View Full Version : The Little Sister

Eve Adorer
12-21-2007, 10:41 AM
The Little Sister
(a Charlotte Moans prequel)
by Eve Adorer

In this prequel to ‘Dead Dames Don’t Lick’, Charlotte Moans finds herself on her first case as a newly-minted Private Investigator.

The Little Sister
(a Charlotte Moans prequel)
by Eve Adorer

I stood back and read the graffito on the door. As of right now it should have read ‘wet paint’. Instead it shouted: ‘Splayed Moans’. I’d always liked the sound of that. But; to get back to the wording I’d just splashed on the door’s window, I’d stencil in: ‘Detective Agency’ later.

For me, Samantha was everything now. Samantha? My partner, Samantha Splayed – ‘Sam Splayed’ to those in the know. You never heard of her? You will. Read on.

Sam and me, we’d done cop training and three years uniform together. We’d gotten close in that time. It was a mutual thing. We were partners and more than partners. If two sixes added up to sixty-nine, the saying: ‘six of one and a half-dozen of the other’, would have summed it up swell.

Sam and me had just moved into 122V Faker Street: our office and living quarters.

The rent was a tad high and our bank balances read red, but there are always ways of keeping costs down.

Our landlady, Mrs Hodson, had an eye for the girls, and Sam had a tongue in her head. So, Sam had dared to ask, and Mrs Hodson had answered in the enthusiastic affirmative. And just now, even as I daubed brush, I could hear Mrs Hodson’s moans from downstairs.

Sure I could have been jealousized; but hey, Sam was just getting warmed up for a romp with me later in the day, and, at least for this first month there would be no rent to pay.

Our office and its anteroom, the annex Sam and I’d minded to be reception-lobby time to come, were in total chaos, doors flung wide. So the first I saw of the stranger was a shapely silhouette when it caught my eye, and my first thought was ‘neighbour come to say hello’, so I sured that the handle of my blackjill cosh was quick-draw out my pocket, and went to pay call.

Don’t get me wrong none. Faker Street was then, and is still now, a good neighbourhood. Good neighbours abound in good neighbourhoods don’t they? Well, that’s the theory. Me, I reckon a saint is just a sinner who ain’t got found out yet. So I wanted know who was nosey parker around our still packed move-in crates.

In I went on tiptoe to surprise her. I knew how best do that. Once a cop always a cop at heart: least wise training don’t get forgot.

I was not sure if she heard me approach or knew I was there yet. She stayed where she was and continued curious about whatever she was peeking into or looking for.

She was a sensation. She was the cutest blonde, with the neatest middle parting you could ever wish to see. And her hair was shorn so neat and tidy, that it made me wonder if it matched what was under her hat.

As she rose up and her hemline came down, my eyes needed a new home.

I’d just seen her nest. When she turned, I was negatively disappointed by the rest. She was one delicious dame.

Under her perky baby-blue pillbox I could see she was ripe corn blonde to match her snatch.

She had shoulder-blade-kissing curls that also moment wandered over and shaded her right eye peek-a-boo-style. That Vagina Lake lady came to mind: the 1940s actress with the unruly hairstyle?

Maybe the eye-covering curl and the spider-web net dangling down from the saucily slanted millinery to cover her dial, were meant as a mercy. One baby-blue eye had me transfixed already: two on full view, and I would have been butter on a summer sidewalk.

I took the ticket and started the tour. But, after a tick and tock, I’d already decided I would have to come back to her legs later. Only infinity could match their divinity, and my life, unlike them, wasn’t long enough.

The best things in life are free, and so were her tits. She had a matchless matched pair of market melons, with a cleavage that’d give the Grand Canyon an inferiority complex. She also had nips that loved provoking. They were propping out her dress’ top like conical tepees.

The top and bottom matched size wise. And, what was in between would have made hourglasses sue their slimming consultants for money back.

As if that needed emphasis, she had a broad baby-blue suede waist-belt, which, like the hat, seductively slanted, opposite slope, because it had so little to grab a hold of around her middle.

She was up on her toes in high class, not High Street, stainless-steel-toe-capped baby-blue heelless ballet shoes. They gave sensational shape to legs sculpted by nature and nurture. Her divine calves showed she was one fit chick.

Her dress, based on baby-blue as if you needed me to say, proved that where fashion-house creations are concerned, the bigger the price, the less you get for your dollar.

That went both for size and material. The diagonal candy-striped baby-blue and white of her couture-cultured little number, was shorter lived in line, than a nightdress’ in time on a wedding night. It also had apparent transparency; yet it somehow managed to hide the delights inside.

I certainly wasn’t complaining. It was one delicious sensation worn by god’s finest creation.

The seams of her baby-blue nylons were peerlessly straight. Though she wore no panties, she hadn’t forgotten her baby-blue suspenders, and, visible beyond her hemline, they fought to stop her stocks sliding down her endless curved smoothness, by hauling huge vees at outside sides of the darker blue stocking tops circling her stupendous thighs.

She was dream and cream. Her face had the complexion of a redhead’s ghost; but her pout’s pout, had the richness and moisture of ripe strawberries. A bet that her nipples were twin twins with the colour of her lips wouldn’t even have gotten you evens.

She was cool too. I don’t mean that such little as she wore meant she was well ventilated on such a hot day, though that was clearly true. I mean that she took my open-mouthed head to toes ogling of her five-eight, with an air of relaxed expectation. She knew she was dynamite. She’d probably been knocking the girls dead since she’d reached first teen. Now she’d topped that with twelve more and gotten used to admirers drooling.

“Hi” she whispered; then dropped her head and eyes, genuinely shy.

Her voice purred like a French kitten snuggled in a bearskin rug.

“How can I help you lady?” I casualled, except that my voice squeaked, obliging me to clear throat and do a repeat, so as to make out that my squawk was not caused by the lump her face and body had made in my throat and my clit.

“I lost my purse?” she whispered distractedly, with her eyes darting side to side to better focus their seductive beams in mine, even while her mind was for search and find.

I was minded to say I’d just seen that it was safe and sound between her goddam gorgeous thighs, but I wanted to make her blush with something less direct than that.

I wanted know why she was poking around Sam’s and my place. I was going to detain her till I found out what she was at. Okay, so I couldn’t take my eyes of her either. But there has to be some payback for a PI’s lot in life, and this chick was first prize in that losing lottery.

