Tom

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.

I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...

This is the conclusion of my Tom series.

His phone rang. "Bentley," he answered.

"We have a body sir," the voice on the phone said, "IC1 female, age around thirty."

"Okay Christine, where?" An all too familiar phone call.

"Outside the precinct sir."

"Okay, I am on my way." He put his coffee down and grabbed his jacket and headed off. He had his blue strobe lights on, but not his sirens, there was not really a hurry, but he also didn't need to sit and wait for traffic lights to change.

He pulled up just outside the blue police incident tape tied between lamp posts. There were a few gawkers standing outside the tape looking on, inside the tape there was a tent erected to hide the scene from the onlookers.

"Sir," DS Christine Jackson greeted him. She pulled the screen to one side and they entered the tent. There was the body of a woman lying on the floor, a pool of blood by the body.

"Christine, what do we have?"

"Sir, a woman, stabbed with a single wound directly to the heart, death would have

been almost instantaneous."

"Any witnesses?"

"No sir, but we are asking people for any footage that they may have on mobile phones, and we also have a number of CCTV cameras, I have spoken to the operators, they will forward everything they have."

"Right."

He bent down to look at the body. A woman, around thirty or so years in age, blond haired, hair pinned back in a ponytail. She was wearing a cream-coloured mid-length dress and small heeled shoes. Beside her was a handbag and some bags of what looked like shopping. Spreading from her was a drying pool of blood. He crouched down and looked closely at her face.

She was wearing makeup, her lips had lipstick on them, her eyes were open, as was her mouth, her teeth, what little he could see, appeared in good condition. There was a small gold watch on her wrist, two rings on her finger, perhaps engagement and wedding, and there were stockings, or tights, on her legs. He would get a full report on her clothing when the pathologist team examined her.

He stood up. "Anything Christine?" He asked his detective sergeant.

"I did not notice anything special sir," she replied.

"No, nor did I. Right, they can take the body. Let's get back to the shop and get started."

Tom looked at the mark on his stairs and tutted, it was the remains of when Helen Henderson dripped his spunk on the stairs after he rough fucked her. He knew he should have cleaned it up, but, well, he couldn't be bothered.

At work Sandra kept coming by his desk, she wanted to know if he needed an Admin Assistant, and if they could go for another afternoon meeting. He just remained non-committal, although his dick hardened every time she came by and was doing its best to persuade him to acquiesce.

At home he had only been bothered by Helen from over the road. Until this evening that was. His front doorbell chimed. When he answered the door, it was Maisie Williams from next door.

"Hello Masie," he said, "how can I help you?" He wondered if someone had tried to deliver a parcel whilst he was out, and had left it with her instead.

"Hello Tom, I know it has been a while, and I just thought that I ought to pop around and just make sure that you are okay, you know, neighbourly."

What was this? Why was he suddenly so popular now that his wife was dead? Not, of course, that she actually had been his wife, only pretend, not that anyone knew.

"Well that is really nice of you," he said, "would you like to come in? I think I have a bottle of wine somewhere, we could share that."

"Well, that would be lovely Tom, yes, please, I would like that." He stepped to one side, and she entered and then followed him to the kitchen after he had shut the front door. Locking it too she noticed.

In the kitchen he retrieved the bottle of Chablis from the fridge and pulled the cork. He took two glasses from the cupboard and poured large glasses, almost half the wine gone in one serving each.

"Let's go in the lounge," he said passing her one of the two glasses.

Maisie followed him into the lounge and they sat opposite each other, she on the individual armchair, Tom on the sofa.

"Well," Tom said by way of inviting Maisie to speak.

"I was, no, I am wondering how you are Tom. I don't see you out and about much, and what happened to Jo was appalling, it really was, but I can't change that, none of us can, but that must have been an awful shock to you, just how are you feeling, really?" Eventually she took a breath and paused to take a sip of her wine.

She looked nervous to Tom, and her rushed words only added to that feeling. He looked across at her as she sipped at her wine. She was wearing a semi sheer white top through which he could just make out her bra, she had a blue cotton skirt on, and flatty shoes. No stockings or tights. On the chair beside her she had put her phone and house keys, no handbag.

