Pigs Can t Fly Final Chapter
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Fuck! I have had my spiky black hair raised more than once on this job, but I hardly expected this news tonight. Billionaire Sly Bucks took a nosedive off his third-story balcony, bloodying up his perfectly manicured lawn. Unfortunately, we live in a world where money attracts attention. A common person dies and no one cares; a billionaire dies and the case becomes a media shit-show. Sad really ... the power of those thin, green pieces of paper. And the coroner has ruled it a murder.
Money is always a motive for murder and I predict no shortage of suspects for Mr. Bucks. As the department’s number one detective, it is on my petite, but strong shoulders to solve this case. I picked a fucking bad week to quit smoking. Adrenaline increases my oral fixation, so I hope the bags of suckers I bought will suffice.
The officers got quite an eyeful when they arrived at the scene. Scantily clad party-goers were scrambling to flee the sprawling estate. No doubt many were in possession of illegal substances. Inside the lavishly-decorated home resembled a strip club with naked ladies grinding indiscriminately on everything with a cock or pussy.
Some guests looked up at the party-crashing police but nonetheless finished their fuck. Locking down this party was like trying to contain bees after a hive was whacked. By the time I arrived, the worst of it was contained, and only the curious few remained trying to get a glimpse of their host, naked and splattered on his lawn.
Here’s a little background on my vic. Sly Bucks is a well-known, debonair billionaire envied by most, hated by just as many, and reputed to be an unscrupulous asshole with a fat dick. He was known for swindling others in business. His name had been mentioned with blackmail more than once. He flaunted his money about daring those with less to try and take it. And now he was dead as a doorknob after failing to fly off his balcony.
Putting another thorn in my investigation, his death occurred in the middle of another one of his infamous soirees at his estate. There will be hundreds of witnesses to interview. Many of which will have been under the influence of something at the time of his murder. Others, there for the free sex, will withhold information in an attempt to hide their whereabouts from their unsuspecting spouses. Where’s my stash of fucking suckers!
~~~
Weeks later
It's 11:00 PM, and I sit in my dingy, grey office staring at my whiteboard as if the murderer will just jump out at me. I reach for my thousandth fucking sucker since starting this filthy case. God, I want a cigarette! This case has me stumped. As I predicted, Mr. Bucks had weaved a tangled web; evidence links several different suspects to the crime - with no clear-cut winner. So, after busting my tight ass sorting through all the information and evidence, here are my list of suspects:
Rosie Cheeks – Mr. Buck’s number one girlfriend. Our vic is hardly monogamous, always flaunting beautiful women by his side. However, Miss Cheeks is known by all to be his numero uno in the girlfriend department for the last ten years – an eternity in the porn-star girlfriend lifespan. Her talents are numerous in the adult entertainment world. She is known for her superhero abilities to squirt long distances and swallow cock in a single suck.
Multiple witnesses reported Miss Cheeks in a heated argument with a fellow porn star, Miss Heidi Honeypot, the night of his party. Mr. Bucks tried to separate his bimbos as Miss Cheeks was heard threatening, “If I can’t have you, no one can.” If you believe the tabloids, Miss Cheeks was about to be replaced by Miss Honeypot. And our vic’s bank records showed Miss Cheeks was receiving $20K a month from Mr. Bucks for her, umm, services.
If he were to pull her funding, her Louis Vuitton stiletto supply would surely dissipate. To top it all off, we found one of her signature nipple rings on his balcony the night of his murder. I have been in this biz for a long time and a woman scorned is the most dangerous of persons.
Heidi Honeypot – a fast-rising newbie in adult entertainment and Mr. Buck’s bedroom. She is said to have the prettiest pussy ever to grace the porn industry. She is ten years younger than Miss Cheeks – ouch! And rumored new favorite cunt to receive our vic’s also-rumored monster cock. During their fight at the party, Miss Cheeks was overheard accusing her of chasing Mr. Bucks for his bank account. To which Miss Honeypot did not deny, but replied, "Everything you have will soon be mine." This fiery redhead has been snapped in a dozen media pictures lately, firmly and seductively attached at the crotch to our dead billionaire.
