Revenge of the Dec

As always, this story is entirely the product of the author's sick and demented mind. The story is the final phase of Harry Dick's Christmas Story, written at the suggestion of a number of writers on Literotica. My thanks to DanielleKitten for her read as I was composing this little tale and anyone else who gets a chuckle from my character's antics. For those who are offended by this silly story, I suggest you consult a priest or someone else who gives a shit. Frankly, I don't.

The incredible, intelligent, sophisticated and handsome Private Detective, Harry Dick, waved his monolithic pork sword at the big boobed blond who wore nothing but a white tutu with little pink Valentine hearts and knelt on the floor in front of him. A sly, knowing smile crossed his lips as he gave the blond his best Bogart, icy stare.

"Oh, God, Harry. I gotta have that. I need it," the blond swooned. "It's the biggest, most perfect cum stick I've ever seen." She tentatively reached out to touch Harry's Cock. "Harry, it's wonderful. I've never seen any cock like this -- ever."

"Go ahead, baby. Give it your best shot," Harry told her with an evil leer.

The blond gently wrapped her hands around the shaft of Harry's enormous boner and moved her mouth to it. Her tongue licked out to sample the pre-cum that glistened on Harry's Cock's one eye, then plunged the whole salami deep into her throat.

At that moment, the phone on Harry's desk in his cheap third floor walk-up office began to ring.

"Oh, fuck!" thought Harry out loud as he opened his eyes. The light in the office was as dim as Harry's mood at being interrupted in the middle of one of his favorite day dreams. Harry grabbed the phone. "Dick here. What do you want?" he said in a rough voice.

"Harry, you been jacking off again?" came the voice of the insane prone and mystery writer, Jenny Jackson.

"Fuck you, Jackson."

"Now Harry. I just called to give you a heads up. There's shit going down over in the Bronx."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know, Jenny. Another one of your stupid stories. Fuck off."

"Yeah. Fuck off, Jenny," chimed in Harry's Cock.

"Pipe down, you little dick or I'll make you fall off," Jenny said. The smirk in her voice as completely audible over the phone. "Now look Valentine's Day is coming and I have an idea."

Harry's Cock closed his one eye and laid back on Harry's leg to sulk.

"Now listen up, Harry. That Scabies guy is acting up again. Remember the doctor that wanted to amputate your cock to cure the clap? That was his writing, not mine. I was just going to give you a long series of painful injections."

"Hmmm," thought Harry. "That does sound more like Jenny Jackson alright."

"So? What am I supposed to do about it?" he said aloud into the phone.

"Look, Scabies fucked up Christmas and you took the blame. So now it's Valentines day and time for you to get you revenge. Are you in?"

"Do I have a choice? You're writing me. So, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to get down to the Calcagno's Deli on 4th Avenue. I'll meet you there. And I'm bringing a friend. We are going to have a little Valentines party for Scabies." Jenny hung up the phone.

"Calcagno's Deli? Isn't that the joint with...?" wondered Harry.

"Mmm. Calcagno's Deli," thought Harry's Cock.

"Hey, Harry. Ain't Calcagno's the joint with the dark haired babe behind the counter with the really big tits?"

Harry Dick put his private eye mind to work. He closed his eyes and began to visualize Calcagno's daughter, Annalisa. In his mind he was burying his face between her two gigantic kazongas, her hard, erect nipples tickling his ears.

"Oh, Harry," in his mind he could imagine Annalisa moaning with a swoon. "You do me just right, baby."

"Umm. Harry?" asked Harry's Cock. "Aren't we supposed to be somewhere?"

Harry opened his eyes and sat upright in his cheap office chair. "Oh, yeah. Let's go."

Ten minutes later, Harry and his Cock were pretending to peruse the fine, imported Capicola in the display case inside Calcagno's Deli. Secretly, both Harry and Harry's Cock were watching Annalisa's knockers jiggle and bounce as she went about her work.

"Okay. You's guys gonna buy something?" Annalisa asked over the counter.

