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Author Topic: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs) [Final Part posted]  (Read 14341 times)

DarkSwordsman

Rack Christmas (multiple celebs) [Final Part posted]
« on: December 29, 2020, 06:35:41 PM »
This story is a parody of the classic slasher movie, Black Christmas (don't worry, you don't have to have seen it), written for the purposes of entertainment and without monetary gain.  The characters in this story aren't celebrities, they are depicted as college undergrads. 

Rack Christmas

Starring:

Abigail Breslin



Sydney Sweeney



Ariel Winter



and Natalie Alyn Lind



With:

Kat Dennings



Alexandra Daddario



and Christina Hendricks as the House Mother

« Last Edit: January 02, 2021, 05:55:53 AM by DarkSwordsman »
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DarkSwordsman

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs)
« Reply #1 on: December 29, 2020, 07:05:55 PM »
Part One

Friday, 18th December

It was a typically busy night at the Delta Delta Delta sorority house.  With Christmas drawing near, the sisters had decided to throw one of their famously wild parties before the student masses headed home for winter break.  Situated in a lakeside town in upstate New York, the area surrounding Chestminster College saw temperatures plummet into the negative digits and a foot and change of thick, dense snow blanket the floor come late December. 

But, unperturbed by the Arctic conditions, eager students had flocked to the house in their droves, brimming with excitement as they marched through the bed of snow.  After all, gatherings at the Delta place were almost unanimously agreed to be the craziest on campus and with its festive bash in full flow, the legendary building was packed to the rafters with drunk and rowdy college kids.

Despite its usage of the traditional Greek letters, the Delta Delta Delta sorority was more commonly known by its nickname; Triple D, a moniker bestowed upon it on behalf of the numerous top heavy sisters that made up its ranks.  Whether the grouping together of so many chesty young women was merely a coincidence or if large breasts were a prerequisite for any potential pledge, nobody was quite sure.  But one thing was for certain, parties at the Delta house were seen as something of a Holy Grail by the college’s male contingent, and every week young men across campus waited with baited breath in hope that one of the much coveted invites would slide under their dorm room door.

Every home in the neighbourhood had been tricked out with all manner of festive trinkets, and the sorority house was no expectation.  In fact, the Delta place was quite possibly the most decorative of them all.  There was a wreath hanging from the door, a brightly lit green garland stretching around the length of the frame.  A menagerie of acrylic animals were scattered across the lawn, while long strings of lights ran across the frame of the porch, flashing and blinking like strobes at a disco.   

The doorway to the sorority house was overrun with heavy foot traffic as well-muscled men and scantily clad women alike flooded into the busy hallway.  But one such guest had opted for a different point of entry altogether.  Clambering over a garden fence, a mystery figure scaled the tall wooden trellis that extended up the side of the house.  Jemmying the top floor window, he pried it open and climbed into the attic.

The Delta house’s plush interior was every bit as decked out as its farmhouse-style facade.  Eight foot high Christmas tree, stockings over the fireplace, festive ornaments, Christmas throw pillows, mistletoe (that had seen a lot of action, I can tell you), tinsel, fake snow- the whole nine yards.  And with the party already in full swing, the music was blaring, shaking the old building down to its very foundations. 

The dance floor in the lounge was filled to capacity and, as was often the case, senior student Ariel Winter and junior Natalie Alyn Lind were right at the heart of it, shaking their buxom frames in sync with the pulsing beat.  Sydney Sweeney had already retired to her room with her third or perhaps fourth boy of the evening (nobody was entirely sure, least of all the woman herself), while her fellow senior Abigail Breslin, the most clean cut and studious of the bunch, was leant against a wall, sipping slowly from a Solo cup as she declined the advances of a seemingly endless line of potential suitors.

While her sisters hoovered up schlong like it was going out of style, Miss Breslin adopted a rather more disciplined approach when it came to the opposite gender, and in fact, was currently going steady with a lucky young man named Paul.  But that didn’t stop guys from having a crack at her, and though her fellow sisters were every bit as gorgeous and buxom as she, seasoned visitors to the Delta house saw bedding the bookish student as an especially shiny badge of honour.  Coaxing the other three between the sheets required little skill (“if you can’t get Sydney Sweeney to drop her panties you may as well castrate yourself right now,” or so a particularly practised senior had told a hopeful young freshman at the start of the semester).  Bedding Abigail Breslin- therein lay the real challenge.  Many had tried, few had succeeded.

House mother Christina Hendricks was doing laps of the house with a tray in hand, offering up cups of homemade punch to anyone in need of refreshment.  The senior figures at such organisations usually condemned the throwing of parties, but the 45 year old redhead actively encouraged them.  After all, as what one might term a ‘cougar’, being in the company of so many handsome young men suited her down to the ground.

And speaking of handsome young men, it wasn’t long before Natalie Alyn Lind had found her voluptuous form practically swarmed by an army of such creatures, each one seeking access to the shapely charms that lay beneath her festive red dress.  Indecently tiny even by her own skimpy standards, the fluffy white hem barely extended past the gloriously thick curves of her ass, her humongous, beach-tanned boobs all but spilling from the low cut bodice. 

Guys were surrounding her from every conceivable angle, but it was a lucky man by the name of Tommy that was coming out on top.  Positioned behind her, the college football star was enjoying the heavenly feel of Natalie’s ass as she ground it against his groin.  Long blonde hair swishing across her shoulders and full breasts a-jiggling, the busty sophomore was twerking up a storm, the sweet round cheeks of her ample keister sizing up the stud’s endowment.   

Clearly impressed by what she had found, Natalie span around to face him, throwing her arms around his big, broad shoulders and pressing her lips against his.  Tongues wrestling as their lips locked together, Natalie reached down and stroked at Tommy’s groin.  Feeling every inch of his girthy rod pulsing beneath the denim, she relinquished his writhing tongue, prying her lips from his. 

“Wanna see my room?” she asked, brown eyes burning with lust and desire.

“Fuck yeah!” said Tommy, nearly spewing in his shorts at the invitation alone. 

There was a collective groan from the remaining boys as Natalie grabbed her stud of choice and led him out into the hallway, the lucky winner staring gleefully at her ass as it swung back and forth behind her.  Following her up the stairs, the hypnotic rise and fall of her big, round buttcheeks nearly put him in a trance.  The attic hatch was open slightly and a figure watched from inside.  The bird’s eye view of her enormous bust was truly a sight to behold and the mysterious man took heavy, perverted-sounding breaths as Natalie led her companion across the hall and into her bedroom.

Natalie’s room was every bit the archetypal suite of the average female undergrad.  Pictures of family and friends from back home were pinned above her desk, the surface lined with hair products and expensive cosmetics, rather than notepads and textbooks.  A department store’s worth of scanty garments hung in her closet, while lined up beneath were enough high top sneakers and designer stilettos to shoe the entire town.

Kicking off his shoes, Tommy laid out on his back across the king size bed.  Climbing up after him, Natalie gave the young hunk a fantastic view of her cleavage as she crawled slowly across the mattress, leaning forward and kissing him on the mouth.  Grappling tongues practically tangled in a knot, Tommy felt those huge breasts press against his chest as they smooched, her warming crotch grinding lightly against his hardon.  Sitting up, Natalie gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, excited hands roaming across his impressive torso.

Keen to reciprocate, Tommy took hold of her skin-tight dress and tugged it up slowly, unveiling her curvy body inch by inch.  So large were her breasts, that pulling the taut fabric past her bosom required greater exertion.  But once he managed it, those magnificent mammaries practically burst from the scanty garment like melons from a grocery bag. 

“Holy fuck!” he exclaimed, tossing the dress aside. 

An incredibly experienced lover, Tommy had enjoyed more pairs of tits than most men twice his age, but nevertheless, he reacted to that huge set of tanks like they were first he’d ever seen.  Eyes bulging and mouth agape, he clutched them in his eager hands, dexterous fingers moulding the jiggly flesh as he dove in deep, burying his face between them.

“Mmm, yeah!  That’s it, baby!” Natalie purred, hand at the back of his head.  “Get in there good!”

Handsome face clamped tightly between them, Tommy smooshed those heavy mounds against his cheeks, practically smothering himself with their perky fullness.  Immersing himself in the cavernous depths, the football star remained in her bust for as long as his lung capacity would allow.  Finally emerging from the dingiest depths, Tommy sucked in chestfuls of air, pushing her titties together as he went back for more.  Switching back and forth from one nipple to the other, the young stud played those stiff nubs like a harmonica, razzing obscenely as he powered up the motorboat.  Deft hands caressing her enormous jugs, every pass of those skilled lips stoked the furnace that burned and smouldered between her thighs.

“Shit!  These fucking tits!” Tommy gushed.  He was like a kid in a toy shop, still jiggling her wondrous mounds as he came up for air.

Natalie giggled.  “Like them, do ya?”

“Do priests like altar boys?” Tommy quipped, massaging those milk jugs with his paws.

“Erm...yeah,” Natlie replied.  She patted the bedspread.  “Here, lay back and I’ll show you what I can do with them.”

*

Back downstairs, the party was in full swing.  A tray of punch-filled Solo cups balanced on her manicured hand, chesty ginger-haired house mother Christina Hendricks encircled the crowded lounge, offering the freshly-mixed drinks to gawking young men and jealous coeds alike as she maneuvered through the swarming masses. 

Boasting a ludicrously curvy frame and gorgeous face that greatly defied her 40+ plus years, Miss Hendricks was arguably the most striking woman in attendance.  And while she looked incredible in every single item that hung in her closet, the casual festive get up that she’d picked out that evening complimented her voluptuous form better than any other.  A pair of tight blue jeans hugged her meaty thighs, clinging tightly to the large twin spheres of her ass.  While her upper half (comfortably the larger of the two) had been squeezed into a colourful Christmas sweater; the words ‘Even Naughty Girls Deserve Something Nice’ stretched- and I mean stretched- across her heaving F cup bosom.   

Knowing full well that she had the pick of the litter, Miss Hendricks floated through the party at a leisurely pace, enjoying the attentions of every set of eyes gazing her way as she searched for the perfect candidate.  Or candidates.  Spotting two worthy-looking prospects at the far side of the room, a wicked grin stretched across those stunning features as she marched off in their direction, tits bouncing around beneath her festive attire like a pair of basketballs.  The two men- one of ebony skin, the other of ivory- were deep in conversation with a pair of slamming young hotties.  But, undeniably beautiful as the two girls were, even their perky, college-aged charms couldn’t have held the boys’ attention once Miss Hendricks’ curvy MILF frame had slotted in between them.

“Excuse me, ladies.  Mind if I squeeze in here?” she said, practically shoulder barging both girls out of the way. 

The two women gasped, pouty lips parted in disbelief as the house mother’s tits nearly sent them flying.

“Can I offer you a drink, boys?” she asked, being careful not to shield her most wondrous assets as she thrust her tray out before her (not a difficult task, considering it would take a solar eclipse to block those things from view!).  “You’re looking a little thirsty.” 

That they most certainly were.  In more ways than one.  In fact, both men were staring so lecherously at the redhead’s bust, they were practically undressing her with their vision alone. 

Miss Hendricks slid the tray forward until it was pressing their chests, and then, with all the subtlety and finesse of a bull in a china shop, she tipped it forward, spilling its entire contents and drenching both men from shoulders to groin.  The sticky punch soaked into their t-shirts, pasting them to their torsos and showcasing every ounce of bulging muscle beneath. 

“Oh, God!” Miss Hendricks yelped, putting a hand to her full set of lips.  “I’m so sorry!”

She dropped her tray and it hit the floor with a thud, landing at the centre of a ring of empty cups. 

“Dear me!  Would you look at the mess I’ve made!”  She placed her hand against the white guy’s chest and brushed his sodden shirt. 

“Look, it’s all over your pants too!” she added, reaching across and stroking the black man’s crotch, the outline of his junk clearly visible.  “God, I’m such a clutz!”

“Hey, it's cool, mama,” Jerome, the black one, declared, groaning slightly as she rubbed at his groin. 

“Yeah, these things happen,” Dalton, the white one, added, eyes going cross as he stared down at her rack.

By now, their two female companions were practically seething with jealousy.  Pouting like petulant kids, their arms crossed churlishly over their perky coed chests. 

“Aww!  Well, aren’t you a couple of sweet, young things,” Miss Hendricks replied.  “But we can’t have you walking around like that for the rest of the evening now, can we?  Come on, let’s get you boys cleaned up.”

She took both men by the arm and led them across the room, leaving the two college girls shell-shocked and speechless in her wake.   

“Sorry, girls,” said Miss Hendricks, looking back at them with a triumphant grin.  “Plenty more fish in the sea, right?”

The girls huffed angrily, glowing red like prize tomatoes as they stormed off across the lounge. 

*

Tommy was sprawled out across Natalie Alyn Lind’s comfy king sized bed, hands tucked behind his head as the gorgeous, full-breasted blonde bobbed and dipped at his towering groin.  DD boobs squished firmly together, the smooth, bronzed flesh wrapped seamlessly around his junk, swathing his pipe like it was made to measure.  Working her magnificent bosom from tip to base, Tommy’s giant rod throbbed in the darkest recesses, leaking a stream of precum over his twitching crown and down onto the tops of her titties.  Hopping and bouncing between his parted knees, Natalie’s golden locks swished gracefully back and forth, tickling his thighs with each motion. 

Hearing her phone vibrate against the mattress, Natalie took a glance at the screen.  “Unknown caller.”

“Just ignore it,” Tommy groaned, body trembling as she jerked him off.

“Some perv keeps calling us and leaving dirty messages,” Natalie grinned.  “It might be fun to mess with him.” 

Wrapping an arm around her jugs, she kept Tommy’s dong wedged firmly between them as she reached across and grabbed her phone.  She answered the call and put it on loudspeaker. 

“Hello.  Who is it?”

No answer.  Just a series of deep, ragged breaths.

“Oh, geez,” said Natalie.  “Not you again.  You know, you should really try jerking off to porn once in a while, dude.  It’s gotta be cheaper than calling us every night of the week.”

The breaths continued, growing louder and quicker with each passing second.  Tommy stared down at Natalie’s phone in disbelief, scarcely able to comprehend the deranged, almost inhuman sounds pouring from the loudspeaker.  Then came an ear piercing shriek, so sudden and abrupt that he almost leapt right out of his skin. 

“TITTIES!  SHOW ME YOUR TITTIES!” a man squawked, his voice wild and manic.  “SHOW ME YOUR TITTIES!  SHOOOWWW MEEE YOOOUUURRR TIIITTIIIEEESSS!!!”

Natalie laughed.  “Oh, you wanna see my titties, do you?”

“YES!  YES!  TITTIES!  TITTIES!  FAT FUCKING TITTIES!  GONNA WRAP ‘EM AROUND MY COCK AND FUCK ‘EM!”

“Oh, yeah?  Well, you better get in line, buddy.  I’ve got a cock between them as we speak.  A nice big one, at that.  Much bigger than your little pencil dick, that’s for sure.”

Tommy looked down at Natalie and she returned an impish grin.

“How are you not creeped out by this?” he asked.     

“I’m used to it!  He does it all the time.  Don’t you, loser?”

“JERK ME OFF!  JERK ME OFF!  JERK ME OFF WITH YOUR FAT FUCKING TITS!”

“Dream on, creep.  I wouldn’t beat off your tiny, little prick if it was the last one on Earth!  Jesus, dude!  You’ve gotta be the most pathetic loser..."

Just then, a deep, booming roar thundered through the loudspeaker, the volume so high that it almost burst Tommy’s eardrums.

“UUURRRGGGHHH!!!”

Then all was quiet.  That deafening howl gave way to those familiar grating breaths, even louder and gruffer than they had been before.

“Are you done now, freak?” asked Natalie.  “Why don’t you take it somewhere else, you dickless, little…?”

And with that, the line went dead. 

“There.  That got rid of him,” said Natalie, lips curled up in a grin.  “Now...where were we?”

