The name's Johnson. Richard Johnson. But you can call me Dick. I'm an investigator. A P______ Investigator. You can insert whatever P-word you want into the blank, but the one I prefer is "persistent."
By now you're probably imagining me in black and white, sitting in some smoky office with my trenchcoat hanging on a nail in the corner. But I'm not a detective for hire and I don't have a private secretary named Miss Kitty. Although I do miss kitty in the rare moments when I'm not getting some. And I don't wear a trenchcoat. I wear a rubber raincoat. Except when I'm receiving oral. Oral testimony, that is. And I don't have an office, unless you call my normal stomping grounds downstairs an "office", the way Gretzky's office was behind. The net.
My sole companion is my associate Clive, whose lone mission in life is to ferry me around between my various "offices."
"Clive!" I barked the other day. "Put down the Playboy magazine. We're going to Temptations!"
"Temptations?!" he replied. "Again? But there are dozens of studios in the Edmonton area!"
"I know." I nodded. "But no other studio has Temptations' combination of soft, wide, comfy beds; sexy, firm-breasted women and lousy on-site parking."
Without another word of protest, Clive got behind the wheel and piloted our (former) police-issue Crown Victoria to the doorstep of Temptations. Opening the car door, he stood up. Thinking of the delights that lay inside the studio, so did I.
We were greeted at the door by a tall, attractive young woman whose breasts were veritably spilling out of her blouse. Abby. The dame called herself Abby. I immediately found myself pointing straight up at those breasts like the pieces of conclusive evidence they were.
Abby led Clive and I into a spacious room. She started a shower, then bent over for a second, giving both of us a view that still brings back wonderful mammaries. After a quick shower, Clive flopped on the big comfy bed, with me close behind.
Abby soon returned to the room. She began massaging Clive while still fully-clothed. I asked Clive to instruct her to disrobe completely, as I occasionally have trouble verbalizing my desires. She took off everything but her bikini panties. I would have liked to have examined her completely nude right away, but sometimes investigations take longer than expected.
The breasts. Clive and I were speechless. Big, round, perfectly shaped, with tiny pinkish-brown nipples. Clive amused himself by rolling them between his fingertips. I amused myself by fantasizing about covering both of them with hot, sticky, dripping...
...Chocolate sauce.
I was anxious to get the main event underway, as I was billing--or rather being billed--by the hour. Abby seemed impressed by how excited and attentive I was: I hadn't seen such a captivating "subject" in a while.
She began with a long, luxurious blowjob. Clive says he enjoyed watching her beautiful head of hair bobbing slowly up and down. I couldn't see--I was too "deeply involved." When I was nearing the point of no return, I signalled Clive to gently bring Abby back up.
The two of us clambered aboard this beautiful young woman. As Clive suckled contentedly on those cute little nipples, I began my "investigation." Soon I was deep in the middle of things--or rather, the middle of her. I began "pressing" my inquiries more firmly. Before long I was "pounding" things enthusiastically.
Clive and Abby cuddled each other close as my investigation drew to a close. Finally when I could take no more of her, I blasted the young woman with everything I had. Like the confident young woman, she is, Abby didn't miss a beat.
I stayed inside her--enjoying the hospitable surroundings--as long as possible. Finally, reluctantly, Clive and I rolled off her soft, silky skin.
I had obtained the information I'd sought, but after the "interview" was over, Abby lay fully nude on the bed with Clive and I, chatting pleasantly about movies and music. I was most impressed. Impressed with those perfect breasts. As the conversation continued, I felt myself rising again.
Doffing my raincoat, I joined Clive in the shower stall for a relaxing post-interrogation decompress. The still-naked Abby watched us reluctantly dress before giving us both a big hug. Clive led me out to the parking lot, armed with a "load" of valuable new information.
By now you're probably imagining me in black and white, sitting in some smoky office with my trenchcoat hanging on a nail in the corner. But I'm not a detective for hire and I don't have a private secretary named Miss Kitty. Although I do miss kitty in the rare moments when I'm not getting some. And I don't wear a trenchcoat. I wear a rubber raincoat. Except when I'm receiving oral. Oral testimony, that is. And I don't have an office, unless you call my normal stomping grounds downstairs an "office", the way Gretzky's office was behind. The net.
My sole companion is my associate Clive, whose lone mission in life is to ferry me around between my various "offices."
"Clive!" I barked the other day. "Put down the Playboy magazine. We're going to Temptations!"
"Temptations?!" he replied. "Again? But there are dozens of studios in the Edmonton area!"
"I know." I nodded. "But no other studio has Temptations' combination of soft, wide, comfy beds; sexy, firm-breasted women and lousy on-site parking."
Without another word of protest, Clive got behind the wheel and piloted our (former) police-issue Crown Victoria to the doorstep of Temptations. Opening the car door, he stood up. Thinking of the delights that lay inside the studio, so did I.
We were greeted at the door by a tall, attractive young woman whose breasts were veritably spilling out of her blouse. Abby. The dame called herself Abby. I immediately found myself pointing straight up at those breasts like the pieces of conclusive evidence they were.
Abby led Clive and I into a spacious room. She started a shower, then bent over for a second, giving both of us a view that still brings back wonderful mammaries. After a quick shower, Clive flopped on the big comfy bed, with me close behind.
Abby soon returned to the room. She began massaging Clive while still fully-clothed. I asked Clive to instruct her to disrobe completely, as I occasionally have trouble verbalizing my desires. She took off everything but her bikini panties. I would have liked to have examined her completely nude right away, but sometimes investigations take longer than expected.
The breasts. Clive and I were speechless. Big, round, perfectly shaped, with tiny pinkish-brown nipples. Clive amused himself by rolling them between his fingertips. I amused myself by fantasizing about covering both of them with hot, sticky, dripping...
...Chocolate sauce.
I was anxious to get the main event underway, as I was billing--or rather being billed--by the hour. Abby seemed impressed by how excited and attentive I was: I hadn't seen such a captivating "subject" in a while.
She began with a long, luxurious blowjob. Clive says he enjoyed watching her beautiful head of hair bobbing slowly up and down. I couldn't see--I was too "deeply involved." When I was nearing the point of no return, I signalled Clive to gently bring Abby back up.
The two of us clambered aboard this beautiful young woman. As Clive suckled contentedly on those cute little nipples, I began my "investigation." Soon I was deep in the middle of things--or rather, the middle of her. I began "pressing" my inquiries more firmly. Before long I was "pounding" things enthusiastically.
Clive and Abby cuddled each other close as my investigation drew to a close. Finally when I could take no more of her, I blasted the young woman with everything I had. Like the confident young woman, she is, Abby didn't miss a beat.
I stayed inside her--enjoying the hospitable surroundings--as long as possible. Finally, reluctantly, Clive and I rolled off her soft, silky skin.
I had obtained the information I'd sought, but after the "interview" was over, Abby lay fully nude on the bed with Clive and I, chatting pleasantly about movies and music. I was most impressed. Impressed with those perfect breasts. As the conversation continued, I felt myself rising again.
Doffing my raincoat, I joined Clive in the shower stall for a relaxing post-interrogation decompress. The still-naked Abby watched us reluctantly dress before giving us both a big hug. Clive led me out to the parking lot, armed with a "load" of valuable new information.