"Oh yes," Harry answered immediately. He could see her delicious bazookas pressed against the glass on the opposite side of the display case."We'd like a big slice of your whoppers...I mean...um..."

"We wanna see um for real," squeaked Harry's Cock.

"Whoppers? What da fuck you think dis is? Berger King or something?" demanded Annalisa.

Harry's Cock tried his best to not look embarrassed. Harry himself tried to appear like a real shopper and began to babble something about bologna. Annalisa was not impressed.

"Right, Harry. If there's anything you ain't got any use for is big piece of meat," came the voice of the insane mystery and porn writer, Jenny Jackson, from the front door. "Now get out here. We have shit to do."

Harry stood erect and smiled at Annalisa. "I'll have to catch those...I mean, you later, doll." Then he turned and swaggered towards the front door.

Annalisa called after him, laughing, "Hey, what you doing swaggering like dat? You think you a fucking pirate or something?" The laughter was audible even after the front door closed.

Harry was red-faced with humiliation. Harry's Cock even more so. Both grumbled loudly.

"Look. I want you to meet a friend of mine. Harry, this is DaniKat, writer of exceptional abilities."

Harry looked at the dark haired, smiling face of the writer. "Pleased to meet you, Ms Kitten," he mumbled. Then to Jenny, "Okay. What's this all about, Jackson?"

Jenny smiled and said, "Dani and I have been writing up a little Valentine's Day party for Scabies. Are you in?"

"Depends, Jenny," Harry said trying to act disinterested. "What's in it for me?"

"Psst. The Kitten broad has a nice rack, Harry. I'm definitely in," whispered Harry's Cock.

"Jesus Christ, Jenny. His little prick talks," laughed Danielle.

Stretching to his full, though unimpressive stature, Harry's Cock said angrily, "Of course I talk. I'm the star of this series."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm the star here. You're just a secondary character or appendage or something. Now shush," Harry told him in a low but firm tone.

"Now stop it," Jenny told them both. "We have work to do. Harry, we are going to need your secretary, Maria, in this thing. I have a shopping list for you. This is what I want you to do..."

The following day was February 14th, Valentine's Day. Jenny called the NoTell Motel on Lost Ball Avenue in Flushing and booked two rooms for the night. She told the desk clerk that Harry and Maria would be there to pick up the keys and leave some things for a Valentine party later that night.

At 4:30 PM, Harry and Maria arrived at the motel. Harry entered the office and said to the desk clerk, "I'm Harry Dick. Jenny Jackson called an reserved a room for our little party tonight."

The desk clerk stared at Harry for a moment, then said, "Ain't you the guy that busted Santa Claus and ruined Christmas?"

Harry's Cock whispered from inside Harry's pants, "Lie, Harry. Lie"

Harry looked embarrassed but managed, "Naw. That was some other guy. Now what about a key?"

The desk clerk eyed Harry dubiously. "You sure look like the fella I saw in

The Times,

. Then shaking his head he turned to a large board of keys, selected one and handed it to Harry. "Number Five. Just over by the corner." The clerk motioned absently then turned away and resumed listening to

Gang Busters

on his old Victorola.

"NoTel Motel?" exclaimed Maria. "That's just fucking nasty. But then, look who booked it." Maria rolled her eyes at the thought of Jenny Jackson. "So what else is in this little shit-pot town, Harry.

Harry had to think a minute. "There's a big factory over on the east side. American Standard. They make toilets, I think."

All Maria could do was shake her head at the low end, potty humor in this story.

Harry was digging in the trunk of his prized Packard. "Come and help me with this, would you. And you have to get dressed for your part too."

"I saw the costume Jenny picked out for me. Can I really even fit into that?"

"That's the idea, Maria. She wants you falling out of that thing. It's all part of the plan." Harry snickered at the thought of Maria's oversized fun bags flopping out of the tiny top she was to wear.

"And why did I have to come all the way across Brooklyn to Flushing to find this guy?"