“Suppose we start with your name honey?” I serioused.

“That is my name”, she meowed with a hint of giggle.

“What do you mean sweetheart?” I queried.

“No, not ‘Sweetheart’!, she teased, with a definitive giggle this time: I’m Honey – Honey Godmade?” And I wanted to bow and kiss the long fingers she now put my way to hello say.

“Ooh there it is!” she then cried, and gave me another flash of heaven’s gates, as she bent and picked up her purse and baby-blue gloves from where she’d forgotten she’d temporarily put them.

When she straightened and turned to face me again, her eyes said she knew where mine had just been, and what they had seen. And her face said she hoped I’d enjoyed it.

I mentalled a tumble with this babe: a fight I’d willingly lose. But that daydream ended nightmare with my face helplessly nut-crackered ‘tween her thighs, and my nose inside her petals stunned by her bouquet, even while my tongue couldn’t reach to lick her across the finishing line.

“Are you just passing neighbour Honey, or did you threshold with something on your mind?” I calm voiced, despite my equilibrium doing yoyo pogo.

“Are you Sam Splayed?” she queried, with a look that I read as her saying she’d warm my bed if the invite was said. It was a look of guilless innocence in a sense. Her whole being spoke of sex and yet of touching untouchability.

“No”, I answered. I’m Sam’s partner: Charlotte Moans: but to friends and neighbours, it’s ‘Charley’”

“Why lovely to meet you Charley. You’re sweet!” she purred, making a raindrop of hot perspiration trickle and tickle my spinal cord.

I wished she were friend and neighbour. I didn’t know yet if she was even just neighbour. But I still minded not one jot that she gave me my ‘Charley’ handle, like I’d given her permit to be so cosy already.

“Why are you looking for Sam?” I continued, in order to try and get my mind back on track.

“I may not look like a girl who wants to get both hands on a dick; but I do”, she innocently sincered.

“My momma said ‘if you want a good private detective, go see Sam’. Momma and Sam’s mom, Natasha Splayed, were raised same town, and volunteered cop together. They were doing great at police college till mom copped a slug in her spine on parole patrol. She’s still wheelchair; but you better believe there ain’t no one more independent than my momma…”

I could hear the sweet tears of love in Honey’s voice, as she spoke of her ma’s tragedy, and for me it was instant dime drop.

“Honey Godmade! You’re Senta Olove’s daughter. Senta Olove who was Senta Godmade before she married…what was her husband’s name?….. I queried, as if it was quiz night at the precinct canteen, cruelly forgetting that I was talking in Honey’s sweet presence about Honey’s dearest ones.

“My other momma was…. is ….. Plenty Olove, but Senta and she got a divorce, a year after my sis was born?” Honey informed, with sadness in her tone.

“I remember now!” I rejoiced. “Sam and you and your sis did school together. Your sister is Unica Lee Godmade, am I right, or am I right?”

“You’re right alright Charley”, Honey purr-mewed, with sadness hinting, and diamonds glinting edge her eyes.

I sensed that under the sweet smile and the golden giggle, this stunning babe had worry. She clearly knew how to knock another girl dead with her charms, but I somehowed that she used her weaponry to hide her shyness, and, just now, to disguise that she was tears, but for her determination not to show it.

If Honey was the product of her ma and ma making a withdrawal from a sperm bank, then that was the kind of bank account that offered great interest to me. Looking the doll over yet once more, as I couldn’t resist, I almost wished I had the means of making a deposit.

“Sam’s downstairs talking to our landlady right now. But she’ll be knocked out to meet you again Honey. I know she will. She recalled you and your sis to me many a time. She said you were the prettiest pair in the school, and that must mean something, cos Sam’s a great looker herself”, I smiled, thinking of Sam’s kisses.

“It’s about Unica”, Honey sighed.

And, just as I was looking to resist kissing the tears starting in her eyes once more, there came a knock on the opened door just behind us.

It was Mrs Hodson. Mrs Hodson, the landlady, with a very flushed and very pleased face. Mrs Hodson with a seraphic smile playing on her rather attractive mouth. My guess that Sam had been sipping from Mrs Hodson’s honeyhive two-minutes since, would account for her florid face, I was sure.

“Excuse me Miss Moans, but Sam…. I mean Miss Splayed said to say she’d had a call from a Lieutenant Pat McClit at the station house, and was going over right now to see her, and a Captain Kismet Lipps…if I have all that right.”

“You have it dead right Jonita”, I assured Mrs Hodson.

“Did Sam say what McClit and Lipps wanted see her for?”

“No. I’m so sorry Miss Moans. And I never thought to ask”

“No apology needed Jonita. Sam could and should have said; but no mind”, I comforted.

“Does that mean there will only be one for afternoon refreshment now, or would your lovely friend be taking Miss Splayed’s place?”

I turned to see Honey blushing at Mrs Hodson’s compliment, and without consulting, I turned back to Mrs Hodson, and nodded tiffin for two.

It was a tradition that had come from old England to New England, and one that, with my English ancestry, I liked to preserve.

Honey and I stepped into the main room, and, Mrs Hodson carried in the rattling china on a silver tray with pot, spoons, sugar bowl, and milk jug to match. The tray was silently slid onto the table between Honey and me.

So the table was an overturned wooden crate right now. Come unpack and I’d have got the real deal. But unpack was time to come yet awhiles.

I beckoned Honey to sit, and watched her dress glide up her suspenders, as her hem took a hike and her thighs metamorphosed to magnificent monuments before my eyes.

As she sat, because she was still pirouette in her ballet shoes, her toe-tips still kissed carpet. In consequence, her calves were curves to crave, and her dress slid up so short she was surely kissing the goddam lucky chair with her unclad love cave.

Honey was knees to knees with me now, and I caught the scent with which she would have gloried her panties if only she’d worn some.

To hide that I longed to stroke her, I lifted the pot in my right hand, and ensured it was warm with my left, before raising Honey’s saucered cup, and filling it with the hot brew.

“You’ll like this Honey. It’s Asian. It’s from a spe******t on the corner of Leaf Street and Main. A balanced mix of Indian and Chinese, specially imported from the far east, where the girls produce the finest.”

“Milk or sugar?” I enquired after passing her the cup, but Honey was already answering that enquiry with her lovely lips sipping the heavenly heavily scented concoction, just as it had come, straight from the pee pot.