Funny enough, her red hair is what links her to his murder. We found strands of it entwined in his fingers as he lay flattened on his lawn. Gingers are known for their fiery tempers, matching their hair. Her motive is a mystery, but the evidence doesn't lie. She was obviously on his balcony in some sort of embrace before he tried and failed to fly.
Father Bottomore – the priest of the largest Catholic church in this area. This evidence made my eyes bleed. I found videos on Mr. Buck’s laptop of him fucking the beloved priest in his holy ass. I tell you, my lips slurped the shit out of my sucker watching these scenes. The few glimpses I caught of Father Bottomore’s fuck face were unreadable. Was he enjoying having his ass pummeled? One can’t tell in the video. His other end was more prominently featured. A fellow Catholic member of Mr. Buck’s household staff spied the Father heading up the private back stairs leading to Mr. Banks' bedroom the night of the party. What was a priest doing at a wild party filled with debauchery?
Oddly, I learned the depraved Mr. Bucks religiously occupied a seat on the first-row pew every Sunday. I guess he was there washing away his sins of the prior week. And in his will, he had left his entire estate to the Catholic Church. This one is a mystery I can’t wait to unravel. Was he blackmailing the priest with the videos? Were they lovers or was something more sinister at play here?
Purdy Purity – Mr. Buck’s young housekeeper. She was the last one seen around his back staircase a little before his death. This is quite a twisted tale. Mrs. Purity is a lovely, soft-spoken woman. The other staff described her as very quiet, reserved, sweet and wholesome, and always professional in dealing with Mr. Bucks. Although one maid said he flirted with Mrs. Purity all the time, she never responded.
The staff said she tolerated his seemingly unwanted advances because she needed the money. I learned she was a prudishly dressed regular at church, always accompanied by her straight-laced husband. The evidence linking her to our vic is the oddest of them all. Torn pieces of her uniform were found on Mr. Buck’s balcony. Was sweet Purdy Purity a victim herself of more forceful unwanted advances or was her uninterested, innocent demeanor just an act?
When the police arrived and tried to lock down his guests, she was caught running out the back, trying to sneak away. She begged the police to let her go home to her husband, claiming she knew nothing. Suspicious behavior to say the least. Experience has taught me the quiet ones always have their secrets - always.
Ima Jean Butkis – Mr. Buck’s right-hand woman. She was second in command in his empire. His other employees claimed she slept her way to the top. His secretary said Miss Butkis was in love with Mr. Bucks and she often heard them fighting in his office over his other women. She also felt the need to add she had heard them fucking inside his office on more than one occasion - Miss Butkis was quite the screamer. I have seen the craziest shit done in the name of love. Maybe, his death was a crime of passion.
In addition, Miss Butkis is a true rags-to-riches story, with not even a pot to piss in before he took her under his wing. We found a letter penned by our vic ending her employment. The letter was dated to be sent the following Monday. Did she find out? As of now, she is slotted to be named the new president of the company by the board, following his death. This sounds like a motive for murder as well.
So, you see, I have five plausible suspects. And the whole country has its beady, judgmental eyes on this case. I, Detective Steelie Balls, will dive into his seedy world and leave no dirty rock unturned until I find his killer. Even an asshole deserves justice. What transpired between my victim and each suspect the night of his murder? Multiple used condoms were found in his bedroom. He took his plunge off the balcony in the nude.
Was this money-related or a crime of passion or something entirely different? I am truly twisting my nipples off over this case. Feel free to watch the threads unravel and make your own guesses as to “who done it.” Now, fuck these suckers, someone get me a damn cigarette!
