Tonguing the Hairy Snatch of a Dancing Girl

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By Cristiano Caffieri

As TV had not been invented in the 19th century, Holmes spent much of his time looking out of the window from his Baker Street rooms. He stood there for hours smoking his briar pipe and mumbling about the comings and goings of the people down below. Meanwhile, Watson seemed to have his face literally glued to the pages of The London Times.

Every so often something special would catch the keen-eyed detective’s interest and he would become quite excited. This was particularly true if an attractive female showed a dainty ankle whilst climbing down from a carriage. His powers of deduction were such that he could almost imagine her whole naked body based on just that one small part of the female anatomy.

“We have a visitor,” he sighed one day, as he saw a young woman alight from a hackney cab. “She’s in her early twenties, possibly living in a place with a tropical climate and she’s involved in some sort of exotic dancing.”

“Good grief Holmes, how on Earth can you deduce all that?” the doctor asked, putting his paper down and joining him at the window.

“She has a tan that one would not get living here in Northern Europe and the seductive way she moves her ass reminds me of the Sundanese Jaipongan dancers I once saw in Java.”

“And how do we know she was coming here? She might be going to the millenary store down the street.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson announced there was a Margaretha McStratus to see him. He bid her show the lady in, while retaining his customary stance of looking out of the window with his back towards his guest. Watson asked her to sit down while the Baker Street Sleuth continued to gaze into the street and chuffing on his pipe.

The lady was about to speak but the doctor put his finger to his lips suggesting that she keep quiet while his colleague was in deep thought. After a few stressful minutes, he turned and nodded towards her.

“Mr. Holmes, I’m so glad you have agreed to see me. My name is officially Margaretha McStratus but I prefer to be called Mata Hairy – it’s my professional name.”

“I see from your ring that you are married. You have a slight Dutch accent, possible Friesen. You’re currently living in the Dutch East Indies and your profession is that of an exotic dancer.”

“That’s amazing – how do you know all that?”

“It’s just a matter of deduction,” chortled Watson. “Just a matter of deduction.”

Holmes sighed before sitting down across from Mata, “You are worried because you believe you are being followed by a man in a black coat with a fur collar, carrying a cane in the shape of an Ular Welang snake. Also a native of Indonesia.”

“So you’ve seen him?”

“He is standing in a doorway across the street.”

“I’m so afraid Mr. Holmes. I think my husband Captain Rudolf McStratus has hired that man to kill me.”

“And this is because you’re having an affair.”

“Yes, he caught me giving a blow job to his best friend. What really made him furious was the fact that I have never given him one,” she sniffled.

“Well, I did in a way but I didn’t let him cum in my mouth.”

“So he flew into a rage and threatened your life?” said Watson, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Not that time,” she replied. “But he did when he caught his best friend Maarten ramming me up the ass behind the officer’s mess.”

“Is Maarten the man you gave a blow job to?”

“No that was Eduard…well actually I did it for Jacob as well – but only once.”

Sherlock was fascinated and moved over to sit beside her on the sofa “I think we have to get you out of this mess Mata,” he smiled, putting his hand on her thigh. “Now I want you to take off all your clothes and Watson here will put them on and act as a decoy.”

“I say, Holmes, steady on – I’m not into cross-dressing and that sort of thing.”

“To save this lady’s life, we all have to make sacrifices. Now take off your clothes Mata and give them to my dear friend here.”

She didn’t seem to have any problem stripping down to her bloomers and camisole and was even prepared to take those off but he said that wasn’t necessary…at least until later. With clothes in hand, he led Watson to the window and pointed out the man.

“I want you to take your gun and lead him down the street and into the alley by the cobbler’s shop. Fifty yards or so down, I want you to turn around and shoot him right through the heart.”

“But how do we know that he’s really is a killer and intends to murder our client?”

“We don’t want to take any chances.”

Watson’s protests fell on deaf ears as he was pushed into the bedroom for a complete make-over. When he re-appeared with his frilly hat pulled over his eyes, he was so convincing that Sherlock became briefly aroused.

“You just have to develop the walk,” he informed him. Then, turning to Mata, he asked her if she could strut her stuff and show his esteemed colleague how she moved her sexy ass.

