latebloomer's originals

[latebloomer]

Handing over his duties, and his beloved 'kingdom', had taken longer than they had thought. Giving up his office was painful. It was more than a second home to him. That was the whole point of making it as comfortable as possible, since he spent so much time in it. How could they begrudge him some presentable bathroom fittings?

He loved to work. There was nothing better than going in every morning, seeing all his staff devoting themselves whole-heartedly to the cause. He was a task-master, he knew, and thus his staff turnover was rapid. He demanded from them only as much as he did from himself, and if they didn't agree with that, they should leave. If he was there on Sunday, then so should they. For those who stayed, they got to enjoy more than satisfactory renumeration.

He got into the coolness of the Benz. Another two hours and he would see his son again, after barely being there for him for years. Well, all that's going to change, he thought. He will devote a lot more time to the boy, who was growing tall and strong. Now he should be going to a good JC next year, or was that in two years?

A car was coming up rapidly in his rear-view mirror. Looked like Singapore plates from the reflection. For just a moment he felt a chill running down his spine. His whereabouts was guarded as fiercely as the size of his pay packet, at least until he was forced to reveal it. He was sure nobody knew the number plates of his car, but he couldn't be sure.

Loudly he cursed his enemies. Within the luxurious cabin, he spat out two names, tasted bile at the back of his throat as he did so. They put him through hell, and in full view of the public too; that was the lowest moment of his life.

He sighed relief as the other car passed him on the inside, but he had the impression the passengers gave him more than casual scrutiny as they went by. That reminded him of the way he was mobbed on his way out, after being thoroughly humiliated by the Sikh.

At the toll, even the Malay girl collecting his money seemed to look at him differently. He was quite sure they were also following the saga of his humiliation up north. The daily reports fed the people's hunger for gossip, outlined his downfall in great details.

One of them had called him a tyrant who micro-managed everything down to choosing the design of the envelopes. So? That was how he chose to run the company, but look at the achievement over the years, the growth. He had met all the targets set for him. Hell, he had gone way beyond them! And they would begrudge him his just rewards?

He checked the sign as he sped past at 110 kph, noting that KL was another 120 km away. Shouldn't take him more than another hour, if he didn't take another break. His wife had been anxious when he decided to drive instead of taking SQ first-class as always. He had to gently remind her that he would have to pay for this ticket this time, and he wouldn't feel quite as comfortable flying economy.

to be cont

sorry for last 2 stories with no erotica. the next one shall be a sexy story. i promise.
and by the way, please feel free to comment on any story. this silence is scaring me...

[latebloomer]

The air-con was getting chilly and he turned the thermostat up a notch. He made a mental note, getting used to the idea that there was no underling hanging around, waiting to take a memo: Remember to pay the road tax! That was another thing he had to get used to doing.

Suddenly he heard a loud honking from behind. He was shocked to see a huge coach pushing up to him, its large headlights flashing repeatedly. His own speedometer indicated 105 kph, and this idiot was still getting nearer.

Checking his left wing mirror, he saw that another car was there, Singapore plates too, keeping pace with the coach, making no move to pass on the inside. When he made a move to filter in, so the huge monster could pass, that car sped forward, just enough to make him change his mind. Then it would slow and hang back in there.

His heart was pounding and he hyperventilated, the same way he did every Saturday, when he used to spend hours talking to his staff, motivating the lot by sharing with them his vision. He had named the sessions 'BOSS speaks', but secretly he preferred 'Your Master's Voice'.

Okay, so they want to play huh? His combative and competitive nature took over. He knew this car could run. He would show them, he thought, just as he showed all those boys who bullied him during his school days, all because he was superior to them. The accelerator felt smooth going down, the car lurching forward after but a split second hesitation.

A smirk appeared on his face as his car pulled away, the smirk that always got him misunderstood. I'm not arrogant, you stupid people, I was born that way! He left the two vehicles way behind as his speedometer climbed to 130 kph.

