Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
???? Recalling Chapter 4!
:I am rather curious how long Suzanna Rodrigues will keep her clothes on :
And how long she will keep her feet on the ground!
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Noosed Nude NYC
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
???? Recalling Chapter 4!
:I am rather curious how long Suzanna Rodrigues will keep her clothes on :
Many excellent questions. Barb says the answers will be revealed. I hope she's right. What I do know is we are about to set the record for a single thread of pictures of BM wearing clothes.
We all know that won’t last long
???? Recalling Chapter 4!
I am rather curious how long Suzanna Rodrigues will keep her clothes on :
And how long she will keep her feet on the ground!
Geez Lox! You’re supposed to focus on other things too. This is a crime story, keep in mind.
Getting credit here for something other than my physical assets ... thanks for noticing, Stan
hongzu117
Magistrate
So you're really staring at her?Heavens，bring disaster on yourself.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
bobinder
ARTISAN
Many excellent questions. Barb says the answers will be revealed. I hope she's right. What I do know is we are about to set the record for a single thread of pictures of BM wearing clothes.
We all know that won’t last long
Fortunately life is quiet enough on the precinct to give this case priority.
Great story, guys!
windar
Teller of Tales
Thanks, Bob, and I may have mis-spoken regarding non-naked pictures of BM; but I suspect she won't keep her clothes on through either storyView attachment 579830
Fortunately life is quiet enough on the precinct to give this case priority.
Great story, guys!
bobinder
ARTISAN
Well, she's already lost them once in the other one!Thanks, Bob, and I may have mis-spoken regarding non-naked pictures of BM; but I suspect she won't keep her clothes on through either story
Thanks, Bob, and I may have mis-spoken regarding non-naked pictures of BM; but I suspect she won't keep her clothes on through either story
Well, she's already lost them once in the other one!
You guys keeping count now?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Body count?You guys keeping count now?
Does not look good for the rest of the story!
Chapter 8.
As Stan pulled out and eased the car into traffic, I snapped my seat belt into place and stretched my neck to fuss with my windblown hair in the visor mirror. Silence reigned. Neither of us had much to say. The case seemed stalled ... perhaps because we had been jousting at windmills? Let’s face facts. Amanda Berger’s death was nothing more than a suicide ... end of story.
I stole a glance in his direction. I knew I was still feeling put out over the way he had ogled that ADA, Sandra Rodriguez. Why should I care, I asked myself? Stan’s a guy. They can’t help themselves. The funny thing is that they think women don't notice!
But the bigger question was what did I see in this guy? He was like twenty years older, not exactly trim and fit, tight with money, stuck in his ways, hardly the height of fashion, a bit insensitive .. and let’s face it ... he could be an insufferable know it all! It was no wonder that he and I argued and sparred over things. OK, I'd admit the sex was good. You'd never guess it looking at him, but he wasn’t bad between the sheets. He certainly knew how to float my boat.
And he knew where to get the best food in this city too! I thought with a smile of La Bella Italia and Stan's friend the proprietor, Domenico. And, of course, I owed him my life. That night they nailed me naked to a cross in that old warehouse was a close run thing. Lucky for me Stan figured things out and arrived just in the nick.
Still, the relationship would bear watching. I didn’t like him thinking he owned me. I valued my independence. I was new to the detective unit, and didn’t mind being the "junior" partner at first, but in the long run? Who knew? Maybe the book would make us both independently wealthy and we would go our own ways? I'd always thought I would make a good journalist ... maybe some freelance work. Stan would probably want to travel and hook up with old cronies, and who knew what that might be like?
Suddenly feeling hungry, I cracked open the box of Dunkin lying beside me on the seat, picking out one of those frosted "Bismarcks" filled with jelly. I broke it in half. As we stopped at a light, he looked at it with those big bloodhound eyes of his. I grinned at him, broke it in half and tried to stuff his half in his open mouth. As the light turned green and he stepped on the gas, the jelly oozed out over his chin and dropped on his tie. I laughed. No matter, I told myself ... just one more stain on that ancient thing he insisted on wearing every day.
We hadn't gone more than 50 yards before we were stalled in bumper to bumper traffic. I could see that it would be some time before we ever got to that high school in the Upper Bronx, so I sat back, took a dainty bite of my Bismark and tried to think. And let me tell you, thinking is not easy in New York traffic. It's the constant blaring of horns that got to me the most. Back in the Midwest, where I came from, no one would think of blasting away on their horns like that ... outside of Chicago ... anyway. I found it hard to get used to the brazenness of New Yorkers.
Nonetheless, I willed myself to put some serious thought to this strange case. But what happened instead, is that my mind floated back to the night before ... to when Stan cuffed me naked and spread-eagled to the bed, and fucked my brains out. I relived the anticipatory thrill of being bound and helpless, the way in which he worked his way down my body, teasing my hard nipples, kissing over my tummy, going down on me, pretending he was through and forcing me to beg for it ... and then delivering, with panache, an orgasm to die for! Thinking about it made me wet, and I shifted uncomfortably in the seat and pressed my knees together.