"Oh Maisie, what can I say, everyone has been so kind, but no, we can't bring Jo back, Jo is gone forever." He leant back and took a mouthful of wine, allowing it to trickle slowly down his throat. Her top was partially unbuttoned, but that was normal he thought, it wasn't as if they had suddenly become unbuttoned, unlike Sandra, whose blouse buttons seemed somehow to unbutton themselves whilst he was at the bar purchasing their drinks.

Maisie took another drink, swallowed and then continued, "no, she is gone, and how are you coping Tom, I mean, really?"

"What can I say Maisie, I get very lonely, I don't see anyone. I go to work, and people seem unsure what to say or how to react, so they don't, I am pretty much left alone. Helen Henderson from over the road popped over to see how I was, and that is pretty much it. I had a really close, intimate life, and then one day that was all taken away. Now, nothing. TV is full of crime drama, so I don't watch that. I just sit."

"Oh, that is terrible Tom, you said an intimate life?"

"Well, yes, sorry, perhaps I am oversharing. Jo and me? Well, yes, we were, we loved each other, and we showed each other that every day." He wondered if he were going a little over the top, he decided he wasn't and he carried on. "And that intimacy has gone, I have nothing but memories and the time alone is very alone, I miss that physicality."

"Oh, Tom, that is so sad," she said, "yes, I heard you sometimes, I know that you had a close relationship."

"Oh gosh, Maisie, you heard us? Oh I am so embarrassed, my goodness. Those times are gone, and it saddens me so much." He managed to look as if he were about to cry, his face trembled and he blinked his eyes as if holding back tears."

"Oh Tom," she said and she put her wine glass down and got up and then sat next to Tom, putting her arm around him and pulling him close to her.

"Tom, it didn't matter that I could hear you, but you certainly seemed to give Jo an exceptionally good time by the sounds, oh yes, I was quite envious." Her hand rested on his thigh and she gave an almost imperceptible squeeze.

He pushed himself into her cuddle, feeling her breast on his chest. "Yes Maisie, I miss those moments, and I guess I always will, I don't expect I will ever get close enough to a woman again, no one is going to be interested in me, not like that." He managed a sorrowful gulp and a sharp intake of breath.

"Yes they will Tom, goodness, yes they will."

"No, Maisie, no they won't, I mean no one would be, I would never be able to find intimacy like that again, I am destined to live a loveless life."

She squeezed his leg again, his dick swelling had meant that her hand was much closer than she realised, and as his dick lurched in his trousers, she felt its movement. She looked into his eyes, seeing his sadness and she moved her hand and squeezed his dick through the fabric of his clothes.

"Don't," he gasped, "don't unless you mean it, I couldn't cope," he said, his lips quivering.

"I mean it," she said, her mouth closing the gap to his and kissing him as she undid the fly on his trousers.

He smiled inwardly, perhaps he should have been an actor. He flexed his dick, making it lurch into her hand. Maisie pulled his underpants down and grasped his dick, hot and hard, his breath gasping. "Take me upstairs Tom," she said letting go of his dick and standing up, pulling his hand to get him to his feet too.

"I'm not sure," he said, "I will let you down, it has been so long."

She leant forward and kissed him, pressing her body against his. "No, no you won't Tom, and I will show you there is life after Jo."

"Right Christine, what have we got?" Chris Bentley asked. It had been twenty four hours since the murder and he and Christine were seated in their office, coffees in hand and it was time to review what they had.

"Sir, we have CCTV from the streets, and also from a number of the shops where they had outfacing cameras. We also have two videos from members of the public that were filming in the area. I haven't finished going through them yet, but I have this one image that I want you to see."

She used her computer to display an image on the screen on the wall. It showed the victim and in close proximity what looked to be a male, hoodie and from the hoodie there was a peaked cap, a baseball type cap."

"We can't see his features," Chris said.

"No, but looking very much like the unsub. I am getting CCTV from further afield to see if we can get a clearer image of his face."

"Right. Any clue as to motive? Or do we think this is a random attack."

"Sir, no, not yet. She worked at the government lab on the outskirts, the one just off the ring road."

"Yes, the one with all the security?"