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The Firefly verse didn't exist for long. An incredible show destroyed by ruthless Fox execs who keep churning shit out on the TV. But enough of that. Firefly had plenty of incredibly sexy women. Choose what happens to these women, and what they get up to in the black.
Immediately, I remembered the incest with my sisters; jacking off with a variety of things wrapped around my shaft; a couple of goats, which fit my cock about the same as my tight cunt sister-in-law; and…. The cantaloupe. Leo already knew about the incest with Mae and Jody... he was the one who started it all. We took turns with Mae many times, but I don’t she ever let Leo get into her panties. I got there… but that's not what this story is about. As we grew up, Leo and I often compared...
Introduction: my wife I was gangbanged by 37 men in a filthy VIP room in the top of a bar room in New York, my husband took me to a party and left with another blonde girl, I sat at the bar all alone when 15 men approached me, they told me I was very beautiful and asked if they could take some pictures of me, I said ok, but they said it was too crowded in the bar can we go to a room where its a little more quiet, I said ok, one of the men took me upstairs, to a dirty room, I looked around and...
> > > Friends: I often get mail from anxious readers requesting help in training a Fuckpig. Sometimes this mail is bogus, just jerk off material from some horny reader seeking correspondence with me. But now and then, I get to interact with a truly concerned father, brother uncle or Master, who truly wishes help in shaping and training a boy into a perfect Fuckpig. So I thought I would address this issue for many of you, via a letter I recently sent to a Father of a thirteen year old boy with...
I woke up early and was standing at the front window, staring out at the street, when Kim wandered out of the bedroom. “You’re up early,” she cooed from behind me. “Yeah, the driver said he was going to be here at seven.” The sky was just beginning to show the colors of dawn. The horizon was an almost majestic purple. “It’s six fifteen,” Kim slipped her arms around my midsection and nuzzled her face into my neck. I closed my eyes. She was still warm from our bed. She smelled like she had just...
Fantasy & Sci-FiI woke up early and was standing at the front window, staring out at the street, when Kim wandered out of the bedroom."You're up early," she cooed from behind me."Yeah, the driver said he was going to be here at seven." The sky was just beginning to show the colors of dawn. The horizon was an almost majestic purple. "It's six fifteen," Kim slipped her arms around my midsection and nuzzled her face into my neck. I closed my eyes. She was still warm from our bed. She smelled like she had just...
Stacey's walk back to the bunkhouse was slow. She was reeling in thought as well as babying her ankle. She had decided to go without the crutch. As much as she enjoyed all the girly frolicking, she was also passionate about cheer, and really wanted to get back in the routines. She had no watch or phone but assumed it was late, close to the ten o'clock lights out. She hoped she would get back before then, so she could mentally prepare Erica, rather than just ambush her in her bunk and risk...
TeenStacey's walk back to the bunkhouse was slow. She was reeling in thought as well as babying her ankle. She had decided to go without the crutch. As much as she enjoyed all the girly frolicking, she was also passionate about cheer, and really wanted to get back in the routines. She had no watch or phone but assumed it was late, close to the ten o'clock lights out. She hoped she would get back before then, so she could mentally prepare Erica, rather than just ambush her in her bunk and risk...
Teen~*~*~*~*~ Following a disastrous 4 years from the first women president, a backlash forms. All manner of workplace equality laws are eliminated. Lawsuits become a thing of the past. Almost overlooked, prostitution is legalized. Women executives are gradually phased out while the best recent female law school graduates can do is office administration. Gradually, the best paying of these jobs require a sexual relationship with their employer. Suddenly, all of them do. This is the dystopian...
After waking from a glorious nap, Stacey sat up and noticed it was almost dark outside. She found her clothes folded next to a crutch and a bottle of ibuprofen. She dressed and made her way to the cafe for dinner, where she ate an enormous amount of food for such a small tike. After getting back to the bunkhouse, one of the younger girls of the group approached her and told her that Vicky had assigned her flyer shower duty tonight. She knelt and unwrapped Stacey's ankle carefully before...
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