So, yeah, the sex was good ... I supposed it had to be. Stan understood my somewhat kinky desires like no one I had ever met before. I had a fairly sheltered upbringing and by the time I reached college, had really not experienced much. Of course, I had my "wild time" away from home at the university. There were fraternity parties at which I got drunk and was unsure, by the next morning, of exactly what I had done or not done the night before. And on dates, I willingly "gave in" to any number of guys, often in the front seat of a parked car with the steering wheel in the way.
But they only wanted one thing, and they wanted it fast ... wham bam, thank you. So it was with some like-minded girls, whom I had met in the dorm, that I actually got to play out some of my fantasies ...
... the thought of which, brought my rambling thoughts back around to the Amanda Berger case.
Could Amanda have been a bit like me? Was she hanging out with some people who shared some highly unusual fantasies and desires? I knew about that. I did for a while, and there is no doubt that peer pressure drove me and my friends to dare to explore some pretty weird and dangerous things! If that was the case with Amanda’s death, perhaps, Stan and I were on the right track. This was anything but a suicide! To prove it, we needed to find out who these people were and exactly what they might have been into! Perhaps they were old school friends. I knew we would be checking that out soon enough, if traffic ever got moving again, and maybe we would catch a break talking to the people where she attended high school.
I took another bite of my Bismarck and glanced down to see how badly my dark wet spot was showing on the crotch of my jeans.
Then again, the high school could turn out to be just another dead end. After all, when I went to college the last thing I wanted to have anything to do with was my old high school friends. College was a new frontier. The key to this whole thing, I told myself, will probably come down, in the end, to getting our hands on Amanda’s phone and laptop ... which, of course, her parents were adamantly opposed to giving up. I made a mental note about putting some serious thought to how we might get around that.
As I sat lost in thought, I sensed I was being watched and glanced over at Stan. He caught my eye, gave me a wink and his patented shit-eating grin. I smiled back. The guy was so human and comfortable, like a well worn sofa or rug. Then I turned away and smiled to myself, wondering if he knew he had a gob of jelly on his chin. I thought it might be fun not to tell him.
Then for some unknown and surely incomprehensible reason, traffic suddenly started moving again. We were off ... next stop ... Research High School.
As Stan pulled out and eased the car into traffic, I snapped my seat belt into place and stretched my neck to fuss with my windblown hair in the visor mirror. Silence reigned. Neither of us had much to say. The case seemed stalled ... perhaps because we had been jousting at windmills? Let’s face facts. Amanda Berger’s death was nothing more than a suicide ... end of story.
I stole a glance in his direction. I knew I was still feeling put out over the way he had ogled that ADA, Sandra Rodriguez. Why should I care, I asked myself? Stan’s a guy. They can’t help themselves. The funny thing is that they think women don't notice!
But the bigger question was what did I see in this guy? He was like twenty years older, not exactly trim and fit, tight with money, stuck in his ways, hardly the height of fashion, a bit insensitive .. and let’s face it ... he could be an insufferable know it all! It was no wonder that he and I argued and sparred over things. OK, I'd admit the sex was good. You'd never guess it looking at him, but he wasn’t bad between the sheets. He certainly knew how to float my boat.
And he knew where to get the best food in this city too! I thought with a smile of La Bella Italia and Stan's friend the proprietor, Domenico. And, of course, I owed him my life. That night they nailed me naked to a cross in that old warehouse was a close run thing. Lucky for me Stan figured things out and arrived just in the nick.
Still, the relationship would bear watching. I didn’t like him thinking he owned me. I valued my independence. I was new to the detective unit, and didn’t mind being the "junior" partner at first, but in the long run? Who knew? Maybe the book would make us both independently wealthy and we would go our own ways? I'd always thought I would make a good journalist ... maybe some freelance work. Stan would probably want to travel and hook up with old cronies, and who knew what that might be like?
Suddenly feeling hungry, I cracked open the box of Dunkin lying beside me on the seat, picking out one of those frosted "Bismarcks" filled with jelly. I broke it in half. As we stopped at a light, he looked at it with those big bloodhound eyes of his. I grinned at him, broke it in half and tried to stuff his half in his open mouth. As the light turned green and he stepped on the gas, the jelly oozed out over his chin and dropped on his tie. I laughed. No matter, I told myself ... just one more stain on that ancient thing he insisted on wearing every day.
We hadn't gone more than 50 yards before we were stalled in bumper to bumper traffic. I could see that it would be some time before we ever got to that high school in the Upper Bronx, so I sat back, took a dainty bite of my Bismark and tried to think. And let me tell you, thinking is not easy in New York traffic. It's the constant blaring of horns that got to me the most. Back in the Midwest, where I came from, no one would think of blasting away on their horns like that ... outside of Chicago ... anyway. I found it hard to get used to the brazenness of New Yorkers.