The sudden withdrawal of adrenaline left him shaken, his arms trembling and his legs wobbly. He held on, pushing till the two vehicles were dots in the mirror. He took deep breaths until his heart rate came down.

His rational mind took over, the legal eagle from his practicing days brought forth ideas, all too frightening to confront. Somebody, no, some people were trying to kill him! That ridiculous idea made his head swirled, but he forced himself to face it squarely.

to be cont

[latebloomer]

Singaporeans were trying to run him off the road. Both the coach and the other car were in it together. He had managed to outrun them, which meant he should be safe for the moment. They must not be allowed to catch up to him again, not too difficult in this wonderful car. He remembered the price tag when he was deciding on it. His second in command had balked, but he knew quality when he saw it. For this kind of luxury and class, the price was in a word: Peanuts! And since it was so good, he decided to get a whole fleet, very effective in impressing foreign visitors, as he later found out.

He was still going at 130 kph when he noticed another coach in front of him. This one was moving steadily on the inner lane, but as he got nearer, it shifted out to overtake a small pickup bearing local plates. His Benz came up to about ten meters behind the coach, and he held it there, the fact that it too carried Singapore plates suddenly intimidating.

What the hell was he afraid of? Since the fiasco, he had not been sleeping well. His wife would find him sitting up in the middle of the night, sweat sticking his pajamas to his back, mumbling to himself, "Good luck to you, good luck to you..." over and over again.

He used to do all the intimidating. His staff was terrified of him, and his detractors, if they were wise enough, learned to keep their opinions to themselves. Two prominent and troublesome ones were severely dealt with, hung out to dry, like carcasses displayed as warning to others foolish enough to even think about messing with him or his company.

Having passed the pickup, the coach continued to stay on the outer lane. He got closer, realized that he had to overtake on the inside. Once there was a sufficient gap between the two, he made his move. A quick tap with his right foot and the auto-gear down-shifted, sending extra power to the heavy vehicle. With the greatest of ease, he arrowed into the inner lane, stepping down harder once he got inside.

He was halfway past the coach when it happened. The determined grin on his face changed to anger, and quickly into horror, when he realized that the huge vehicle was swerving left, forcing him to edge nearer to the guard rail by the side of the highway.

Repeated blasts on his horn brought no reaction. He checked the rear-view mirror and jammed on his brakes, but the coach driver was expecting that. Screeching came from the wheels of the monster, and he saw smoke out of the corner of his right eye, just as the coach slammed hard against the side of his car.

Everything seemed to slow down after that. He was struggling to control his car, gripping on so tightly he thought he was never letting go again. The impact was forcing it into the guard rail. He could hear the screaming of metal, see through the shattered windscreen the front of the Benz being wedged between the rail and the coach.

The various air bags popped like big white mushrooms suddenly sprouting, trapping him in their midst. His face plunged into the main one exploding off the steering wheel, and he felt a sharp pain diagonally across his chest, going from his right shoulder down to his left side. He heard what sounded like twigs breaking, after which every breath became extremely painful.

He watched the left side of the Benz cave in, felt the pain as his legs were trapped, then crushed. There was a warm wetness running down his neck, and his hand came away sticky with his own blood. His head felt light, as if empty.

He wondered why everything was so quiet. He tried opening his eyes, but it remained dark outside. Vaguely he thought it should be a lot more painful than how he was feeling. He couldn't feel his limbs, but why was he still so calm?

It suddenly hit him. No panic, no hysterics; he just knew what was going to happen. Thoughts came to him like they were wading through molasses. Images swirled, flashing by like a slide show. The very last one made him choke, a plump woman appearing vaguely in his mind, with bright intelligent eyes he would never forget. A low faint moan escaped his lips, a curse for this person who caused his descent: "Susannn...."

