Oh, what's this? A stiletto-shaped footprint? A fancy handkerchief dipped in ether? No...Here we have the entries for Round #5 of the Smut Marathon! The theme this time was mystery/noir. Our celebrity judge is the King of Erotic Noir, Thomas Roche, himself! The poll will determine the reader favorite. Thomas will determine the, um, Thomas favorite. Poll will run until Sunday the 12th at Midnight. And I've done something different this time. Seeing how this is a mystery theme—I'm hiding the results of the poll until the voting has ended.
Entry #1: The Tell
Elliot hasn't been working late, though there aren't any easy giveaways – no lipstick on the collar, no perfume lingering on his skin. The kiss he gives me, deep and guilty, is the tell. The aftertaste of cum is still on his tongue.
Instead of confrontation, I seduce, looking for clues. Unbuttoning his shirt, I stroke his chest, eye his skin for evidence of bruises, see if I can get clued into the kinks this lover has. Bringing his fingers to my mouth, I suck each one, searching his wrists for signs of ropes or cuffs. But I don't find welts or scratches anywhere. I swallow Elliot's cock, hoping there will be some helpful difference, but all I taste is latex. (At least he's being safe.) I suck furiously, massaging his balls with one hand, fondling his asshole with the other. My ears are alert, hoping he'll call out the wrong name. But “Corrie” is the only word that escapes his lips, and for once, I'm disappointed.
The next day, I go to work with revenge on my mind. There's a guy down the hall who I've been desperate to fuck. I know he wants me as well; our interactions consisted more of flirtation than professionalism. Storming into Jason's office, I close the door.
“Elliot is fucking someone else. I need revenge. Want head?”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, I can't prove it just yet.”
“No, I mean are you sure you want revenge?”
“Yes. Now are you going to let me blow you or not?”
Jason leans back in his chair, unzips his fly, already hard. I work my palms, brushing up his shaft, then ease my tongue around the head. I swallow his length in one quick gulp, then inc my mouth back up slowly, until he gasps “Please, faster.” I slide myself up and down, occasionally breaking away just to tongue the shaft, making him writhe. Reaching und Jason's shirt, I pinch his nipples as hard as I can. With a giant thrust of his pelvis, he empties into me, groaning softly. As his cum fills my mouth, I realize I have tasted it before, on Elliot's lips.
I swallow and pull away. “How long have you been fucking my husband?”
“I haven't –”
“He came home last night tasting like you. Tell me the truth.”
“Since the office holiday party. You were off talking shop with a cluster of people, we'd been hanging out all night, and my attraction to him was getting harder and harder to deny. We slipped back here, and the rest is history. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but the connection we have is so hot, we've been meeting once a week. It's just about sex – Elliot still loves you. Maybe we could make amends with a threesome?”
“I don't think so. I'll never forgive you for not fucking me first.”
Entry #2: Sucker
Jenny woke up beside a dead man.
She was so hysterical it took the detective an hour to get her to calm down. When he asked her the last thing her boyfriend had done the night before, she became flustered. Thinking he had her, he pushed and probed until she finally confessed.
“So, you woke up in the middle of the night, left the room to get a snack and when you came back in here, he was awake and you…gave him a lil something?”
She nodded, her eyes wide and startlingly blue. “Yes. He…didn’t approve of my eating chocolate in the middle of the night, so I, huh, diverted his attention.”
“And then, you fell asleep?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
“He’d already fallen asleep. He always does after he’s, you know, come.” A pretty blush still tainted her cheeks.
“And that’s the last time you saw him alive?”
“Yes. Oh God!” She hid her face behind her hands.
He sighed and turned around, giving her a moment to get herself back together. He stared at the bed and thought of the position he’d found the body in. It fit with what she’d told him: the man had been naked, lying on his back, his cock swollen between his legs. He looked up to find her staring at him. She’d only had time to put on a slinky purple robe, her breasts swaying underneath the thin material every time she moved. He took a deep breath and asked, “Can you describe exactly what happened? Was he all right when you finished?”
“Oh yes. He seemed to love it. I drank him dry and all.”
He gulped. “You did?”
“Yes, I always do. I like giving a good blowjob, you know.”
“I’m, ah, glad to hear that.”
He cut the interview short and hoped the ME had some preliminary findings for him.
* * * *
“So, she basically sucked him to death.”
“Correct.”
“Shit.”
“You’ve got that right.” The ME snapped his gloves off and dumped them in a nearby trash. “The question is, did she know about it or not?”
* * * *
“He what?”
Det. Wilson took in the shell-shocked look on her face and decided, right there and then, that she was not to blame. “He never told you about his peanut allergy?”
