08 December 2008
The Cream of the Crop
“Mmmm,” Mrs. Bapps replied, licking her lips. “Sounds delicious!”
“Jolly good!” I said, and then I began to furiously pound my mighty organ, faster and faster until I reached the desired conclusion, whereupon I expelled great ribbons of my magnificent man-milk all over the busty bakers’ beautiful face.
It was as I was continuing my ejaculations that the feeble tinkle of the shop’s bell heralded the arrival of a customer. It appeared that in her haste to engage in the act of intercourse, Mrs. Bapps had forgotten to put the ‘closed’ sign up on the shop’s door, and thus there was now a rather bewildered (and rather pretty) young lady standing in the doorway, watching the incredibly erotic scene atop the counter unfold before her very eyes, with considerable disbelief.
“Um…are…are you open?” the filly asked, finally.
“Only if you are, my dear!” I replied, as Mrs. Bapps hungrily licked my noble nob-end clean.
I bade farewell to Mrs. Bapps and her delightful customer some two hours later, having made sure to attend to both females before I left. Exhausted, but completely content, I decided to finally make my way to the crime-scene on Bilgecranny Lane, where Inspector Spunkleford and my man-servant, Botter, were waiting.
“Ah, Likely. So glad you could finally join us!” Spunkleford said, his words draped in sarcasm.
“I would apologise for keeping you, Spunkleford, but I do not imagine that you have anything else to be doing.” I retorted.
“Hmph,” Spunkleford snorted, clearly outwitted again. “Well, you are here now, I ‘spose. Likely, this is Mr. Poots, he is the poor victim of this terrible shoe-theft.”
“Good day,” said Mr. Poots, a rather portly, red-faced fellow with grey hair, who was sitting in a boot-black’s chair. I tipped my hat in return.
“This is Lord Likely, Mr. Poots. He helps us with our investigations, from time to time,” explained Spunkleford. “Maybe you would care to tell his lordship how you came to be denied one hundred per-cent of your shoes, sir?”
“Of course!” Mr. Poots replied. “Well, I was walking down this very lane late last night, when all of a sudden I was confronted by this awful fellow who persisted in asking if I would like my shoes shined. I declined many times over, but the rogue persisted, until finally he became rather aggressive and set about me, knocking me quite unconscious. When I came too, I was sat here, considerably lighter in the footwear department.”
“I see,” I said. “And can you recall any features of this cad? His height? His hair-colour? His attire?”
“Now let me see,” Mr. Poots mused. “He must have been about four foot nine, and…”
“Wait one bastard moment,” I interjected. “Four foot nine? Was this chap a midget or something?”
“Oh! No, no. He was a child, you see. About nine or ten years old, I’d say.”
“What?” I bellowed. “You mean to say you were robbed by a perishing school-boy?”
“I…well…I…yes. Yes.” Mr. Poots blustered.
“Good heavens, man! What is wrong with you? Did you not think to box this lad about the ears and send him packing? I mean, honestly! ‘Twas just a child!”
“I…I’m not as young as I used to be,” whined Mr. Poots, looking rather ashamed.
“No, indeed not. Had you been considerably younger – say six or seven – I may well understand your predicament. I just – ” I stopped in my tracks, as I suddenly noticed something about Mr. Poots which disturbed me. “Tell me, Poots, did this over-powering ruffian take anything else, at all?”
“No, no,” nodded Mr. Poots. Then he paused. “Well, apart from my feet, of course.”
“Ah, so you had noticed!” I excalimed, as I observed the two bloody stumps where Poots’ feet had once been.
“Yes. Rather a nuisance, I must say.”
“Hmm, suddenly this case has become interesting!” I beamed.
“So you’ll help us?” Spunkleford implored.
I stroked my chin thoughtfully, and took a deep breath.
- Lord Likely.
Well, dear readers, now YOU must help to shape this most astonishing of adventures! Simply select one of the options above, and then click ‘vote’ to cast your…well, vote. After the poll has closed, the most popular choice will be the one pursued in the very next chapter of Lord Likely’s Incredible Inter-Active Adventure! Exciting, yes? YES.
Furthermore, if you leave a comment outlining your choice (and the reasons therefore), then one specially-selected commentator will be selected to receive a FREE link to their website or blog in the next thrilling chapter! Woooooh!
Last Week’s Worthy Winner: The entirely delightful Trauma Queen, who was selected purely on the basis that she invited me to get drunk with her on the occasion of our acceptance by the World Blog Council. Huzzah and hurrah!
Do not delay, dear readers…his lordship awaits your instruction! Make him do your bidding!