*

Down the hall, in Miss Hendricks’ room, the buxom house mother herself was knelt on the carpeted floor, wedged between Dalton and Jerome.  Strong hands gripping her boobs, Dalton’s huge vanilla cock was buried deep, deep down in the chasm between, those monstrous mounds sheathing his entire shaft.

On the other side, Jerome had a handful of her vibrant red hair gripped tight in his jet black knuckles.  Working his large biceps steadily back and forth, he guided her thick, pouty lips along the length of his coal dark schlong.  Gazing up at him with her bright blue eyes, Miss Hendricks swallowed every inch of that chocolate yule log with considerable aplomb and it wasn’t long before her plump red lips were puckering at his groin, his bulging brown head tickling her tonsils as he took him to the hilt. 

“Yeah, come on, mama,” he cooed, looking down at the chesty redhead as she tended to his meat.  “Suck that fat black dick!”

Feeling Dalton’s rod throb between her dirty pillows, Miss Hendricks groaned around the length of man beef stuffed down her throat as that light-skinned stud pounded away at her chest.  Stretches of lily white skin spilling through the gaps in his fingers, Dalton grasped those heaving great milk tanks with every ounce of his might, groping them ardently as he drilled his dick between them.   

Long fingers spreading at the back of her head, that large dark hand held her tight, pinning her face to his groin.  Sucking greedily at his fat slab of meat, Miss Hendricks heaved as that twitching black crown glided past her tonsils and down into her esophagus.  With nearly three decades worth of dick sucking experience to her name, the top-heavy MILF was about as accomplished a deepthroater as they came.  But this was too much even for her. 

Pushing against Jerome’s sturdy dark thighs, she released that rod from her chest, expelling the shaft in a wave of spitte.  Thick ropes of the stuff rained down from her lips, drenching the tops of her titties, and the long ivory pole that was embedded so firmly between.  Heavy tits soaked in her saliva, Dalton’s hands slipped and slid across the slickened surface, and it wasn’t long before that fat cock that had been sawing so majestically between them was slipping out like a wet fish.

“Wow!” she gasped, sucking in lungfuls of oxygen as her airways were finally cleared.  “You guys sure know how to treat a lady, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jerome grinned, feverishly excited and hungry for more.

“We’ve had a lot of practice,” Dalton declared.

“I’m sure you have,” Miss Hendricks replied.  “Now, I wanna see what you can really do with those big dicks of yours.  Who wants my ass?”

*

Propped up on his elbows, Tommy watched on as Natalie Alyn Lind knelt between his splayed thighs, lips pursed around his swollen bellend as she whacked him off with her tits.  The horrors of the phone call long since forgotten, the chiseled young stud was perched happily on top of cloud nine, every pass of those giant knockers sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his system. 

Tilting his head back every so often and gazing up at the ceiling above, Tommy cooed and groaned like a wounded critter as those big Christmas baubles slid up and down his pole, stimulating his every nerve.  Wet, drooling mouth slurping at his crown, Natalie spewed a steady flow of slobber down the length of Tommy’s shaft, lubing it nicely for the hard and fast tittyfucking he was currently receiving.

*THWACK* *THWACK* *THWACK* came the sounds from his groin as those sopping wet undersides smacked against his pelvis, the chesty blonde putting the full mass of her bosom behind each and every stroke.  Sucking merciless at the head of his dick, Natalie coaxed out drop after drop of sticky, hot precum; a tasty appetizer to the gooey main course that was sure to follow.  Lifting her head and looking up at her trembling lover, Natalie released the crown with a loud pucker of her lips, grinning at him as that juicy cock of his pounded away between her boobs.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” she purred, voice laden with thirst.

“Uh huh,” Tommy groaned, clinging to his load for dear life as those weighty spank tanks nearly fucked him into a coma.

Picking up the pace, Natalie worked her tits furiously up and down his pole, those sticky undersides colliding with his groin at an ever quickening tempo.  By now, his dick was throbbing uncontrollably, the chesty blonde delighting in the roaring arousal surging through his shaft as she jacked it with her titties.  Sliding up to the peak once more, Natalie’s airbags smooshed snugly around his head, igniting a violent burst of jism that shot from his slit like a rocket to the moon.

Soaring through the air at full throttle, the thick semen missile fired toward the gods like it defied the laws of physics.  Finally succumbing to the pull of gravity, that mighty wad of spunk rained back down over Natalie’s rack like a monsoon, streaking the tops of her twins and Tommy’s quivering bellend in ropes of creamy, hot goo. 

“Damn!” Natalie cooed, purring with glee as that semen tsunami struck her mighty bosom.  “Christ, dude!  That was quite a blast!”

“Uh huh,” Tommy groaned.  He collapsed back into the pillows, feeling like every ounce of fluid in his body had just spewed out from the hole in his dick.   

“Well, I hope you’ve got another in you, big boy,” she grinned devilishly, tonguing at his slit and lapping up the last of his load.  “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet!” 

*

Back down the hall, Miss Hendricks was stuffed between Jerome and Dalton’s ebony and ivory torsos like the meat in a sandwich.  Held aloft in mid air, the two young studs tossed the auburn beauty this way and that, impaling her time and again on their footlong spears.  Long black fingers grasping handfuls of her ample backside, Jerome guided the redhead’s tight, gripping asshole up and down his veiny shaft, burying it to the root with each pass.

“Oh, YES!” Miss Hendricks cried, staring up at her bedroom ceiling as she screamed herself hoarse.  “Give it to me, boys!  Fuck me senseless with those FAT FUCKING COCKS!”

Powerful biceps wrapped firmly around her thighs, Dalton carefully dodged the wild to and fro of her huge, flopping bosom (good thing he did, as the weight of those tits was surely enough to knock a man unconscious) as he worked her along his wang, his swollen pink head tunnelling in repeatedly and prodding at her g-spot. 

Having already administered a great many orgasms, the light and dark duo were working on a pair of their own, their equally huge dongs swelling furiously with each unwavering plunge.  Holding her still, the mixed-race hunks thrust into Miss Hendricks’ voluptuous frame with unbridled force, delivering hard pelvic smacks upon her burning crotch and sending tempestuous ripples through her sizeable rear as they dicked her into submission. 

Arms laid across their big, broad shoulders, Miss Hendricks dug her well-kept nails into twin sets of unyielding muscle as she gleefully took the brunt of each two-pronged slam.  Handsome face burrowed between her tits, Dalton smothered himself to half to death as he motorboated furiously, practically etombing himself in her gloomy depths as he pounded her hot pink pussy.

“Yeah!  Take those dicks, mama!” Jerome roared, his voice deep and booming.  “Take those fuckin’ dicks!”     

Powerful strokes flawlessly timed and synched to perfection, both Dalton and Jerome’s huge, heavy balls churned incessantly as they smacked against her taint.  White and black dickheads throbbing vigorously in the depths of each orifice, both men railed the busty redhead with a rampant fury that bespoke their impending eruption.  Bucking ferociously, the pair of them squeezed in tight, nearly squishing the chesty MILF between their muscled torsos as sheathed themselves to the hilt.

Roaring at the tops of their lungs, both men looked to the heavens, viciously manhandling the house mother's wonderfully curvaceous frame as they clamped it between them and pumped it full of seed.  At what couldn’t have been more than a split second apart, twin wads of thick, fiery semen flooded both holes in equal measure, filling her womb and streaking up her colon.  Feeling that gooey jism bubbling in her innards, Miss Hendricks screamed out from between their shredded frames, cumming once more as they painted her insides white.   

“Oh, wow!” Miss Hendricks panted, kissing each man in turn.  Her ample chest heaved and she purred delightedly as those two wads of spunk simmered away inside her.  “God, I love college!”

The buxom redhead graduated from Chestminster way back in ‘97, but that statement was just as true now as it had been back then.  Maybe moreso. 

“Goddamn!  You’s a real bad bitch, Miss Hendricks!” said Jerome, prying his rod from her ass as he set her down on the bed.

“Yeah!” Dalton agreed, stroking his still-stiff rod.  “You’re the best piece of ass we’ve ever had!”

The redhead chuckled as she sprawled out across the mattress, cum oozing from both her holes.  “Why, thank you, boys.  You aren’t too bad yourselves!  I see those dicks are still nice and hard for me too.”

“Yep,” Jerome grinned.  “We ain’t done if you ain’t, mama.  I ain’t fucked those big ass titties yet.”

Miss Hendricks thought long and hard- very long and hard- but ultimately decided against it.  Those two young beefcakes had just pounded her to within an inch of her life.  Any more and she might not recover.

“Hmm.  Tempting, boys, but I think it’s time you two ran along.”  She crawled under the bedsheets, pulling them up over her buxom form.  “And tell those kids to turn the music down.  Mama needs her beauty sleep.”

*

The party was winding down as Natalie Alyn Lind opened her bedroom door, and she and Tommy came sauntering out.  A short silken robe was tied around Natalie’s hips, while Tommy was now wearing a positively shit-eating grin to accompany his casual attire.  The figure in the attic watched through a crack in the hatch as she threw an arm around his shoulder and kissed him goodnight.  Giving his groin a farewell stroke, she informed the football star that he and his ‘big, fat cock’ could return anytime they wanted.  Tommy strolled down the hall, grinning like an idiot as he began down the staircase.

Back inside her room, Natalie slipped off her robe and wrapped her body in a light blue towel.  Reaching for the closet door, the hinge swung open, seemingly of its own accord.

“AHHH!!!” Natalie shrieked, the sudden scare making her titties hop.

Preparing to fend off whichever malevolent force had manifested itself inside her closet, Natalie heard nothing but the innocuous tinkling of a bell.  She looked down at the floor as the housecat, Max, trotted out from the darkness within, the jingle bells ringing on his festive red collar.

“Jesus, Max!” she sighed in relief.  “You scared the shit outta me.”

Max sat looking at the startled girl and scratched at her bedroom door, quite unaware of the fright he’d given her. 

“Yeah, get outta here,” she said, opening the door and shooing him out.  “Stupid cat.”

The man in the attic watched as Natalie crossed the hallway and went into the bathroom.  He waited until she closed the door behind her, then the hatch slid back and out he came. 

*

The lock on the bathroom door was busted- the result of a somewhat viscous hammering Sydney Sweeney had taken against it at a party the week before.  And though Miss Hendricks had searched high and low for the stud that had administered the pounding (partly so he could pay for the damages and partly so he could give her the same  treatment), the sisters had been showering in an unlocked room ever since.     

Natalie whipped off her towel and hung it on the radiator.  She stepped into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain across as she turned on the showerhead.   The heat from the water fogged the windows and mirror as it trickled across her skin, soaking her top-heavy frame.  She gathered a bottle of shower gel from the rack on the wall and squeezed it over her chest, dousing her ample bosom.  Natalie’s bout with the young football player had left her caked in splooge, and as the water flowed across her sunkissed flesh, the buxom blonde ran her hands across her giant bust, cleansing it thoroughly and coating her boobs with suds.

The water pummelled against her skin, rinsing her clean as she moved down to her lower half.  Sliding her hands across her ass cheeks, Natalie started belting out a powerful rendition of...something as she washed her shapely rear.  She wasn’t the most proficient of vocalists and whatever tune it was she was warbling along to was a little hard to discern.  But what she lacked in pitch and tone, she more than made up for in volume, and before long the blonde beauty was piping out that mystery number with all her heart.  Her voice was so loud, in fact, that it rose above the creak of the door as it eased open, a booted foot planting itself on the bathroom tiles. 

Natalie ran her hands across her thighs, sudding them liberally.  Nearing the climax of her vocal performance, the chesty young coed hit a particularly high and particularly ear-splitting note as the shower curtain was tugged back behind her.  Turning on her heels, her hearty number was abruptly cut short as she found herself staring down the blade of a particularly large and especially shiny kitchen knife.  A sinister face grinned back at her and Natalie barely had time to scream in terror as that piercing blade was driven forward and sunk into her forehead. 

Sharp tip penetrating her brain, Natalie’s eyes fell still and her mouth went slack, thick drops of blood dripping down into the water below.  Pulling at the handle, he pried the knife free with a loud *SHUCK*, a spurt of blood spraying across the shower curtain.  Natalie slumped to the floor, landing in a heap at the bottom of the tub.  Blood gushed from her wound, merging with the water and turning it red.

The killer detached the shower head and cleaned the bathtub, rinsing off the blood with all the calmness and placidity of a housewife sponging off mould.  Fetching the naked body, he tossed it over his shoulder.  He climbed up the wall-mounted ladder and back into the attic, taking Natalie with him.

Saturday, 19th December

Officer Tillman was stood behind the front desk at the Chestminster station house, leafing through a local newspaper, when the heavy oak doors were thrust open.  Looking up from the pages of his rag, Tillman did a double take worthy of any badly-acted sitcom as he caught sight of the two ladies sauntering in from the brisk outdoors.  One blonde, the other brunette, both young women were stunningly beautiful and distinctly full of figure; their thick winter coats doing little to hide the huge sets of breasts flopping around beneath.

“Hello, Officier,” said the brunette, beaming a gorgeous smile as they approached the desk.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Tillman replied.  “How can I help you today?”

“Well, my name’s Sydney,” the blonde began.  “This is my friend Ariel.  We’re from the Delta Delta Delta sorority house, and we and our sisters have been receiving some lewd phone calls of late.  We’d like to report them.”

“I see.”  Tillman fetched a report sheet and placed it on the desk.  “First of all, ladies, can I take your surnames.”

“Sweeney.”

“Winter.”

Tillman made a note of their names.  “And the address at the sorority house?”

“69 Bustworth Street,” said Sydney.

“Thank you.  Now, how long have been receiving these calls?”

“About a week,” Ariel declared.

“And how often?”

“Every day, pretty much,” said Sydney.  “This guy really can’t get enough.”  She tugged at the collar of her winter coat.  “Gee, it’s kinda hot in here, isn’t it, Ariel?”

“Sure is, Sydney,” Ariel replied.  “You don’t mind if we take off our coats, do you, Officer?”

“Err...no, Miss Winter.  Be my guest.”

“Thank you.”

Both girls removed their overcoats and draped them over their arms.  Now all that covered their top halves were a pair of thin white cami tops, both garments showcasing a deeply cavernous cleavage that could give the Grand Canyon a run for its money. 

“That’s better,” Sydney grinned.  “So, what do you think, Officer?  Think you can catch this creep?”

Tillman himself wouldn’t be catching anyone.  It was his job to take down the relevant information and hand it onto the detectives.  His role in the case was done, but he couldn’t help but want to pry a little further.  After all, the opportunity to get these two large-chested coeds spouting some dirty talk was one he couldn’t pass up.   
 
“Well, to be honest, ladies, I’m not quite sure that we’ve got enough information.  Tell me, is there any particular theme to these calls?  Any words or phrases that keep recurring?”

The two girls looked at one another and grinned.  “Well, Officer, as you can see, both of us have very large breasts,” Sydney explained, “as do our sorority sisters, and this little pervert likes to talk about them when he makes his calls.”

“What does he say?”

“Right, well, let’s see.  What was it he said to me last time he called?” Ariel pondered.  “‘I want to fuck your big titties.  I want to wrap your titties around my juicy, fat cock and blow my load all over them’.” 

Tillman watched on in awe as this stacked young student spewed all manner of crude material from across his desk.  He tried his damndest to maintain eye contact, but his peepers seemed to act of their accord; roving down to that huge set of tits that wobbled delightfully with every movement and gesticulation.  The officer could feel his cock start to swell in his pants, his girthy shaft stretching further down his thigh with every word she spoke.

“Something like that, anyway,” Ariel concluded, grinning impishly as the distracted officer gawked at her monstrous chest.

“Right,” Tilman replied.  He looked across at Sydney.  “And how about you?”

“He gets a little freakier with me.  ‘Gimme your titties, mommy.  I want you suck on those big, fat titties.  Is it feeding time, mommy?  Baby needs his milk’.  That kind of thing.  Methinks the guy’s got some issues.”