The End

[latebloomer]

Stories so far: 22

The Legend of the Wolf (verse); The Legend of the Wolf (story); Soup; Sales; Nurse; Teach; He Dreams; Linda; The Shoplifter; The Maid; The Teacher; The Medium; Softly; To Forgive, Divine?; Goldie; Snow; Sleeping; That's what friends are for?; Love, Naturally; Teach; Moonlite; Highway

[machoman]

Originally Posted by latebloomer

Stories so far: 22

The Legend of the Wolf (verse); The Legend of the Wolf (story); Soup; Sales; Nurse; Teach; He Dreams; Linda; The Shoplifter; The Maid; The Teacher; The Medium; Softly; To Forgive, Divine?; Goldie; Snow; Sleeping; That's what friends are for?; Love, Naturally; Teach; Moonlite; Highway

Excellent writing, bro latebloomer.

Thanks for sharing.

So far I have only read 9 stories but I just have to tell you how much I have enjoyed them.

Will definitely revisit for the rest of the unread stories.

[latebloomer]

Thanks for your comments!
Glad you enjoy the stories.

For those still waiting for the next story, I'll definitely post one within the next 2 days. Have problem choosing a suitable one, since I promised an erotic one...

[latebloomer]

Surely, A Real Story?

We sat opposite each other, each trying to act nonchalant. She was flipping through the newspaper, rustling the pages impatiently and not really reading any. I attempted to read my novel but, after ten minutes, I was still stuck at the same sentence. Our minds were obviously not on what we were doing.

I glanced at her occasionally and caught her doing the same to me. Once our eyes locked then quickly disengaged, she giving me a wry smile before looking away. As she peered at a page of her folded paper, I looked at her slender legs, bent at the knees as she sat on the sofa, across the coffee table. I saw the scar near her ankle and remembered her story about how she was burned by the exhaust while learning to ride a motorcycle. She wore her shorts tight today, exposing her thighs all the way up, showing off her honey brown skin.

She looked up so I pulled my eyes back to my book. Elmore Leonard was one of my favorites and his novels were, for me, quick easy reads. I was having trouble with this one however, the words slipping in my mind as I attempted to focus on them.

"Oh, hell!" I thought, suddenly realizing that my body had gone where my conscious mind refused to let myself go. And it was feeling a tad uncomfortable, as turgidity escalated. Hoping to hide the obvious from her view, I adjusted my position on my sofa. She glanced briefly at me, and then went back to rustling her newspaper.

I noticed her licking her lips. She gave me longer looks. At the corners of her mouth, I saw a smile easing its way out. I kept my face bland. Elmore Leonard continued to stall. I read the sentence "She looked at him with a hunger that burned in her eyes" once again, and felt my heart lurch.

She knew I was watching her, and I could feel her eyes on me. Framed by lovely long lashes, they seemed to smolder with desire. I made a show of turning pages in my book and she responded with more ruffling of papers, both hesitant to cross the line.

to be cont

[latebloomer]

Time felt old and seemed to creep along. The distance between us, though physically minor, seemed impossible to breach. I weighed the consequences on the scales of my conscience, considerations leading to more considerations. At that moment, there was no one else I wanted more, but I was wary.

More rustling as she folded her newspaper, placed it on the floor. She got off the sofa, long legs striding across and away from me, her gaze brushing my face. I sighed in relief, silently wishing my rigidity would settle swiftly. Too late I found my eyes trailing her, enticed by swinging hips and well-filled shorts, enfolding so lovingly the curvature of her behind.

Elmore Leonard occupied me haltingly for several minutes; a few more sentences glanced at with vague inattention. My ears strained to catch sounds from the kitchen. Finally the fridge was opened, the bottles clinking on the shelf behind the door. More sounds, the slamming of the fridge door, then the crystalline tinkling of long-stem wine glasses.

Long slender legs brought her back out, an unfinished bottle of white wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. I watched in silence as she tugged on the cork, filled one glass with golden amber, and offered it to me. I reached out and grasped the sweating glass; felt her slender fingers touched mine for an instant.

She just as delicately poured herself the same. We held our glasses high, silently toasting each other. The chilled liquid swirled around the palate, releasing its well-rounded bouquet, with a hint of strawberries. I watched in surprise as she drained her drink in one long gulp.