Nonetheless, I willed myself to put some serious thought to this strange case. But what happened instead, is that my mind floated back to the night before ... to when Stan cuffed me naked and spread-eagled to the bed, and fucked my brains out. I relived the anticipatory thrill of being bound and helpless, the way in which he worked his way down my body, teasing my hard nipples, kissing over my tummy, going down on me, pretending he was through and forcing me to beg for it ... and then delivering, with panache, an orgasm to die for! Thinking about it made me wet, and I shifted uncomfortably in the seat and pressed my knees together.
So, yeah, the sex was good ... I supposed it had to be. Stan understood my somewhat kinky desires like no one I had ever met before. I had a fairly sheltered upbringing and by the time I reached college, had really not experienced much. Of course, I had my "wild time" away from home at the university. There were fraternity parties at which I got drunk and was unsure, by the next morning, of exactly what I had done or not done the night before. And on dates, I willingly "gave in" to any number of guys, often in the front seat of a parked car with the steering wheel in the way.
But they only wanted one thing, and they wanted it fast ... wham bam, thank you. So it was with some like-minded girls, whom I had met in the dorm, that I actually got to play out some of my fantasies ...
... the thought of which, brought my rambling thoughts back around to the Amanda Berger case.
Could Amanda have been a bit like me? Was she hanging out with some people who shared some highly unusual fantasies and desires? I knew about that. I did for a while, and there is no doubt that peer pressure drove me and my friends to dare to explore some pretty weird and dangerous things! If that was the case with Amanda’s death, perhaps, Stan and I were on the right track. This was anything but a suicide! To prove it, we needed to find out who these people were and exactly what they might have been into! Perhaps they were old school friends. I knew we would be checking that out soon enough, if traffic ever got moving again, and maybe we would catch a break talking to the people where she attended high school.
I took another bite of my Bismarck and glanced down to see how badly my dark wet spot was showing on the crotch of my jeans.
Then again, the high school could turn out to be just another dead end. After all, when I went to college the last thing I wanted to have anything to do with was my old high school friends. College was a new frontier. The key to this whole thing, I told myself, will probably come down, in the end, to getting our hands on Amanda’s phone and laptop ... which, of course, her parents were adamantly opposed to giving up. I made a mental note about putting some serious thought to how we might get around that.
As I sat lost in thought, I sensed I was being watched and glanced over at Stan. He caught my eye, gave me a wink and his patented shit-eating grin. I smiled back. The guy was so human and comfortable, like a well worn sofa or rug. Then I turned away and smiled to myself, wondering if he knew he had a gob of jelly on his chin. I thought it might be fun not to tell him.
Then for some unknown and surely incomprehensible reason, traffic suddenly started moving again. We were off ... next stop ... Research High School.
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P
Piper Marie
Guest
Nice barb, almost to your location and you are pratically having an orgasm on the way. How is it going to look when you step out the car with that dark spot on your jeans and Stan covered in donut jam? lol!~
I can understand Ms. Moore's interest in this Stan guy...
Yeah, he is a bit young and less in shape than I am but these young ladies seem infatuated with us older gentleman.
I guess we age better than I thought we did. But what is with this story? Is the case held open so the NYPD can pay for Stan and Barb's perversions or do they really have something going on here? We will watch...
Yeah, he is a bit young and less in shape than I am but these young ladies seem infatuated with us older gentleman.
I guess we age better than I thought we did. But what is with this story? Is the case held open so the NYPD can pay for Stan and Barb's perversions or do they really have something going on here? We will watch...
P
Piper Marie
Guest
Your captain is not going to like this~! you and Stan in unison: "but sir, it was so good!"Between the two of us we are bound to make a good impression ...
I guess we age better than I thought we did.
like good wine
See that you do
windar
Teller of Tales
And those are my good points.
I thought I was VERY bad the other night.
It's also useful for tying you to the bed, Moore.
You didn't happen to make any videos did you?
Experience counts, doesn't it Tree?I can understand Ms. Moore's interest in this Stan guy...
Yeah, he is a bit young and less in shape than I am but these young ladies seem infatuated with us older gentleman.
I guess we age better than I thought we did
They deserve some slack after solving that big Bronx Crux case, don't they? Still this one does look like it's going nowhere.
It's the "we're slobs, just like you" approach. It gets people to open up.
Absolutely. Mustn't do that and get distracted while driving. There's always later.
(What do you mean that's not what the author meant? 
)You're not talking about that now either, are you?
They notice. I found that out the hard way once.
There we are. Now we're talking!
Interesting. Barb thinks of sex and comes up with a clue in the case. Amazing where those clues are!
Excellent and hot chapter, with a really interesting segue back to the Amanda case. All my glib comments aside, this is splendid.
P
Piper Marie
Guest
Absolutely. Mustn't do that and get distracted while driving. There's always later.
You're not talking about that now either, are you?
They notice. I found that out the hard way once.
There we are. Now we're talking!
Interesting. Barb thinks of sex and comes up with a clue in the case. Amazing where those clues are!
Excellent and hot chapter, with a really interesting segue back to the Amanda case. All my glib comments aside, this is splendid.
Seriously! It seems that the more her juices flow, the more her juices flow! Maybe if stan fucks her a few more times she'll figure the rest of it out! Go for it Stan! Solve the case with a bang!