Tilman was transfixed.  It was like he’d been hypnotised.  In his defence, watching those kinky words form on Sydney’s gloriously plump set of lips was enough to put anyone into a trance.     

“Hey, shouldn’t you be writing this down?” she asked, clawing him from his reverie.

“Hmm?” asked Tilman, returning a comically vacant stare.  “Oh, don’t worry, Miss Sweeney.”  He tapped the side of his head.  “It’s all up here.”       

He wasn’t lying.  Mental pictures were forming in his brain of every word the two girls had spoken and plenty more they hadn’t.  In fact, there seemed no end to the filthy images his mind was conjuring up.

Sydney and Ariel looked at one another, exchanging playful grins.  The officer’s patent arousal certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the buxom duo simply relished watching him stew.  After all, cockteasing was a keen interest of both young women and the pair of them were always on the lookout for an opportunity to indulge in their favourite pastime. 

“OK, that’s good,” Sydney replied.  “So, I guess we’re done here, huh, Officer?  Unless you need anything else from us?”

“Yeah, I mean, this guy sure seems to like our titties, right?” Ariel declared.  “Do you think you might need to, like, give them an inspection or something?  You know, as evidence or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Sydney agreed.  “They’re a big part of the case, right?”

Tillman certainly couldn’t argue with that.  They were a big part of the case.  Hell, they were big, period.  Tillman wasn’t sure that allowing two women to bare their breasts for him fell under the banner of Serve and Protect, but they’d made him an offer he simply couldn't refuse.  He knew full well that Captain Hayek would strip him of his badge and gun in the blink of an eye if she caught him with a buxom young coed on each arm, but it didn’t act as much of a deterrent.  Frankly, she could deprive him of his entire uniform and make him march through the snow in his underpants for all he cared.  Those titties were too good to pass up.

“You know what, ladies,” he replied, “that’s a very good idea.  Why don’t you come ‘round here and join me?”

The girls strolled around the side of the desk and soon the officer found himself flanked on either side, two huge pairs of scarcely-clad breasts pressed up against his torso. 

“I think you’re right, ladies.  I have a feeling these will be a very big part of this case,” Tilman continued, eyes bulging as he gazed down at their chests.  “Very big, indeed.”

Sydney giggled.  “Well then, Officer, maybe you oughta give them a closer inspection.”

Sydney lifted up her top and tossed it aside, baring those spectacular breasts.  Tillman gawped at those freed puppies as they swung from her chest, dangling in gravity-defying pertitude over the rest of her well-toned frame.  Impish grin plastered across her face, Sydney placed a hand at the back of the officer’s head, pulling him into her cleavage. 

“Yeah, that’s it, Officer.  Inspect those fucking titties!”

Face buried in the darkest parts of her rack, Tillman gave those juicy melons a good going over, leaving no stone left unturned as he immersed himself between them.  Thick mounds of flesh squeezing against his cheeks, the officer could barely breathe as he performed what can only be described as an incredibly rigorous cavity search.  Resurfacing from between her tits, Tillman licked ardently across her pale white flesh, nimble tongue slithering across her rock-hard nubs and ringing her areolas. 

“Well, Officer, am I clean?” Sydney asked.  “Not hiding anything in there, am I?”

“I don’t think so, Miss Sweeney,” Tillman mumbled, between sucks at her stiff pink nipples.  “But maybe I oughta take another look.”

Gripping a tuftful of hair, Sydney plunged the officer back into her bosom, smothering his face once more.  Wrapping an arm around the back of his head, the buxom blonde held him firmly between her jiggling globes, keeping him there until every inch of her bust had been thoroughly inspected.

By the time she let him up for air, that second set of equally huge knockers were hanging out as well.  Completely unencumbered and free as a bird.  This time Tillman didn’t require any kind of encouragement.  Diving face first into that hefty set of tanks, he promptly gave them the same treatment, lapping and tonguing over every stretch of skin he was capable of reaching.  Collecting them in his excited hands, he gave those weighty udders a hearty squeeze, putting his lips to her swollen nubs and suckling like a famished babe.

Sydney watched on as the greedy lawman feasted on her girlfriend’s dumplings, eyes roving south and quickly spotting the long, cylindrical lump growing down the leg of his pants.

“Oh, my!” she gasped.  “Officer, what a big nightstick you have!  Ariel, you gotta take a look at this!”

“Wow!” said Ariel, peering down at the policeman’s groin.  “That’s a big one, huh?  Maybe we should do a little inspection of our own.”

With that, both women dropped to their knees at the officer’s feet.  Licking teasingly along the outline of his rod, the two girls tended to his leather belt, quickly unbuckling it and tugging it free.  Unbuttoning his navy blue pants, they slid their fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tugged down, that thick flesh baton springing out like a jack-in-the-box. 

“Goddamn!” Sydney exclaimed, eyeing that piece of meat.  “I bet you’ve apprehended a few suspects with this, haven’t you, Officer?”

“I’d definitely come willingly if that thing was involved!” Ariel quipped.

“Me too,” Sydney agreed.  “I think this cock could make me come anyway it wanted!”

Giggling amongst themselves, the girls took hold of his rod, feeling it swell in their palms as they stroked it lovingly.

“Look at the size of this thing!” Ariel cooed, purring like a kitten as she jacked that turgid pole.  “I wonder if it’s ever been discharged in the line of duty.”

“Don’t know, girl,” Sydney replied.  “But there’s definitely a first time for everything!”

Wrapping their lips around that girthy trunk, those twin sets of glossed-up smackers smooshed together as they worked them along his pipe.  Guiding their mouths from bellend to base, those thick sets of lips roamed effortlessly past every vein and capillary, leaving long trails of sloppy, warm spittle in their wake.  The two young women worked seamlessly in tandem, each and every move well practiced and flawlessly synched.  This definitely wasn’t the first dick they’d shared.  After all, the two buxom coeds were the very best of friends- bosom buddies, if you will- and liked nothing more than to twos up a fat side of beef!

Working her lips right up to the head, Ariel gaped them apart and steered that thick crown inside, sealing them shut at the crest of his stock.  Dipping down between the policeman’s thighs, Sydney parted her own pair of pouty pink lips and gobbled up one of his balls, suckling away as her girlfriend worked the shaft.   

Tillman still couldn’t quite believe what was happening.  It had been quite the turn of events.  One minute he’d been checking the sports pages in the local paper, the next he had two gorgeous women- both with an exceptional set of tits- tending to his junk!  In fact, the lucky lawman was so swept up in the moment that he’d forgotten all about the perp he had locked up in the holding cell not ten feet away. 

A chronic masturbator with a rich history of whipping it out in public, Terrence Whitley had seen the inside of the Chestminster station house more times than he could count.  In fact, he likely would have been prime suspect in the sorority house case, had he not been arrested for whacking off at the local pool just two days before.  Whitley had been locked up in the cell for the better part of 48 hours and had gotten up to his old tricks some ten times already.  The merest sight of one of the female officers and his cuffs were jingling away like sleigh bells as he pumped his rod like a fiend.

In spite of the cold weather, the festive season was one of his busiest times and Whitley had spent many a December’s eve locked up in a jail cell, having gotten a bit over excited at a carol concert or in a busy department store. But the sick little fucker thought that all his Christmases had come at once when those two buxom females removed their tops and started sucking on Tillman’s dick.  He’d shot his wad over the station house floor three times already and was well on his way to adding a fourth as Sydney and Ariel went to town on the officer’s wang.

Bobbing wildly at Tillman’s groin, Ariel choked down that huge prick one girthy inch after another, sucking up a hardy portion with each deep pull of her lips.  Drooling and slobbering as she took it down, the busty brunette left behind a gooey mess of spit that only got sloppier with each pass she took.

Meanwhile, Sydney was squatted beneath her, suckling away at Tilman’s big, bloated balls as they brewed and churned against her tongue.  Happily gobbling at those full, swinging orbs, thick drops of saliva dripped from his sac and down onto the station floor as she let one slip and switched to the other.   

Gazing up at the officer as he cooed and moaned above her, Ariel worshipped every inch of that fat, meaty prick, gleefully swallowing span after span until her plump set of lips were puckered at his groin.  Slurping greedily and sucking hard, Ariel’s mouth formed a vacuum around the officer’s truncheon from which no molecule could possibly escape.   

“Ughh!!” Tillman groaned, quaking in his boots as his dick disappeared, twitching bellend leaking a drip feed of sticky goo straight down her esophagus.

Coughing and spluttering around the girthy base, Ariel finally pried that monster from between her lips, thick sluices of spittle raining down onto her juggies as she wretched it free.

“Phew!” Ariel exclaimed, clutching that dripping wang and gasping for air.  “I must say, Officer, this is one heck of a baton you’ve got here.  You can beat my ass with this thing any time you like!”

“My turn, Ariel!” Sydney yelped.  “I want to feel that dick between my titties!”

Gripping his rod at the base, Tillman ran his hands along the sloopy, wet shaft and slapped it down into Sydney’s rack.  Gathering them in his trembling paws, he squashed that full set of milk jugs around his slippery pole, holding them together as he sliced his shaft between them.

“Oh, yeah!  Do it, Officer!  Fuck these fucking titties!”

And fuck them, he did.  Reshaping those breasts with his dexterous hands, Tillman bucked at her bosom like his life depended on it.  Fat, saggy set of nuts slapping against her sternum, the officer’s wang soared through her sopping wet tit tunnel like a flesh locomotive. 

“Mmm, fuck!” Sydney growled, gazing up at the police stud as he pumped her heavy bust.  “Goddamn, that dick feels good in my rack!”

She was clearly enjoying herself; the blonde beauty cooing in delight as that girthy pipe slithered through her slicked-up gorge.  But Ariel wasn’t going to let her have all the fun, and as Tillman’s angry pink bellend poked out from the tops of her titties, the chesty brunette was quick to seize it; catching it in between her lips and drenching it in spittle. 

Tilman squeezed Sydney’s heavy set of wobbling milk bags together with all of his might, sweat beading on his brow as he drilled his dick between them.  Every peek from that dark flesh gully was met by a hungry embrace from Ariel’s mouth, a fresh layer of spit lining that swelling head as it returned to the depths.  By now, Tilman’s dick was pounding away like nobody’s business, a mighty wad of spunk churning away in his balls as they cannoned against Sydney’s torso.       

“Are you going to cum, Officer?” she asked, feeling his rod spasm as it sliced between her boobs.

“Uh huh,” Tilman hissed through gritted teeth.

“Come on then, Officer!  Do it!  Cum on these big, fat juggies!”

Prying his dick desperately from her chestal abyss, Tillman pulled his pork like a man possessed.  Sydney and Ariel knelt side by side, their equally huge pairs of milky white titties squishing together as they held them up before him.

“Give us that cum, Officer!” Ariel begged, weighty funbags wobbling in her hands.  “Hose us down with your gooey, hot spunk!”

Jacking it wildly, Tillman tilted his head skyward, spewing a foul-mouthed tirade into the station house ceiling as his bellend exploded; drenching both sets of breasteses in an unholy amount of fiery hot jism. 

“Oh, yeah!  That’s it, Officer!” Sydney gushed, purring delightedly as that almighty torrent splattered across her bosom.  “Coat these fucking titties!”

Emitting further ropes of fluid over both enormous busts, long streaks of the stuff trickled down all four heaving tanks and dripped from their bullet-hard nubs. 

Over at the holding cell, Terence Whitley was having the time of his life.  Watching those two young coeds get a chestful of splooge was every sexual deviant’s dream come true, and as Officer Tilman voided his bloated sac over both sets of jugglies, the depraved little pervert was beating his dirty dong six ways from Sunday, firing seemingly endless volleys of baby batter all over the station house floor.   

Every drop of semen pumped from his withering balls, Tillman felt like every last morsel of energy had been expelled along with it.  Stumbling backwards in a light-headed stupor, the spent officer collapsed onto a nearby swivel chair, nearly sparking out cold as his ass touched the leather.         

“Uh oh,” said Sydney, scooping up a dollop of spunk and slipping it into her mouth.  “Officer down!”

Lapping up long ropes of goop from each other’s chests, the girls roused a final stir from Tilman’s wilting schlong as they cleaned themselves up and re-covered their bosoms. 

“OK, Officer,” said Ariel, slipping on her winter coat, “we’ll leave this case in your capable hands.”

“Let us know when you’ve cracked it and we’ll give you a reward,” Sydney added, flashing him a naughty wink.

“Ta-ta!”

Ariel blew him a kiss and with that they were gone.

Tillman looked down at the report sheet still laid out on the desk before him, the page now marked by several drops of stray splooge.

“Whoops!” he said, using a tissue to dab it dry before filing it with the others.

It was only then that he remembered about the plank-spanking suspect locked up in the holding cell.  Looking across the room, he heard the rattle of handcuffs as Terence Whitley fed his now red raw dong back into his pants and zipped up his fly. 

“Hey, Whitley!” Tillman yelled.  “Hands where I can see ‘em, chubrubber!  Remember what I said?  You shoot your spunk on that floor again, I’m gonna make you lick it up!”

Tillman stood and buckled his belt, crossing the room to check on the detainee.  He looked down at the extra-thick globs of semen streaked across the station floor, then back up at the sheepish-looking captive, quaking nervously through the bars of his cell. 

“Well, well.  Just you couldn’t help yourself, could you, you sick fuck?  Looks like you’re getting extra dessert today then, doesn’t it?”  Tillman grinned at him maliciously and returned to his chair.  “And, Whitley…” he added, putting his feet up on the desk and shuffling his newspaper, “make sure you get it all, won’t you.”   

End of Part One
« Last Edit: December 30, 2020, 09:27:31 AM by DarkSwordsman »
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KMB

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs)
« Reply #2 on: December 30, 2020, 12:41:54 AM »
Slasher-arific!  Well done as always Dark Swordsman.  I didn't know you were going to this dark with it but this certainly hearkens back to the classic slasher days. Looking forward to seeing where you take this
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Calibur009

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs)
« Reply #3 on: December 30, 2020, 05:25:19 AM »
This is an incredible story Dark. I can't wait to read more of it.
 
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Chlp

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs)
« Reply #4 on: December 30, 2020, 06:25:27 AM »
Good work sir, loved it, plenty of big booby babes in action!
 
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DarkSwordsman

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs)
« Reply #5 on: December 31, 2020, 07:56:59 AM »
Part Two

Sunday, 20th December

Miss Hendricks was sat at the oak vanity in her lavishly-decorated master bedroom as she completed the final step of her lengthy and somewhat rigorous beauty regimen.  Nearly 36 hours had passed since the big Christmas party and the busty redhead was just now beginning to recover from the good, hard double-dicking she’d received that very evening. 

She’d awoken to texts from both young men the following morning, telling her that they couldn’t wait to ‘plow her fat MILF titties again’ (their words, not hers) and, from that point on, her phone was buzzing almost non-stop, her inbox besieged with filthy messages at all hours of the day and night. 

Miss Hendricks had been dying to take the college hunks up on their offer from the very first contact and had exerted every ounce of will power she possessed to resist their lewd advances.  After all, both men fucked like Gods and were endowed beyond her wildest dreams.  Her first encounter with the pair of studs had left her damn near incapatictated.  Were she to give into these two men and their relentless approaches, she’d be downright functionless. 

After all, house mother was a tough gig.  She had parties to organise.  Punches to mix.  Cookies to bake.  Angry neighbours to placate.  How would she find the time to do all that if she was getting railed into unconsciousness morning, noon and night?

For the past day and half, Miss Hendricks had fended off their advances and done so admirably, but when a couple of light and dark dickpics had dropped into her inbox early in the afternoon, all her hard work was quickly undone.  One look at those two digitized dongs and she was positively brimming with arousal.  Frigging herself senseless to those glorious images hadn’t hit the spot and the chesty MILF was forced to accept that further resistance was entirely futile.  She needed those dicks and she needed them now.