Refilling, she returned to her sofa, swinging her hips. An amused smile told me she knew I was staring, and welcomed it. She cocked her head, raised her eyebrows as I gave a thumbs-up. Then she stuck her tongue out at me. I grinned in response.

The neighbor's dog was barking downstairs, probably at the postman who made his rounds in the early afternoon. That low howling bark had woken me at the most inopportune times of the night. Now I welcomed the distraction. It gave me sufficient reason to look away, breaking the spell. I finished my wine, poured myself another glass. I could feel the flush on my face and around my neck.

to be cont

[latebloomer]

When I raised my gaze, she was looking right at me, now sitting with legs widespread and bent at the knees. Once she caught my eyes, she ran her right hand gently down from the knee, caressing herself along the inner thigh. As her fingers neared her nether regions, she continued moving them upwards, staying just long enough to caress herself through her tiny shorts. Next she cupped her left breast from outside her thin cotton blouse, her eyes closed and her neck arched.

In silent pantomime, she enacted the role of the deprived woman, desperate for fulfillment and driven to auto-eroticism. The remaining wine was tossed off, the delicate glass casually placed on the floor beside her. I might have been invisible. She gave me scant attention once the repressed passions, now unshackled, engulfed her. Her performance for me soon became a private event and I became the outsider, simply a voyeur.

I watched as she engaged fully in masturbation, her hands now reaching under the clothing to derive more intimate contact. Her right pushed past the elastic waistband of her shorts. I could see her fingers working under there, establishing a rhythm. Her left hand reached under her blouse. The fingers, moving as if independent of her, scrambled to push aside any encumbrance to close the circuit between flesh and flesh.

I sipped the cheap but excellent wine, strangely excited. Simple pleasures are never simple enough. What I had there was spontaneous and totally unexpected, as a result utterly breathtaking.

Her self-induced cries remained controlled, subdued; reinforcing the picture of a private session I happened upon. She had removed her top totally, thrown them casually across the floor. Now her long fingers wrapped themselves over her breasts, kneading rather vigorously the fair and unblemished beauties.

Down below, her agitated activities had caused her shorts to be pushed almost off her slender hips. I could see her fingers just above the knuckles, between which curly black hairs peeked. The index and middle fingers appeared to be buried deep inside her.

Across the sofa she laid, head turning gently from side to side, her chest heaving with each breath. I leaned forward, attentive and focused, my stiffness weighing heavily on my lap. I poured more wine, sipped some down my dry throat. I was tempted to act, but did not want to interrupt. I held on to my throbbing passion and waited.

to be cont

[latebloomer]

Fingers still playing herself, she began bucking her hips in rhythm. The moans grew louder, less controlled. She had removed the last cover, her yellow shorts tossed aside hastily. Her naked body glistened with the sheen of sweat. The glancing sidelight through the translucent curtains over the French windows gave the scene a hyper-real three dimensionality. I began to wish I had my Nikons with me.

Then she climaxed. Noisily, she jerked and bucked her hips, gasped and grunted. Then silently panting as she sprawled on the sofa, exhausted.

Gradually she recovered. By now, the light was falling off and parts of her nude body were encased in soft shadows. I stared at where the angularity of her lower ribs, just below the breasts, eased into the soft flowing curves of her belly, before flaring as full fertile hips. A slight movement, and her head turned to face me, the eyes steady and inviting.

I watched my colleague across the eight feet that separated us. Our six-year-old friendship would change forever after this. The shared experience of working together, fighting the common enemy, giving our all at odd hours of the day, had bonded us so well we even shared our off-duty hours while waiting for our next shifts, our hostel rooms next to each other. She was estranged from her husband, her commitment to her profession the reason quoted or perhaps the excuse most conveniently used.

We were close, so close that we were an item in our department. Gossip was rife in any organization but ours was particularly susceptible. Working closely in high stress, quick decision-making situations would drive people cranky, and usually relief came from activities as crass as speculating about fellow workers. And all of us were facing a major crisis at the moment, worse than any other we had faced before.