She looked distracted and on the edge of distraught. Her innate good manners were to the fore though, as was her sensational bosom when she leant forward to rest her sipped-from cup back on the tray.

Suddenly I was realise that I was letting my longing to prolong her presence hold sway over my duties.

“Sorry Sam ain’t here, sweetheart, but if you lay down the dope on Unica, I’ll promise you my fullest attention. You’ll be my first PI case, so I’m okay for pro bono for a coupla three days. After that, we can agree a fee…..”

“Money’s not a problem Charley”, Honey overrid in her urgency to say her say.

“I’m clearing more in an hour than most girls my age get paid in a year. You’re looking at the fashion editor of ‘Hi’ magazine’s US edition, save that the appointment up from deputy hasn’t been announced yet”.

“It’s Unica we, momma and me, are worried lots about. We both did college at Grandice; Unica and me, but Unica was two years behind me of course? I majored in English; Unica went for mathematics, and was prize winner two years running, till so******ing got the better of her”, I watched Honey’s lovely lips as she fragranced the air with her beautiful breath.

Unica fell in with a crowd. You know the kind of thing I’d guess. First it was the drink. She was downing at least two bottles every single night – the finest French and Italian girl-pee it was too. She was living way beyond momma’s means.”

“Then she took up smoking: you know: down there”

As she indicated with her index finger to show the general direction of ‘down there’, a rose hue arose on Honey’s perfect pale countenance.

“At first it was just tobacco; but I’m sure she was into cannabis. Then she began to white-line…..”

As Honey hung her head in despair, I longed to comfort her, but knew I must stay professional. So I let her recover, and stayed silent till she wanted to talk some more.

Meanwhile I overed in my mind what she’d said so far.

Like she said, I’d seen it before. I’d done beat officer in the docks area one time. The sailor-girls there just loved a rough shag. Many a time, late at night, I’d seen them: dead drunk in a doorway, three months pay from away at sea, spent in one night, on cheap girls and expensive girl-pee, or else stolen by the goodtime girls.

There they’d be, the sailorettes, squatting on their haunches, drunk out of their minds, with their skirts up, their panties down, and a cigarette or else a joint between their lips.

Like Honey’d said, I’d seen it before. I knew it was horrendously addictive, even if it was only tobacco they took. I knew that once a girl got into cunt smoking, it was and is hell’s own habit to break.

As for white-lining, if Unica had also taken to wet-fingering coke into her sheath, she was already beyond what even rehab could rescue.

Cocaine gave a girl a hyper high that way. But it needed the purest grain. That cost an arm and a leg. Most girls would end up paying for it with their whole body. Unable to live without the high it gave them. Out of work, out of money, out of a home to live in, coke-cunts were on every corner in the filthiest quarters of the town, begging for the dough to pay for the mix for their next fix.

Men took advantage of course. A cock gave coke-cunts a similar thrill; but was always a let down, and no real substitute. A good poke with a finger laden with coke, and a frisk to crescendo of her own, could take a girl to multi-cum nirvana. No wonder the coke-cunts needed more and more.

This was cinch for my first PI outing. I coulda told Honey where to go to find her sister pretty sure to show. Coke-cunts needed dollars by the heap. More wants more when the vagina gets a taste of good snow. And more wants more money in consequence.

The Brickyard had gone to the dogs. There’d been a big spread in the ‘New Edingow Penetrator’ about it.

It was sure as probable that Honey, if she could be assed to eye over the local print at all, would be front-page news when reader, even if the Penetrator’s circulation went out her distant way. The Brickyard’s makeover, from auto racing when there’d been oil to spare, to what went on there now, had made only inside back page, and that a twelve-moon since.

I like a gamble as long as it’s, like a great dame, a high-octane risk. I’d thrown my bucks down on the dog-races more times than I could afford. That place, ‘the Brickyard’, as they first called it auto history, attracted high rolling traffic.

Some women spoil their wives like that. A lot of the chicks that gathered there were spare for the night. Let loose by their busy wives: wives doing great-shakes in the Fall Street banks and stock exchange and the like, they went to the Brickyard to let their hair down and their purses wander.

All that money rolling loose, made the Brickyard a Jupiter sized magnet for the coke-cunts. Of course, they had to go cold-turkey for the hours they did duty. And there was risk attached, the highest of which was that they’d lose, so there’d be no pay that day.

But there was a queue of queues Mondays. Mondays being recruiting night, all the coke-cunts gravitated there. They all gathered over the weekend and squabbled like cats drowning in a sack, to get themselves the jobs that might be free. Then the owners would disburse the surplus ones, letting them go to hell or to sell their bodies on the street for the cocaine they craved to take them to an early grave.

“You got a notion, Charley?” Honey whispered, both reading and disturbing my thoughts, and a whole lot more, when her long fingers touched my knee.

I knew I had to break it gently to this wonder. Life can be such a bitch. I suppose I was being a bit of a bitch too. I so wanted to impress Honey: to show her I was a girl of the world.

So Sam was my woman these days; but that don’t stop eye roving none. I’d mentalled Honey doing bed-sandwich ‘tween Sam and me, so we could take her to the stars together. But I hoped that’d be second night, after I’d taken her orbit solo.

“Sweetheart, you being an out-of-towner, you won’t have heard of the Brickyard?” I began, in explanation mode.

“I sure do!” Honey protested. “We got a brick pigsty built back home by the sweetest coupla builders! They was singing, laughing, and joking Ma Senta and me, all day!”

“I was only just turned teen then, and, on the sly, both those girls kept asking me if I was date.”

“I was in my first ever pair of heelless tiptoe-ballet shoes too. Ma gave them me my new-teen birthday? I was so proud those brand-new tiptop-tiptoe shoes, and the Hicksville tattered straw hat I’d worn forever?

Those girls would give me the whistling wolf, and try and pinch my butt? They chased me round like I was a rooster headed chop for Thanksgiving! They were real honeys, out to give me my first kiss?”

“I’m so clear recall, cos it was after that, when Ma Senta found out the builders had been after me, that she insisted I start wearing clothes, and not just a hat and shoes around the farm.”

As her eyes glowed and showed what love she had for the world, Honey’s tone was totally innocent.

