Chapter 2
I arose at noon the next day with a staggeringly large and powerful erection, a morning piss hard. I was amazed that I could even spring one after the night I'd spent carousing with the good Widow Knutsen. As soon as we'd agreed on my fee, and my wallet was suitably stuffed, I was once again stricken by the stumbling hornies, the cunt munchies, which she was all too glad to help me alleviate, so long as I kept a tight rein on her.
Anyway, I dragged on some nondescript clothes and drove the Cougar over to the Mission Street Urban Relief Center to do a little first hand recon on the Church of the Waning Moon and the Lunies.
The Center was located in a rundown storefront firetrap in a neighborhood so rough that when the little old ladies took their Social Security checks down to the corner grocery, they went in a convoy ... walking four abreast, arms linked, Mace cans at ready.
I opened the front door and a little bell tinkled overhead. The place was decorated in Early Rubbish Heap ... dumpy armchairs, a collapsed couch, a long table with maybe thirty chairs, none of which matched. On the wall was a huge 4x6 foot full color photo portrait of a completely bald man with a black goatee and beetling brows. He looked like a Neanderthal Telly Savalas. He had a feral grin plastered on his mug and the photog had air-brushed little twinkles in his beady eyes.
From the chaos that littered the table, it was apparent that I'd arrived too late for breakfast. All the hot dogs were gone and what brown rice remained hung encrusted on the sides of a huge steel pot like barnacles.
A petite teenage girl came from what appeared to be a back room. "Good morning, Brother, I'm Sister Marjorie," she chirped. She was chicano and exceedingly sexy. Her hair was black, straight, shiny and worn short. She had honey colored skin, full, sculptured lips, high cheekbones and smoldering black eyes. She was wearing a sloppy, oatmeal colored sweater, which, despite its loose fit, was severely stretched across the bosom by her big, jutting, braless tits. On her feet she wore sandals and her legs and hips were encased in a pair of super tight, faded blue jeans. Those hips of hers would not quit. They were so ripe as to be almost too much ... a foreshadowing of unsightly bulges in her future.
"Do you walk in moonlight?" she asked very seriously.
I resisted the temptation to crack wise. I needed to find out where these lunar kooks were at. So, I feigned anomie, the plague of the Inner City. "No, Sister, I don't," I confessed. "But my life has been so empty ... there's got to be something somewhere for me ... something to believe in ... some path to follow."
"A seeker!" she said, clapping her hands together. As she walked towards me, her tits undulated tastily beneath the sweater. "Most of the Terrans we get here are just hungry for hot dogs, not enlightenment. It's so refreshing to find a seeker at last. Perhaps I can help you find the source ... lead you into the Light of the Waning Moon!"
I scratched my head. "I don't know anything about your group, Sister Marjorie, except that it does good deeds...."
Her dark eyes flashed. The bait was taken, greedily. "Sit down, Brother Terran, and let me lead you...."
I sat down in a battered red velvet armchair and steeled myself for the dogma deluge to come.
"That," she said, pointing to the large portrait, and causing her right breast to lift magnificently, "is the high priest and founder of our order, His Radiance, Sigmund den Err. It is only through his teaching, his divine ministering that we may attain true peace. We Children of Luna bask in the reflection of the reflection: Sunlight, Moonlight, Deliverance." She paused briefly for the profundity of her precepts to permeate my pate.
When she took up the thread of her explanation, her eyes had a distinct, feverish glow to them. "The sun, in its wild passion," she said, spreading her arms wide to form a circle and lifting them over her head so that both breasts lifted, nipples dragging over the scratchy sweater, nipples stiffening into marvelous, inch long stubs, "transmits a blaze of Truth, a firestorm of Revelation too vehement for the human mind to grasp. His Radiance teaches us that it is only through the miraculous intercession of our celestial benefactress, Luna, that we may bask in the clear light of
Reflected Ruth. Because of certain physical laws, astronomical positions, angles of refraction, it is the Light of the Waning Moon that is the most pure, the closest to being Solar Perfection, the Final Truth...."
They didn't call them "Lunies" for nothing.
"The reflection of the reflection. I see," I said. "The Truth of the sun reflected upon the body of Luna which is in turn reflected through the wisdom of Sigmund upon the upturned faces of the faithful."
Sister Marjorie practically jumped for joy at my little regurgitation.
"But, Sister, what does Sigmund teach?" I asked with painful sincerity.
The sexy young girl surprised the hell out of me by immediately plopping down on my lap and slinging her arms about my neck. Her heavy-tipped breasts grazed my chest. Her big bottom was very warm on my crotch.
"Are you really seeking the revealed Truth?" she said, her eyes as big as Hostess Ding Dongs.
I fought the urge to slip my hand in under her sweater, to capture one of her hefty bouncing tits. "Sister Marjorie, let me bask in the Clear Light!" I exclaimed.
She pushed back from me and looked me straight in the eye. "It is my duty to ask you a question now, before we go any further. It is not my question; it is part of the ritual of our order. Do you understand?"
I nodded, trying in vain to keep my raging boner from nudging up into her plump ass.