"Yes, we have an appointment," she looked at her watch, more for show than anything, she knew exactly what the time was, "in an hour with their HR people. They will tell us what they can."

"Okay. Before we go, anything in her shopping, or her clothes that might give us more insight?"

"No, her shopping was a new dress, women buy dresses, sometimes on a whim, sometimes for an occasion, we have no way of knowing which this was."

"Relatives?"

"Husband. He was at work at the time and is at home in shock."

"We will need to speak to him."

"Sir, of course."

In his bedroom Tom acted a little coy, almost unsure of how to make the right move. He wanted to act awkward, let her make the moves, let her unravel his insecurity, but he wanted her to hurry up about it, he needed his dick in her cunt.

She closed the gap to him and kissed him again and then she stepped back and slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, pulling it up and out from her skirt. She took the blouse off and placed it on the chair by the bed. Her skirt was next, the button and zip on the side and she let it fall, stooping down to pick it up and put it with her blouse. She stood and faced him, her chest heaving, her breasts confined by lace, her mound pronounced in the knickers that matched her bra. She pulled his polo shirt up over his head and dropped it onto the chair, she then undid the waist of his trousers, letting them fall, snagging at his knees.

She knelt before him and gripped his underpants, pushing them down, gathering his trousers along the way, and pushed them down to his ankles, tapping his left ankle so that he would lift it and she could remove his clothes. His dick was at her eye level. It was hard, jutting forwards, his foreskin pulled slightly back by his erection, the small pee hole in his glans just showing in the gap.

His balls hung low and looked large in their sac, his pubic hair cut short, almost completely shaved off, or perhaps, she thought, growing back, perhaps he and Jo had depilated themselves. She preferred no pubic hair, but in her limited experience, men rarely shaved theirs, although they liked their women shaved.

She leant forward and kissed the end of his dick and raised a hand, cupping his balls, they felt heavy in her hand. She squeezed them, feeling his wince, and then she let go of his balls and grasped the shaft of his dick, slowly easing his foreskin down, watching the skin slide over his glans and reveal his rim.

There was a redness and an edge of white to his rim, his glans was a shiny purple with streaks of red. Where his foreskin was attached just below his pee hole, the skin was white and was taught. She licked his glans, watching it glisten with her spittle. His taste was slightly salty with an undertone of metallicness.

She heard him gasp, she felt his tensions as she took his dick in her mouth, her tongue licking until it was pressed flat as his dick lodged in her throat, she had to fight the urge to gag, it had been a long time since she had someone so deep in her mouth. She bobbed on his dick, fucking him with her mouth as he stood there, his hands just hanging at his sides.

He looked down at the top of her head and decided that he had played bereft long enough.

"Oh God Maisie," he said, "I'm, oh my God, I mean, I didn't expect..."

He reached down and pulled her to her feet, his hands behind her back fumbling as if inexperienced with her bra. "God, I'm sorry," he said.

She put her hands behind her back and pushed his hands aside, she undid her bra. He pulled the straps forward and down off her arms, looking at her breasts.

"God Maisie," he said, his hands reaching out and cupping each breast, gently squeezing them as if sampling fruit at a green grocer's, "your boobs are incredible."

She smiled, at least he seemed to be coming a little out of his shell. She knew her breasts were nothing special. A D cup, and still on the upper part of her chest, gravity still being held at bay, but men, well, for some reason, men were just captivated by breasts.

Gulping audibly he sank to his knees and tentatively put his hands at her waist and pushed her knickers down, revealing her fanny. "Oh shit," he gasped.

Her fanny was completely clear of hair, not even a sign of stubble. Her crease was full and frontal, her clitoris sat within a small dimple at the top, her inner lips just showing between the two fat and plump outer lips. He leant forward and inhaled, a sweet and heady smell, oozing sexuality. He could see the glistening on her inner lips, she was ready.

He softly kissed her dimple, his tongue probing forward, feeling the small hard nubbin, feeling her body tremble, hearing her intake of breath. He slid his hands up her inner thighs and eased her fanny lips apart, running his tongue down her valley and then kissing her passionately over her fanny entrance.

