Shercock Holmes and the Case of the Haunted Attic
- 4 years ago
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Shercock Holmes, Private Investigator..1 free porn video
It was a foggy morning in the small Atlanta suburb of London. Joan, walked down the wet sidewalk to Holmes's house. As she opened the squeaky gate, she noticed one dim light coming from the office area of Holmes Manner. She kicked the morning paper into the pile on the edge of the walkway as she approached the door.
She sighed as she fumbled through her keys. It was a shame how a house that just months before had been filled with joy, was now so dark and gloomy. She attempted to open the door, then she remembered how the door would stick, so she turned the knob and kicked the corner of the door, and it opened. As she entered a rank odor entered her nostrils.
Such filth, she thought as she stumbled over the mountain of letters that were piled in front of the door. She laid her purse and coat on the dining room table and walked toward the office. The door was ajar, so she slowly pushed it open.
She shook her head in disgrace. Just as she had imagined. Holmes was passed out, naked while sitting in his chair. He was surrounded by empty bottles of cheap wine. His hair looked as if he had not combed it in weeks. Knots were prominent in his brown locks.
His once smooth face now sported shaggy whiskers. His lips were stained red from the wine, and a trail of red ran down his muscular chest. Joan could feel her cheeks blush as she gazed upon his manhood. She had often wondered about the bulge in his trousers, and now she understood.
His manly appendage laid upon the hairy bed of his testicles. It was cut, thick and long. Joan had never seen the likes. She shook her head of her thoughts. She walked to the sofa and took a blanket and draped it over his body.
Holmes was once a respected investigator. He had cracked some of the toughest cases the State of Georgia had ever seen. He had been fearless. He would not think twice about being face to face with the most sinister of crime bosses, but now he was just a shell of the man he used to be.
Joan unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. She began to tidy up the work area. She opened the curtains, the sun was beginning to burn off the fog. She opened the window to allow fresh air to cover the stench in the room.
After ten years as part of the Bureau, Holmes was tired of the bureaucracy. He felt the rules of engagement was hindering him to find justice. Being a bachelor, he had no one depending upon him, so he went out on his own and opened a private investigation agency. His reputation for leaving no stone unturned quickly spread. His business quickly became a success.
Joan pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail as she tried to get the office in order. Holmes’s success was the reason she was there. She was hired to be his secretary. Her job was supposed to be to keep records and keep the books balanced. However, her quick wit had become an asset to the business. Rarely was she not at Holmes’s side during an investigation. Together they had discovered many cheating spouses and ruthless scoundrels. They had shared countless cups of strong coffee and as many hours on stakeouts.
A moan interrupted Joan’s thoughts. She turned and saw him stirring. She watched as his hand brushed against his bearded face. She was surprised how she had never before noticed his big, strong hands. She imagined how they would feel gripping her hips. She fanned the opening of her blouse as perspiration began to appear on her bosom.
Again he interrupted her thoughts. He lifted his leg as flatulence escaped his anus. In disgust, Joan went back to her work. She wondered how a man could be so foul. His movement caught her eye. She watched as he scratched his hairy testicles. She knew he was not aware of her presence, but also knew it would not have mattered.
“Holmes, Holmes!” She attempted to get his attention. “Get your nasty ass up, and go take a shower, you stink.” Joan pushed against his head with her delicate hand.
Holmes turned, his eyes were bloodshot and barely opened. He smacked his lips together. “Fuck you Joan, and what in the hell are you doing here?” Holmes stood, the blanket that had covered his body fell to the floor. Joan attempted to keep her eyes off but she couldn't help it. She took a quick glimpse of his beautiful penis as it freely hung between his legs.
“I don't know about you, but I have bills to pay, and they aren't getting paid when you are sitting on your lazy ass having a pity party. Now go take a shower, we have a case.”
Joan turned and angrily threw a stack of papers in the waste basket. She hated him most of the time. He was rude and crude, but he was the most brilliant man she knew. He had been on the sidelines too long. She owed it to him to get him motivated.
When she turned, Holmes had left the office. She walked toward the door. She heard water running in the background, and hoped that when he returned he would at least smell better. She walked back over to the desk. She moved a box that had been sitting there. Under the box, she saw the file.
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It had happened about four months ago. It was a typical day at the office. Holmes had just finished up a case where a man had been trying to cheat on his insurance. The man claimed to have been injured from a fall, to the point he couldn't walk. After weeks of tailing him, Holmes caught him chasing a woman around a motel room naked.
While Holmes was gloating, a well dressed man knocked on the door. Joan opened it and invited him in. The man wanted to hire Holmes to follow his wife because he suspected her of cheating. Holmes explained the costs associated with the case, and the man quickly wrote out a check for the deposit.
Joan despised cheating cases. It made her feel dirty. Cheaters rarely cheated inside their normal habitat. They would pick the dirtiest and cheapest motels to meet. The streets would be full of garbage and infested with thugs and hood rats, but it was a big part of the job.
She took the man’s information, including his wife’s place of employment, description and make and model of her automobile. She smiled as she tried to convince the gentleman that his suspicions were only that, but in the back of her mind, she knew that his assumptions were probably correct.
The case didn't last long. After a couple days of tailing the wife, Joan and Holmes followed her to a sketchy part of town. They parked in front of a motel as the wife was getting out of her car and walking toward the door to one of the rooms. Holmes got out of his car while Joan pulled out the binoculars.