“Never! I would never have eaten them otherwise! Oh God. I killed him!” She swayed on her feet and he caught her.
“Shh, you didn’t know. It was an accident. Just an accident.” She cried in his arms, and as he felt her shudder, he tightened his hold on her. She felt so fragile against him, so…helpless. “You’re gonna be okay, Jenny.”
* * * *
Jenny closed the door shut behind Det. Wilson and smiled for the first time in hours. Hurrying to the pantry, she dug out the last Reese’s and stuffed it in her mouth, all the while mumbling, “That’ll teach him telling me I shouldn’t eat chocolate.”
Entry #3: Ah, Bangkok...
Leaning back in my chair, I held my whiskey bottle up to the light. The yellowed bulb turned caramel to blood. I gave the bottle some urgent mouth-to-mouth, and almost wept when its last drop of life trickled down my throat.
Holding the glass carcass in my hand, I heard footsteps in the hall. Coming closer. I was too tired to fight. Besides, the only weapon I had was my breath. The sight of her disarmed me.
She had more curves than a four-leaf clover, but her smile said I was the lucky one. She looked anomalous as a hard-on in a convent. Only thing ’round here that takes your breath away is a knife in the chest.
“Hi, Philly, long time no see.”
“Uh...do I know you, ma’am?”
“I’ll give you a hint. I was at your wedding.”
“I don’t recall.”
She shrugged with more grace than a Catholic feast. “Been overseas a while.”
“Oh? Where?”
“Bangkok.” It sounded more like a hobby than a city.
She moved like a bag of cantaloupes, dropping to her knees between my legs. My zip crackled like an arsonist’s mistress.
“I’m sorry, ma’am...I don’t–”
Her fingers danced like an arabic princess. It certainly seemed to charm my snake.
“Oh, Philly. It’s just how I remember it.”
“Ma’am, maybe I was drunk, but–”
“Think. I was in the wedding party.”
I swam through the years of hooch and tried to find the faces. The dragon. The dragon-in-law. I shook my head.
“No matter, ma’am. The marriage went south last year.”
“Hmm. Speaking of going south...”
Her mouth swept down around my cock like a hot towel. It felt like a sauna, all heat and moisture, and full of wood. She hummed like an engine that had blown a rod as she pistoned her mouth on me.
I hissed like a locomotive as she brought me from a simmer right to the edge of boiling. She uncoupled from me just as I was ready to burst.
“Remember me yet, Philly?”
“I’m sorry...”
She unbuttoned her blouse and revealed breasts so round they made me dizzy. Her eyes fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings, and my head buzzed like a beehive.
“Honey,” I said, “now I’m sure we’ve never met. You’re unforgettable.”
“Remember your buck’s night, Philly? That threesome in Tucson?”
“Oh...”
What a night. My best man had all the connections. The three of us went off like a laptop battery.
She fell back down on me like I was air. Her tongue writhed like a spitting cobra and in seconds I lived up to the simile. She moaned against the tender belly of my beast and I almost wept as its last drop of life trickled down her throat.
“Philly, I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I–hey! That girl in Tucson was black!”
“And sweet.”
I looked closer.
“Brian?”
“Hi, Philly.”
I shook my head. “Ah, Bangkok...”
Entry #4: Fucked to Death
There were a thousand stories in the naked city. Hers was just one.
Her unseeing eyes lay staring at the ceiling, the events of the night evident on her thighs, as police questioned the guests in attendance. Faces tear stained, bodies cum stained, voices strained with grief – all claimed innocence. But one had to be guilty. Which one poisoned the naked socialite?
Earlier....
She strode into the dimly lit ballroom, voice carrying as she moved to the centre of the room, where her guests were in various states of undress and intoxication. “My friends, I hope you are all enjoying yourselves, and …” her scarlet lips turned up in a smile, “each other.” They all laughed. Katherine’s pussy dampened as she observed her husband licking Kitty Carrington’s shaved mound, his strong hand pumping his cock in rhythm.
She beckoned Jasper, her faithful butler, to her. She smiled, stroking his cheek with her hand, kissing him gently on the lips. She removed her nightgown, sinking down into the middle of the group, thighs spread wide, ready, willing.
Her husband smiled, plunging two thick fingers into her already wet hole. She arched in pleasure, reaching for the nearest cock. Paul Styles volunteered, groaning as her hand encircled his engorged shaft. Her pulse accelerated.
Katherine’s mouth hung open as her husbands fingers pounded into her. James, her ex-boyfriend, saw opportunity and fed his ten inches between her lips. Katherine’s heart pounded as she took his meat into her throat, her eyes focused on his. He winked as he held her head, gently fucking her mouth.