"Like I explained. Scabies goes to his favorite bar every night, The Potty Hole, in Flushing. That's where you have to meet him. So, that's why we're here."

"Potty Hole? Toilets? Flushing, New York? Jenny wrote this didn't she," Maria said with distaste as she helped Harry carry a large crate into the motel room.

Back at the office of Harry Dick - Private Investigator, Jenny and Danielle were busy on the phone.

"Look, you just have to make a quick appearance. I know what a horn-dog you are. This will be the best you've ever had. Trust me. He's hung like a bull. Then the whole thing is over. You get yours. Our friend gets his and everyone goes home happy. Okay?" Danielle said into the phone. The anger was clearly showing on her face, but her voice was as sweet as Mrs. See's Candy.

"Well, I might just have let your son know exactly what happened when he was conceived then. You know what I'm talking about. His daddy ain't really his daddy. His daddy is more like the seventh fleet. I doubt your husband will much like it either. Besides, I know about your little Tuesday night trysts with the garbage man while your hubby is playing poker. Just think of this as a special treat."

Jenny looked over and grinned. "I love it when I can write nasty shit about someone."

"Yeah. The guy's a real stud and hung like a beast. I promise. Okay? Be there at 8:00 PM sharp. Room six," Danielle said hanging up the phone. She turned to Jenny. "It's working and I love it!"

At seven-thirty Maria, dressed in the slinkiest, most revealing and obviously, three sizes too small, gown she had ever worn got out of a cab in front of the Potty Hole in Flushing, New York. She paid the driver and opened the door of the club to peer inside.

The Potty Hole was dark but she could make out a long bar along the left side, a small stage with a brass pole in the right rear corner which had a fifty-year-old with saggy boobs and butt swinging on it and a few tables with cheap candles stuck in whiskey bottles flickering. Here and there were cheap, pink Valentines decorations that did nothing to brighten the gloom. A drunk sat next to a jukebox near the door singing along with Frank (Old Blue Eyes) Sinatra while waving his empty glass at the bartender.

"Get outta here, you drunken fuck," the bartender yelled. The drunk gave the bartender the finger and continued singing louder than ever.

Maria spotted Scabies sitting at the far end of the bar. She slinked to the center of the bar with an exaggerated wave of her hips that left her bare ass cheeks hanging below her hemline and took a seat on a bar stool next to him.

"What'll it be, baby?" asked the bartender.

"Well," said Maria loud enough she was sure Scabies could hear. "I can't make up my mind. What do you think? Should I have a "Between the Sheets" or a "Long Hard Ride?" Maria smiled sweetly.

Scabies jumped from his bar stool and sidled up to Maria. "I'll take care of this, Jake."

Maria batted her eyes at, Scabies. "Why, thank you. What do you think I should have?"

Scabies rubbed his crotch knowingly and smiled a toothy grin. Maria noticed his teeth were a weird green color and seemed kind of hairy for some reason.

"Give the lady a Manhattan, Jake. It's on me." Scabies offered his hand. "I'm a famous writer," Scabies, announced. "In fact, I'm the most famous writer in the world."

"Glad to meet cha." Maria smiled warmly taking Scabies hand. "Hey. You have the hairiest palms I've ever seen."

"Uh. Yeah. It's a...a... a genetic thing. Okay?" Scabies looked embarrassed for a moment then quickly changed the subject.

"That's a really nice rack, baby," he said in his most suave in sophisticated voice. "An big brown nipples too. I have a thing for nips like that."

"Oh, Mr. Scabies," Maria exclaimed with a broad, faked grin. "You are such a flatterer."

"Yeah, well. I'm like that. Now tell me..." Scabies eyes were glued to Maria's rockets. "What would it take to get between your legs?"

"Oh. But I hardly know you, Mr. Scabies."

"Across the street, little Billy Malone pulled a cell phone out of his coat pocket and dialed Harry Dick's office.

"Cock...I mean Dick Investigations," Jenny answered the phone.

"It's me, Billy. The broad with the big tits arrived and is talking to Scabies now."