It took only a moment to decide what happens next. Our bond had always been on the emotional and spiritual levels, despite what probably the whole department was otherwise convinced of. Of course I had thought about sex with her, of how wonderful it could be. How could I not? This was the most attractive woman, married or single, in our department. I was sure most if not all of the men have had the same fantasy at one time or another.

I shifted in my chair, laid down the Elmore Leonard with a bookmark between pages 12 and 13, and slowly got up. The bulge in my shorts was obvious and I no longer hid it from her. She sat up, gently reaching out her hand. It felt soft and cold, her piano-playing fingers slender but surprisingly strong in grip. I pulled her to standing and she fell into my arms, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her face buried in my chest.

to be cont

[latebloomer]

Looking back, I was not surprised that we hardly spoke throughout the two intimate hours together. We were old friends, very close friends, and I suspect we both knew the inevitable would happen whenever. It was only surprising that we took so long to get here. Once we got there though, we were almost insatiable, as if making up for 'time wasted'.

That evening, we jumped upon each other and fucked ourselves silly. The sofa was the first battleground, enduring a whole half hour of extra stress not planned for during its production. I actually heard creaks from the joints as we tried different positions within the confines of the two-seater. Partially satiated, we retired to my bedroom where we enjoyed a leisurely shower before hitting the bed.

We did not get off till it was almost morning. A short nap before breakfast, then another shower together, and we had to get ready for work. She went back next door to change while I got myself dressed. I met her at the lobby downstairs.

As we strolled along the sheltered walkway, we exchanged glances. She raised her eyebrows and gave me a familiar grin. Something had changed between us, but mostly we remained the same, old friends, good working partners, and comfortable companions.

Before we entered the department, we had our temperatures taken. Considering our vigorous workout some three hours ago, I was expecting them to be raised. No such luck however, and we went to our lockers to put away our things. From there, we entered the preparation room. Two nurses were waiting there, fully gowned, gloved and masked. They helped us with our equipment. As we struggled with the heavy and tedious gowns and masks, they told us the bad news: despite all efforts, Alex Zhao was gone!

Fully protected, breathing filtered air, we walked through to the A&E Department of SST Hospital. Before we parted company, she turned and spoke, her solemn voice sounding muffled: "So, Dr See, we enter the fray. You take care of yourself you hear? And I shall see you in eight hours. Okay?" It was something we say to each other every time we go on duty manning the A&E since the beginning of this major challenge, when we were just discovering just how devastating this new virus could be.

"Of course, Dr Han," I answered, attempting a smile from within the rather uncomfortable mask. "So, will it be your place or mine?"

The End

[latebloomer]

Thanks to those who have upped my points!
Your kindness, and, more importantly, your encouraging comments, have been most comforting.

Please let me know how to return your kindness by upping your points. I really have no idea how to do that, short of searching for your respective posts.

I am again in the process of choosing the next story. So pray be patient.

[latebloomer]

Sister Golden Hair

She walked down the street, pushing her sleeping youngest daughter in the stroller, oblivious of the other three girls following behind. Her eldest skated on roller-shoes, cheap copies of Heelys. The middle two ran along, sticky-fingered, melting ice lollies in their hands.

She brushed hair off her forehead, hair the color of dry straws, cropped short at the back but sticking up spiky-stiff in front. An off-shoulder bustier barely coverd her chesty assets,while tight black denim shorts bit into fleshy thighs, outlining her hips and groin like a second skin.

It was a hot day and she was sweating profusely when she reached the flat. First a stop to buy some canned drinks from the small Indian shop at the void deck. She succumbed to her daughters' demands for biscuits and potato chips. While they ripped open the bag of chips, she dug out her handphone and made a call.

"Eh, it's me. I'm downstairs." She spoke in a soft husky voice, her mandarin tinged with a huge dose of hokkien. Her small eyes were almost slits, turned up at the corners, watched the girls making a mess without the slightest irritation.