Paul’s cock grew under her skilful hand, his breathing becoming laboured as he approached his climax. Her grip tightened, her strokes hurried as he came with a groan, shooting off all over her luscious tits. Shaylene, Katherine’s best friend, was on it in a heartbeat, lapping up the cream, paying close attention to her nipples, which were hard and aching. Katherine’s breathing became laboured.
“Someone fuck her.” A disembodied voice reached her ears, and she nodded eagerly. Jasper stepped up, sliding his prick into her dripping cunt. She gazed into his bright eyes and nodded. At that, he quickened the pace, ramming into her, hitting the spots he knew intimately, his finger flicking her clit.
Katherine’s pussy clenched, her orgasm tearing through her like a hurricane. Her heart felt like it exploded, as she stiffened.
Jasper groaned, collapsing on top of his mistress. As he noticed she wasn’t moving, his eyes filled with tears. “Goodbye m’lady.” He whispered into her skin.
The start of the night...
As Katherine surveyed the skyline from the darkened study, she caressed the snifter of brandy she carried, before draining it viciously. She wanted this. She would live in infamy.
They’d all be found innocent, eventually. And she’d be beautiful forever.
There were a thousand stories in the naked city. And hers would be one they’d talk about for years to come.
Entry #5: Lucky Me
It was just one of those things, you know? One minute, you're sitting on your bar stool, content and nursing your bourbon. The next, some dame brushes past you and smiles when you turn; gives you the look. You're lost, you know it, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it, that fish hook in your guts. Indiscriminate, the way they tease and pretend that they don’t know it. Something gave a little extra bait to this one though. This was one of those dames that oozes class and sex in equal amounts onto everything around her.
“Amber.” She stuck out her hand and waited. Bold as brass, and just as cold I guessed, but the hook tugged again. Dark hair and light eyes, she was just my type... and just my luck.
“Jack, pleasetomeetcha.”
She took my hand and leaned in, whispering in my ear. “Jack, I don’t have time to waste. I need to fuck someone. Right now. Are you someone, Jack?”
I pulled back, searched her eyes for the joke or the signs of addiction. A smirk quirked her lips, but she looked straight.
“Well, Jack? Can you be my someone tonight?” She shifted as she spoke, gave me a flash of bare breast inside her trench coat. The smirk widened.
I was up off my barstool in a flash, grabbing her by the arm and walking quickly to the rear entrance. The alleyway was dark, strewn with bottles and broken dreams. The door hadn’t closed behind us before her mouth was on mine. She tugged her coat off, now totally naked. Guiding my hand down, across her nipples and lower, pushing her steamy pussy onto my palm. I was out of my mind, equal parts raging lust and incredulity. My cock had been hard before, when she curled her fingers around it I realized I had no idea what hard really was.
“Come ON. Fuck me!”
Her words unleashed me. I turned her to face the rough brick and spread her legs, slipping into her easily. Grabbing her hair, I pulled her head back to my mouth, pouring every filthy word I’d ever heard in her ear as she moaned and thrashed on my cock. The minute my fingers brushed her clit she came like a bottle-rocket, her spasms bringing me over the edge with her. She was so damned hot!
Before I could catch my stride, the alleyway was awash in light. A low-slung Packard slid to a stop, the back door blasting open.
“Get in. Now.”
A low, gravely male voice from the interior shadows, devoid of emotion. She shot off the wall, off my cock, to the car like a bullet from my .38 special. The door slammed and she was gone before I could even adjust to the light. Her coat lay crumpled at my feet, the only proof she’d ever existed. Just my fucking luck.
Entry #6: Too Bright
I took a last drag on my cigarette and dropped it on the wet pavement. It fizzled out, but I crushed it with my shoe for good measure. That's what you gotta do in my job. You gotta get it all down by good measure.
---
Suspicion. It's what brought "Miss Bright" to my office two weeks ago. Hell, a body like that was suspicion in a black dress.
"Can you find my husband, Mr. Heart?"
Same old story. Yeah, the police won't help her. Nowhere to turn except a private Dick with a rep like mine. Yeah she's got money. And yeah, when she crossed her legs in my chair she hinted she had other things.
---
I pulled Betty out of her shoulder holster, stepped into the alley through the cloud of my own smoke. Betty's seen me through tougher cases than this. 'Course about this time, none of _those_ cases looked all that tough, either.
---
Motive. "Mister Bright" left a trail of broken hearts and broken women - none his wife - wide and long as the Strip. Over a dozen dames. Half of them wanted to kill him. The other half wanted to fuck him first then kill him. None seemed concerned - or worried - about finding him.