Messages were sent and arrangements were made, and, in what was quite possibly record-quick time, Miss Hendricks was showered, dried, dabbed, dawbed, glossed, curled and fluffed, her impossibly voluptuous frame squeezed into the skimpiest of skimpy French lingerie.  Lubes and oils were assembled.  Tubes of whipped cream readied.  Bowls of fruit prepared.  Those boys were in for a treat.

Applying lotion to her arms, Miss Hendricks’ outrageously-sized cans jiggled to and fro as she rubbed it into her lily-white skin.  Her breasts were next to get a dousing and as the busty redhead summoned the willpower required to undertake such a mammoth task, she heard her beloved cat Max mewling away somewhere in the distance.

“MEEEOOOWWW!!!”

Well this was just great.  How was she supposed to get lost in those two studs with that friggin’ cat whimpering incessantly?

“MEEEOOOWWW!!!”

There it was again.  It sounded like it was coming from the attic.

“Max?” she called.  “Ugh!  That friggin’ cat!”

She rose angrily from her seat at the vanity, titties bounding every which way as she marched out into the hall. 

“Max?”

“MEEEOOOWWW!!!”

It was coming from above her.  Definitely in the attic.  How on earth did he get up there?  Did one of the girls hide him up there as a prank?  It seemed like the kind of thing Sydney or Ariel might do.  They were always playing stupid jokes like that.  In fact, the busty house mother was still seething from the old Saran Wrap on the toilet bowl trick they’d pulled the week before.  A timeless classic, for sure.  But Miss Hendricks didn’t see it that way.  And don’t even get her started on the time they attacked her with Super Soakers while she was doing the washing up.  Though the image of the large-chested MILF in a sodden white top really was one for the history books. 

But however that pesky little puss had gotten up there, he’d need to come back down again.  Miss Hendricks certainly didn’t want to listen to him whining while those two young Adonises were tending to her every need.  She climbed up the ladder and opened the hatch. 

“Max!  Where are you, you little shit?” she asked, poking her pretty head into the attic.

It was dark up there and she felt around blindly for the light switch.  She pulled the cord and as the room lit up, Miss Hendricks felt a sharp steel implement press against the side of her head.  She froze dead still, knowing exactly what it was- the keen tip of an electric drill.  Though who was holding it against her head was another matter altogether, and the chesty house mother wasn’t going to stick around to find out. 

“Ahh!  Sweet Jesus!” she screamed, scrambling down the ladder as fast as her top-heavy frame would carry her.

But the buxom redhead was scarcely able to clear a single rung before the psychotic son of a bitch beside her pushed down on the trigger and that cordless drill whirred into action.  Turning it up to full throttle, the deranged lunatic held the drill firmly against her head, pushing hard as the spinning bit bore into her skull.

“AHHHHH!!!” Miss Hendricks shrieked as that mighty power tool rumbled against her head, her hair soaking with blood and getting tangled around the sharpened bit as it drilled through solid bone.

Before long, that electric drill was thundering against her cranium like a jackhammer, the house mother’s head (and, yes, her titties as well), quaking along with it as the whirring bit tunneled through her skull and into her brain, putting an end to her torture.  It certainly wasn’t the kind of drilling she’d been expecting that afternoon.  Gripping a handful of matted red hair, the killer pried the drill from Miss Hendricks’ perforated skull and pulled her up into the attic.

Moments later a hand reached out, fingers clasped around Max’s festive collar as he was lowered from the attic and dropped to the hallway floor.  The hatch slid shut and Max watched as the corpse of his doting mother was sealed inside, whimpering mournfully as he trotted off down the hall. 

Monday, 21st December

Abigail Breslin’s bedroom door eased open and she stepped out into the hall.  Wearing little more than a scanty set of cotton short shorts and a long-sleeved tee, the buxom beauty’s most magnificent of attributes were beautifully showcased. 

“Morning, Syd,” she said, greeting her fellow blonde as they passed in the hallway. 

“Hey, Abs,” Sydney replied, taking a slurp of her morning coffee.

“Any sign of Miss Hendricks?” asked Abi, yawning as she fixed her bedhead.

“Uh uh.”

“Did you hear her go out this morning?”

“Nope.  Maybe she’s still in bed.  She’s probably still tired from the party,” Sydney grinned.  “It sounded like those guys really wore her out.”

“I’m gonna see if she’s in her room.”

“Your funeral, girl.  You know she doesn’t like to be woken up.  Unless it’s by a guy with a big dick!”

Throwing caution to the wind, Abi stepped up to Miss Hendricks’ door and gave it a knock.  “Miss Hendricks.  Miss Hendricks, are you in there?”

No answer.

“Miss H,” Sydney cut in, “we’ve got two guys out here.  They’re both really hot, with nice fat, juicy cocks, and they say they want to bang the living shit out of you.”  They waited.  Still no answer.  “She’s not in there.”

“Well, where is she then?” asked Abi.  “She wasn’t here last night, she’s not here this morning.”

“She’s probably with one of those guys from the party,” Sydney surmised.  “Or, hell, maybe she’s with both of them.  She’s probably getting pounded on as we speak.”

“Hmm.  I don’t know, Syd.  All these weird calls we’ve been getting and now Natalie and Miss Hendricks are nowhere to be seen.  Something’s not right.  I’m going to tell the detectives.”

“What detectives?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?  I phoned the station house yesterday and reported Natalie missing.  They’re sending two detectives tomorrow.”

Sydney laughed.  “Oh, Abi, you’re such a worrier.  I told you, she’s probably just with a guy.”

“For two days?  Without answering her phone?  Or even replying to a text?  I’m telling you, Syd, something’s going on around here,” Abi declared.  “And I want to know what.”

Tuesday, 22nd December

A flash silver sports car pulled up to the sidewalk outside the Delta Delta Delta sorority house.  The doors opened and two smartly dressed women stepped out into the wintery air.  Leaving their coats in the car as they crossed the front yard, the icy breeze sent chills through their curvaceous bodies, awakening large sets of nipples that nearly tore straight through their expensive blazers.

Proud owners of deliciously buxom frames, Detectives Dennings and Daddario (the double D jokes back at the precinct were almost unending) took every available opportunity to show off their spectacular breasts; equally mountainous assets that regularly left co-workers and suspects alike drooling at the sight of them.  Thin white blouses buttoned down to around mid-chest, both women happily displayed a canyon of cleavage that could make the Statue of Liberty disappear. 

Stood side by side on the Delta house porch, boobs so large they were almost touching, Detective Dennings knocked loudly on the front door.  Abigail answered.

“Miss Breslin?” asked Dennings.

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Dennings.  This is my partner, Detective Daddario.”  Both women flashed their badges.  “You reported the disappearance of your friend, Miss…,” she took a notepad from her breast pocket (weeks pressed against her giant bosom had left it heavily bowed) and flipped it open, “...Lind.”

“Yes, come in.”  Abigail ushered the women inside, closing the door behind them.  “You two look awfully cold,” she declared, clocking the swell of their nipples.  “Can I get you some coffee?  I don’t think we have any donuts, but…”  She gave a nervous chuckle.

“Never heard that one before,” Daddario replied, her face unmoved.  “Coffee would be great.”

“OK.  Take a seat in the lounge and I’ll go fetch it,” said Abigail, directing them through to the next room.

“Thank you,” said Dennings.

The detectives went through to the lounge, parking their juicy behinds on the three piece suite.  Abigail joined them minutes later, a steaming cup in each hand.  She handed one to each woman and perched on the edge of an armchair.

“So, Miss Breslin,” said Daddario, taking a swig of her coffee, “when was it that you last saw Miss Lind?”

“At a party we had here on Friday.”

“I see.  And do you happen to know if she left this party with anyone?”

“Probably,” came a voice from across the room.  “She usually hooks up with some guy when we have a party.”

The detectives looked to the doorway as Sydney and Ariel came sauntering through.  It was Sydney who had spoken first. 

Both young women, along with Miss Breslin, had very large breasts, and the two sleuths quickly noted that an ample bosom was a common feature among the members of the sorority.  In fact, given that the detectives weren’t exactly cursed in the chest department themselves, an outsider might have been forgiven for thinking that every woman in the entire town came equipped with a great set of tits- an assumption that wouldn’t have been far from the truth.

“But usually she just fucks...I mean, takes him upstairs,” Ariel added.

“Is that a fact?” asked Daddario.  “And who might you two be, may I ask?”

“Sydney.”

“Ariel.”

“Surnames, please,” said Dennings, notepad at the ready.

“Sweeney.”

“Winter.”

Dennings jotted down their names.

“Ah, yes,” she said.  “You’re the girls who reported the obscene phone calls.  Is that right?”

Sydney nodded.  “Uh huh.”

“And have there been any more of these phone calls since you last saw Miss Lind?” Daddario asked.

“I got one last night,” said Ariel.  “I swear, that perv can’t get enough!”

“Right.”  Dennings made a note.  “So, back to the party.  Is it possible that Miss Lind just left with some guy and is still at his place now?”

“That’s what I said,” Sydney declared.  “But it’s not normal for her to go this long without contacting us.”

“We’ve been ringing and texting her non-stop and haven’t heard back,” Abigail clarified.

“Yeah,” said Ariel.  “I mean, the girl’s a slut and all, but she usually takes a break from fucking once in a while.”

Sydney grinned.  “At least long enough to send a text.”

“I see,” said Daddario.  “Well, the holidays are approaching.  Is it possible she just went home to visit her family?”

Sydney and Ariel looked at one another and laughed.  “And leave all those hot college studs behind?” Sydney quipped.  “Not likely!”

“I’ve spoken to her parents,” Abigail chimed in.  “They haven’t seen her.”

Further notes were made.

“We haven’t seen Miss Hendricks in a couple days either,” Abigail added.  “Have we, girls?”

Sydney and Ariel shook their heads.

“Miss Hendricks?” asked Dennings.

“She’s the house mother,” Abi replied.  “We haven’t seen her since Sunday afternoon.  After I filed the report.”

“OK,” said Daddario.  “And does she have a first name, this Miss Hendricks?”

“Christina.”

“Age?”

“Old,” said Ariel.  “Ancient.  Like 50, or something.”

“45,” said Abi.

“Physical description of Miss Hendricks?”

“Redhead,” said Sydney.  “Pale skin.  Quite pretty for an old chick, I guess.”

“Large breasts?” asked Dennings.

“Yeah,” Ariel replied.  “How did you know?”

Detective Dennings looked around the room from one heaving rack to another.  “Just a hunch.”

“Is she married?” asked Daddario.

Sydney let out a loud, trilling laugh.  “Oh, God, no!  She’s an even bigger slut than Natalie!”

“Yeah, she gets more college dong than the rest of us put together,” Ariel declared.  An exaggeration.  But not much of one. 

“I see,’ said Dennings.  “Well, thank you, girls.  We’ll look into that but I’d just like to let you know that reports of missing women are filed more often than you might think, and nine times out of ten...heck, 19 times out of 20, they turn up safe and sound just a few days later.  It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Abi looked hopeful.  “Really?”

“Mmhmm.  Why, we received a report of a missing girl just a couple of days ago.  Didn’t we, Detective Daddario?  A Miss Pettis.  You girls know her?”

“Madison?” asked Abi.  “Yeah, she’s over at Delta Alpha Pi.”

“Yes, that’s her,” Dennings replied.  “But rest assured, girls, we have no reason to suspect that anything has happened to her, and we have no reason to expect that anything has happened to Miss Lind or Miss Hendricks either.  Now, in the meantime, do you think we could put a tap on your cell phones?  It’s unlikely, but your friend and house mother going missing could be related to these crank calls you’ve been receiving.”

“You want to bug our phones?!” Sydney exclaimed.  “Can’t you just find his number from the calls he’s already made?”

“Turn your brain on, dumb dumb,” Ariel laughed.  “He wasn’t calling us from the same phone he uses to text his mother, was he?!”

“That’s right, Miss Sweeney,” Daddario declared.  “The creeps that make these calls usually use a burner phone of some description.  Maybe a different one for each call.  That can make them incredibly difficult to catch.”

“So, why do you want to tap our phones exactly?” asked Sydney, still a little confused.

“Well, usually in cases like this, the crank caller is known by at least one of his targets.  If we could listen to some of your conversations with friends and family we might spot some similarities in their voice patterns or use of language.”

“Then, sure,” said Abi, passing her phone to Dennings.  “We’d be happy to give you our phones.  Wouldn’t we, girls?”

Sydney and Ariel rolled their eyes and reluctantly handed them over.

“Thank you, ladies,” said Daddario.  “You can pick them up from the station house in a couple of hours.”

“OK, I think we’re done here, girls,” Dennings declared, rising from her seat.  “We’ll follow all available leads and keep you ladies abreast of any new developments.” 

Dennings chuckled inwardly at her choice of words.  Sure, she could have said ‘informed’, but somehow ‘abreast’ seemed more appropriate. 

“Also, I think it would be wise if you ladies limited visitors to the house over the next few days.  Until we know what’s what.”

Sydney and Ariel were fuming.  First these two detectives had taken their phones away, now they were telling them they couldn’t have any guys over either.  What a couple of bitches!  If there was a killer on the loose, they hoped he got to them next!

“We will,” Abi replied.  “Thank you, Detectives.  I’ll see you out.”

She showed the two sleuths to the door.

“Thank you, Miss Breslin,” said Dennings.  “We’ll be in touch.”

The detectives passed through the doorway and started across the front yard.

“Erm...Detectives?”

They stopped and turned.  “Yes, Miss Breslin?” asked Daddario.

“About these phone taps.”  She looked at the floor, shuffling her feet nervously.  “My boyfriend...he likes to engage in...err...phone sex.”

Daddario looked at her partner, cocking a neatly plucked brow.  “Does he now?”

“Err...yeah.  I just wanted to make sure that these calls won’t be…”

“Don’t worry, Miss Breslin,” Dennings replied.  “Nobody will listen to your phone activity but us, and we’ll only keep record of calls that are relevant to the case.  Everything else will be quickly disregarded.”

Abi looked relieved.  “OK.  Thank you again, Detectives.”

“Not a problem, Miss Breslin,” said Daddario.  “You take care.”

Abi smiled and went back inside, closing the door behind her.

The detectives continued across the yard and returned to their car.  “Hear that, partner?” asked Dennings.  “Her boyfriend likes to have phone sex.”

“Oh, I heard it, Kat.  I heard it.  Let’s take a look at her phone when we’re back at the station.  See what we can find on this boyfriend of her’s.”

*

“Come on, baby,” came a soft male voice as it poured through the speakers on Detective Daddario’s laptop computer.  “Get those titties out for me.”

“Oh, yeah, baby?  You want me to get my titties out, do you?” a woman replied, her sultry delivery bespeaking her apparent arousal.

“Yes, baby.  Take those titties out and tell me how they feel.”

“Mmm, they feel fantastic in my hands, Paul.  So big and soft.  And my nipples are so hard for you, baby.  I wish you were here to suck on these nipples right now.”


“Watching porn at your desk, huh, partner?” came a voice from across the room.

Daddario looked up from the computer screen as her partner, Detective Dennings, stood grinning in her office doorway, arms folded across her enormous chest.

“Can’t you wait ‘til you get home like the rest of us?”

“Very funny.”

Dennings wandered inside and took a seat at the desk.  “No, seriously, what are you listening to?”

“It’s Breslin and her boyfriend.  Gotta tell you, Kat, she wasn’t wrong about this guy.  Sure does like his phone sex.  Mind you, she seems to be enjoying it too.”

“Takes all kinds, partner.  Sounds like he has a thing for big titties as well.”

“Sounds like our guy, doesn’t it?”

“Could be.  You got the lowdown on him?”

“Uh huh.  Paul Barrett.  23 years old.  Music major.  Originally from Lancaster, PA.”

“Priors?”