“That’s one kinda brickyard sweetheart” I agreed. Those kinda bricks gotta come from somewheres. The kind of brickyard I got in mind has the bricks buried some these days, now it’s a dog track”

“They race dogs there!? Oh how sweet!” Honey glowed. “They’re not cruel to them are they?! Oh please say they’re not cruel none!” she then concerned.

“They ain’t cruel to the dogs at all, and that’s fact. They just love to run and chase”, I assured her.

“There’s a meet tonight. Girls like your sis. I mean girls who need crack in their cracks. They go there for the good-timers who confetti their doe like it was going outta fashion. It’s the best place bar none to earn some money. If you get chosen that is of course”.

“You mean Unica’s there right now!!”

“Maybe and maybe not. Surest time to certain ourselves is when the races are on. Floodlight time is when the girls fill the stands, and the ‘coke-cunts’ – begging your pardon Honey – when the addicts do their thing.” I calmed.

“You got time to hotel and get back here for 7.00. Dress evening some. We gotta mix in. We gotta look dollars so we don’t show out none. Unica’ll be a run away if she obviouses you.”

As she rose to high heaven on her heaven high legs, Honey practically screamed at me: “No way the delay! We go there right now!”

“You go now, and you go it alone kid. That’s even if you can find your way.” I wised her.

“You hired PI and now you’re not advice. I’m knowing the low down. You go there now, and you’ll be sore thumb. Word will grapevine like gunpowder trail sparked. Unica’ll get know, and sure you a no show!”

“Sorry Charley!” Honey sweetened, reluctantly sitting down again. “I’m clearly just a girl with these things. But it’s so pain knowing Unica’s found, and we can’t go get her home!” Honey purred, as her tears poured love for her kid sister.

“I never said for sure found, Honey. We got to gamble and see if we win Union or Confederate dollar”

Honey stood again and shouldered her head on me, and I could have cried too; but for joy.

Even though I could embrace her for good reason, the crush-confirmed firmness of her tits and teats, the heat of her body, the scent of her cunt and the fragrance of her hair, made me slick as sin within, and my clit dance seismometer jig.

At 6.55 that eve, I watched from the second floor front, as Honey’s ponygirl clopped her impatience to pull cab some more, while Honey paid the driveress.

I was totalled. I’d bid Honey to dress money, but I’d not expected a zillion-dollars.

I wanted rest my eyes forever on her, and she was coming my way. Last I saw of her window, was a pretty hand suring her darling hat was straight.

As I listened while our rickety elevator strained chain some, even with only Honey’s max one-hundred-ten-pounds of joy, my heart beat drum parade.

When she entered room, her eyes said she wanted admire and she got what she deserved.

Her dress clung so tight it musta been sprayed on. The baby-blue had gone. This rig was scarlet. The blonde curls still did a peek-a-boo over one shy summer-sky eye, behind the net that curtained her goddam gorgeous kisser.

The hat this time was a big scarlet beret, slouched left side her head, with a rainbow making peacock’s-eye feather rising front centre huge high, afore curving back almost behind her head.

The rest was the dress. It followed her every nook more wholly than a religious zealot a holy book. The scarlet was only broken by spotless white wing collars under her chin. Below the collar, ‘tween neck and toes, the satin sheen shone spotlight on her every delight.

Tight as her dress was, her breasts, though pressed by its lucky caress, impressively doubled out the front, with their teats poking perky peaks.

She was showing no leg, but she was showing what great legs she’d got, cos the dress was so tight it told them like they was. She was up top tiptop tiptoe ballet in her shoes under. Her calves said so, and so did the acutely cute concaves in her butt’s sides.

With her lovely face behind the curtaining net, and her curls draping the back of her neck, the only bare flesh Honey had on show, were the tops of her arms at her shoulders, the rest of her hands and arms up to there, being enraptured by shimmering scarlet satin gloves.

I looked for visible panty line, or anything to relieve the eye from this astonishing vision, and could see plenty to cause the deepest disturbance, but nothing to disrupt the flow. Her tits and her nips were au naturelle too, that was a sure show.

In her right hand, held by its drawn draw-string, was a neat and tidy tiny scarlet leather reticule, that put me in mind of just how tight-closed another purse must be under this shrink-fit hug-gown.

Me? Oh I’d just gone businessgirl stripes, navy blue and white pinstripe jacket and skirt, white silk blouse with panties to match over my snatch: white suspenders, black stockings, and front heeled ballet-shoes.

With me being white and negro half-cast, the suit was not my favourite colouring, but it had been going cheap sale, and I needed something quality quick when I was first no longer cop uniform.

If what Honey wore was a pencil dress, it needed no sharpening. It narrowed to her ankles, before it belled out where her feet were hid, and then it draped floor so she was cloud and love potion number nine divine in her every motion.

“Will I do in this?” Honey dangled bate.

“Honey, in anything, you’re knockout and breathtake; but in that especial, you’ll have them down knees kissing ground in worship!” I genuined. “Sweetheart, when the chicks at the stadium see you in that number, they’ll be stun-gun tazered total, and so they should be: you’re a babe’s babe!”

Honey now gave me the twirl, so I could see that, as no one could deny, she was every part a girl.

“You don’t think it’s too showy do you Charley?” Honey concerned, talking girl to girl, and ignoring my lascivious look, even though her face said she’d scored me as a won one in her mental book.

“‘Showy’ don’t even make first base”, I assured.

I could now hear hoofs prancing the cooling concrete of a day advancing dark. It was coming our way for sure. I was window, and saw it was a pink cab like I’d ordered for 7.30.

Even if it was not ours for certain, the babe and I needed to get sidewalk for when the hire came to take us stadium.

I motioned for Honey to go ahead, and watched her move. In that gorgeous gown she was butterfly with a wiggle that’d make a rattlesnake pursue infringed copyright.

Tippytoe in her ballets, and with the taper of her dress confining her ankles to a quarter-inch stride, she walked pas-redoublé two-dozen to the dozen, and her satin caressed ass swished Satan’s lure for sure.

I mighta wished she’d worn something more practical; but I could never wish she’d been adorned by anything more sensational. My eyes followed her like they hoped they’d never have to blink; even though they were burned blind by her hyper-feminine undulations.

After elevator, when we made street, the waiting cabbess’ spotted Honey, and her jaw dropped, or would have if she didn’t have to control her urge to drool.

