, daddy,” said Harold. “He’s nice. I like him. Let me keep him.”
“You want him?” the father asked.
“Then you got him,” said Mr. Arbagast, again kissing his son’s already irritated red lips and sucking them into his mouth. His hands were kneading the kid’s ass.
“Oh, thank you, Daddy,” said Harold, and gave me a little wink. I was saved. The kid had saved my life. I was in his debt forever.
“Okay,” said Big Mickey. “We’ll be going now. Come on, boys.” He gathered his goons and they went toward the front door. Wilbur gave me a last lascivious look from down the hall, just before he went out into the dark night. He ran his tongue over his lips.
Mr. Arbagast lifted his face off his son’s for a moment. “You can be my son’s bodyguard,” he said to me. “I’ll hire you as his body guard. I want you to be with him every second I’m not around. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed. Old job. New employer.
“How much was the cunt paying you?”
“Three thou a week,” I said honestly.
“I’ll make it four,” he said.
“Great,” I answered. “I had stumbled into a wonderful new profession. Personal bodyguard. Mr. Arbagast pulled a thick silken cord on the wall. From somewhere far away in the house, I could hear chimes. After a few minutes, Mason appeared.
“Mason,” Mr. Arbagast told him. “Mr. Piper is going to be staying with us. He will be Master Harold’s new bodyguard. I want him to sleep in the antechamber.”
Antechamber. That sounded real fancy. Like more than a room. Actually it was a room, but it was just outside Mr. Arbagast’s bedroom door. Which meant you had to go through my room to get to his. Which meant that if someone wanted to kill Mr. Arbagast, they would, of course, have to kill me first. Oh, well. Every job has its hazards, I supposed.
Mr. Arbagast went into his bedroom and brought me out a pair of his own striped silk pajamas. He brought me a toothbrush, and showed me where the bathroom was. I was waiting for him to go into his room, but he just stood there with Harold next to him waiting for me to get ready for bed. I guess he wanted to know how the pajamas fit me. I took off my clothes, and stood there bare-ass while he appraised me, and my dangling big dick. I put on the pajama shirt and buttoned it. I wanted to give him a little more time to survey my equipment, if that’s what he wanted. Then I stepped into the pants part. The pajamas were way too big for me. When I took a step, they caught under my feet, and I kept having to roll back the sleeves.
“We’ll get you some of your own pajamas tomorrow,” Arbagast laughed, amused at the guy in the extra-large PJ’s. “Come on, Harold,” he said. “Time for bed.” He took Harold’s hand and led him into the master bedroom and closed the door. After brushing my teeth I got into my own bed in the antechamber, right outside their door. I was bushed. I had been through mucho. I really wanted to go to sleep, and was just about to doze off, when I heard sounds.
“Ohhhh. Ohhhh. Daddy. Ohhh. Ohhhh. Yes. Daddy. Do it.”
“My baby boy. My precious baby boy. Suck your daddy’s big cock. That’s it, honey. That’s good. That’s soooo good. Yes.”
“Fuck me, daddy. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your big thick daddydick in my hot asshole. Fuck me, daddy.”
“Anything you want, baby. Anything my baby wants.” I heard some creaks in the springs, and then…
“AAARRGGGHH, yes, daddy. That’s it. That’s it. I feel your big cock in my hole. It feels so wonderful. Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me.”
“I’m fucking you, baby. I’m gonna fuck my little guy’s ass every night till the end of time. Let that bitch try to take you away again. You’re mine. Your ass is mine.”
I actually shot a load, listening to the two of them go at it. I had never heard anything so hot in my life. I lay there with scum dribbling out of my dick, staining the pants part of my silk pajamas. I ruefully remembered that you couldn’t even wash silk. They would have to go out for a dry cleaning.
The next day they bought me my own silk pajamas. A lot of them. I was staining every fucking night. I think Mason had told Mr. Arbagast about my nocturnal emissions, and he was amused. Harold and I played croquet every day and watched reruns of Jeopardy so he could show me how smart he was, and every night I would eagerly wait for the powerful blonde stud to bang his young son, so I could get off on the sex sounds. I was sort of like a voyeur, but I didn’t get off on watching. I got off on listening.
After a couple of weeks, one night they went into the bedroom, and I got into the sack and turned out the light. I was anxiously waiting for my ‘program’ to begin, when the door opened. Framed in the light of a lamp, was a large naked Mr. Arbagast. I stared at his enormous dick. No wonder Harold couldn’t wait to get back to his father.
“Harold would like you to join us.” he said. “Harold says he likes it when you fuck him.”
“Does he? I’m glad.”
“Come on.” He stretched out an arm and led me into the large master bedroom. Harold was lying naked on the satin sheets, his legs splayed apart, like waiting for someone to crawl between them, to stuff a cock down into his little hole. All he had to do was raise his legs. He looked good.
I started to take off my silk pajamas, and dropped them by the side of the enormous bed. “Room enough for three,” I thought. I crawled up on the bed, and Arbagast guided me till I was straddling his son’s face. Harold opened his mouth, and my dick disappeared. Ahh. The Case of the Disappearing Dick. This was an interesting case. I hoped I didn’t solve it too quickly.