“Nada.  Never had as much as a parking ticket here or in Penn.”

“No cranks calls?  Peeping?  Indecent exposure?”

“Nope.  But everyone’s gotta start some place, right?” Daddario declared.  “I like this guy, Kat.  Let’s call him in.  See if he knows anything about those disappearing women while we’re at it.”

Dennings was taken aback.  “What?  You think he offed the Lind girl and the house mother?”

Daddario laughed.  “Oh, Christ, no!  Dipshit like that wouldn’t know which way to hold the gun.  No- you heard what those girls said.  Lind and Hendricks are probably shacked up with a couple of guys somewhere, getting the bejesus dicked out of them.”

“Lucky them.”

“Tell me about it,’ said Daddario.  “But toss a couple of murder beefs his way and he’ll confess to those phone calls like that.”  She clicked her fingers.

“Smart.”

“Right?  Brainier than I look, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dennings grinned.  She rose from her chair and headed for the door.  “But good work on this one, partner.  I’ll track down Barrett and call him in for questioning.”

“You do that.”

Daddario listened carefully as the call continued.  Phone sex wasn’t something she’d ever tried (there was no substitute for the real thing as far as she was concerned), but the detective couldn’t deny that the steamy back and forth between the buxom coed and her clearly masturbating boyfriend made for quite the engaging listen.

“Mmm, yes!” groaned Abigail Breslin through the top of the range laptop speakers.  “Suck my titties, Paul!  God, I’m getting so friggin’ wet!”

She wasn’t the only one.  In fact, Daddario had noticed her crotch starting to warm since the very start of the call and now, with the intimate conversation some fifteen minutes old, the buxom dick was feeling her nether regions heating further with each impassioned exchange.  She was a very busy woman with a jam-packed schedule that seemed to get more bloated by the minute.  Yet the well-stacked sleuth figured she could find a spare five minutes to put out the fire flickering away in her loins.   

“Oh, and, Kat,” she said, flashing her a suggestive smirk as she reached into her desk draw and fished out a dildo, “close the door on your way out.”
         
Wednesday, 23rd December

“So...Paul Barrett,” said Detective Daddario, peering down at the Pennsylvania driver’s licence that was clutched in her manicured fingers.

Sat beside her in the dark and poky office was her partner, Detective Dennings.  Cups of scalding hot coffee were sat on the desk before them, steam rising in two thin plumes.  Their suspect sat opposite, fiddling with a styrofoam cup.  He’d gulped down his coffee in five minutes flat.  The detectives hadn’t permitted him another.

“You’re dating a young woman named Abigail Breslin, is that right?” asked Dennings, taking a sip of her drink.

“Yes,” Barrett replied softly, eyes fixed on the cup as it squeaked in his hands.

“And how long have you two been an item?” Daddario inquired, sliding his ID back across the desk.

“About a year.”

The two detectives seemed to work in tandem, alternating lines of inquiry.  One would ask a question, then the other would follow.  Now it was Dennings’ turn.  “So you’re aware of these crank calls she and her sisters have been getting at the sorority house?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

Paul shook his head.

“Sure?”

He nodded.

“Positive?”

Nod.

“Wouldn't be lying to us now, would you?”

Shake.

Daddario stood.  Her trademark low-buttoned blouse was tucked into a pair of black pants; tight-fitting ones that showed off her long, slender legs.  She strolled around the edge of the desk, designer heels clicking as she went.  She stopped beside Paul, a swipe of her hand batting the cup from his grasp.  He looked up as she leant over the desk, breasts nearly spilling from her shirt.

“Well, you know what, Paul?  I think you are lying.  I think you did have something to do with it, and I think you’re a sick little pervert who makes obscene phone calls to innocent girls and jerks his pathetic, little four inch dick while he does it.”  She looked back at her partner.  “That’s what I think, Detective Dennings.  How about you?”

“I think that’s a very astute observation, partner.”

“Thank you,” said Daddario.  She turned back to Paul.  “You know we’ve tapped her phone, right?  We’ve heard all those conversations you’ve had with her, Paul, and I’ve gotta tell you, it doesn’t look good.  Detective Dennings, the recording, if you please.”

Dennings hit a key on her MacBook computer and a crackled recording of Paul and his girlfriend played out through the laptop speakers. 

“Hey, Paul.”

“Hey, babe.  What you up to?”

“I’m just studying, babe.  How about you?”

“Just got back from classes.  Can I come over tonight?  I really want to see you.”

“Sorry, baby.  I’ve gotta study.  Got an exam tomorrow.”

“Come on, babe.  All you
do is study.  Surely you can take a break for an hour or two.”

“I can’t, babe.  Really.  This is gonna me take all night.  I’ve got a lot to cover.”

“I know, babe.  I’m thinking about those big tits of yours right now.”

Abi giggled coquettishly.  “Not what I meant, Paul.  Now, come on, leave me alone.  I’ve got lots to do.”

“Aww, please, Abi.  I’m dying to see you.  You have no idea how horny I am right now!  Just hearing your sexy voice is getting my dick as hard as a rock!”

Abi sighed.  “Oh, Paul…”

“Please, babe.  Just talk dirty to me for a little bit.  Then I’ll leave you alone.  I swear.”

“You will?”

“Scout’s honour.”

“OK.  What are you doing, Paul?” asked Abi in the sexiest voice she could muster, each passing syllable more sultry than the last.  “Are you stroking your big cock for me?”

“Uh huh,” Paul groaned, his voice light and breathy.

“Is it getting nice and hard for me, Paul?”

“Oh, yeah.  It’s harder than a steel rod, baby!”

“Mmm, nice!  What do you want me to do with that fat cock of yours, Paul?”

“I want you to stick it between your titties, baby!”

“Oh, yeah?  You want to feel my big, soft titties wrapped around your dick, do you, Paul?”

“Fuck yeah, I do!  I want to drill those fucking juggies with my fat fucking cock until I blow my load all over them!”

“Oh, yes, please!  You know I love feeling your hot, sticky cum all over my boobs, Paul!  Are you gonna cum for me, baby?  Are you gonna spray my tits with your seed?”

“Yes, baby!  I’m gonna cum!  I’m gonna nut all over your big, fat titties!  Oh, FUCK!  I’m fucking cumming!  FUUUUUUCCCKKKK!!!”


Dennings tapped her keyboard and the recording stopped. 

“Wow!” said Daddario.  “You seemed to get pretty into that, didn’t you, Mr Barrett?  Do you always call your girlfriend when she’s trying to study and pretend to jerk off on her titties?  Or is that just something you do on special occasions?”

Paul said nothing.

Daddario continued.  “So this is the call the stalker made to your girlfriend’s friend Ariel just last night.  I’ve listened to both and, honestly, I can’t hear much of a difference.  Detective Dennings.”

Dennings hit her keyboard once more and a second recording started to play.

“Hello?”

That familiar heavy breathing was back, louder and more sinister than ever. 

“TIIITTIIIEEESSS!  TIIITTIIIEEESSS!”

“Sydney!  Sydney!  He’s back!”

“TIIITTIIIEEESSS!  TIIITTIIIEEESSS!”

“Fuck off, creep!” spat Sydney Sweeney.  “Why don't you go stick your dick in a blender, freakazoid!”

“I’LL STICK MY DICK BETWEEN YOUR FAT FUCKING TITTIES!!”

Ariel laughed.  “Yeah, you wish, dude.  I wouldn’t put your pathetic, little dick anywhere near my tits.  You hear me, loser?  Why don’t you stick to beating off with your mother’s panties, you limp dick, little…”

“GONNA CUM!  GONNA CUM!  GONNA CUM ON YOUR BIG, FAT TITTIES!  GONNA CUM!  GONNA CUUUHHH!!!”


A deep, guttural roar rumbled through the speakers on Dennings’ computer and she paused the clip before the soaring decibels perforated her eardrums. 

“There,” said Daddario.  “Kinda similar, huh, Detective Dennings?”

“Very similar,” her partner agreed.  “The voice is different but, hey, you’re a musician, right?  I reckon you’ve got a pretty impressive range in those vocal chords of yours.”

“I’m a pianist,” Paul protested.  “I’m not a singer.”

“Pfft!” Daddario razzed dismissively.  “Reckon you’ve still got a decent set of pipes on you.  Good enough to impersonate a raspy little pervert, anyway.”

“I didn’t make those calls.”

“So you say.  But I guess we’ve only got your word for that, haven’t we, Paulie?”

“You guys have checked the phone log, right?” he asked.

The detectives continued their familiar you go, I go method of interrogation.  “Of course,” Dennings replied.  “No caller ID.”

“But you must have a way of identifying unknown numbers,” said Paul.

“We do.”

“And was it the same number that made that call to Abi?”

“No.  But that doesn’t prove a thing.  You’re a smart kid, Paul.  You’re not gonna use the same phone you pester your girlfriend with to make crank calls now, are you?”

“But I didn’t…”

“Let’s give that another listen, Agent Dennings,” said Daddario, cutting him off.  “The call he made to his girlfriend.”

Dennings queued up the first recording and played it once more.

“Mmm, nice!  What do you want me to do with that fat cock of yours, Paul?”

“I want you to stick it between your titties, baby!”

“Oh, yeah?  You want to feel my big, soft titties wrapped around your dick, do you, Paul?”

“Fuck yeah, I do!  I want to drill those fucking juggies with my fat fucking cock until I blow my load all over them!”

“Oh, yes, please!  You know I love feeling your hot, sticky cum all over my boobs, Paul!  Are you gonna cum for me, baby?  Are you gonna spray my tits with your seed?”

“Yes, baby!  I’m gonna cum!  I’m gonna nut all over your big, fat titties!  Oh, FUCK!  I’m fucking cumming!  FUUUUUU-”


The recording stopped.

“You sure seem to like big titties, Mr Barrett,” said Dennings.

“Is that a crime?”

The suspect remained strong.  Time for Daddario to bring out the big guns.  Which for once didn’t mean her breasts. 

“Nope,” she replied.  “But murdering sorority girls is.”

Paul was stunned.  That was the last thing he’d expected to hear.  He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a wild accusation, and its sudden introduction had turned him into a nervous, blathering mess.  Either that or he was a very good actor.  “M-murdering?”

“Didn’t you hear?” said Daddario.  “Miss Lind has been missing for three days.  So has the house mother, Miss Hendricks.  Your girlfriend and her sisters haven’t heard from them and neither have their families.  All points in one direction as far was we’re concerned.  And we’ve gotta tell you, Mr Barrett...you’re our prime suspect.”

“But...but I…I mean, I didn’t...”

Daddario was peeved.  She thought that once she’d thrown that one at him, he’d cop to the crank calls on the spot.  But Detective Daddario was nothing if not persistent, and would not be so easily deterred.  She dug a little deeper.

“Miss Lind was last seen at a party at the sorority house on Friday night.  Were you at this party, Mr Barrett?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You sure?  You didn’t even pop in for a short while?  Say, to kill a helpless young coed and then take off into the night?”

Paul stared down at the table, doing his best to avoid eye contact.  “No.”

“So where were you on the night in question?” Dennings inquired.

“I was at home.  Practicing.  I had a recital the next day.”

“Anyone who can verify that?” asked Daddario.

“No.  My roommate is back in Minnesota for the holidays.”

“Hmm.  Not exactly an airtight alibi now, is it, Mr Barrett?”

“And Detective Daddario is an expert on being airtight,” Dennings chimed in.  “Aren’t you, partner?”

“Sure am, Detective Dennings,” Daddario replied, returning a knowing smirk.  “Sure am.”

Paul said nothing.  He was stronger than she’d thought.  Either that or he was telling the truth.  But that would mean she was wrong.  Alexandra Daddario was never wrong.  She opted for a switch of tactics.

“You know, you’re kind of pretty for a crank caller.  Isn’t he, Detective Dennings?”

“Sure is, partner,” Dennings agreed.  She turned to look at Paul.  “Boy, those guys in the clink won’t believe their luck when you turn up.”

Paul looked up.  His lower lip was beginning to quiver.  “W-what?”.

“Prison, honey,” Daddario declared.  “And with the charges you’re facing you could be in for a long stay.”

“B-but…”

“Don’t worry.  We’ll get you a nice cellmate.  Some of those guys can be very welcoming.”

“I didn’t make those calls!” Paul protested.  “I swear!”

“You know, I’ve been wondering,” said Daddario, ignoring his pleas of innocence, “since you like big titties so much, what do you think of these big titties?”.  She leant over his seated frame, damn near thrusting her boobs right into his face.  “Do you like them?”

“No!” Paul barked, almost instinctively.

“Really?  Then why’s your dick getting hard, pervert?” she grinned, noting the lump in his groin.

“I-I mean...I do, b-but…” Paul stammered, more nervous than ever as the tops of those huge titties touched his flushing cheek.

“You know, Detective Dennings, this guy’s got a pretty big dick.  I was expecting him to have a little needle down there, I gotta say.  Perverts like him usually do, don’t they?”

“They sure do, partner.”

“But this one’s actually pretty nice.  Why don’t you come take a look?”

Dennings rose from her seat, flanking their suspect from the other side.  Leaning forward in a similar manner, Paul gulped anxiously as a second set of big, ripe melons brushed against his skin. 

“Hmm.  Detective Daddario, are you sure that’s not a shotgun he’s got tucked down his pants?”  She looked down at Paul, her face barely visible beyond the enormous swell of her bust.  “You didn’t come to this interview with a concealed weapon, did you, Mr Barrett?”

“Maybe we ought to take it out, Detective Dennings.  We don’t want it going off in there now, do we?”

“I think you better, partner.  There’s no telling what he might do with that thing if he’s not disarmed.”

Daddario reached down and unzipped his pants, her huge knockers squishing harder against his face as she reached inside. 

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, cooing as she gripped his rod.  “How did you get in this room with that thing in your pants?!  A weapon like that could be deadly in the wrong hands!  I think it needs to be handled by a professional.”

Threading it through his open fly, Daddario released Paul’s dick from its cell. 

“Damn!” said Detective Dennings, puffy lips rounded in a perfect O.  “Now THAT is a piece of meat!  Why can’t all our suspects have a dick like that?!”

Leaning in close, both sets of tits squished hard against his face, remoulding his cheeks and causing his lips to pucker. 

“Stroke that dick, honey,” Daddario instructed.  “Show us how you jerk off when you’re making those calls.”

Believing her order to be a form of entrapment, Paul was reluctant to comply.

“Are you deaf, sicko?!” Dennings snapped, smothering him further with the heft of her bosom.  “She said ‘stroke your dick’!”

Paul was powerless to resist.  By now the two detectives were smothering him half to death with their enormous tits, offering little concern for his physical well being as they smooshed them into his face.  But Paul wasn’t deterred and as those giant mounds were squished into his head, he gripped his rod and started jerking, shuffling his knuckles from bottom to top.

“Yeah, that’s it, perv,” said Daddario.  “Pump that fat prick!”

As their suspect beat his meat, the two detectives leaned into one another and started making out.  Paul couldn’t see anything, but the sounds alone of those twin sets of lips smacking together added some extra thickness to his already turgid pipe; that ever-swelling shaft now pounding incessantly as he jerked himself off. 

“I don’t think he’s pulling that dick hard enough,” Dennings declared, leaving Daddario’s lips behind.  “How about you, partner?”

“I think you’re right, Detective Dennings.  Maybe we should give him a little more incentive.”

Daddario straightened her back, giving her suspect a momentary reprieve from the near crushing hold of her bosom.  Gripping the sides of her blouse, she flexed her rigid muscles and tore it open, buttons scattering as her boobs popped out.  Paul gawked listlessly at her swinging rack; huge, heavy tits hanging pertly between the now buttonless plackets. 

“There,” she grinned.  “That oughta do it.”

More buttons went flying and soon Paul had a second set of enormous bare breasts dangling in his face as a second expensive garment was destroyed before his very eyes. 

“Get up, pervert,” said Daddario, her voice stern and steely.

