Sir Peter Longfellow And The Case Of The Prude

"Sir Peter, I'm so glad you could make it," Chancellor Prude, Peter's old school chum quipped. Welcoming Sir Peter into his expansive foyer, Prude continued, "I am extremely concerned about Penelope. She didn't return home from school on Thursday evening and no one has heard from her since."

Sir Peter was in town for his alma mater's big game on Saturday afternoon, the same school over which Chancellor Prude now administered. Although he was looking forward to attending a tailgating soirée before the kickoff, Sir Peter never refused to help an old friend, especially when a mystery was at hand.

"I'm sure Penelope will turn up," Sir Peter answered. "Perhaps she is working on a school project or staying with a friend."

As Mrs. Prude ushered her husband and his old friend into the study, offering cups of hot tea, she responded, "No, no, Sir Peter, Penelope had a study session on Thursday evening with her theology class at the student center. After study hall, she was going to the House of Royals to bake cookies for the senior citizens."

Penelope Prude was the Prude's only daughter. They were overly protective parents and smothered Penelope, managing her daily life and planning her future in excruciating detail. After spending her formative years in an exclusive all-girls preparatory school, her parents had relented and agreed she would attend Trafalgar University, the coed school over which her father now presided. While the Prude's were fearful of the liberal culture prevalent at Trafalgar, they were confidant that in keeping Penelope close to home they would be able to exert complete control and prune out all the questionable influences.

Penelope had enrolled at Trafalgar in September and was now nearing the end of her first term as a freshman. Rather than live in student housing, her parents had insisted she live at home, in the stately Chancellor's manor overlooking the beautiful campus. Based on the recent holiday pictures the Prudes showed Sir Peter, he was pleased to see that Penelope had matured into a beautiful young woman.

In the pictures, her frumpish librarian glasses were the only reminder of her gawky younger years. Rail thin and nerdy as an early teen, her body had matured nicely since Sir Peter had last seen the young vixen. Still lean, her small firm breasts strained against her tightly fitted dress, her stiff nipples very prominent through the thin material of her top. In the mold of today's glamour models, her tall, trim body was sculpted from hours of exercise. The cut of her dress revealed legs a distance runner would be proud to own. Her long straight dirty blonde hair framed her beautiful face, highlighted by prominent cheekbones and thin, sharp lips; a vision straight from the pages of Vogue magazine.

"Penelope looks very happy and well adjusted in these photos," Sir Peter remarked, feeling a pleasant stirring in his groin as he perused the family photo album. Growing up, Penelope had often referred to Longfellow as Uncle Peter, although they were not related by blood. To himself, Longfellow sighed; at least his impure thoughts weren't incestuous.

"Undoubtedly," Chancellor Prude beamed. "She is doing well in school and is working tirelessly with the local charities. It is so unlike her to disappear like this. We are worried sick and hope you can help."

Sir Peter Longfellow was an accomplished amateur sleuth. A trust fund baby, Peter had nevertheless joined the Royal Air Force upon graduation from University and had enjoyed a successful career in military intelligence. Now in his mid-forties and retired from the military, he was a part-time private investigator, when he wasn't climbing mountains in the Himalayas or sailing his yacht across the South Seas.

Peter still possessed the body of a young soldier. Standing over six feet, his torso appeared sculpted from granite. He was an accomplished triathlete, having completed several Ironman competitions. Closely trimmed salt and pepper hair sat atop his chiseled face, his bright gray eyes dancing with intelligence and a hint of mischief.

"I would be glad to look into Penelope's whereabouts," Peter offered. "I trust she is fine. Probably just sewing her oats, ehh Charlie, like any adventurous college freshman?" Peter chided, elbowing Chancellor Prude in the gut.

"Penelope does not ‘sew oats', Sir Longfellow," Mrs. Prude barked. "I know you are an old friend of Charles, but I want to be clear. Penelope is a fine young woman, with the highest of moral character. She simply would not run off for several days and not inform her parents of her intentions. I am afraid this is much more serious than a young woman out for a good time."

"Easy now Margaret," Chancellor Prude admonished. "Sir Peter was only trying to be lighthearted. I'm sure he understands the gravity of the situation. Obviously as Chancellor of the University, I don't want to go to the police without some further evidence of Penelope's situation."

"Of course, of course," Sir Peter quipped. "My trusty friend Dr. Nadlicker and I are attending the big game this very afternoon. We will begin our enquiries immediately and report back to you on our progress. Now I must be off."