"I have no choice. The idiot left the house early this afternoon and wouldn't answer my calls," listening quietly before saying, "Yes, I'm sure he's at the gambling den. He's gone every single day for a whole week."

"Let's go, girls!" she called to them, then had to raise her voice and slap her elder two before they would settle down and follow behind. "Later you'd better behave when you meet Uncle, you hear?"

The afternoon sun shone bright orange on the girls' faces as they trotted along the corridor. Up ahead their mother was already knocking at a door. A tall man, lean and sinewy, unlatched the gate and helped with the stroller. A frown crossed his brows when he saw, then heard, the three older girls rushing towards him.

"Sorry but my sister-in-law was not free, otherwise I'd have gotten her to help look after them," the golden haired woman said. She kept gazing at his face, as if worried that he might be angry.

"Okay lah. No choice right or not?" he replied, shrugging his shoulders in irritation. "Just as long as they keep quiet." He walked towards the kitchen, looking back, "I get them some drinks."

"No need," she said, indicating the plastic bag she had placed on the coffee table. The girls were already digging inside for their drinks and biscuits.

"Hey, you three sit here and watch TV, okay?" she asked, "Don't wake your sister up or you'll get it from me. You hear or not?" Pushing the stroller to one corner of the sitting room, barely taking a look inside. She picked up the remote and switched to the cartoon channel, turning down the volume. "And try not to mess up the place okay? Mummy and Uncle got something to discuss in the room."

He was already waiting, stripped to his underwear, not afraid that the girls might see him. "Wah, cannot wait hah?" she teased, locking the door behind her.

A smile crept onto his craggy face as he watched her strip. Before she could finish, he came over and grabbed her from behind, his long skinny fingers cupping her exposed breasts. "Ahh!" she gasped, playing along, "Wah, want to rape me is it? It's only been two weeks leh."

"Two weeks is damn long time you know?" he whispered, his hands squeezing and kneading away. "You can survive two weeks without me meh?"

"Aiyah. I wanted to come last week, but he won some money. Didn't say how much. but gave me about three hundred, so we managed to get by." She wriggled out of her red panty, threw it into a corner, climbing onto the bed.

"His kind of fucked-up luck, can still win money ah? Bet he lost it just as quickly." Grabbing her ankles, he edged himself forward.

"You're right. Two days later he came and asked for the money he gave me, can you imagine?" she said, eyes gazing down between her thighs, enjoying the view. Then a loud "Ohhh!" as he went into action.

As usual, he was rushing. Her previous efforts at getting him to slow things down were always ignored. He was an impatient man and even more so when it came to sex. Anyhow, the faster he finish, the earlier she could get out. Having the girls out in the hall was a major concern.

Ten minutes went by, then fifteen. Twenty minutes was gone and their mother was still in the room. The girls got bored watching TV and their snacks were running out. The eldest girl left her sisters in the hall and wandered about the cramped apartment, attracted by strange sounds coming from the bedroom.

"Mummy!" she called, pressing her ear to the door. Her mother sounded like she was in pain. The curious girl heard her moaning and there were occasional screams. Frowning, she started banging on the thin wooden door. Her small fist made a soft thumping sound.

Her mother must have heard her, for she called out in a strained breathless voice: "Mummy...will be...ohh...finishing soon, girl. Go...look...after your...ahh...sisters." Instead of being reassured, the girl became more worried. "Mummy, mummy," she called softly, afraid to raise her voice, cause she knew that Uncle was inside with her mother, and she was afraid of him.

She stood at the door for another few minutes, pondering at her limited options. Soon she heard Uncle's voice. He was making these strange grunting noises, and calling out words she vaguely remembered her father uttering when he was angry with their neighbors.

Reluctantly she made her way to the hall. Her thin lips pursed, she gave a solemn nod as she finally decided what she had to do. Uncle was obviously bullying Mummy, making her cry out like that. So she had to turn to the only other person whom she knew would help. Yes, that was what she'll do. First thing she does upon reaching home will be to give Daddy a call and tell him everything.