“Wow! But ain’t you the lucky girl?!” she astounded to me, as she next gave Honey an arm to hold, so Honey could wiggle up into the two-passenger cab, via the ramp walkway the cabbess had been only too keen to deploy Honey’s way.

As Honey now snuggled her darling butt and sweet-scented petals on the cab seat, the cabbess couldn’t help herself: “Jeese! Is she heaven or is she heaven?! She murmured out loud, before she whispered to me, deliberately so Honey could hear: “And is she only show, or does she really go?”

For that I could have slugged the cabbess, but time was moving on and I needed her to get this ponygirl taxi doing way beyond standard snail.

“Double-fare if you get us to the Brickyard in fifteen”, I businessliked.

The cabbess turned frown, and confided: “You can tell me it ain’t none of mine of course, but why you taking a swell dame like that to the Brickyard tonight of all nights? You don’t look as if you don’t know the dog trots is top-billing there….”

My thoughts about the cabbess turned from the urge to show her instant midnight, to a regard for her concern for Honey.

“There’s good cause. She’ll be among a crowd of other dames watching. She won’t come to no harm”, I reassured her, even if not myself.

“But the dog races?! You sure know how to pick your ‘tainment for a honey babe!” the cabbess concluded.

Then she stepped up driver, upped the reins, and, as she flicked the ponygirl’s traces to twice-tug its tits in unison, thus to tell it to start towing the cab some, called: “Hupp there ‘Sweetkiss’, hupp there gal”.

The cabbess was as good as the word she hadn’t given. It was fourteen minutes and no more, when she began to tug the rein to repeat-lift the ponygirl’s left tit, so it would know to take the cab left turn into the Brickyard’s entrance.

“Whoa Sweetkiss!” she called as she hauled rein to lift both the ponygirl’s tits aloft to a hold, firmly as one, to signal the halt.

Honey was now all anxiety. She was not realise we had the cabbess and admission-money to pay. She was rapid tippytoe for the main entrance, fast as her sexy butt could wriggle-wiggle her.

As both our eyes were locus, on Honey’s sensationally sensual glide: “Say, you better catch the sweetheart afore they make her volunteer”, the cabbess concerned, even overlooking that I’d not given her the promised double, or even a tip for the trip.

Fee paid, with my free stride, I was two seconds before siding Honey’s rapid but tiny progress once more, and took her satin gloved arm to stop her wild wiggle awhiles.

“Don’t stop me Charley!” Honey begged. “Unica’s in there I know sure. We gotta find her Charley. Please gee we just gotta find her!”, she begged.

“You gotta be escort if you go in there kid.” I informed. Solo women get rounded up, thrown out, or dumped in the can. You buy badge with ticket, and the guards keep eye you got a number and colour match, or take you on the bye-bye for the exit or the Girl-Control patrol wagon.”

“The girls that come here, do it in groups or not at all. The management don’t want the prostitutes around making the place look untidy begging money see. Coke-cunts don’t got no badge, and don’t usually make single check never mind double-eye. But one day recent past they found one with stolen badge. So these days, it’s double-up or more, or else quit the place single at the double”.

“So where we gonna find Unica then Charley?” Honey concerned, with a tone saying she was moment conclude I’d led her there chasing wild goose.

“I never said she was here for sure Honey, now did I?”, I reminded so as to put her calm down.

“No...no Charley, I know you didn’t”, Honey whispered in a tone to make me lump throat and heart broke.

Despite what I feared we’d find, and what I knew it would do to this angel, I poured the beans.

“I’ve been here before Honey, that’s why I said here was a likely for your kid sis”, I confessed. “I wasn’t realise who she was then. But time before last I was here, she was one of the entertainers. You see, I knew the name, but only as Sam told schooldays story… I’d never clapped my eyes on her before…..so I didn’t know then, that she was your sister, or even a relative of any kind at all.”

Tears were corner Honey’s baby-blue peepers as she looked plead into my soul.

“What did she do entertaining Charley?” she asked, her voice hoarse croak, her tone saying she didn’t really want know if it was bad.

“She was cheerleader at school. Is she cheerleader here?” she false-brightened, doing an ostrich sand-dive with her mind.

As invite for me to dry the sweet diamonds from her stunning eyes, Honey was giving me her worst fears, with wish they would not be realised. She was worst casing it in hope I would give her Christmas day morning.

I longed to comfort Honey; but I knew it had to be pain. I kept it short. I paid admission and badged us both up.

Honey’s silence was the sweetest eloquence as she wiggled at my side, with me leading her to the changing rooms under the main stand.

At the third door, we saw a six-pointed star, and a name ‘Unica Lee Godmade’, and Honey turned to me wide eyed with her lips open as if to kiss me as I longed she should, but to be in fact, understood as her not understanding, and so begging me for explain.

After we’d knocked and gone straight into Unica’s changing room, before closing the door behind us, we, Honey and I, turned at the bright knock on the door we had just seconds before closed.

“Ten minutes Unica sweetheart!” came the door-muffled call from the stage-girl.

Unica acted like she hadn’t seen us. Honey clung to me limpet, but knew she shouldn’t , now we’d found her kid sis.

I’d expected the big reconcile and the two girls slow-montioning into each other’s arms in a sea of tears and joyful cries, as the violins competed for yet higher sighs.

Instead I stood holding Honey’s gloved hands before she clung her flung arms around me and pressed her head on my shoulder, working her silent lips like she wanted to suckle on my tit.

The sight of her sister had stunned her, and dumbned her, but it hadn’t stopped her crying, and her sobs were breaking my heart.

Unica could have been a miniature of her older sister. She was five-two: a petite doll replete with a repeat of all her sister had had two years before her, and still had. Just like Honey, she was sweeter than sugar sprinkled on maple syrup.

If I’d guessed she was a product from the same sperm donor as Honey, I wouldn’t have been wrong. And that’s precisely what I did guess, while wondering, at the same clock tock, as I glanced her angel’s face mirror, why she had such gorgeous brown eyes, when Honey’s were summer-sky blue.

As Honey sobbed in my arms, Unica, with her back still toward us, settled a safety razor into the bowl of warm water on her dressing table, and swished the fresh mix of shaving foam and pubic stubble off it.

When she now turned to face us, I could not help but look where she’d been shaving.