With that, Sir Peter took leave, only too glad to be out from under the scrutinizing eye of Mrs. Prude. As he walked to his car, Peter couldn't help but think poor Penelope was somehow rebelling against the tyrannical parenting of the Prudes. For her sake, he hoped she was just on a party binge, nothing different than most young students and certainly a faux paus to which Penelope was entitled after living under the Prude roof for 19 years.

As Peter approached the car, Dr. Nadlicker sat on the bumper smoking his ever-present pipe. "Well, Sir Peter, are we off to the game?"

"Shortly my good Nadlicker," Peter replied. "The Prudes appear to have misplaced their perfect little daughter and I promised to snoop around a bit." Handing Dr. Nadlicker a picture he had borrowed from the Prudes of Penelope in her field hockey uniform, he continued, "Keep your eyes open for Ms. Penelope, will you old man?"

With a whistle, Dr. Nadlicker smirked, "I'd like to open more than my eyes for this tasty little lass; perhaps my zipper, and then her mouth, and definitely her legs. Yes indeed, I'd like to open those legs nice and wide."

"Easy old boy," Sir Peter, laughed. "Charles Prude was a good friend during our college days. I think he is probably overreacting, but a promise is a promise. My bet, Penelope is shacked up somewhere with her boyfriend, trying to unlearn nineteen years of sexual repression and frustration heaped on her by that uptight bitch of a Mother."

"Not a big fan of the Chancellor's wife?" Nadlicker chided.

"Oh, give me a few hours alone with Margaret Prude and I could have her singing a very different tune. I'm afraid Chancellor Charles is incapable of unlocking her womanly secrets. As a result, she has retreated into a sexual never-never land, home to chastity, high moral fiber, and general constipation of the good life."

"And I suppose you have just the laxative to unleash her pent-up frustrations?" Nadlicker chuckled.

"I don't think she's in need of a laxative. What that cold fish needs is an enema. A Longfellow hot beef injection could paint a rosy complexion on her uptight little world. Hell, Margaret might actually be decent looking if she let down her hair, put on a little makeup and wore something other than those dreadful ankle length potato sacks. I only hope it's not too late for Penelope to break the evolutionary cycle."

"If Margaret looks anything like the young Penelope," Nadlicker offered, "I'd me more than happy to help you perform your little invasive procedure. As you know, my good fellow, my medical specialty tends more toward oral procedures."

"Enough," Longfellow bellowed, trying to repress a silly grin. "Although unlikely, Penelope could be in some real trouble. This talk of fucking her mother in the ass and in the mouth is not going to help. Besides, she's the wife of my good friend."

"Your right, old man," Nadlicker responded. "Let's concentrate on the young Penelope." Pausing briefly, Nadlicker added, " Do you think she will suck my cock?"

Unable to resist any longer, Sir Peter broke into hearty laughter, "You old pervert. Let's concentrate on finding her first and worry about your penis later. Agreed?"

"I'm behind you," Nadlicker quipped.

"In your dreams," Longfellow replied, punching his old friend good naturedly as he shifted the car into gear. "Penelope was studying Theology at the student center on Thursday night. Shall we start there?"

As Nadlicker continued to study the picture of Penelope, he remarked under his breath, "Theology, huh? I'd like to help her see God." The good doctor adjusted the noticeable lump growing in his tweed trousers as Longfellow steered the car in the direction of the student center.

Not surprisingly, the student center was nearly empty on a Saturday afternoon, most students devoting their efforts to pre-game festivities.

Longfellow approached the attractive young women at the information table, "Hello, I am Sir Peter Longfellow, a good friend of Chancellor Prude. Have you seen his daughter, Penelope in here recently?"

With a slight chuckle, the information lady responded, "You're kidding right? Most students come here to study. I don't think studying rates too high on Penelope Prude's list of priorities."

"I'm confused?" Sir Peter continued, squinting to read the young woman's nametag. "Ms. Cumstane, I was told she was here on Thursday night, studying with her Theology class."

With a deeper laugh, the information lady answered, "Now I know you're joking. Yea, the Theology classes often meet here for study group, but that little slut wouldn't be caught dead near a Theology class."

"Little slut?" Dr. Nadlicker interjected, his curiosity now peaked.

"Well, ummm," Ms. Cumstane stuttered, "Let's put it this way, Penelope's reputation is not exactly consistent with her last name, if you know what I mean."