Harold munched and munched on my member with great enjoyment. His father looked on lovingly, enjoying the spectacle, and fondling my see-saw asscheeks. Then he moved me to Harold’s side and took my place on the boy’s face, feeding his own outsized pecker between his son’s jaws. Harold’s cheeks were hollowing in, every time he took a big suck on his dad’s giant rammer. I played with myself as Mr. Arbagast fucked his kid’s mouth, and then daringly I raised one hand and stroked Mr. Arbagast’s round fleshy cheeks, as they clenched and unclenched and clenched again.
“I know what Harold would really like,” announced Mr. Arbagast.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A double fuck. A little DP. A little double penetration. You’d like that wouldn’t you, son?”
“Oh, yes, daddy. I think I’d like that a lot. What a good idea.”
Arbagast patted his son’s cheek. “I thought you would,” He said.
I had no idea how we were going to accomplish this, so I let Arbagast take complete charge. He seemed to have the strategics worked out. “Move over, Harold,” he instructed. “Let Mr. Piper lie down.” Then he turned to me. “Get in the middle of the bed and lie on your back.” I followed his instructions to the letter, as if he were my drill sergeant.
“Harold. Get down there and suck on Mr. Piper’s big dick. Get it nice and hard.”
Harold also followed instructions, and it felt terrific. He sucked my dick, he slurped my balls into his mouth. He went back to my dick. It was terrific. Mr. Arbagast had reached for something on the night table. It was lube. He rubbed it all over my big dick. He rubbed it all over his bigger dick. He started feeding into Harold’s little ass with his long fingers. I watched the digits twisting around in Harold’s delicious hole. My dick was gonna be in there in a few minutes. Yeah. And four thousand a week.
“Harold. Climb over Mr. Piper, and sit down on his dick. But face away from him. Face his feet.” Harold grabbed my pole and held it in position as he lowered his butt onto it. I couldn’t see the look of pleasure that must have been sweeping across his face at that moment, because he was facing my feet. But his hole was starting to surround my dick, and now he was sitting down. Yes. His cheeks were warming my abdominals. He was squeezing his tunnel all around my flesh, and moving up and down. Damn it. This was good.
Suddenly I felt my legs being spread apart. Arbagast was crawling between them. He stood on his knees, and when he was in position, he grabbed Harold, and they started tongue-sucking again. Then he lifted Harold legs, so that Harold was like a top, spinning on my dick. His legs were in the air, and my dick was the only thing that was holding him up. My dick in his ass was his only connection to the earth. “Lie back on his chest, Harold,” Arbagast instructed. Harold stretched out on me, and I started flexing into him.
Then I felt Arbagast’s hot wide meat rubbing against the bottom of my prick while I was outstroking, and then there was pressure, and Harold was moaning. “MMMMMMM.MMMMMM.” Papa was pushing his dick into Harold’s ass right on top of mine. “How the hell was Harold gonna take two big dicks in that little hole of his?” I wondered. The second dick was spreading, spreading, spreading the hole, and now a little of it was getting inside, and it was a real tight fit, but a little more was getting in, and our two cocks were dueling inside Harold, and I’d never felt anything like this in my life. Well, almost.
Now he was all in. Our cocks were as one, and our balls were kissing each other’s balls. Never were two guy’s cocks so together. I raised my arms around Harold, and grabbed at Arbagast’s ass. He lowered his arms around Harold and grabbed at my ass. We were a Harold sandwich. He fucked Harold. I fucked Harold. And we coordinated our movements into a machine-like perfection. We both slammed in together, and we both eased out together.
“We’re fucking my boy,” observed Arbagast.
“Yeah. Fucking him,” I agreed breathlessly.
Arbagast must have really been turned on, because while we were fucking, he moved Harold’s upper torso slightly to the side, and bent over it, to sink his large tongue into my mouth. Now it was Arbagast and me who were sucking tongues, and Harold was just lying there helpless but happy with two monster dicks plowing into the deepest recesses of his rectal chamber.
“I’m gonna cum,” said Arbagast. “Can you cum with me?”
“Yes,” I said. We both started pounding furiously, the scorching loads building in our respective balls, and then there was even less space in Harold’s ass as we both swelled up, but then the juices started to flow, and I could feel his bathing my cock, and he could feel mine bathing his cock, and Harold could feel both emissions bathing his hot hole, and he came, and everybody was screaming in lust and passion and fulfillment. “GGGGRRRRRRAAAAAA. GGGGGRRRRRAAAAAAHHH.” Etc.
“By the way,” Mr. Arbagast whispered in my ear. “Feel free to fuck Harold any time. Any time at all. You have my permission.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Thank you, daddy,” murmered Harold.
“Anything for my boy, you know that.” And they kissed again.
I keep ruminating on the strange turns my life has taken. From a broken-down private eye with a run-down shabby office, I was now living in the lap of luxury. The best clothes. The best pajamas. Great pay. And a beautiful young ass to fuck whenever I felt like it. It was all like a dream. It was all like a movie. It was all like one of those black and white movies they used to make in Hollywood back in the 1940’s. I think now they have a name for that kind of movie. It’s called ‘film noir’.