The End

[latebloomer]

Scooby D, Where are You??

The moon was rising as the van made its way along the narrow country road. On both sides, old trees crowded the forest.

"How long more to go, Shaggy?" Velma asked.

"I guess another ten minutes would do it," he answered. "I didn't realize that it would take so long to go to town."

"Well, we need the groceries. Fred's uncle is running out," the brunette said.

"I know. I know. It's just that this forest is so...eerie!" he shivered. He turned the wheel to avoid a rock on the road. Velma fell against him. She grabbed his arm and helped herself up.

"That's why I'm here. To keep you company, silly!" she scolded, adjusting her glasses. "While Fred, Daphne and Scooby are back at the mansion."

"Thanks, Velma!" Shaggy said, scratching his head of unruly hair. "I would be too frightened to drive around by myself."

"Not even if Scooby came along with you?"

"I much prefer you, Velma!" Shaggy looked over at the short girl. In her green sweater and mini-skirt, she looked quite yummy. He saw her plump thighs and he had a very strong urge to stop the van.

"Shaggy, " she was asking in her girlish voice, "Can you stop the van somewhere? I think I'm getting a little dizzy."

"Of course." He began looking out for the small clearing he saw on the way out. He found it very soon and turned in.

The moon disappeared behind some clouds for a moment. The wind howled through the eerie forest. An owl began hooting on a tree. It was cold outside.

to be cont

[latebloomer]

Inside the Mystery Machine, things were heating up. Shaggy and Velma wound up the windows and locked the door. They moved to the back of the van, where a mattress laid on the floor. They wasted no time in jumping onto it.

"Ooh, Shaggy, I so miss this!" Velma moaned. Her thick-framed spectacles were steaming up. Her mini-skirt was thrown hurriedly into a corner. The green sweater followed.

In her tiny pink undies, she looked bookishly delicious. Shaggy threw off his baggy corduroy jeans. He struggled with getting his T-shirt over and off his head. He watched Velma lay back on the mattress and licked his lips.

"You, like, look so yummy, Velma!" He removed his briefs.

"Oh, Shaggy, you're so monstrous!" She watched his throbbing, stiffened dong pointing towards her. She sat up, grabbed hold of it and opened her mouth as wide as she could.

"Aaah...oooh...like, yesss!" He felt his legs weakening. He held Velma's head to steady himself.

Velma looked through her black frame glasses at the stiff organ grasped in her fingers. She put it back into her mouth and heard Shaggy gasped. She used her tongue to lick the tip. He liked that a lot. She grabbed his skinny ass with both her hands and pulled him nearer. Her head began to bob repeatedly.

"Oh, Velma, that is, like, really groooovy!" he moaned. He placed both palms against the side of the van to support himself. His legs were apart. Bending his head till his goatee touched his chest, he looked down to see Velma's brown mushroom bob swinging with her vigorous action. She was really going now, hundred-and-one-percent. He wished Scooby could see him now.

Back at the mansion, Scooby was watching Fred and Daphne. He had been lazing at one corner of the sitting room, enjoying the warmth coming from the fireplace. It had been a long day. He missed Shaggy, and he missed his Scooby snack even more. He hoped Shaggy would get him some from the town.

The mansion was spooky. Fred's uncle lived in it with a butler, a maid and a cook. He had been living in it all his life. The place belonged to his father, and his grandfather before that. It had been in the family for more than a hundred years.

Scooby looked up at the tall ceiling. The fire threw shadows up there. He smelled the wood burning and something else. It was a musty smell. It reminded him of old cupboards and dusty hallways. Then he heard a noise.

Fred and Daphne came down the stairs holding hands. Daphne called to him, "Hi, Scooby!" Fred waved his hand at him.

Dinner was over an hour ago. The steak had tasted really nice but Scooby was hungry again. He lapped at the water in the bowl placed in front of him. "Hrruff!" he barked softly. Even the water tasted musty.

to be cont