"I see," Peter muttered. "Are you sure Penelope's not in a Theology class?"

"I don't know for sure, but you could check with the Registrar's office."

"Good idea," Sir Peter replied. "Dr. Nadlicker, would you mind asking around the student center about Penelope while I track over to the Registrar's office."

"No problem, Sir Peter," Nadlicker winked, as Longfellow headed for the door.

As the heavy door slid closed behind him, Sir Peter caught a fleeting glimpse of Nadlicker flirting feverishly with the Cumstane woman, clearly more intent on getting some action than finding the missing Penelope. Only too familiar with the doctor's well-established track record, Longfellow chuckled to himself. Two to one odds he'd have his fat cock stuffed down the cute little information lady's throat before Longfellow returned. The doctor was a card-carrying pervert, but amazingly he did have a way with the ladies.

Penelope had indeed been enrolled in a Theology class, but records indicated she had dropped the class after one week. With a little more research, Longfellow determined that Penelope had dropped two other classes and was failing two of the three classes in which she was still enrolled. Surprisingly, she was acing her other class, History 346 – Medieval Art.

"Do you know who teaches History 346," Longfellow asked the young man behind the Registrar's desk.

"Yes, I believe it's a visiting professor, the Contessa Maria Dispose. She is on loan from Oxford and is a renowned expert in medieval art." With a sly wink, the fellow added, "And a major babe."

"Where can I find the medieval art department?" Sir Peter queried, reserving judgment on the Contessa's physical charms until he could make a first hand assessment.

"Off the Red Quad," replied the young man. "But the Contessa is a big supporter of the House of Royals and can often be found donating her time there on weekends."

"Thank you," Longfellow replied as he dialed his cell phone.

"Uh, hello," Nadlicker answered, somewhat flustered, "What the hell do you want?"

"It's me old boy, Longfellow," Sir Peter began.

"I know, I know. I'm kind of in the middle of something," Nadlicker whispered.

"In the middle of something?" Peter questioned.

"Yes, I'm interviewing the information lady here at the student center about Penelope. Shelly is full of information and very forthcoming with her assistance."

"About Penelope huh? What does Ms. Cumstane have to say?"

"Well, actually she can't really say anything right now. You see, old boy, she is in the process of swallowing my microphone, if you know what I mean."

"You are a piece of work, Nadlicker," Sir Peter barked. "Shouldn't Shelly be manning the information desk?"

"Umm, I'm manning the desk. Truth be told, Shelly is actually under the desk. And let me tell you, she is exceptionally skilled at being interviewed."

"Unbelievable. After you wrap-up your interview, meet me at the House of Royals. I have a lead and I need to talk to one of Penelope's professors, the Contessa Maria Dispose."

"Oh, fuck that feels good…sorry Sir Peter, did you say the Contessa Maria Dispose?"

"I'm glad it feels good and yes, do you know her?"

"Intimately. I can't really talk now, but drop my name. Tell her I vouch for you. She won't hold anything back, trust me."

As Nadlicker hung up the phone, Shelly, her face fully impaled on the good Doctor's raging boner, reached her pale, dainty hand into his unzipped trousers and fished out his large hairy balls.

"Yes, dear," Nadlicker whispered as a spattering of students shuffled through the exit of the student center, not fifteen feet from the Information Desk, "Suck my nuts, darling. And stroke that fat cock. You have been very helpful in our investigation and I want to reward you."

Without a murmur, Shelly turned her attention to Nadlicker's sweaty balls, jerking his spit lubed dick with her soft hands, her fingers unable to fully close around the massive girth of the Doctor's thick pole. She sucked deeply on his hanging nuts, taking turns with each, as she was unable to fit both golf ball sized orbs in her mouth at once. Clearly, Ms. Cumstane was looking forward to her sticky reward as she increased the tempo, jacking with a fiendish fury.

Nadlicker reached under the desk to caress Shelly's firm breasts through her cashmere sweater, a moan of approval witness to the Doctor's perfect aim as he tweaked the graduate student's stiffening nipple. "Your breasts are exquisite my dear," Nadlicker remarked.

As if thanking him for the compliment, Shelly took his cock back in her mouth, forcing his length fully down her tight throat. Nadlicker let out a slight moan as he felt the beautiful young coed's nose brush against his lower belly, proof that Shelly had indeed throated his entire tool.

"You are extremely talented, Ms. Cumstane," Nadlicker whispered as he bucked slightly in the large leather chair, fucking her throat with short, quick thrusts, careful to conceal his actions from the passing students.