Fearing the consequences of an order defied, Paul leapt swiftly to his feet.

“On the table.”

Paul looked at her, his face almost comically blank.  “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, sicko.  Get up on that table.”

Confused, but too fearful to argue, Paul clambered up onto the desk.

“On your back,” Daddario ordered, and he quickly complied, laying out flat across the hard surface and gazing up at the ceiling above.

Daddario stood over him, her huge knockers dangling above his face.

“Yeah, you like these boobs, don’t you, honey?”

Paul couldn’t help but nod.  Those mighty milk cans had him transfixed.

“Bet you’d like them smooshed in your face, wouldn’t you, you sick little puppy?”

Paul nodded again.  He tried to resist, but his neck muscles seemed to have a mind of their own.

“OK, perv,” Daddario said, taking one last look at her soon to be smothered suspect.  “You asked for it.”

Malicious grin stretched across her gorgeous features, Daddario leant over his supine frame, almost burying the college stud alive as she plonked her tits down onto his face. 

“MMPF!” Paul groaned from beneath her rack, voice heavily muffled by mountains of pale white flesh.   

“Aww! What’s the matter, honey?  Can’t breathe?” she asked, taunting him like a schoolyard bully.  “Well, you better get used to that.  You won’t breathe too good with a foot of inmate cock lodged down your throat either.”

Briefly lifting her enormous breast, the buxom detective allowed her suspect but one solitary breath before those thick, heaving mounds were smothering his face anew.  But Paul didn’t complain, and though they struck him a good deal of force, the feeling of her big, soft jugs squishing against his face was truly delightful.  Reaching down to his jutting groin, Paul stroked himself vigorously, his cock throbbing away in his palm as that fat set of milkers smothered him to within an inch of his life. 

“Oh, look, Detective Dennings!” Daddario exclaimed.   “I think he’s starting to like that.”

“I think so too, partner,” Dennings agreed.  “I better discharge that weapon of his before someone gets hurt!”

Detective Dennings climbed up onto the desk, kneeling between the suspect’s thighs. 

“I better take these pants down,” she said, unbuckling his belt and lowering his trou.  “Who knows what else he’s got hidden away in there!”

A quick strip search revealed no further weapons, but the one mounted at his groin was quite enough already!  Looming over his towering crotch, Dennings sheathed that dong with her titanic titties, detaining the suspect and making sure his deadly weapon was in a safe pair of glands! 

Bobbing away between his splayed out thighs, the chesty detective guided her whopping great tanks up and down the length of his pole.  Pillowy flesh smothering his crown, those wondrous mounds slid effortlessly down the span of his shaft, the hefty undersides battering his well-muscled groin. 

Meanwhile, Paul’s handsome face was buried like a pirate’s treasure beneath Daddario’s heaving rack; her ginormous breasts nearly suffocating him while her partner jerked him off.  Talk about good cop, bad cop!

Reaching down blindly to his lower half, Paul took hold of Dennings’ boobs and started humping, his chiseled rear bouncing off the surface of the table as he plowed her weighty bosom. 

“Hmm, I think he’s enjoying himself a little too much there, Detective Dennings,” said Daddario, watching on as the person of interest fucked her partner’s tits.  “I think I better remind him who’s in charge.”

Raising her chest slightly from atop her suspect’s face, Daddario shifted her shoulders swiftly from one side to the next, whacking her bosom against his cheeks.  *SLAP* *SMACK* *SLAP* came the sounds as those boobs hit his face; the buxom dick beating her suspect senseless in what was surely the worst case of police brutality the quiet lakeside town had ever seen.  Swinging back and forth like a pair of wrecking balls, those heavy knockers struck Paul with such force it felt like Tyson and Holyfield were using him as a punching bag.   

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, pervert?” Daddario chuckled.  “How is the suspect reacting to his treatment, Detective Dennings?  That dick still nice and hard?”

“Sure is, partner,” Dennings replied.  “In fact, I think this thing could go off at any second!”

She wasn’t wrong.  As a matter of fact, Paul’s dong was pounding away like an athlete’s ticker as it cut between her boobs, that fat, saggy set of balls flinging up from the wooden desk and cannoning against her midriff.  Precum drooled from his tip and trickled down onto her titties, the tops of those wonders now sticky with goo as that girthy shaft sliced so effortlessly between them. 

Lips parted wide, Detective Dennings played Whac-A-Mole with that swelling red bellend; catching it between her lips as it peeped on out from the depths of her bust.  And soon those pouty pink pillows sheathing his helmet was too much to handle.  Dennings’ big, soft titties were released from his grasp and Paul’s hands moved up to the top of her head, holding her in place as his bellend erupted.

“MMMPPPFF!!!”

Daddario’s bosom muffled the suspect’s cries as a thunderous gout burst forth from the tip of his penis, filling her partner’s mouth to the brim. 

“HMMM!!!” Dennings yelped, her giant chest heaving as rope after rope of scolding hot nut was fired into her maw, spilling straight down her throat and nestling in the pit of her tummy. 

Going numb from the force of his ejaculate, Paul’s grip loosened and the detective heaved, ejecting his rod in torrents of fluid. 

“Oh, wow!” she gushed, spluttering for air, her mouth slick with a mess of spunk and saliva.  “Now that’s what I call an interrogation!” 

“I know, right,” Daddario agreed, finally freeing the suspect from the crushing weight of her bust.  “Thank you, Mr Barret,” she said, giving him a playful tap on the cheek.  “You’ve been very cooperative.”

Paul remained sprawled out across the wooden desk, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to comprehend the frankly bizarre sequence of events he’d just experienced.  He’d only come to the station to answer a few questions and had ended up dumping his load in a detective’s mouth!  He began to wonder if all police interviews were like this.  If they were, he’d have to start committing more crimes!

“OK, Mr Barrett,” said Dennings, fastening the button on her blazer, the lapels cutting precariously across her otherwise bare breasts, “you’re free to go.”

“I...I am?” asked Paul, climbing down from the desk and locating his discarded jeans.

“Yep,” Daddario replied.  “We’ve got nothing to hold you on.  Go and see that pretty girlfriend of yours.  I bet she’s missing you.”

Paul smiled weakly and headed for the door.  He pulled it open and was about to make good his escape when Daddario’s familiar stony voice stopped the young man in his tracks. 

“But, Paul.”  He looked back.  Her sky blue peepers cut through him like a pair of daggers.  “We’ve got our eyes on you.”

He gulped nervously and stepped out into the hall.

“Well, he didn’t confess,” said Dennings, sitting back down at the desk.

“No,” Daddario replied.  “Kid’s tougher than he looks.  Don’t worry.  We’ll get him.”

She pulled up her computer and started tapping at the keys when there was a knock at the office door.

“Come in,” Dennings called.

The door opened and in stepped Officer Tillman. 

“Yes, what is it, Tillman?” asked Daddario.

“Officer Ryan just called in, ma’am.  She’s found the Pettis girl’s body in Chestminster park.”

“Body?” Dennings replied.  “She’s dead?”

Tillman nodded.  “Garrotted, ma’am.  Ryan said her body was frozen like a Hungry-Man steak.  Her words.”

“Charming,” said Daddario.  “Did you check in with Breslin, like I asked?”

“Just got off the phone with her, ma’am.”

“And?”

“Still no sign of Hendricks or the Lind girl.”

“Right.  Call Debby and tell her to get back here right away.  I want to know the exact location of the body and when she found it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

Tillman left the office and set about his tasks.

“Well,” said Daddario, turning to face her colleague, “you know what that means, don’t you, Detective?”

“Got a pretty good idea, partner.”

“Looks like we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.  Seems we may have underestimated our dear Mr Barrett.”

“Then let’s go get him.  He can’t have gotten far.”

“And do what?  You said it yourself, Kat.  We’ve got nothing to hold him on.”

“Then we better find something, partner,” Dennings declared.  “And quick.”

“Oh, we will, Detective,” Daddario replied.  “Don’t you worry.  No-one’s gonna die on our watch.”

End of Part Two
« Last Edit: December 31, 2020, 11:07:48 AM by DarkSwordsman »
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TLMorgan

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs) [Part Two posted]
« Reply #6 on: January 01, 2021, 05:17:02 AM »
Fuck dude...

First off, the list of women alone made this story one of my favorites ever!

Secondly, you combined two of my favorite things; horror and huge titties  ;D

Thirdly, you do such an awesome job when it comes to writing big tittied women, it's unreal.

And lastly, both chapters were fucking hot and I envy any man that got to have his way with any of these Triple D sorority sisters and their den mother! Bravo! Can't wait for the next chapter.
 
The following users thanked this post: DarkSwordsman

DarkSwordsman

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs) [Part Two posted]
« Reply #7 on: January 02, 2021, 05:54:30 AM »
Thank you for all the feedback on this story.  I had a lot of fun writing this piece and paying homage to one of my favourite movies.  Glad you guys enjoyed it!

Part Three

Wednesday, 23rd December

Ariel Winter strolled across the hallway of the Delta Delta Delta sorority house, her titanic set of D cup titties bouncing around marvellously beneath her Chestminster College sweater.  Stopping outside the room of her best friend Sydney Sweeney, the buxom brunette raised a fist and knocked on the thick oak door.

“Yeah?” Sydney answered.

Ariel opened the door and stepped inside.  Sydney was sat up in bed, half-submerged under a heap of pink and white linens, her large pair of breasts on full display. 

“What you doing in here?” Ariel asked.

“Well, I was trying to have a little alone time,” Sydney sighed.  “But I guess that’s impossible in this house.”  She lifted her arms out from under the bedsheets, setting a big pink vibrator down on the mattress beside her.

“Ohhh.”  Ariel laughed.  “I was beginning to think you had a guy in here for a minute.”

“Pfft!  Fat chance of that.  Since Natalie and Miss Hendricks went missing, no-one will come near the place.”

“Tell me about it.  I just text Treyvon to try and get him ‘round, but...nope, same old story.  I was like ‘geez, dude!  This crank caller guy’s not gonna carve you up with a meat cleaver or anything.  He kills coeds with big titties, not basketball players with washboard abs and fat black ten inch cocks!’”

Sydney chuckled.  “Oh, come on, girl.  You don’t really think that pervert killed Nat and Miss Hendricks, do you?!”

“‘Course I don’t.  Like we told the detectives, Nat’s probably shacked up with some guy somewhere.  And who knows, maybe Miss Hendricks finally got engaged.  She’s probably at her bachelorette party, neck deep in strippers right now!”

“Lucky her!”

“Right?!”  Ariel growled angrily.  “Jesus, Syd!  I haven’t had any dick in days!  If it goes on like this, we’re gonna have to start hooking up!”

“I always knew you were a secret dyke,” said Sydney, returning a playful grin.

Ariel laughed.  “Well, we’ve had plenty of threesomes.  Would it really be that different if it was just us?”

“Erm...yes.  Yes, it would.”

Her offer of lesbian lovin’ had initially been made in jest, but she’d been without dick for so long (three whole days, no less!) that the thought of burrowing between her best friend’s thighs was becoming more appealing by the second.  So much so that a sudden crash in Sydney’s overfilled closet provided welcome distraction from the sea of impure thoughts swimming around her brain.

Ariel glanced over at the wardrobe then back at her friend.  “Are you sure you haven’t got a guy in here?”

Sydney picked up her vibrator and shook it angrily.  “If I had a guy in here, why would I be wasting my time with this thing?!”

“Then what the hell was that?”

“How should I know?  Maybe that stupid cat got in here again.”

“Well, do you want me to get him out?”

“If it gets you out of my room quicker, then be my guest.”

“Damn!” said Ariel.  “So-rry.  What got stuck up your butt this evening?”

Sydney climbed out from under her bedsheets and hopped up onto all fours, ass stuck out in the air.   The rectangular base of what appeared to be some kind of buttplug was stuffed between her cheeks. 

“This!” she exclaimed, thrusting a finger at the embedded marital aid.  “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to continue using it!” 

“Jeez!  OK, don’t get your panties in a bunch, girl.  I’ll get out of your hair.”  She turned on her heels and marched towards the closet.  “Come on, Max.  Let’s get you out of here.  Mommy’s on the rag.  Hey, maybe I will get some pussy tonight, after all.”

Ariel chuckled to herself as she opened the closet door.  Though as the door eased open, Max was nowhere to be seen.  But there was a pair of legs.  Human legs.  Jean-clad legs, rising up from the heap of expensive shoes scattered across the closet floor.  Even with the top half obscured by Sydney’s designer overcoats, this mystery figure was undoubtedly male.  And if the bulge in his groin was anything to go by, this closet dweller had been watching the little show she’d been putting on and was loving every second of it.

Ariel gasped.  “You freakin’ liar!  I knew you had a guy in here, you bitch!  You better share this fucking dick wi-”

SHUCK!

Before the busty brunette could even finish her demand, a long, shiny kitchen knife was thrust from the mass of priceless wool, plunging through her left titty and into her heart.         

“Ariel?” asked Sydney, watching on as her friend’s curvy frame fell still like a statue. 

The killer pried the knife from Ariel’s torso and she fell back onto the floor, a deep, drippy red slit sliced into her once flawless breast. 

“AHHH!!!” Sydney screamed, leaping up from the bed as her pal hit the deck, tits and ass a-jiggling as she raced for the bedroom door.

The killer burst forth from the rack of coats, sprinting after Sydney and gripping a handful of her glossy blonde hair. 

“Ahhh!!!  Get the fuck off me!” she yelled, hand clawing desperately at the door handle as the knife-wielding maniac tugged at her golden mane, pulling her towards him.

Sydney kicked wildly and clawed at his arm but all to no avail.  The killer held her tight, gorgeous nude body pinned against his as he lifted his knife and held it to her throat.

“No!  Please!  Let me go!” she begged, wriggling feebly as he drew the blade slowly, tortuously across her gullet.

Sydney spluttered helplessly as her throat was opened, blood spurting across the bedroom door.  The sparkle in those bright blue eyes starting to fade, the coughing and spluttering gradually slowed, stopping altogether as her body went limp in his arms.  He dropped her to the floor.  Four down, one to go.           

*

Abigail Breslin was curled up on the couch in the Delta house’s vast, open lounge, flicking through channels on the giant flatscreen TV.  Aimlessly skipping from one load of drivel to the next, the chesty blonde coed was caught between an awful teen sitcom and some mindless vampire garbage when the front doorbell gave off its festive chime. 

Pushing herself up from the couch, Abi walked warily out into the hallway.  Quite who was ringing the doorbell at this time of night she was truly none the wiser.  She certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone.  In fact, the house hadn’t seen a visitor in days, apart from the two detectives, and with a possible killer on the loose, Abi thought it wise that she exercise a little caution, should the doorbell decide to ring unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

“Yes?” she called through the door, peering out through the frosted glass.  “Who is it?”

“It’s me, babe,” a gloomy voice called back.  “It’s Paul.”

Abi opened the door and Paul came trudging in.  Eyes locked to the ground and moping like a sullen child, the young music student looked deeply sorry for himself.

“You OK, babe?” she asked.

“Erm...no, not really, babe,” he replied, mumbling into the varnished floorboards.

“Why?  What’s happened?”

“What’s happened?” he responded, his misery giving way to anger.  “I just met your two friends at the station house, babe.  That’s what happened.”

“The detectives?”

“Yeah.  Inspector Funbags and Detective Big Jugs, or whatever the fuck they’re called!”

Her boyfriend was clearly incensed, so Abi did her best not to laugh.  “What did they want?”

“What didn’t they friggin’ want?  Get this, babe...they accused me of making those fucking crank calls!  Me!  Can you believe that?!  Oh, babe, it was horrible!  They treated me like some common criminal.  Like some sick little fucker who gets his kicks from harassing young girls.  They even accused me of killing Nat and Miss Hendricks!  I couldn’t believe the shit they were coming out with!  Fucking fat-titted cunts!”

