Sherlock’s Horny Fan Club

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by Cristiano Caffieri

When Sherlock returned from his morning constitutional Watson couldn’t wait to relay a message they’d received from Lady Tartington-Boxworthy.

“She’s invited us to the Hall for the weekend to meet the members of the newly formed Sherlock Holmes Ladies Fan Club,” he said excitedly.

“My dear Watson, I knew those tiresome articles you keep publishing about my exploits would come to haunt us one day. I’m afraid I cannot waste my valuable time entertaining a lot of flittering ladies.”

He lit up his briar pipe and took his favorite position by the window and looked down on the hustle and bustle of Baker Street. “You know as well as I do Watson there are far important matters ahead of us this weekend and so you’ll have to send her my apologies and perhaps a signed photograph or two.”

“Lady Portia will be disappointed Holmes she apparently swoons every time she hears your name mentioned.”

“Lady Portia Williford-Pogue? The one with the big tits and the great ass?”

“The very same – I understand – she’s one of the founding members.”

“Then I fear we cannot disappoint these women Watson – our reputation is at stake – please ask Mrs. Hudson if she’s washed my Ninja underwear and find out the next train for Tartington village.”

“We can catch the 12.25 from Waterloo if we hurry and we can eat lunch on the train.”

“Well let’s get a move on Watson the Brown Windsor soup is beckoning.”

When they arrived at the Hall, Lady Tartington-Boxworthy, Lady Penelope to her friends, greeted them with well worn lines from Ibsen and Oscar Wilde.

“She doesn’t seem to be able to formulate one fucking line of dialogue without the aid of some playwright or other,” commented Holmes as he unpacked his valise. “The woman cannot forget that she once graced the London stage – or was it “disgraced the London stage,” he chortled.

“She still looks good for a woman of forty-five and the mother of six children,” Watson said, “I wouldn’t mind rattling her bones.”

“I never found her particularly attractive,” Holmes responded, “Until one day I observed her eating a banana and I must confess I was quite aroused by it.”

The good Doctor nodded his head looking a little confused by the admission and then left the room to find his own accommodations. He’d only been gone two minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door and on opening it he discovered Lady Portia standing there. She was dressed in a blue silk gown that followed the contours of her body and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her well-rounded ass as she entered the room.

“I hope you don’t mind me calling on you before you get unpacked,” she smiled, “But I’m so excited to at last be alone with the world’s most famous detective.”

As there was only one chair in the bedroom he sat down and invited her to sit on his lap. Her perfume was intoxicating and when she turned her face towards his their lips were only inches apart.

“I’ve always admired you, Mr. Holmes, ever since I first read your exploits penned by Dr. Watson in the London Times. It’s so rare to find a man as handsome as you that is also intelligent, resourceful and brave. I’m afraid it’s lead to me having to conceal a dreadful secret.”

Her scarlet lips were quivering as she spoke and he was dying to slip his tongue between them but he resisted the temptation and allowed her to continue.

“Lady Penelope and I first began to read your adventures together a few months ago and even though we are both married and have born children we found great satisfaction in fingering each other as we followed the stories. I know it’s shameful,” she stammered, “ but sometimes one of us one dress up as you and do role play – Penelope’s rather good at that sort of thing.”

Holmes was no stranger to this kind of situation and there was usually only one solution and that was to fuck some sense into them. However, before he had their legs in the air he would always inquire about their husbands, for although he was not opposed to dueling he didn’t like to take a human life if it could be avoided.

“My husband doesn’t care about me,” she replied to his question, “he’s more interested in horses.

“Yes – I once had a friend like that myself,” he sighed, “In the end, the poor chap joined the Cavalry.”

He no sooner had the words out of his mouth when that specific organ was suddenly welded to hers. Her full lips crushed against his and her tongue extended halfway down his throat.

Holmes quickly began to unbutton the back of her dress and within a few minutes they were both naked and he was lying on top of her fondling her voluptuous tits and sucking hard on her nipples.

“Oh my god it feels so good,” she cried flinging her arms back and abandoning herself to whatever he wanted to do with her. Soon she felt the tips of his fingers gently touching the folds of her pink orchid and then two fingers slid deep into her wet cavity. Working them in and out simulating intercourse he drove her half crazy and she began to scream and press her nails into his shoulders as she had an earth shaking orgasm.

Breathless, but wanting more she quickly changed her position to that she could kiss the end of his monster of a cock. Her fingers explored his balls as she licked her way up and down the sides and then as he tensed himself up she plunged the whole thing into her mouth.

His body was beginning to overheat as she synchronized her finger movements with her quivering lips. When he felt his cum moving upwards from his balls he started to groan and this seemed to excite her. Her head bobbed up and down faster and faster until he slammed both his arms on the bed with great force as he shot his load.

Portia swallowed the lot as if it was some sort of reward for her hard work and then she kissed him on the mouth and asked him he was carrying any handcuffs with him.

“What kind of a detective would I be if I didn’t,” he retorted.

“Well handcuff me to the bed,” she giggled, “I want to be your captor, I want to be your slave. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Holmes soon had her secured to the iron bed rails and with some cords from the window drapes he tied her legs to the bottom. As she lay there spread eagle he looked down on her with reverence – she was absolutely beautiful. It almost seemed a shame to violate this work of art by ramming his clam hammer between her delicate petals. However, Portia was almost begging to be violated and he slowly lowered himself down as she symbolically tugged at her handcuffs.

When the end of his dick made contact her body jerked upward and she was dying for him to put it in. When he made penetration and it slipped deep inside of her she opened her mouth wide and took a big gulp of air.

“Fuck me hard Sherlock, fuck me really hard.”

Always ready to oblige a lady he began to move in and out forcefully. Her eyes were wide open and she had a faint smile on her face as he gradually increased the pace until the bed was bouncing off the wall.

Portia would like to have dug her nails into his back and left a permanent reminder of their encounter but her restraints prevented that. She tried to gyrate her pelvis so that she could feel the full length of his dick but even that was difficult.

Every nerve in his body was electrified as he continued to bounce his balls off of her ass. He was beginning to breath heavy and she knew that his cum was working its way up and her cunt would soon be brimming full. He gave out a yell as he blew a continuous stream into her and as he made those last powerful thrusts she closed her eyes and cried out. Her body vibrated violently for a while and then she suddenly relaxed and lay back smiling.

“I can’t believe I’ve just made love to the world’s greatest detective,” she panted, “I’m so glad I drew number one.”

“What does that mean – you drew number one?”

“Oh, all six members drew a ticket out of a box –I drew number one so that I could fuck you first the other five will have to space themselves out during the weekend.

“Good grief,” sighed Holmes, “I might have to borrow some of those little blue pills Watson uses when he humps Mrs. Hudson!” THE END

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The characters portrayed in these stories are fictional and any similarity to persons living or dead is purely a product of your own imagination.

Copyright Cristiano Caffieri 2015. You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of these stories or the photographs herein in any format, or claim ownership.

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