Here's a sneaky peek at the start of a new series I've just started writing. Introducing Sarah Trumbull: Slut Detective!
Chapter 1
I had my legs open, my thong
pulled down, my pussy dripping wet, and an Allie Haze video—ohmigod I love her simple
teenage looks—streaming on my laptop, when she walked into my office. She was a
tall vixen, I could tell, with blonde hair that cascaded down from her scalp in
golden waves. I wondered if the proverbial carpet matched the curtains, but on
second glance—and as she got an eyeful of my hairless honeypot, licking her well-sticked
lips in the process—I gathered that she, too, had a bare pussy underneath her
clothes. She was dressed rather conservatively, but I knew that was just a
simple façade: all of the conservatively-dressed bitches were freaks in bed.
I know because I’m one of them.
I’m Sarah Trumbull, and I’m a detective.
I didn’t exactly vault out of my
chair, pause the video and wipe my fingers clean before shaking her hand and
welcoming her into my office. I took my time straightening my skirt, kicking my
thong off underneath my desk as I stood up. There’s nothing like commando in
the office, especially with a hottie staring at me as if I were a steak. I
licked my fingers quickly. As much as I love looking at Allie Haze, I love
tasting myself on my fingers.
“Hi, I’m Sarah Trumbull. What
can I do for you?” I said, extending my hand toward her. She took it. She had a
firm grip, one that stroked a cock or five. Same with mine. I watched as she
slipped her digits to her mouth to slurp off my personal residue.
I couldn’t help but tingle at the
sight.
“My name is Vivienne. I need your help.
My husband is cheating on me.”
I had heard the story before. I
offered her a seat in front of my desk while I saw back down. I slipped out of
my stilettos and rubbed my nylon-covered feet on my panties, giving me
confidence. My heart rapped against my breastbone as I pulled out a notepad and
flipped it open.
“Details, please.”
Vivienne wet her lips before she
crossed her arms underneath her ample breasts. I gauged them at 36c, and soft.
I wondered if I would get the chance to feel them, either with my hands or my
lips.
“I’ve been married for three
years. My husband’s name is Ron. He’s been quite distant the past few months,
and I’m of the belief that he’s sleeping with someone else.”
“Has he slept in the same bed with
you in that time?”
“Of course.”
It seemed to me that she blinked
because I had surprised her with my question. There were some men—at least in
my experience—that if they were cheating, they had no interest in their wives
and would avoid them like the plague.
“Giving you regular sex?”
She nodded.
“Big cock?”
Another nod.
“Huge,” she admitted. I caught her
legs spreading and closing. “Thick and veiny. But it’s all mine. I don’t want
another whore riding him.”
Damn. My problem was that I came
all unglued around a big, thick cock. My panties dropped for big cock. Hell,
even if a guy held their hands out about a foot apart and pointed to their
crotch, my panties would be off within heartbeats. Simply put, a big cock was
my Kryptonite.
And so were hot blondes like
Vivienne, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Do you have any evidence of his
cheating?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I found a scent that I don’t wear
on his clothes, and a pair of panties that don’t fit me in his pants.”
“Do you have the panties with
you?”
She shook her head.
“No, but I can bring them along
later.”
I nodded and made a note,
remembering my notepad. I still had visions of Ron’s big stiff cock dancing in
my head, and I had to admit, I wanted to suck that thing regardless of my
soon-to-be client’s wishes. And if my pussy could get any more wet, it would
have the Vagina Ocean. I scribbled, “Will bring subject’s panties later.”
Good. I needed something to sniff
when I got off later.
“Where does your husband work?” I
asked. I wanted to get a jump-off place so I could start my surveillance right
away. It was only 2 p.m., so I figured that he’d be at work.
She told me. I jotted the company
down. Lucky for me, I didn’t need the address: I had fucked a guy who worked
there a couple of years ago so I didn’t need the address, and no, his name
wasn’t Ron. As far as I knew. He didn’t have that big of a cock, so I had a
feeling it wasn’t my client’s husband.
“Good,” I said, putting my pen
down. I opened a drawer and pulled out a contract. I slid it across the desk to
her and handed her a pen. “This is just a standard contract. It stipulates that
you’ll pay me my retainer plus my fee, give me anything I need,” I said, my
eyes dancing, “for reconnaissance, and I’ll provide services in exchange.”
“What’s your fee?” she asked, her
eyebrow arching.
I detected the inflection, and if
I could look inside her chest—and nuzzle up against her breasts—I’d find a
rapidly-beating heart.
I told her.
She took a deep breath that made
her breasts bounce.
“Alright, I’ll pay it. How much is
the retainer?”
I grinned.
“My retainer isn’t monetary. No,
far from it. I want an assurance from you that you’re not going to back out on
our deal.” I rolled my chair out from behind my desk and faced her. I slowly
opened my legs to reveal my pussy. I pulled my skirt up toward my waist while I
looked at her. I saw my reflection in her eyes, and I saw how puffy and excited
I was. I slipped my fingers down below my waist and tickled myself lightly. I
sighed softly. “I want to see you naked, and I want to see you naked now.”
I wondered if she would walk out
and take her sexy self to another detective, but I know there weren’t any
around here that handled big cock cases like me. She kept staring at my wet
cunt with yearning eyes, and my next thought centered on how long it would take
for her to drop to her knees for a close-up view.