Paul ranted on, careful to omit the part where he fucked the shit out of Detective Dennings’ big DD titties.  He thought she might have had a little less sympathy if she’d known about that.

“Oh, babe,” said Abi, her concern evident and undoubtedly sincere.  “I’m sorry that happened to you.  I really am.”

Throwing her arms around his wide set of shoulders, Abi pulled him in closely, hugging him tight.
Holding her body to his, Paul felt those huge boobs press against his chest.  One might have thought he’d had enough of oversized chests for one day, but if there was anything that could provide the comfort he so urgently required, it was his beautiful blonde girlfriend and her plump set of breasts.  Pulling back slightly from her warm embrace, Paul looked down at his buxom partner, trying his level best to focus on her eyes- a most difficult task when her humongous bosom was just a foot or so below.

She gazed back at him, a look of genuine sympathy etched across her face.  Whether or not he had actually been traumatised by the day's events, he wasn’t even sure himself (I mean, he’d just been jerked off by a smoking hot detective and her huge pair of tits- so it can’t have been that bad!).  But he was more than happy to milk every ounce of commiseration all the same, his mind whirring with all the potential delights that his ordeal at the police station might score him in the sack.

“You don’t think I made those calls, do you, Abi?” he asked, his soft voice rife with self-pity.

It tugged at Abi’s heartstrings like a puppet master.  Just as he’d intended. 

“No, baby,” she replied, stroking his arm tenderly.  “Of course not.”

“You know I’d never do anything like that, don’t you?”

“I know, baby.  I know.”

“You know I love you.  Don’t you, Abi?”

There it was.  The L word.  If his tales of the horrors (if one could call them such) he’d faced in the interrogation room didn’t net him a roll in the way, then that was bound to seal the deal.

“I know, Paul,” Abi replied.  “I love you too.”

She placed a hand at the back of his head and pulled him in, lips locking together as she kissed him deeply.  Strong hands reached down and cupped her backside.  Fingers spread wide, his nimble tips dug deep into those thick, round globes.  Abi scoured her lover’s hair, making a mess of his expensive ‘do.  Tongues wriggled and writhed, tussling with one another and pushing in deeper. 

Breaking from the heated embrace, Abi grinned up at her handsome beau, half her lip gloss smeared around his mouth.

“That’s a good look for you,” she giggled, using a manicured thumb to wipe up the sticky mess.  “Shall we go upstairs?”

“Lead the way, baby,” said Paul, returning a smarmy leer. 

Abi turned on her heels and began across the hall, cooing in delight as her man delivered a playful smack upon her supple behind.  Following her up the stairs, Paul watched closely as those plump spheres swayed back and forth in front of him.  She took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Once inside, Paul was all over her like a rash.  Kissing her with renewed fervour, those yearning hands quickly found her bosom (in fairness, it was hard to miss), giving it an excited squeeze.  Leaving her lips behind, me moved down to her neck, jiggling those pillowy mounds as he nuzzled in tight, sucking on her skin with vicious intent.  Abi closed her eyes, groaning softly as her titties were groped, her own excited paw inching down and rubbing at his groin.

Taking him over to the large double bed, Abi laid back across the mattress, holding him close as he mounted her.  Nipples prodding at the fabric of her sweater, Paul teased her wickedly, lapping at those bullet-teets until they nearly burst clean through.  A split second later, and that skinny little sweater was but a heap on the bedroom floor; those big flesh Matterhorns unleashed and ready to explore.

The only member of the sorority who put almost any effort at all into her scholarly pursuits, Abigail didn’t have the time for the rigorous workout schedule of her fellow sisters.  As such, Miss Breslin was of a slightly fuller figure than her gym bunny housemates.  But luckily for her (and for Paul even more so), most of that extra weight had gone straight to her chest, giving her quite possibly the most spectacular pair of headlamps in the entire sorority.

Gathering them in his hands, he caressed those juicy jugs with unbounded joy, moulding the flesh with his fingers.  Drooling mouth enveloping an areola, Paul parted his lips and sucked up a mouthful of tit.  Nimble tongue flicking against her nipple, he suckled at that stiffened teet like a babe in arms, guzzling away like he was doing so for sustenance.     

“Oh, yeah!” Abi cooed, purring delightedly as he feasted on her funbags.  “Like that, baby!”

Raging hardon pushing against her groin, the buxom blonde relished the arousal surging through his shaft, her molten pussy turning her panties to mush.  Paul switched from one breast to the other, making sure both got equal attention.  Encircling her areola with the tip of his tongue, he left behind a ring of saliva.  Sucking up her nipple and dousing that as well, he didn’t stop until both her teets were slimy with his spittle. 

But he wasn’t done yet.  In fact, he’d only just begun and as he pushed those titties together, Paul jiggled them with his hands as he dove in head first, immersing himself in her rack.  Handsome face nearly entirely submerged, he smooshed her fat juggies into his cheeks, reveling in their cushiony softness.  Resurfacing only to refill his lungs, Paul kept those mounds squished together as he returned to her nipples, motorboating until his heart’s content.

Cock still pressed between her open thighs, Paul felt the heat radiating from beneath her smalls, that burning hot cooch just aching for his tongue and more.  Reluctantly departing that fantastic set of tits, he kissed slowly, teasingly down her midriff, lifting her thighs and nestling in between.  Slipping his fingers under the waistband of her panties, the crotch stuck to those drippy, wet pussy lips as he tugged them down. 

Inching them down her milky white legs, he balled up those sodden undies and tossed them aside like a piece of trash.  Burrowing between her thighs, Paul stuck out at his tongue and in he went, lips pressed against her labia as he lapped at her drooling box.  Her hot pink pussy was messy with arousal, but Paul was more than happy to clean it up.  Licking slowly from bottom to top, he gathered as much of her nectar as his broad tongue could manage, the sweet, sweet flavour sending his taste buds ablaze.

Looking up from between her legs, Paul settled on her clit and engulfed it with his lips, licking and sucking in equal measure.  Abi’s face was barely visible beyond the rise and fall of her chest.  But as those beautiful jugs continued to heave, hints of pleasure could be seen, peeking out over the rolling hillside.  Lower lip trembling and eyelids aflutter, those gorgeous features were lit up like the Christmas tree in the hallway as her loving boyfriend munched on her dripping cooch.

“Yes!  That’s it, Paul!” Abi groaned. “Right there, baby!”

By now, the stacked young blonde was burning up down below, her temperature rising with every lap of his slick, wet tongue.  Licking and slurping, drooling and slobbering, Paul gorged himself on that gooey pink snatch like it was the last thing he’d ever eat, relishing every drop of fluid that seeped into his mouth and trickled across his tongue.  Reaching up, he took hold of her enormous tits once more, shaking and jiggling them with his hands.

“God damn!” he sighed, those monstrous mounds wobbling about in his palms.  “These fat fucking titties!”   

Re-emerging briefly to catch his breath, he promptly returned to his rightful spot, lapping away like a thirsty kitten.  Moulding her titties with his dexterous hands, Paul’s thumbs rubbed nimbly at her stiffened teets, adding to the already exquisite pleasure that his expert tongue-work provided. 

“Keep going, baby!” Abi whined, eyes clamped shut, voice breathless.  “You’re gonna make me cum!”

And cum she did.  In fact, she’d been teetering on the brink of climax since his tongue first touched her bud, and the extra stimulation to those hard, sensitive nipples was more than enough to push the chesty blonde over the edge.  Wriggling and squirming across the bed, Abi gripped a handful of Paul’s thick brown hair, mewling incessantly as her voluptuous body was sent into overdrive.     

“Oh, God, Paul!  Fuck, I’m cumming, baby!  FUUUCCCKKK!!!”

Paul held her firmly, licking diligently as a powerful and wildly intense climax tore through her curvy frame.  His efforts were rewarded with a surge of sickly sweet fluids, gushing so copiously that it almost drowned him.  Emerging from between her legs, Paul’s mouth was sodden with the fruits of his labour and drops of sticky, warm goo dripped down from his chin as he leaned over her, kissing her ravenously. 

Abi tasted her own pungent arousal as their lips sealed shut, spit sloshing back and forth.  Kicking off his jeans, Paul reached below and gripped his cock, jerking it vigorously.  Rubbing the dribbling tip against her cooze, he teased her briefly before steering it in. 

“Ahhh!!!” Abi gasped, eyes nearly popping out her skull as that swollen pink bellend split her open, infiltrating her most delicate zone.

His oral excursion had prepped her well and Paul’s rod slipped in with ease, thanks to the volumes of fluid now soaking her snatch.  The heavenly feel of those slick inner walls greeted him warmly as he entered, and his leaking head shuddered excitedly at their warm embrace. 

“Ugh! FUCK!” Paul groaned as he slid inside, that fat, throbbing helmet coursing through her and nudging against her cervix as he burrowed in deep. 

There was a momentary pause as he remained in place, making her feel of every inch of his meat as it throbbed away inside her.  Then the thrusting started.  Slow and steady at first, but quickly gathering momentum.  Soon, he was going at her like a man possessed, ass but a blur as he bucked incessantly. 

“Uhh, yes!” Abi growled, gripping Paul’s ass cheeks and urging him deeper.  “Give it to me, Paul!  Gimme that big, fat dick!”

Those who thought Abigail Breslin to be the innocent member of the sorority obviously hadn’t witnessed her performance in the bedroom.  Her less overtly sexual and more studious nature had often seen her labelled a prude by her college peers, but those who had coaxed the buxom senior into bed knew she was anything but.  The fact of the matter was, Abi loved sex every bit much as her fellow sisters, and just because she didn’t spread her legs for every young man with a decent set of abs and nine inches between his thighs, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t just as wild between the sheets as they were.  She liked it fast.  She liked it hard.  She liked it dirty.  And that was exactly how Paul liked to give it to her.  No wonder they were such a good couple; their sexual compatibility was through the roof. 

Considerable musculature propelling each thrust, Paul’s carefully manscaped groin clattered repeatedly against that of his lover, the force of each collision causing her boobies to bounce.   

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Paul yelled, gazing in wonder at her swinging tanks.  “Look at those titties go!”

Utterly transfixed as they flopped around beneath him, Paul went at her with greater force, eager to quicken the movement of those already heaving melons.  Hips rowing at a furious pace, his thick, bulging crown tunnelled in deep, battering her deepest innards.  He was hard.  Pitiless.  Slaying her with his schlong.  Body bucking as he dicked her mercilessly, those humongous breasts oscillated wildly, the heavy undersides slapping against her chest.

“YES!  Fuck me, Paul!” Abi squealed.  “Make me cum on that fat fucking cock!”

Abi’s demands were as needless as they were redundant.  As a matter of fact, Paul wanted nothing more than to feel the hot rush of fluids flooding his shaft as that snug pink cooze squeezed his dick like a ligature.  He’d make her cream his junk even if he had fuck all night long.  Working his hips with renewed vigour, his throbbing shaft soared through her slick, warm tunnel, that fat, bulbous bellend sinking into her darkest depths and jabbing at her g-spot. 

“Oh, fuck yes!  Paul!  I’m cumming!” Abi shrieked, usually stunning facial features twisted inside out by the throes of orgasm.  “I’M CUMMING ON YOUR COOOCCCKKK!!!”

Sure enough, just as Paul had predicted, that already taut, wet pussy seized his dong even tighter at the point of climax.  Drenched abundantly in her burning arousal, a fresh surge of blood flowed to the tip of his prick.   

And soon it was all a little too much for poor old Paul to handle.  Those gorgeous bright blue eyes gazing up at him from between her fluttering lashes.  Those great big gazungas flopping about every which way as he continued to thrust.  That sopping wet pussy gripping his dick and squeezing it for all it was worth.  All these elements and more were combining to gift the young man with the most brutal volcanic eruption his genitals had ever produced.

His dick was pounding away like never before, his balls swollen up like two ripe cantaloupes as he rowed in deep and plunged to the hilt. 

“FUCK!  I’M GONNA BUST!” he blurted suddenly, prying his rod from Abi’s snatch and clambering desperately to the head of the bed.

“Hold those titties up for me,” he ordered, kneeling over her torso and stroking his dong at a mile a minute.

Abi tucked an arm under her huge, heaving bosoms and held them aloft.  Flesh spilling from her perilous grip, those massive knockers wobbled back and forth, a steady drip of diluted pre-goo leaking from his tip and down onto her silken skin. 

“Yes!  Cum for me, Paul!” Abi begged, reaching up with her free hand and caressing his bulging nads.  “Empty these balls for me, baby!  All over my fucking tits!”

Those practised lines of explicit dirty talk proved to be the final trigger.  Abi watched that meaty cock swell to the point of bursting and braced herself for impact.  She knew full well that he had a firecracker of a cock; nine inches of sheer dynamite with a blast radius of several feet.  He was aiming at her tits (and who could blame him?), but Abi was well aware that her face, hair and Lord only knew what else, were set for a dousing too.

And she was right.   Paul’s seed flew every which way at the point of emission.  Thick volleys of the stuff splattered across her face and hair, leaving long, hot streaks from chin to brow and more in her golden mane.  But he wasn’t finished yet and as he continued to tug, Paul unleashed a frankly ungodly noise as he mustered a second helping. 

“UUURRRGGGHHH!!!”

Spewing from his dickhole at maximum velocity, those final few spurts of speed fired across her bosom.  Soaking her huge, weighty tanks, he didn’t stop jerking until every stretch of skin had been daubed a creamy white.

“Uh, sweet Jesus!” Paul gasped, shuddering violently as Abi put his dick to her lips and sucked out the last clinging blobs. 

“There,” said Abi, licking the cum from the grinning lips.  “That take your mind of those mean old detectives?”


“Erm...yeah,” Paul replied, his tone not entirely convincing. 

In actuality, those two buxom dicks had barey strayed from his mind for as much as a second.  Even now, after spewing what must have been close to a gallon of semen over his girlfriend’s breasts, the young stud was still fantisizing about hate-fucking the pair of them into next July.   

“Well, I need a shower after that, babe,” he chuckled, hopping down from the king size bed.

“Me too,” Abi declared, a statement that was most certainly in the running for understatement of the century.  She was covered in so much splooge, it looked like she needed to soak in the tub for about a week.  “I’ll join you.”

“Hang on, babe,” said Paul.  “I’ve got a little something to take care of first.”

“Erm...OK,” Abi replied.  She had no idea what that ‘something’ might be and was so spent from the toils of lovemaking that she couldn’t much bring herself to care. 

Paul fetched a towel from Abi’s closet and wrapped it around his waist, his still half-hard dong pitching a tent in the fabric.  He winked at his girlfriend and headed for the door.   

*

Detective Daddario was sat at the desk in her darkened office, the bright white glow of her laptop screen lighting her gorgeous features.  Open on the screen was the detectives’ phone tapping software, just as it had been morning, noon and night since their visit to the sorority house.  The computer program had been monitored now for 30 hours straight.  If it wasn’t Daddario herself watching over it, then it was her partner Detective Dennings, and when those two had gone home to sleep, some other poor schmo had taken over (given that the two sleuths had a collective bra size of 66DDD, men generally did what they asked them to). 

Though all that surveillance had yielded little reward, and since their interview with suspect Paul Barrett, the phone tapping software had picked up little more than conversations with parents and attempted booty calls. 

“How’s it going, partner?” came a voice from across the room. 

Daddario looked up from the screen as Detective Dennings strolled through the open doorway.   

“Thought you could use a little refuelling,” Dennings declared, brandishing two cups of coffee.

“Thanks, Kat,” said Daddario, stretching her blazer clad arms.

Dennings sat beside her, handing her one of the cups.  “Anything good?”

“Nope,” Daddario replied, taking a swig of her drink.  “Just the usual.”

“Sydney and Ariel still looking for dick?”

“Yep.  Good to know that they’re following our advice.”  Daddario rolled her eyes.  “They’re persistent little cusses though, I’ll give them that.”