---
The alley dead-ended like a metaphor. Doors off either side, windows above, one lit, shades drawn showing a silhouette sliding out of view. The oily thing moved too fast to identify. The door underneath - unlocked, quiet. Sure, make it easy for me.
---
Clues. Not many to start. No body, no blood, plenty of spilled money and semen up until three weeks ago. The trail got colder; Matteran's gin joint might have seen him. The smell of his money and MO lingered. The valet at Sid's said he saw someone like him, last Saturday on some society dame's arm. Maybe Bright wasn't using his real name. A patient week's snooping uncovered a vague breadcrumb trail. I had as much patience as the Missus had dough.
---
A flight of creaky stairs, and there was the door, 2B. Or not - it wasn't locked. Wasn't even fully closed. Either I was too late, or
expected. Or someone was being real sloppy. I checked over my shoulder and hoped it wasn't me.
Betty led the way as I pushed the door open.
"Mister Bright." Just like his picture, except for the stockings, miniskirt and makeup, kneeling on the floor.
"...Yes?"
"Your wife hired me to find you."
He knelt, blushing, and looking up at the tall, thin woman who had his hair in a tight fist.
"Did she," she said.
"Yes Ma'am.
"Well then, I think you've earned your pay, don't you?
Bare below a corset top, she looked me in the eye as she pulled Bright's head between her legs.
"Why don't you bring her here and collect."
Bright whimpered into her cunt.
---
I did. Miss Bright paid, then smiled as she closed their door on me. She got it all down by good measure.
Entry #7: A Cry in the Dark
We were maybe making a bit of a scene, I realized, but I didn't much care. It was the night after Leo's big promotion, and we'd both had a little more to drink than usual. We were also seated at the banquette, which meant he could sit next to me and do all kinds of inappropriate things when we thought no one was looking. He'd already made me come twice, his hand rather conspicuously in my lap (while I tried desperately to keep a straight face), when he leaned over and told me, making no attempt to lower his voice, to go to the ladies room and remove my panties. Kind of a clich̩, but I was game. I was pretty sure he wanted to take things farther Рhe'd told me once that he fantasized about having his fingers inside me somewhere public, but we'd never even attempted anything so blatant Рand considering how the evening was going, I figured that was it. And although on a normal night I might have protested, that night I was just tipsy enough to think that being fingerfucked under the table in one of the fanciest restaurants in town was a downright smashing idea.
I made it down the hallway without incident, passing the coatroom, now dark, on the way. I remembered noticing how cute the coatcheck girl was when we'd arrived, but wondering why the coatroom was even open on such a warm night. In the bathroom I managed to extricate myself from my panties and stuff them in my purse, stifling my giggles in case anyone else walked in. I'd almost made it back to the dining room when a hand – Leo's, no doubt – shot out from the doorway of the coatroom and dragged me inside, where it was pitch black. He pushed me up against a wall, then knelt in front of me, hiking up my skirt and burying his face between my legs. "Oh, god," I exhaled, knowing I should shut up but not being able to help it, and he pulled away at the sound. "Ssh," he admonished. I clapped my hand over my mouth while he continued eating me out like he was a starving man and I was his next meal, tongue and teeth and lips on me relentlessly just the way I like it until I was coming so hard my knees almost gave out. Then, before I could catch my breath, he slid a finger into me, then another, his mouth still on my clit as he thrust into me over and over again, driving my orgasm higher and higher until I couldn't stay quiet anymore and howled so loud they heard me all the way in the dining room.
Which I know because Leo told me. Leo, still sitting at our table. I never did find out who'd had their way with me in the coatroom, but I'll tell you, I got the spanking of my life for it. But that's another story.
Entry #8: Clueless
"I suggest Reverend Green did it with Mrs White, using his lead pipe, in the ballroom!"
Miss Scarlet sighed, "That's not how you play it."
Professor Plum chuckled, "Are you absolutely sure about that?"
Mrs Peacock raised an eyebrow, "By lead pipe, you mean..."
"That he was as hard as one, yes!" Plum confirmed.
"I say," Colonel Mustard weighed the long rope in his hand, "This is a bit saucy. Tying up and whatnot."
Scarlett's eyes rolled ceiling-wards, "And that isn't what it's for either."
"Ooooh, I don't know..." Peacock purred, sidling up to the young blond soldier, caressing the cord with delightful anticipation. "Your room, or mine?"
"It could be a crime of passion..." Scarlett considered. "The candlestick suggests a romantic liaison."
"Well I say to hell with crime. Let's stick with passion." The tall dark professor fondled his moustache suggestively in her direction.