Post fresh-depilation her legs shone. But where she had just finished the last whisk of the blade, she looked so completely innocent even I could have cried.

Unica wore only a sweat-stained cotton chemise and rather grubby ballet shoes.

She had great legs, and stood en-pointe with the easy grace of a born dancer. ‘Great legs must run in the family’ was an obvious thought, as was the speed with which such legs could carry this petite delight if she turned to flight.

As Unica sat and then lay back on the edge of her bed, and began to run her pretty little hands down her legs from her groin to her ankles, to check she was as completely smooth as she appeared and wished to be, I studied the large bold ‘96’ tattooed on the left side-cheek of her very pert posterior. I’d seen it before of course, and it made me recall what she was here for.

An unfinished glass of water, and a bottle spilling a train of familiar white and pink pills along the glass shelf that lipped below her mirror, told me she was still in the frame for the big game.

“So you found me then Honey”, Unica, whispered, hiding a choke that the emotions she was stifling would have let roar, if they’d had their way and say.

“Have you come here to gloat at your coke-cunt little sis?” she added like the stroke of a whip on a bared nerve, to hurt herself by being cruel to Honey, and thereby hurt Honey double more.

“Darling! Please!!” Honey gasped with such a contorted voice I could not have known it was her, were her sweetness not in my lucky arms.

From the distant outside, we heard a cheer and jeers and derisory whistles. I instant looked at Unica. No eye or lid did she bat, as she rose from where she had sat.

Another tap at the door and “You’re on in five Unica. Better get down and saddle up now honeybunch. Don’t work the day and you don’t got the pay!”, came the same cheery stage-girl’s voice.

I watched in fascination, as Unica gripped the hem of her chemise in her tiny hands, and lifted it over her head to leave herself naked but for her ballet shoes.

In doing so, she caught up her tits in the soft material still warm from her hot body, and they flipped firmly out, bounce-swayed the same and then their own individual ways, before settling to point their exquisite strawberry-pink nipples accusingly up my way.

“I’m sorry Honey. I gotta go. If it all goes well, I’ll be back in forty-five or so. I can’t talk now. I need all the concentration I got…..I just gotta go…” Unica repeated as she swung her fabulous frame past us to the door, and I watched her legs as I couldn’t help, they were so dammed pretty.

Unica then added, as she put her head back round the door: “Out of here turn right, three flights up, and you’ll be in the high-rollers’ stand. Nobody’ll notice none. They’ll all be watching the last girl getting it, or else placing their bets on me”. And, with that, she disappeared.

After a long pause that could only be put down to continued shock: “I want to see what happens here!” Honey insisted.

“No you don’t sweetheart: believe me you don’t” I up-wised her. “You and I both best stay here till Unica’s back, Honey. That’s my advice”, I added, knowing it was useless, and that my intent we could smuggle Unica out disguised somehow, anyhow, had gone forever drain.

Honey was having none of my cautions. As I tried to warn her up, her face looked devastatingly into mine, while I simultaneous struggled to find my up-sleeved handkerchief, she so needed do a quick fix.

After she’d dabbed tear, she took charge, and practically dragged me to the stairs for the top stand, making amazing speed in her hug-gown as she tippy-tiptoe-totty-trot-wriggle-wiggled along.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked round for the elevator that wasn’t there, and then at me, as if it was taken for granted that I’d do my duty: the duty the beauty could not do for herself with her tight hem.

Of course, I did just that.

As I swept her up from standing helpless floor, Honey put her gloved arms round my neck, rapturous wrap, and breathed breathless deathless rose-scented assenting zephyrs on my mouth.

When Honey snuggled to me, like she was carry bride threshold for first night love fight, I longed kiss and more, and wished she belonged and we might.

She weighed wind-blown tumbleweed in my arms. She was trust and treasure beyond measure, so I took the highest care as she let me carry her the flights, till I could set her down and upright in her ballet shoes once more.

As I put Honey down on her big toes once again, I saw she was blushing to have found me so strong. And I wondered if her wonder was whetted and wet, and if she was gratitude with two moist lips more than the two I could see, when she purred: “Why thank you Charley. That was so sweet of you!”

Where we were now, we both looked down on a circular sand based track, with a raised middle monorail worn to a shine that glinted in the floodlights like sun-reflect.

Several pretty girls in gold-cord-decorated scarlet circus-ringmaster jacket uniform, scarlet ballet shoes, and tiny thongs of differing hue to denote their respective ranks, were out on the track erasing the marks made by the previous event, and ensuring an even sandy-bed over the occasional exposed brick in the brick-based track, for the next one.

At the far end of passageway that led out to the banked seats of the stand proper, packed with girls out for a good time, Honey had lost her nerve, and grabbed both my hands. This was lucky-daysville for unlucky me. I wanted her bed, but knew she needed said what was going on here.

As she turned and gave me the full earnest, Honey’s eyes melted my heart. Her looking to me to spill the naked was a soul-breaker. I would be tramping trampoline on her adorable innocence, and driving a wedge between us. I was but the messenger; but I was also going, I knew, to become blamed dame.

“Do you really wanna know?” I answered her silent question, in hope she’d give me a ‘noway’; but all she did was nod and give me the unwavering beam of her baby-blue desire magnets.

“It’s great to bet on”, I honested as a starter, to get out the way the further confession I’d been here before, and was seeing this view with no déjà vu.

I turned around and watched over Honey’s shoulder, as the five traps were prepared, the two each side of the rail on the sand-strewn track itself, and the one, the much bigger one, some distance behind the others, presently making hut over the rail. This latter had a crane arm reaching to its top middle so that it could be whisked up and out of the way.

My tired eyes took in the girls in the crowd on their mobiles, looking up at the five numbers on the big board, and choosing where to place their dollars.

“It’s great to bet on because it’s all computer controlled. Unless the dogs are…”

I stopped at the look of pain that made Honey’s pretty face look as it never ever should be allowed to.

“She swallowed hard, and gazed at me sweet innocence once more as she reminded me of my leave off; “’Unless the dogs are?…’”

“Unless the dogs are really fit, the sled will outpace them. It all depends on a programme that randomises the sled. It chooses the speed and whether it’ll run smooth constant or play the tease by slowing? It stops too once in a while, if that’s how the programme maps it. Sometimes that’s just a tease to please too, but sometimes it’s cos there’s to be a loser, like in the last race?”