Holmes walked into a convenient store and purchased coffee. As he exited, he was propositioned by a lady of the night. He flirted with her for a while, but finally rejected her offer of a good time. He made it back to the car and handed Joan her coffee.
The two investigators sipped their coffee in silence. After a few minutes, Holmes got back out of the car and began moving toward the motel. Joan waited a couple of minutes and headed around the back of the motel to see if there was a window. Holmes squatted in front of the big window and tried to peek in between the curtains.
Joan found a window. It was too high for her to see into, so she searched for something to stand on. She found a couple cinder blocks and stacked them up, it was perfect. She could hear moaning as she stood on the blocks and looked in. The bathroom was steamy and the window had quickly fogged up.
Joan took a chance and pushed up on the window and to her amazement, the window opened. The steam escaped quickly from the small opening but eventually she could see. From the moanings, she had already established that the wife of their client was with another woman. She chuckled to herself, because she knew how much Holmes loved lesbian action.
She heard the water begin to slow and the squeak of the faucet knobs. She heard giggling and a smacking sound, like someone's ass just got spanked. The window did not give her much leverage to see. All she could make out was the blonde hair of the wife and the wet red hair of her assumed lover.
When the two exited the bathroom, Joan hurried to the front of the hotel to where Holmes was patiently waiting. She stood behind him as he continued to squat. They saw the two come from the bathroom. The wife was clear in their view, but the lover’s back was to them. Holmes commented on the lover’s plump ass, as the two fell onto the bed.
Joan was straight as an arrow, but she could not help but admire the wife’s body. It was clear that she had married their client for his money. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, while he was at least in his late fifties. Her slim young body was hot, even to Joan.
“Check out those knockers,” Holmes commented. “Those are definitely store bought”
Joan agreed. The wife’s breasts were clearly enhanced. They were entirely too big for her small frame for them to be natural. The wife moved up the bed, with her lover’s face between her legs. Joan felt that the lover had some familiar traits, but thought little about them as she watched the two lovers begin.
The lover’s face was buried between the legs of the wife. From the reactions her body was making, the lover was hitting the right places. With only the sound of Holmes clicking photos, the two investigators were witnessing two lovers making sweet love.
The wife twisted her hips and squatted over her lover’s face. She held onto the headboard of the bed and twisted her thin hips over her lover's mouth. The lover’s hands had a hold of her ass and pulled it down to her. The wife’s head tossed back and forth as her lover licked her smooth crevice.
“Damn, I am getting a woodie,” Holmes commented as he continued to snap pictures. Joan rolled her eyes at his comment, but she could relate. The scene in front of them was causing a burning desire inside her panties. If she had not be in the company of her boss, she knew her hands would be inside them.
The wife climaxed. Her loud moan was heard outside the small room. Her body jerked over and over as her hands held her lovers face to her. Then she slowly slipped down her lover’s body and they kissed as their vagina’s rubbed together. The wife raised the leg of her lover as she slipped between them.
The two lovers ground their vagina’s together. Their moans grew louder. Then the wife dropped the leg and drove her tongue deep into the red fur covered honeypot of her lover. The lover’s back arched up off the bed. Her pale leg hooked the wife around the neck and pulled her deeper. In just a few seconds, her climax hit. It was not as dramatic as the wife’s but it was clear to the viewers that she had cum.
The two lovers laid together basking in their post orgasmic bliss. After a while, the wife got up and began getting dressed. Holmes continued to snap picture. Joan shook her head.
“I think you have enough evidence, Holmes”
“Evidence? Hell, this isn't evidence, this is wanking material. That bitch is hot.”
Holmes’s demeanor quickly changed. As he watched the wife dress, motions from the lover caught his attention. Finally, her face appeared. Joan saw her about the same time he did. She heard the crash of the camera as it hit the concrete.
“Holmes,” was all she could say. He stood and turned to leave. He made no attempt to get the broken camera. Joan knew there was something familiar about the lover, but they were so wrapped up in watching the love making that she had failed to recognize her as Holmes’s long time girlfriend.
Before Joan could recover the card from the camera, Holmes had already made it to his car. He got in and sped off leaving her there alone. She scooped up the remains of the camera, and as they always do, slipped a card in the door of the motel room.
She hated the card, but it had become their trademark. The card read, “You have just been screwed by Shercock Holmes, Private Investigator.”
She heard the two lovers saying their goodbyes, and scampered off into the darkness. She slipped into an alley and stopped to watch. She wanted to see the reaction, of not only the wife, but also from Holmes’s girlfriend. Joan knelt behind a dumpster and peeked around just as the room door opened.
The card fell to the feet of the wife. She knelt down and picked it up. “Fuck, that bastard,” Joan heard her scream. She handed the card to her lover. Her pale skin turned even paler as she read the infamous message on the card. Both women left the motel in haste.
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Joan took the file over to the shredder. Page by page she fed it in. If she was to get Holmes back in the saddle, the file had to disappear. As she fed the last photo into the shredder she heard movement behind her.
“This place in is a mess, where the hell have you been?”
Joan smiled as she turned. There stood Holmes, clean shaven, dressed and ready to go to work. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he needed to get back to work, and she needed to be there with him, at his side, just like always.
“Twatson, stop dragging your feet, we have a case”
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