"I always start writing with a clean piece of paper and a dirty mind." - Patrick Dennis
Author's note: The following is a light-hearted side project I finally wrapped up, (unlike many of my other stories). Inspiration came after someone called one of my other stories 'cartoon fiction'. At first I was taken aback, mostly because it was meant as a bad thing. Then I remembered how erotic certain cartoons can be. Hmmm, what if...
*****
Tilting back in my swanky office chair, cock in hand, I gazed out my office window over the sprawling city scene. Ah, Tittsburg. The small town was finally swelling into a vigorous city, bustling with life and heaving with opportunity.
It used to be easy working here as a private investigator; tracking down long-lost lovers, spying on cheating spouses, background checks on business partners and the like. Not anymore. Now everyone's
fucking;
and nobody cares
who
they get with. They're
fiends
, all of them!
I am too, of course, but still.
I was swiveling my chair around to get back to business, when in walked a bombshell the likes of which had never befallen my minor agency. To say she was stacked was to be off by a couple handfuls. To say she was naked was, well, pretty damn close. Piles of blonde-to-almost-white hair on her head made her candied lips look like cherries floating in swirls of white chocolate.
My jaw clunked to the floor as she sashayed her smooth and fuckable body around my desk wearing nothing but a thin, short... what, summer dress? cocktail napkin? Whatever it was, it barely served a purpose.
She held out her hand.
"Mr. Hammer?" she asked, noticing the long, hard dick already occupying my grip. She reached down and took it from me, pumping my shaft in greeting. It was only polite. "My name is Candy Lane, and I need you to find my husband. He's gone."
Her fingers around my cock blurred my vision as I stood politely and held her insufficiently covered breasts in my hands in a cordial response.
"Nice to meet you Miss Lane. You say your husband has left?" I managed to articulate while preoccupied by handfuls of doughy flesh and her sensual fondling of my equipment. "I can't believe anyone could be so daft as to go and leave a knockout like yourself, Miss Lane."
"It's not like that, Mr. Hammer," Candy oozed as her plump lips neared mine, stopping just short of devouring my soul, "he's gone missing. I've been unable to find him anywhere, for weeks." She sighed out a muggy breath of desperate heat as her lips parted oh so close to my own.
I kept her mouth from drinking me in, but she slipped my cock beneath the front of her dress where a tuft of silky pubic fur tickled my skin. I knew she needed fucking, and bad. They all did.
"Wait, what exactly do you mean 'for weeks'?" I asked her deep cleavage. She didn't reply, but instead pulled her insufficient dress over her head and dropped it to the floor, exposing a heart stopping playground of bare skin.
"I mean," she moaned, backing her naked cheeks up onto my desk where she tugged me between her legs, "one day he left to find out why our mailman stopped delivering, and that was the last I saw or heard from him."
A handful of her long fingers ran through my hair as the other hand tried in vain to guide me in. I looked down and her slit was gaping, dripping with moisture and craving a long stiff friend to work off a little steam with. Had I not seen this very thing all over town every single day of the week, it would have been shocking. Still, her pussy was so primed for action it seemed to create a vacuum in time and space from which there was no escape.
"Wait," I tried to keep on subject as her frenzied lust sucked me in, "your mailman stopped coming?"
"In more ways than one," she admitted, chewing her lower lip and giving me an idea of exactly what she meant. She started pumping my cock again with purpose, sensing I wasn't about to take the plunge.
"Have you told anyone else about this?"
"No one," she sighed, squeezing me in her delicious fingers, "and I'm not sure where to start. Will you help me Mr. Hammer?" Another firm squeeze. "Help me find my husband?" Squeeze. "And for god's sake help me scratch this bothersome itch?"
A hand grabbed my ass and pulled me in as her luscious lips found mine and swallowed me whole. The depth of her kiss was bottomless and desperate. Her voluptuous bosom pressed into my chest, and I allowed her to guide my proud peacock into her sopping nest.
"Oh, Mr. Hammer," she mewled as I pressed forward and drove my cock to the back of her wet passage, "thank you for taking... mmmm... my case."
Apparently, a little fucking was all it took to seal any kind of deal these days, so I laid out my terms with slow but commanding jabs.
"I work by the hour Miss Lane, and all... expenses... are billable," I managed as her oversexed bod urged me to lay it on thick. "And when we find your husband, an additional retainer will be due in
full
."
Her grunting moans agreed to my terms as I became forceful. She tried to speak, but the words came out as chirps and burbles over the slapping of skin and sloshing of fluids.
Her elbows fell back and her body stretched out before me. I watched as the most mountainous mammaries I'd ever manhandled swooped and swayed with every thrust. Her hips tipped up to offer me complete access, accepting every inch and foot of my extensive cock. Her eyes attacked mine with an urgent need as I practically screwed her off the end of my desk.
"Do I . . . need . . . ooo . . . ooo, to make, a deposit?" she finally pieced together.
"I'll be the one making the deposits, Miss Lane," I grunted as cock and cunt communed, "but you can wire the money to my account."
I climbed onto the desk and pounded that wondrous woman with all the energy of a rampant bull. Her body bucked beneath me and bounced each body bang back to me, and from there we
really
picked up the pace.
All at once I knew she was close; especially when she yelled, "FUCK!" and "I'm CLOSE!"
"Take my cock Miss Lane," I growled, "take my cock like I'm taking your case! Let's find your husband so you can fuck your mailman again!"
"YES!"
"I mean, let's find your mailman so you can fuck your husband again!"
"YES!"
"Let's finish this already so I can get to my desk again!"
"YES! Oh GOD . . . Mr. Hammer!"
"Call me Jack, Miss Lane."
"Oh JACK, I'm gonna cum!"
"Me too Miss Lane, me... too."
We fucked faster and louder than anyone in town, which is saying something for Tittsburg, and when the young dame getting royally railed on my desk and I finally broke each other in half, I swear we heard dogs barking in the distance.