Honey’s bravery astonished me. The sweetest look of determination was on her face. We both knew that she wanted to cry; but also that she wanted I should go on.

“The girls are kept constant tampon. They’re kept heat by pills. Every girl has her unique scent. The dogs get the fresh-removed still wet tampon dangled before them, when they’re in the traps just before the off….”

I could say no more, because discover was that we were standing just below the public address, and I would have been gaping like a landed fish, to all appearances, had I tried to carry on above the over-amplified announcer.

“Ladies and ladies, the 8.45 features one of your and my favourites, the stunning Miss Unica Lee Godmade!”

“Those of you studying form, will see that Unica has featured in twelve races so far in her short career. And, of course, she’s been a lucky girl in every one: so we’ve put her up against the best here at the Brickyard Bitchway! And let’s hope that thirteen is the golden-haired honeybabe’s lucky number; or ours!!”

“For those not in the know, our Unica is a petite blonde angel all the way from way-beyond Hicksville-Sticksville, two-hundred miles west of New Dulbin City, where the girls are so pretty.”

“Unica graduated Grandice with a masters in math. Yesser-marie, our twenty-three-year-old little angel’s got brains as well as a face and bod that’ll knock you out, all 38, 21, 36 of it. And you just wait to see the legs on her – god’s own, believe me!”

“And what’s more ladies, she’s a shaven honey! Yes ladies, we are talking total innocence here. Our gorgeous little hick-land country gal, has still got a wholesome whole-cherry pie!”

“Up against the lovely little Unica tonight, we have: No 3 – Lotus-Flower; No 5 – Deep-Lick; No 7 – Passion-Perfume, and No 18 - Cactus-Horn.”

Hearing this, surprised me a little. All the chasers would be huskies of course. But the inclusion of three bitches and only one dog was unusual.

The thinking was probably to save Unica’s hymen for another day. If she was caught by the pack, she might be lucky and have the bitches fight the dog off her cunt. Then again, bitches were notorious for savaging tits. If that happened, Unica would have it taken, unless the dog preferred her ass or her mouth.

I kept this to myself of course. Honey had suffered enough.

The girl on the address cut back in again, and Honey grabbed my waist and put her lovely head on my shoulder, determined to watch.

“The pre-race betting for the 8.45 is now closed ladies and ladies. The odds are as follows: against winning the first full contact prize: No 3 Lotus-Flower 10 to 1; No 5 – Deep-Lick, your 5 to 1 favourite; No 7 – Passion-Perfume 30 to 1, in her first race here at the Brickyard Bitchway of course, and No 18 - Cactus-Horn is evens. The odds on our pretty little Unica getting hers also stands at evens tonight.”

Despite myself, I felt a frisson of excitement as the yelping dogs were led into their little hutches, to hold them trapped till the race was on. And, to my total astonishment, I caught the same tension in the gorgeous Honey.

As they watched Unica’s saturated tampon being dangled at each dog’s nose for two seconds by turn, the women around appeared bored, but, as the kennel containing Unica was lifted off the track, appropriately like the lid of a tureen covering the tastiest little dish, they looked up with keenness and more, some glancing at their mobile-phone screens to check on what they had bet on.

Unica was strapped to the sled in the traditional manner. The sled, stainless-steel, straddled the raised monorail like a saddle.

Under the squared-off straight central hump of this saddle, were the electric motor, and the wheels it drove to run the track when the sled was in motion.

At either side, and just above ground-level in consequence, were ledges –running-boards. The naked girl riding the sled, knelt with her body on the central hump. Her tits thus divinely divided and either-sided the cold steel her cleavage and belly pressed down upon.

Unica knelt, and her wrists were tethered to hold her flattened hands, as if paws, on the elongated front ledge. At her belly a strap over her back held her steady. Her gorgeous legs were tied by their ankles by straps tight round her enormously strong thighs and she thus ‘stood’ on her knees on the elongated rear ledge.

Around her forehead a band, emblazoned with her number, gripped her poor head like a tourniquet. A chinstrap down from that headband, stopped the headband slipping off.

Two tight straps then ran back from the rear of her headband, and grasped her big toes. These straps were murderously tight so that, not only did they pull Unica’s dainty feet straight sky and beyond, thus giving her calves the greatest of great shape, but they also ensured she held her head up and her mouth ready, if unwilling.

Unica’s heavy tits hung either side the sled’s central ridge like the gentlest tears.

Now the little angel rode the Bitch-Sled, the tattoo on her ass cheek was audience side. And now she was face down and not as she had been on the dressing-room bed when she’d inspected the perfection of her perfect legs, her number had reduced by all of 27. Her forehead band confirmed as much.

The dogs were yelping. Now she was uncovered from the hut, they could smell Unica’s bleeding cunt.

As Honey watched aghast, the sled whooshed through the middle of the four cages, past the still encaged dogs, and tripped the whole long circuit of the tack with the tethered bitch, Unica, at the ready on its back.

As the sled came past the caged dogs again, at an instant predetermined by the computer, the front of their cages lifted in unison, and the chase began.

In place of the girl who had introduced the race, an older, slightly world-weary woman’s voice, with a lovely contralto husk, took up a running commentary.

“And the 8.45 gets underway, with our sled-bitch, No 69, right in front as you’d expect at this stage. And so we must wait and see what random choices the computer will make for the delightful little blonde girl.”

“And so it’s 69, with No 5 closing in, followed by No 7 and No 30, who seems already out of breath, unless she’s playing the long game. And nowhere to be seen for the moment is that prize stud No 18 – Come on now Cactus-Horn!”

“And 69 is slowing she’s definitely slowing. And hear comes No 18 right past all the bitches after the main prize you can bet!”

As Unica’s sled obeyed what the computer said and sped away from the horny hounds once more, I was as much eyes on Honey as Honey was on her delicious kid sister.

Honey in her hug-gown, had lifted away from lean on me now, and I could see her baby-blue eyes wide with wonder as she watched her naked sister slow to tease and please the dogs with the scent of her cunt, till they closed almost too close, before the sled sped away again to cheers from the crowd.

What I saw on the track filled me now with horror. When I had not known a participant I’d bet and won. In the recent past, a roll-up on Unica had netted me a neat $1K. But now I knew who she was, and she’d ceased to be just meat, I felt disgust at what was going on.

