The Deadly Vagina

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by Cristiano Caffieri

Levi Parks didn’t have to hang out a shingle because the people who needed his services always seemed to be able to find him. That was certainly the case with Lisa Beaubien-Arcor.

A woman in her fifties, but quite well preserved, she wore a dress that would have served her well at the Oscars and so much jewelry she never left home unless escorted by a man who looked like two football players glued together. The muscle-bound hoodlum stayed outside when she entered the office and Levi was treated to a look at her crotch as she sat on the chair facing him and laid her cards on the table.

“I’m looking for a private investigator,” she said, “And I’m looking for the best.”

“You’ve found him ma’am,” he mumbled, walking over to the cocktail cabinet and offering her a drink.

“I don’t drink and I don’t like dealing with those that do,” she growled, adjusting her mink wrap to punctuate the point.

“Well I ain’t that fussy,” he said, “I deal with drinkers, non-drinkers, drug addicts and miserable bitches like you every day – all I care about is do they have the money.”

“I have the money Mr. Parks – can you deliver the goods?”

He was then treated to thirty minutes of her moaning about her father and some tart he was about to marry.

“She’s only 28 and she’s seen three rich older husbands off to the cemetery already,” she revealed, getting up to pour herself a drink.

“I only participate when I get angry, she said, turning and raising her glass.

By the look of how much Jack Daniels she poured he thought she must just about ready to hit the roof.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I want you to dig around and dig all the dirt you can get on Brook Petersen, formerly Grovenor, formerly Banks-Foley formerly God knows who! I want hard facts – indisputable evidence I can present to my father,” she hissed, “This marriage must not go ahead.”

After leaving a stack of bills you could choke on she left the room but her perfume stayed around for a while and he took deep whiffs of it as he counted out the dough. His next move was to ring Chantelle an old friend and who ran the biggest escort service in the city.

“Sure I know Brook,” she said, “I taught her everything she knows.”

“And you know that at 28 she’s put three husbands in the ground.”

“If you’re thinking murder darling you can forget it, she just fucks them to death, they were all old you know.”

“You’re saying she’s a lethal piece of ass?”

“I’m saying her late husbands all died with a smile on their chops if they died of anything but natural causes it was overdosing on Viagra,” she laughed.

The more he got to know about the future Mrs. Beaubien the more intrigued he became. Banking on the fact that his good looks and masculine charm had allowed him to cavort with some of the most beautiful women in town, he donned his Google glasses and headed out.

The Beaubien estate turned out to be bigger than some European countries. He marveled they didn’t have a rest stop on the endless driveway. There was no doubt that the future Mrs. Beaubien would be cumming into a lot of moola.

As he got close to the house he was worried that he would be greeted by some slab-faced butler who would try and prevent him meeting the lady in question. His cover, that he was an architectural Historian wishing to take a few photographs of the house had worked in a similar case before but there was no guarantee he could carry it off a second time. He didn’t have to.

In the garden facing the house was a very ornate gazebo and tending the flowers there was a very beautiful woman, one who looked capable of sucking and fucking a guy to death. Her future aging step daughter had provided him with a photo but even though he could only see her mini-skirted ass he knew it was her.

Pulling the car over he called out to her. She turned around and smiled,

“You must be Mr. Levi Parkes,” she said, “I was expecting you.”

He knew Chantelle wouldn’t betray him and so he assumed that she had a spy in the Beaubien-Arcor camp.

“Let’s not call them spies – let’s call them friends,” she smiled, walking over to the car. “You’re not going to find any dirt on me,” she said, slipping into the passenger seat, “I did work for escort agency but I never offered sex to my clients.”

He wasn’t convinced about that but he kept listening as she babbled on.

“I found that I liked the company of much older men and that I could bring them happiness. The fact that they couldn’t stand the pace is not really my fault and I’ve certainly not committed any crime.”

“But you must have stacks of dough from your other three husbands – why a fourth.”

“Because my fiancé was a friend of my last late husband Freddie had told him what a good fuck I was and Hugo proposed to me at his funeral. Why don’t you drive around the back to the guest house and I’ll show you how deadly I can be.”

Not being much older than her and in good shape, he didn’t think anything she could do would stop his heart beating. Quite the reverse, in fact, just looking down at her gorgeous bare legs, as he put his vehicle in gear, seemed to make it beat a little more rapidly.

Once in the luxurious guest house, she suggested they should take a shower first. Even though he was prepared to take it as it was he didn’t see any harm in a little soapy foreplay.

When her glad rags hit the floor he took a deep breath, he body had more curves than the Dallas High Five Interchange. She was a super model with tits.

Following her as she sashayed naked towards the bathroom made his cock stand up like the duty stallion. Once in the shower cabinet, that was almost as big as his apartment, she turned on the water and began to soap up a couple of natural sponges, giving him a sly smile as she did so. Soon those soft, warm, lathered sponges where circulated around his balls. As he leaned back and closed his eyes she clamped his shaft between those two late marine organisms and skillfully worked them up and down.

Breathing heavy in the steamy atmosphere he began to feel the sperm heating up in his nutsack and slowly making its way upward. She giggled as his goo mingled with the soap and he let out a primeval grunt. His body was still glowing when he slipped his hands under her armpits, pulled her upwards and planted his lips firmly on hers. With their tongues entwined he moved his hands to fondle her tits as the water ran down them in tiny cascades.

Levi had kissed a lot of broads in his time but he’d never witnessed anything quite so intense. She sucked so hard on his tongue he thought she was going to swallow it like a raw oyster.

As great as all this foreplay was his cock was getting as hard as a rock and he couldn’t wait a moment longer to drive it into her shaved crack. Picking her up bodily he kicked open the glass doors and made for the bedroom. Flinging her onto the king sized bed he knelt between her legs, pinned her arms back and drove his dick deep into her.

She gasped and opened her eyes wide for a second as though she was in shock but it didn’t take a moment for her to regain her composure. Before he could take control, she raised up her ass and began to contort her body like a belly dancer up and down on his throbbing cock. Brook had developed this technique to perfection. Her writhing torso moved rhythmically as if to some inaudible metronome. All he could do was to close his eyes and drift into paradise.

When he shot his load it prompted her to start whimpering but she continued to work her body up and down until he could stand it no longer and releasing her arms he sat back on his haunches. Like a flash, she changed her position and soon her ruby lips were locked on his knob sucking out every last drop of his semen.

Levi never wanted to admit that any woman had ever got the better of him but with his legs still somewhat shaky, he gave a little wave and drove off in his car. Lisa Beaubien-Arcor was not pleased with at all with his report, which simply said, “ I think she’ll make your father very, very happy.” (“If only in the short term,” he thought to himself.)

He knew Hugo’s days were numbered because Brook had even invited him to the funeral. Women don’t shoot no straighter than that do they? THE END

Copyright 2014 Cristiano Caffieri

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