Dennings leaned over and took a look at the outgoing call log; a list of numbers that seemed to scroll on for an eternity.  “Damn!  You weren’t kidding.”

“Right?!  I mean...geez, Kat, I don’t know what these girls’ secret is.  They get more dick than Lindsay Lohan!”   

Dennings chuckled.  “Oh, come on, Alex.  You don’t do too bad in that department either.”

“True,” Daddario replied, a sly grin tickling her lips.

Dennings took a sip of her coffee.  “So nothing from the crank caller?”

“Uh uh.  Nothing since we interviewed Barrett.  Probably a coincidence, right?” said Daddario, a palpably sarcastic quip.

“Looks like we put the fear of God in him, partner,” Dennings declared.

Just then, a new incoming call flashed up on the screen.

“Don’t speak too soon,” said Daddario.  “Breslin’s getting a call.  And would you look at that.  No caller ID.  Knew we hadn’t heard the last of him.  Let’s see what he has to say.”

She hit a key on the laptop and the call played out. 

“Hello?”

There was no immediate response, as the detectives had come to expect.  And then, sure as night follows day, those oh-so-familiar rasping breaths were pouring through the laptop speakers.


“God,” said Dennings.  “This guy makes my skin crawl.”

“Shh!” Daddario hissed.  “Listen.”
 
“Hello?” Abi repeated.  “Who is it?”

The volume increased, those evil, grating sounds were louder and more ragged than ever.  Then came one of his trademark outbursts, that, even this deep into the investigation, still had the power to scare both detectives stiff.  The swollen nipples poking at the fabric of their blouses was clear evidence of that.   

“TITTTTIIEESSSS!!  TITTIES!  TITTIES!  TITTIES!  TITTIES!  TITTIES!  GONNA BEAT OFF ON YOUR FAT FUCKING TITTIES!”


“Man,” Dennings grinned, “this guy really needs some new material.”

“See if you can get an address,” said Daddario.

Dennings clicked on the mouse and a map of the town popped up on screen, a red dot denoting the caller’s location.  The detective zoomed in on the map, pinpointing the source of the call.

“Bustworth Street.”

“A neighbour?” asked Daddario.  “Hmm.  Looks like we might owe Mr Barrett a little apology.  Got a house number?”

Dennings zoomed in further.  “It’s near the end.  Sixty...nine.”

“69?” said Daddario.  “But that’s the sorority house.” 

The detectives looked at one another, a sudden realisation hitting both women like a ton of bricks. 

“It’s coming from in the house!” they yelled in unison.

The two women hopped up from their seats, boobs bouncing as they leapt into action. 

“He’s hung up,” said Daddario, looking down at the laptop screen.  “Call the girl.”

“On it,” Dennings replied, fishing her cellphone from her pocket and tapping at the screen.

“Come on, Detective,” said Daddario.  She cocked her handgun and strapped on her chest holster (thanks to her magnificent bust, she’d had to have it specially made).  “Let’s get this asshole!”

*

The detectives' boobs flopped about every which way as they strode purposefully through the Chestminster station house. 

“Come on, Abi.  Pick up,” said Dennings, cellphone held to her ear as her expensive black stilettos click-clacked on the precinct floor.

Clearly unperturbed by his earlier punishment, Terence Whitley was whacking away more ferociously than ever, watching the detectives intently as he pulled his dirty ol’ dick.  Not having the time, nor the inclination, to deal with his deviant antics, Daddario simply put a hand to his drooling face, pushing him into the bowels of his cell.

“Miss Breslin, it’s Detective Dennings,” she said, her call finally answered.  “The calls, Miss Breslin...they’re coming from inside the house.”

“From inside?” asked Abi, clearly confused.

“That’s right, Miss Breslin,” Dennings replied, passing through the station house doors and out into the cold.  “Is anyone there with you?”

“Just Sydney and Ariel,” said Abi.  “And Paul.”

Dennings lowered the handset and looked at Daddario.  “Barrett’s there.”  She returned the phone to her ear.  “OK, listen carefully, Miss Breslin.  We’ll be with you in five minutes.  What I want you to do is go outside and wait for our arrival.  Is that clear?”

“Erm...OK, Detective.  I’ll go and fetch Sydney and Ariel.  And Paul’s in the shower.  I’ll have to wait for him.”

“No! Don’t fetch Sydney and Ariel, and definitely don’t wait for Paul.  Get out of the house, Miss Breslin.  Right now.”

“Why, Detective?  What’s going on?”

Daddario unlocked her car and the detectives climbed inside.

“Abigail,” Dennings sighed, “it’s Paul.  He’s the crank caller.  Madison Pettis has been found dead.  We think he killed her.  Get out of the house.  We’ll be there in five.”

Daddario fetched her Kojak light from the back seat and mounted it on the roof.  Dennings hung up the phone and the car pulled away, flashing and blaring as it sped off into the night.           

*

Abi was stunned.  Her boyfriend a crank caller?  Or worse?  It had to be a mistake.  She’d known him for three years.  Intimately, for one.  There was no way he would go around making obscene phone calls.  Much less kill anyone.  The detectives clearly had it wrong.  Either they had their wires crossed or whoever made those calls was hiding somewhere in the house.  In the basement perhaps or in the attic. 

Abi climbed out of bed and slipped on a clean white robe.  She had to go get Ariel and Syd.  She couldn’t just leave them.  Sure, they were vain, self-centred sluts, but they were her friends.  Her sisters.  She had to go check on them.  She grabbed her softball bat, a cherished momento from her days as a grade school slugger, and headed for the door.

The hallway was quiet.  Eerily so.  All Abi could hear was the pitter patter of the shower.  Even if the girls didn’t have company (which wasn’t often), they could usually be heard, swapping stories of their latest conquests and giggling away into the early hours.  But not now.  Abi stopped outside Ariel’s room and knocked on the door.  No answer.

“Ariel?” 

She knocked again.  Still no answer.  She opened the door.  The room was empty.  Where was she?  She couldn’t hear anything from downstairs, and none of the lights were on.  The shower was still running, but Paul was in there, singing his heart out as he often did after a bout in the sack.  Fear struck her.  Maybe this crank-calling creep had gotten to her first.  Moving onto Sydney’s room, Abi stopped by the door, knocking vigorously.

“Sydney?  Ariel?  Are you in there?”

Nothing.  It was a little early for them to be sleeping.  And in the same room?  They hadn’t had any guys around in a while.  Perhaps the lack of sex was getting to them and they’d resorted to drastic measures.  Lesbianism.  They were very close.  Maybe they’d scissored the living daylights out of one another and passed out in each other arms.  It would actually be kinda sweet.  Spoiled, sex-crazed and naturally stacked- they were a match made in heaven. 

Bracing herself for whatever awaited her beyond that bedroom door, she turned the handle and eased it open.  Lips gaping as wide as they’d go and showcasing an almighty set of lungs, Abi shrieked at the top of her voice as her pretty blue eyes fell upon the hacked up bodies of her two fellow sisters. 

Ariel’s lifeless face wedged between Sydney’s tits, the large-chested coeds had been posed in a manner that left little to the imagination.  In fact, had it not been for the litres of blood coating their bodies and soaking into the bedsheets, the Chestminster medical examiner may have suspected that Miss Winter had met her end in a fatal motorboating accident. 

Backing slowly out of the room, Abi returned to the hall, softball bat in tow.  Standing in the hallway in a horrified stupor, she watched as the bathroom door opened and her loving boyfriend came sauntering out.  Wet from the shower, tiny beads of water trickled down his slab-like pecs and over his six pack abs.  Under normal circumstances, the sight of his dripping muscles and the hefty bulge under the fabric of his towel would have left her frothing at the gash.  But with her friends cut to shreds and the disturbing sounds of the latest crank call still ringing in her ears, Abi’s attention had been drawn elsewhere.  His cellphone was clutched in his hand.  She had to admit, it was more than a little suspicious.  Why would he need his phone in the shower?     

“Hey, babe,” he chuckled, spotting the bat in her hand.  “Bit late for batting practice, isn’t it?”

She didn’t reply.  Just stared at him blankly. 

His smile faded.  “Babe?”

Abi was numb.  Frozen.  Paralysed.  Thoughts rebounded in her muddled brain; snippets of dialogue racing back and forth.  Some Paul had moaned out that very evening during the torrid throes of lovemaking.  Others had been sneered down the phone during a seemingly endless string of obscene calls.  Suddenly both sets of words were merging as one, similarities in both structure and tone cropping up every which way. 

And soon that cacophony of sounds were scoring a montage of images, spliced together in her scrambled mind.  Visions of them in bed together.  Images of her handsome beau slicing up her closest friends.  Of him in his room, phone to his ear, furiously beating his dirty dong as he spouted all kinds of unspeakable filth into the receiver. 

Suddenly his love of phone sex was starting to make sense.  She didn’t know how she hadn’t spotted it sooner.  She’d been blinded by love and infatuation.  Sucked in and duped by this hideous monster and his boy next door routine.  By his God-like body and talents in the sack.  She felt stupid.  Used.  Betrayed.  Sick to her stomach that this twisted fuck had been inside of her not ten minutes before.

“Abi?” asked Paul.  “You OK?”

He approached her and grabbed for her hand.

“Stay away from me,” she said, pulling it away sharply.

“Babe?  What’s wrong?” he asked.  If his confusion wasn’t genuine, it was superbly manufactured.  Abi hadn’t realised what a good actor he was. 

She looked again at the phone in his hand.  It was his normal phone, there was no doubt about that.  The one through which they’d shared all those intimate moments.  The detectives said the caller had been using a burner phone to evade capture.  But maybe now he wanted to get caught.  Maybe this was how it was supposed to end; slitting her throat as the cops rushed in and going out in a blaze of glory. 

“You killed them,” said Abi, backing away as he moved towards her.

“Killed who?  Babe, you’re not making any sense.”

She raised the bat.  “Don’t lie to me.  You killed my friends.  You fucking killed them!”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Paul replied, his voice calm and collected.  “Come on, babe.  Give me the bat.” 

Her heart was racing.  The bat slicked in her sweaty grip.  She thought of her friends.  Of Sydney and Ariel.  Of Natalie and Miss Hendricks.  Every one of them carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey by this murderous psychopath.  This evil bastard that she thought she’d loved.  That she’d romped with tempestuously just a few minutes before.  And if she didn’t stop him, then she would be next.  He’d impaled her on a deadly weapon once already that evening.  She’d be damned if he’d do it again.

“Babe!” Paul growled, finally expressing anger at her strange behaviour and wild accusations.  “GIVE.  ME.  THE BAT!”

He grabbed for it, rage burning in his eyes.  Abi didn’t think twice.  She swung with all her might, landing a powerful blow that cracked his jaw in two, dislodging teeth and splattering blood across the wall. 

“AH!  FUCK!” he cried, blood pouring from his mouth.  “You crazy fuckin’ bitch!”

He went for her and she hit him again, neatly busting his head clean open.  Paul fell to the ground, punch drunk from the force of each strike.  She felt a sudden pang of...something as he lay there helplessly on the floor beneath her, blood pooling around his bashed in head.  Was it sympathy?  Guilt?  She couldn’t say for sure.  But soon images of her three sisters and doting house mother were whizzing through her mind.  Parties they’d thrown.  Fun they’d had.  Memories they’d shared.  And it wasn’t long before the pain and anguish of bereavement were barging all other emotions aside. 

She stood over him and raised her bat high, delivering a crushing blow that practically mangled his skull.  It looked like that one had finished him off.  But try telling Abi that.  As visions of her friends raced through her addled brain, the chesty blonde landed hit after hit upon his already pulverized skull, that once handsome face reduced to a pile of mincemeat. 

*

Daddario’s sports car screeched to a halt outside the Delta Delta Delta sorority house and she and her partner came hurrying out, boobs wobbling as they raced across the yard.  In the excitement of what would prove to be Abigail and Paul’s final intimate encounter, the front door had been left open, granting the detectives access. 

The buxom sleuths crept softly through the hall and up the flight of stairs, handguns at the ready.  There was a woman on the landing- a curvy one with sweaty blonde hair.  Softball bat in hand, the bloody barrel was strewn with brain fragments and tiny bits of skull.  Shoulders heaving as deep, heavy breaths came in a steady rhythm.  Paul Barrett was laid at her feet.  Or rather, what was left of him.  His head had been smashed to pieces; brain matter splattered all over, buckets of blood soaking into the carpet.

Abi felt a hand on her shoulder and span around instinctively.  She raised her bat, ready to hit a homer out of Fenway Park when she was met by two familiar faces (and four familiar breasts).

“Abigail,” said Dennings, “it’s us.  It’s OK.  It’s us.”

Abi dropped the bat, throwing herself into the detective’s arms and weeping into her cleavage.

“You’re safe now, Abigail,” Dennings assured her, stroking her greasy locks.  “You’re safe.”

*

For what remained of that cold December’s night, the Delta house was a hive of activity.  The quiet town of Chestminster hadn’t seen a crime of this magnitude in close to 50 years and as such, nigh on the entire police department had been put on the case.  There was a team outside, cordoning off the area and dealing with the crowds of spectators and throngs of baying reporters.  Forensics personnel would be along at sunup, but in the meantime, the bodies were bagged up and transported to the county morgue to await identification. 

Detectives Dennings helped Abigail Breslin to bed and tucked her in tight.  The whole nightmare had left the buxom coed deeply disoriented, not to mention physically and mentally drained.  She was out like a light as soon as she touched the mattress and a doctor was called in to give her a quick look-over.  Captain Hayek had been keen to speak to the witness right away, but the two detectives insisted that she rest.  She was in no state to be fielding difficult questions.     

“How is she, Hayley?” asked Dennings, poking her head around the doorframe as the doctor concluded her examination.

“That’s Doctor Atwell to you, Detective Dennings,” the physician grinned, speaking in a thick British accent.  A mind-blowing cleavage bulged out from between the lapels of her white lab coat, the tube of a stethoscope dangling between what was yet another fantastic set of Chestminster breasts.  “She’s fine.  Nothing a little bedrest won’t take care of.”

“So you don’t need to take her to the hospital?”

“No, she’s just exhausted, the poor love.  She’ll make it through the night.”

“Well, in that case, back to yours for a drink?” Dennings suggested.  “Your husband seemed very happy to see me last time.”

“That he was, Detective,” the doctor smirked.  “That he was.  Come on, let’s leave her to rest.”

*

With the investigation complete and the bodies removed, the crowd outside the sorority house began to disperse.  Dennings and Atwell joined the line of officers, coroners and medical practitioners flooding out through the open doorway as the sun began to rise over the town of Chestminster.  An officer had been left at the door as a precaution, but before long the house was empty, allowing Abigail Bresin to sleep off her horrific ordeal.

The hustle and bustle of the crime scene had given way to an almost total placid quiet, the tick of the hallway clock the only sound in the near empty house.  The crime scene investigation was set to be the largest in the town’s history.  As lead investigators on the case, Dennings and Daddario had given the place a once-over before CSI came in to take a full sweep of the grounds.  But for all their hard work and diligence, the detectives had neglected to look in the attic.  That same attic where the bodies of Natalie and Miss Hendricks were slowly decaying amongst the dust and cobwebs.

A mystery figure watched through the attic window as detectives, officers and physicians alike traipsed through the snowy front yard, clambering into vehicles and departing the scene.  The man fished a burner phone from the pocket of his jeans, punching in a sequence of numbers, and as Abi dozed blissfully in the supposedly empty house, her phone lit up and started to ring.

END
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TLMorgan

Re: Rack Christmas (multiple celebs) [Final Part posted]
« Reply #8 on: January 05, 2021, 04:00:01 AM »
That was an incredible, fucked up, and intriguing ending to this story!

Don't want to spoil anything, but I didn't see those surprise cameos coming but they definitely fit upon the profile of the main stars of this story.

And Paul is one lucky yet unlucky bastard  ;D
« Last Edit: January 05, 2021, 04:48:19 AM by TLMorgan »
 
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