At least I only felt disgust mounting nausea for what was going on on the track, till I also saw Honey.

All the crowd were shouting for the dogs to catch her sister, and so, as I astonish realised, so were Honey’s nipples.

Either she had two Egyptian pyramids mounting hard guard in her dress, or else they were up so hard and huge-high it musta hurt like hades.

Her mouth was open and invitation wet. And it would be no losing bet that she’d be wetting her knickers but that she was butt naked under that girl-confirming gown.

And then I could see ‘neath the spider veil in Honey’s widening eyes that that was it!

Even without looking back track, I instant knew Unica had lost the race.

It was in Honey’s face.

Before I tore my eyes from Honey, and looked myself, I could see in Honey’s wide eyes, Unica screaming with terror as the dogs closed in on her, and again, in agony, as Lotus-Flower and Deep-Lick tore at her lactation-pill filled tits, slobbering in the milk that poured from her nipples, while Passion-Perfume jumped onto the sled’s rear platform lapped atUnica’s love lips tasting the fresh salty blood of her constant monthly.

And I watched in horror as the crowd cheered and claimed their prizes for second third and fourth.

Only if Cactus-Horn buried his cock in the point target would a first prize be awarded; but he lolled tongue, more than happy to be shagging Unica’s now consequently silenced mouth.

And I could see that Honey was close to cum. Her eyes opened and closed with her pupils huge from the fascination of seeing her kid sister getting it. Those baby blue eyes opened and shut in time with the throb and bob of her nipples.

Her ghost white face was flushed with red fire that burned her cheeks. Her gorgeous legs shook with her desire to intertwine them divine vine, and give her juicing lemon the squeeze that her hug-gown would never let her.

The inhuman squeal of pain as Cactus-Horn showed his claim to fame and name by taking Unica’s cherry, was followed by Unica’s moans from being ridden to pleasure, and was split-instant with Honey biting her gloved forefinger as she, though silent, echoed scream in measure, and was total cum, head to her darling tip-top-tiptoed toes, even as she stood ballet in her full-length satin gown.

When she turned my way, Honey was still cum and cum again, her nipples dancing entrancing tango and her eyes a billion miles away, as she creamed on her sister being dog-shagged below the stand, in front of the ten-thou who were betting on the next race by now.

“Oh jeese Charley! Oh jeese what have I done?! That’s my poor little sister out there Charley! Oh jeese how could I?!!”

I didn’t wait to answer: I didn’t know the answer.

As I one-eightied and walked away, I felt no urge to turn back even when I heard Honey scream: “Charley, oh god Charley, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me Charley! Please!!”.

But I did U-turn twenty yards later, and I saw an angel in a scarlet silk gown wriggle-wiggling total girl after me, as fast as her tiptoed feet and the tourniquet-tight hem of her hug-dress at her ankles would let her.

I suppose I should have been flattered that Honey was wanting be with me, even though, over her shoulder, I could see Unica was still getting hers hot and slow, with the bitches worrying at her nipples, chewing her teats, snarling with their bared teeth tugging the bitten nips, frustrated that she was milked-out.

Honey caught the line of my eyes, and hers followed, and she bit her gloved forefinger again to silence her would-be scream as she came on her sister’s cries of joyful agony when Cactus-Cock changed tactic and rammed it up her ass.

Honey was all confusion now. She so wanted to complete her sibling treachery by watching Unica’s rape; but she also feared being left to fend for herself, and maybe, just maybe, wanted me to have her to a finish, beddy-byes wise, back at my place or her hotel, whichever was nearer, even if she could wait that long to be stroked and licked-out.

Even as Unica screamed out her want for all the dogs in the whole damned city to be let loose on her, in language so earthly earthy it could only have come from a natural lady cumming massive-multiply-multi-time, Honey decided to drag herself away from her sister’s torture and try to get back with me.

So, having turned my way once more, she was running to me on the tip-top-tips of her big toes as fast as the miniscule step her dress would allow would let her. She was running on the tip-top-tips of her big toes, with the hinge formed by her minge unquestionably lubricated lubriciously by her love juices.

So tight was her figure confirming gown, that, were she not so evidently woman wet, her love lips would have been chafing on one another as she wiggled as fast as she could, short of a fall.

As Honey totty-trotted after me, I pictured her clit doing a war dance on the sight of her sister’s cunt being lanced. And it would not have surprised me none if, even now, it was not only out of its hood, but ‘tween her slippery petals being rubbed in semi-circle-semi-rotations, back and forth with her alternating steps.

But her miniscule steps were not fast enough, and it would never be fast enough for me.

“Charley! Charley!! Oh god Charley, please don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!! Charley!! Please!!!

And I heard Honey’s tone turn to purr and I knew that her walk in that gown was putting yet more cream in her éclair. And I turned again to watch her wiggle as fast as her gown would let her, as fast as she could, to when and where I topped the down stairs.

And I heard her whispered cry of: “No!! Oh please god no!!” and saw she was a walking cum coming toward me and cumming and cumming and cumming.

As she was mince-wriggle-wiggling best she could to where I stood, she was big-toe-stood running faster and faster, the faster and greater to pleasure herself to cum upon cum upon cum.

And now, as I took the stairs a flight at a time, in a dream and my flight from what I had seen: that something so obscene that I could make no rhyme nor reason of it, Honey’s desperate screech of: Charleeeeeeeey!!!!!” echoed around the stadium.

I hit the bourbon for a week after.

Sam saved my day.

She never asked what had corkscrewed me and why the lid had again come off my noway to the boozy day.

That was the greatest kindness of all.

Sam knew without asking of course. Mrs Hodson would have given her the entrée, and she herself could fill in the other courses, and thus the causes.

Despite that, Sam was love and forgiveness and kisses my way all day every day till I pulled out of my drink fuelled dive.

Last I heard of the Godmade sisters, was six-month on from my deserting of Honey at the stadium, in my pride and disgust, and, truth told, my longing lust.

And, as I was told it, as of then, six months since I ran out on Honey, her sister Unica had cleared rehab, and was about to wed a society hostess.

And, as I was told it, as of then, six months since I ran out on her, Honey herself was still winning races……

The End

12-21-2007, 03:39 PM
Welcome back Eve

Thanks for the new addition

12-21-2007, 04:41 PM
didnt like it