Giggling, she strolled around the room in her underwear, conscious that – in his minds-eye, Holmes was imagining himself holding onto her hip bones and giving her the shaft.

The doctor’s attempt at sashaying tended to look more like someone with a rather a nasty case of hemorrhoids. Never-the-less, he was quickly hustled out the door to fulfil his mission of mercy. Holmes and Mata were naked and on the bed before Watson had reached the street.

“Oh my god – you make me feel horny I want to cum already,” she sighed, as he gently sucked on her nipples, and ran his finger up and down the lips of her vajajay.

He didn’t utter anything in reply, as he had his mouth full but he was thinking what a gorgeous body she had. The world’s greatest detective was always ready to explore new territory and he intended to probe every crack and cranny with his fingers, his tongue and the end of his throbbing cock.

However, he had a little ritual to perform before he got fully into gear.

“Ouch,” she cried, as he plucked a couple of pubic hairs from her Garden of Eden and dropped them into a small Chinese lacquered box on the bedside table.

“What did you do that for?”

“Just a little superstition I have,” he replied. “I believe it will ensure that we will have great sex.”

She went along with that because she didn’t know that he was lying. What he really intended to do later was to mix it with his tobacco and smoke it in his pipe. It not only brought back memories of heated sexual activities, which in themselves were rather pleasing but according to the Banku tribe of New Guinea, it prevented the possibility of little Sherlocks appearing on the scene.

With her snatch still stinging a little, she suggested that he should now kiss it better. Sliding off of the bed, he knelt down, and gripping her ankles, he pulled her towards him until his face was firmly embedded between her slender thighs. Like most dancers, her body was toned to perfection.

As his tongue moved up and down the lips of her quim, he stretched both hands upwards to gently rub his palms over her erect nipples. Mata arched her back and groaned. When he brought his hands down again and proceeded to part her pink folds with his fingers, her moaning became even louder. And louder still when his tongue began to explore deep inside her cavity.

After a few minutes of his extraordinary foreplay and intense licking, she began to shake quite violently, followed by her screaming, “O fuck – I’m CUMMING !” It seemed like she was having numerous aftershocks, as she heaved her ass upwards into his chin and flung her arms all over the place.

Mata took a deep breath and then begged him to fuck her. The bed was just the right height for him to stand up, lift her legs into the air, and drive his cock deep into her anxious cunt. Even though she knew what was coming, it still gave her a shock as it stretched the confines of her tight passageway to the maximum. When he started to drive it in and out of her with speed and force, she went ballistic.

Perspiration was glistening on Sherlock’s chest as he pounded her ass. His nerve endings seemed to be exploding like firecrackers, as he rammed it in faster and faster. Suddenly, he felt his balls getting hot and his cum moving upwards through his rigid shaft. The master detective started to grunt and groan and shout out “fuck” as he shot his load deep inside of her.

She was so overcome by his performance, she lay there murmuring and talking gibberish for some minutes and post-orgasmic mini-cums continued to rip through her body. He didn’t take his dick out immediately; he just stood there enjoying the warmth of her body and admiring those perky tits.

For the next three days, they continued to fuck each other’s brains out until Watson returned from his mission. He burst into the room all in a lather, wearing what look remarkably like a prison uniform.

“That damn man didn’t follow me Holmes, and when I went into the alley a constable arrested me. Apparently, it’s against the law for men to dress up as women and I’ve spent three days in the cells at Bow Street.”

“I’m sorry about that Watson – perhaps it was the mustache that gave you away.”

“It was just a damn silly idea,” he replied gruffly. “And I notice Miss Hairy is still here and the mysterious man has gone.”

“Well, in the end, we just contacted the police and when questioned he admitted that he was following Mata. Apparently, he thought he had made her acquaintance when he was out in Indonesia.”

“I just didn’t recognize him with his clothes on,” she laughed. “Anyway, I feel safe now and – if Rudi promises to stop getting jealous every time I suck another man’s cock, I may even return to him.”

Later that night Sherlock carefully mixed his tobacco and lit his pipe.

“That smells kind of funny Holmes,” said Watson, looking up from his paper.

“It smells like the Garden of Eden to me,” he replied, drawing on his Briar, closing his eyes and lounging back in his chair. THE END

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Copyright 2014 Cristiano Caffieri

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