"Or perhaps they were into erotic hot wax foreplay..." Peacock spied the candles flickering in the darkened study, her eyes glazing at some fond memory. The heads of the others turned sharply towards her, raised eyebrows over wide stares. She became aware of the attention. "What? Oh, did I say that out loud?"
Plum chortled to Mustard, "That'll put some lead in your pipe, my boy!"
Scarlett cried, "And we still haven't found out where Reverend Green and Mrs White have got to. I suggest we search, together. Safety in numbers."
"You've obviously not menaged enough, honey." Peacock murmured. Scarlett went as red as her dress, before leading them out.
As they passed the dining room, a distant scream called out.
"Well, I'll be blowed!" Mustard exclaimed.
At his elbow, Peacock suppressed an appreciative smirk, "Later, honey."
Mustard pulled the pistol from his belt and dashed forward. "Some bounder is killing her."
Scarlett's pulse raced. Now this was more like it! Aroused by the dark thrill, she hoisted her evening dress up and tottered after him. Peacock stroked the rope she carried, and sashayed on high heels after Mustard, wondering when they would tie the knot. The Professor eyed the voluptuous firm behind, and strode after her, muttering, "Lead... yes, definitely lead."
The woman's cries got louder as the foursome neared the ballroom. There were exhaustive pants within, a man exerting himself. A woman's loud cries.
Mustard's finger was tight on the revolver trigger. "The scoundrel must be beating her!"
"That's one way of putting it." Peacock's comment was worldly-wise as she turned the handle. "Gee, am I the only one round here getting some?"
Framed by the door, they saw Reverend Green in flagrante delicto, trousers round his ankles, with Mrs White, long skirt hoisted up higher than her spread knees. And it wasn't Holy Communion he was giving, despite her repeated calls for God.
"Obviously not." Scarlett sneered.
Plum puffed his way from behind, his monocle dropping, "Top ho! I was right all along!"
With a sigh of despair, Peacock snatched Mustard's pistol, aimed between Plum's legs... and shot him in the ballroom.
Entry #9: Christmas Hangover
The train whistle exasperated Robert's hangover. He sat down on the cracked bench with a groan. Across the way, a coworker named Telford chuckled.
"Still hung over from last night's party?"
Robert nodded, not really seeing anything. In his head, he replayed a blowjob he enjoyed in the coat room. Wet and slurping. Lips against his balls and the tip in the back of someone's throat. He just couldn't remember who gave him the time of his life.
He looked up. "Say, Tel? Who was I with last night?"
"Don't remember?"
"No," another groan, "but I want to."
"Well, you and I talked for hours."
"No, no, someone else. I remember this... never-mind, I'll figure it out."
Telford chuckled again.
At work, Robert looked at the women of the office in a new light. He focused on their lips and hair, trying to remember anything of that elusive blowjob.
The front desk receptionist had perfect lips which twisted into a frown when he chatted her up. He moved on to Bethany, a fellow programmer, but the smell of cigarette smoke turned him away. He created an uncomfortable silence with Betsy when he touched her hand but Priscilla snatched hers away when he repeated the action.
He got caught sniffing the perfume in Linda's purse.
Alice threaten his balls if he stepped any closer.
He didn't want to think about what Melody said.
By lunch, the women of the office avoided him. Robert felt embarrassed, but he couldn't stop looking for that perfect blowjob.
Finally, Robert gave up looking. Leaning against the back of a crowded elevator, he tried not to think about the brutal meeting with Stacy, head of Human Resources. One more offense and he would lose his job. All because of his obsession in finding that perfect blowjob. He slumped against the wall and tried to cling to the fading memories. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The mass of workers filed out and Robert followed, head down.
"Any luck?"
Robert looked up at Telford. After a day of obsession, his eyes focused on the younger man's lips before he realized Telford couldn't possibility be it. "No, not really."
"Pity. I heard Jane from Accounting slapped you."
Robert blushed and held his hand to his cheek.
Telford laughed and slapped Robert on the shoulder.
"Well, I hope you find that blowjob. I heard it was fantastic."
"Yeah," murmured Robert.
"Well, got to run."
Robert waved, lost in thoughts. He stood in the crowds of the office building, not really seeing them. Then, his head snapped up, looking at Telford as he walked down the street.
"I-I didn't tell him it was a blowjob."
Memories came rushing. Of them talking about movies, drifting into raunchier topics until finally... an argument about pathetic movie blowjobs. Robert gaped, struggling with the memory of Telford pulling him into the room. The man's wet tightness around his...
But with a guy?
One who gave a perfect blowjob...
He ran after Telford.
Wow. Choosing is going to be difficult. I swear.
XXX,
Alison