"Okay, Billy. Just keep watch. When they leave call me again." Jenny hung up the phone.

Jenny checked her watch. 8:04 PM, then picked up the phone and called Harry who was waiting in Room 6 at the Motel.

"Have the rest of the guys arrived, Harry?"

"Yeah. Wilber from

The Times

got here a few minutes ago and so did the broad. The photographer will be here in a few minute."

"Good. Now get the broad dressed like I told ya. Maria and Scabies will be there shortly." Jenny hung up the phone and gave Danielle a thumbs-up. Both women began to laugh.

Back at the Potty Hole, Scabies was still rubbing his crotch.

"Hey baby. Let's blow this joint. We'll find a place where we can be alone."

"Well, I don't usually go out with men I just met," Maria said seriously. "But I do have a room at a hotel downtown. We could go there and send out of pizza or something."

"Yeah. Or something," growled Scabies. Drool ran from the corner of his mouth.

Together, Scabies and Maria left the bar and waved down a cab for the ten minute drive to the NoTel Motel.

Little Billy Malone dialed Harry's office number. "They just left."

"Okay, Billy. I'll write you a bigger part in my next episode."

As Maria and Scabies entered the motel room, they were greeted with a large banner that nearly covered the wall facing the door. It read, "

COME AND GET IT, BIG BOY!

, Little pink hearts hung from the ceiling and the pillows on the bed had been replaced with large, fluffy, red hearts.

"Scabies threw off his jacket and made a lunge for Maria's knockers. "Just a minute, big boy. I gotta get ready, ya know. Why don't you get in bed and I'll be right back."

Scabies jerked off his shoes and pants, then jumped into the sack. Maria turned out the lights and went into the bathroom and closed the door. Alone in the bathroom she reached in her purse and pulled out her cell phone and dialed Harry in the next room. "Go. The jerk is jerking off in the dark, Harry."

After covering all the windows and turning out the lights Harry Dick quietly opened the door connecting Room 5 with Room 6 and pushed the broad through into the room with Scabies. The broad giggled and fumbled in the dark until she finally found the bed and crawled in.

Within two seconds Scabies mouth was locked on the broad's left nipple, his hand between her legs. "Oh, baby."

After a full fifteen seconds of foreplay (the longest of his entire life) he hopped up on the broad, forced his throbbing two-inch man-meat deep inside her and began humping her for all he was worth.

Suddenly the connecting door between the two rooms flew open and the lights went on. Scabies looked up in surprise just as the photographer from

The Times

took his picture, the flash bulb momentarily blinding Scabies. Big blue and white dots swirled in front of his eyes for a moment. "Hey. Get the hell outta here!" Scabies screamed.

"You done yet?" the broad under him asked.

Scabies turned his head and stared. "Mom?"

"Scabies?" his mother gapped at him, then said, "It's really nice to see you, son. You should call more often. Now you wanna get off me, ya fucking pervert?"

Scabies mother swore under her breath. "DaniKat promised me the fuck of a lifetime, but this? And it was so small and quick. Jesus! He came in ten seconds."

After a few more photos the boys from

The Times

, Harry and Maria all jumped in Harry's Packard and took off for Lower Manhattan and the offices of Harry Dick, Private Investigator.

The next morning Harry looked at the front page of

The New York Times

and laughed. There was a picture of Scabies riding his mother with a horrified look on his face. The story went into all the gory details, including a list of his books. Further down in the article it was noted that book sellers all over New York were dropping his books from their shelves. The porn writers union was calling for a full investigation.

DaniKat popped the cork on a bottle of Mum's and poured out four glasses of champagne. Jenny, Danielle and Harry raised their glasses to toast a perfect plan.

"What the fuck? How am I supposed to toast? I ain't got no fucking arms," cried Harry's Cock.

Everyone had a good laugh except for Scabies, of course, who was toasting with bread and water in the New York City jail on a morals charges and Scabies father who was at that moment in a divorce lawyer's office just down the hall from the offices of Harry Dick, Private Investigations.