Under the relentless attack of Ms. Shelly's talented mouth, Nadlicker neared the point of no return. Unfortunately as luck would have it, a rather lost looking older woman entered the student center and made a beeline for the Information Desk. The Doctor stopped his face-fucking thrusts, attempting to collect his wits.

"Are you the Information Director?" the old woman began.

"Umm, well, yes. How can I be of assistance?" Nadlicker answered, sweat beading on his temple, trying to control himself as the real Information Director continued her uninterrupted assault on his throbbing pecker.

"Well, you see, my name is Mrs. Doris Underalls and my son is attending the University. We are from the Highlands region…"

Unwilling to listen to her excruciatingly painful introduction further, and worried that he would pop a load in mid-ramble if Shelly kept up her frantic pace on his cock, Nadlicker interrupted, "Yes, yes, but what is your question, mam?"

"I was getting to that. I am looking for the alumni association…"

"Fourth floor, at the end of the hall. You can use those stairs," Nadlicker snapped, pointing towards the stairs at the far end of the lobby as Ms. Shelly squeezed his nuts under the desk, his cock firmly planted down her warm throat.

"Well I never," the old woman continued. "You are very rude…"

"Alumni Association closes in five minutes, you better hustle," Nadlicker interjected, anxious to be rid of the woman as he felt the familiar bubbling of a hot load deep in his over stimulated balls.

Spinning on her heels, the woman waddled toward the staircase as a final jerk of Shelly's talented hand sent Nadlicker over the edge, a molten squirt of hot jizz erupting from his tortured tool.

Unable to control himself any longer, Nadlicker screamed, "Oh, fuck yes!!!" as orgasm racked his body, Shelly's frothy reward filling her eager mouth and spilling down her chin.

Stopping in her tracks, the old woman turned toward Nadlicker, "Excuse me, sir?"

The Doctor, slumped in his chair as Shelly slurped the final drops of spooge from his slowly softening member, could only grin goofily under the old woman's steely stare, "Fourth floor, end of the hall you old bitch."

As the old woman disappeared down the hall shaking her head in disapproval, Shelly emerged from her under-desk hiding place, a thick string of cum trailing from her adorable young chin. "The Alumni Association is on the other side of campus, Dr. Nadlicker. Not on the fourth floor."

"Oops," Nadlicker chuckled as he used a pudgy finger to scoop the jizz from Shelly's face. "Guess the old broad will be back with a complaint for the Information Director."

Taking Nadlicker's thick finger in her mouth and sucking the remaining cum from his digit, Shelly replied, "I'm sure not complaining. Your jizz is delicious and your fat cock is dreamy. Screw the old lady and her complaints."

Rising from the chair, his strength slowly returning to his spent body, Dr. Nadlicker zipped his trousers, "I would much prefer to screw you, my dear. You have a very talented mouth. Perhaps if you are available after the big game, we could continue this interview and I could provide further feedback on your other talents."

As Nadlicker turned to go, Shelly handed a slip of paper to the good Doctor with a sly wink, "Here's my address. And as far as talents go, I have two additional orifices for you to audition, you handsome big stud."

With a wicked smile, Nadlicker bid farewell, visions of plowing the young graduate student from behind, alternating between her soft, wet pussy and her firm, tight ass causing his dick to stir once again.

"Dr. Nadlicker," Shelly shouted after the Doctor as she licked the partially crusted jizz from her lips. "You might try Penelope's sorority house, Phi Pheela Assa. The girls there can probably help you."

"I didn't know Penelope was in a sorority," Nadlicker responded.

"You snoop around enough, you'll find quite a lot you don't know about Ms. Prude. Not all of it Polly Purebred stuff, I assure you," Ms. Cumstane snickered.

"Indeed," Nadlicker harrumphed, already dialing Sir Peter's cell number.

"Longfellow, here."

"I have another lead, Sir Peter. I am off to the PPA sorority house."

"You old sod," Sir Peter chuckled. "Glad to hear your interrogation of the Information Director was fruitful. But the sorority house? I'm afraid you are thinking with the wrong head again Dr. Nadlicker."

"On the contrary Sir Peter. But speaking of head, I really must recommend the skills of the Information Director in that regard. There is a girl that has taken her scholarly studies very seriously. She will have no problems passing her oral exams with flying colors. I foresee a PHD in her future, doctor of blow jobology, to be sure."