"Oh my," she gasped, her knees feeling weak as his touch sent her pleasures flowing and her pressures building. Her buttocks tensed and her fingers curled and clenched.

He stood up, and as he stood, he let one hand stay pressing on her crease, a finger dipping into her fanny, wiggling, lifting her onto her toes, his finger going deeper inside her. She looked him in the eyes and then gasped as his finger pressed deeper, her eyes involuntarily closing as her pleasures streamed through her body.

"Oh God," she whispered, "oh God, Tom."

He pushed her to the bed, her knees bending and she fell back onto the mattress. He knelt between her legs and kissed her fanny, his tongue dabbing into her crease pressing at her urethra, his fingers making circles around her entrance, dipping two fingers into her opening, tasting her as she lay panting, her breath gasping and gulping.

He ran his tongue from her clitoris along her valley and to her entrance, licking his fingers and pressing his nose on her clitoris as his fingers edged ever deeper inside her fanny, widening, stretching her fanny, filling her. He could hear her gasps and feel her tremors as her fanny clenched around his fingers.

'Oh my God' she mentally gasped. She had thought that she would seduce him and that he would just stick his dick inside her. That would have been the start, she would be able to seduce him more each time she saw him, expecting him to be feeling dead, she had wanted to be the one that awoke him. She was wrong.

He was possessing her, she could not control her own body, the pleasures were flooding her senses, he had only used his mouth and fingers, not even his dick and she was close to exploding. She was gasping, she was bucking beneath him, what was he? Some Lothario? Had he seduced Jo into submission? Had he fooled her with his fumbling?

Her thoughts vanished as any musings were wiped away by her orgasm erupting. She shrieked, she screamed, she gasped, her back arched her fingers scrunched, her fingernails digging into her palms, she made the noises that she had so often heard Jo make. As suddenly as it arrived, her tensions left and she lay back on the bed, her muscles refusing to work, she lay gibbering as Tom continued to lick and suck her fanny, the pleasures becoming small pains, her body crying out for respite.

"Stop," she gasped, "give me a moment."

He withdrew his fingers slowly, watching her fanny partially close, her labia quivered and her buttocks clenched and unclenched. He pushed up to his hands and knees and then rolled over to lay beside her, his dick pointing up towards his face.

"God, I'm sorry," he said, "I am just out of sorts."

She rolled over and looked at him. "Sorry? You're bloody sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, my God Tom."

"I thought I hurt you, I thought I had lost my touch."

"May the Lord help me if you ever get it back."

"Oh," he said, his smile broad inside but his face straight externally. Another conquest, he wondered how many neighbours he could gather into his circle.

"Fuck me," she said, "I need your dick inside me."

"Sir," Christine said, "I have found an image of him from further down where he hadn't put his hood up, his face is clear."

Bentley looked at the image. It was the same hoodie and trousers; shoes looked the same too. He was assured in his own mind that this was the same man. All they had to do was identify him.

"Post it to Face Rec, see if we can get a match. Right, let's go and see the HR people and then the husband.

There was a delay at the security gate, it seems that although they had an appointment, no one had told security.

"You can see my ID," Chris said quietly to the guard who was simply doing his job and following instructions, "but this is a murder inquiry, and I am sure that you really do not want to delay or obstruct us as we carry out our duties."

"No, obviously, but I am on my own so I can't leave, and you cannot be unescorted on site."

"Actually, yes I can, but I don't know where to go, so why don't you phone someone and get them to meet us and we will just head over to those doors over there, they look as if they might be reception."

The guard picked up the phone and spoke to someone, his voice muffled and unclear.

"If you head over there, someone will meet you."

"Thank you," Bentley said and he and Christine headed out of the security lodge and walked towards the doors that he had identified contained reception. A woman approached them.

"Hello, I'm Kathleen," she said.

They showed her their ID cards and she led them to a small meeting room at the side of reception.

"How can I help you?" She asked.

"You know what happened, she was stabbed in town, a very professional looking event. Was she working on anything that might have led to that happening?"

"I can't tell you what she was working on," Kathleen said, "but I would be surprised if it were connected. Whilst it was confidential in nature, it wasn't exactly something that we would expect any major interest in."