"Are you now, or have you ever, been a member of any city, county, state, or federal law enforcement agency or oversight bureau thereof?" she asked.
"No," I said, shaking my head as much to clear the shock waves from it as to deny the allegation. They screened newcomers to weed out potential undercover cops! Undoubtedly our little indoctrination tete-a-tete was being bugged so that if I were in fact a cop the recording could be later used as evidence of entrapment in any criminal case that came as a result of my investigation. There was more to these Lunies than hot dogs and brown rice.
"I'm so glad," Sister Marjorie said, hopping up from my lap. She hurriedly locked the front door and drew all the blinds. When she turned towards me again, her eyes were full of burning zeal and her breathing seemed labored. Big titties rising and falling under the oatmeal sweater. "You must wait here while I change into my vestments," she said, hurrying off to the back room.
In a couple of minutes she returned in full Lunie regalia. Nothing in my experience as a P.I. or as an aficionado of the art of strip tease, prepared me for the bizarre costume she wore. Not that it was skimpy, for there were yards and yards of material ... they were just all in the wrong places to conceal anything.
At first glance, it looked like an ordinary monk's habit made of mouse gray cloth, floor length, with a hood hanging from the back. The second glance, however, would've been enough to raise the atrophied organ of St. Martin. From waist to throat the garment was open, cut out in a triangle whose peak pointed down, coming to just above the navel. The two sides of the triangle spread out so that Sister Marjorie's huge, ebony tipped breasts, her collarbone and most of her smooth shoulders were exposed. Tied tightly about her waist was a sash of the same material. Below the sash, it was the same, wonderful story, only the cut out triangle was the mirror image of the upper one, so that the two peaks were separated only by the width of the sash. In the bottom cut out I could see everything that the girl had: her incredibly fat pudenda covered with a ruff of straight, shiny black hair, and cleft, just where the hummock turned under, by a puckering, carmine slit. I could see her overripe thighs, creased by the tight bands of black garter belt snaps and by the constraining tops of her nylons. I could even see her butt-cheeks behind her hairy cunt, lurking in the shadows of her robe like harvest moons.
"Bask in the Light, Brother!" she said, waggling the upper half of her body, making her voluminous tits jiggle about on her chest.
The look in her eyes was pure lunacy. I'd seen that look before ... on the face of Hildy Knutsen in the blackmail photo. As she walked towards me, my cock started doing frantic push ups in my pants, an activity that she did not fail to catch.
"Oh! Brother, it is a sign!" she said, pointing at the rigid length of my prick. "Bless the most perfect, dimpled sphere of Luna who has seen fit to raise your Moonship...."
"Huh?"
The zealous teenager dropped to her knees before me, her fevered eyes glued to the head of my pud. "Such a powerful vehicle!" she crooned, pursing her thick, mocha colored lips. "So full of the passionate Light! All systems GO! Prepare for liftoff ... the glorious voyage into Truth begins!"
Though her babbling was a curious and disturbing mixture of Houston Space Center jargon and Zoroastrian liturgy, her actions were most pleasurable. She spread my knees with her hands, crawled between them, and then proceeded to head straight for the long bulge down the leg of my trousers ... with her open mouth! She pressed her hot parted lips to the trapped bulb and began kissing my cockhead fervently through the fabric. Instantly, the heat of her mouth, her breath washed over my pud and a teaspoonful of sticky pre-come shot from my slot, only to dribble down the inside of my thigh.
I could not believe my eyes. I'd never seen a girl so truly hungry for man chowder. I clutched her hair and flipped my hips into her face. Her drool saturated my pants leg and I could feel her tongue rasping over my dickhead, but the sensation was muted by the soggy, intervening material.
"Come on, you little slut," I moaned. "Take it out...."
Her hands slid up my legs, sending thrills rippling up over my nuts, raising the gooseflesh on my forearms. She paused in her trouser sucking to look up at me. She said, "In Luna there is union; in union there is Luna...."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" I said, tearing at my fly, ripping my pants down around my knees. My hard cock flipped up; the angry bulb thumping against my chest. A gooey line of white oozed down my hairy knee.
"Ooooh, Mother Moon!" she cried in delight. "It's leaking!" She thrust her mouth on the come slobber, gripping my legs behind the knee.
My cock flopped around like a beached whale while I watched her devour the sticky stuff, while I felt her lips and tongue slavering over my knee, my thigh. Such a greedy little bitch! Her hot lips squirmed closer and closer to my pulsing pudcap, following the flow on pre-come to its source. The thrills I received from the kneeling girl were almost indescribable. Her attention was so fixed on prolonging my pleasure, her attitude so slavish, that I could hardly bear it.
Then her blazing lips found my cockhead. God! It was better than I'd hoped: seeing her plump lips slip over the flaring head of my prick, seeing her nostrils dilate as the compost heap stench of man-in-heat invaded her sinuses, feeling the ecstatic bump as her lips popped over pudcap rim, feeling her teeth at my nerve bundle, her tongue sliding up and down my dribbling slot.
Suddenly her cheeks went concave and my cock was drawn out of shape by the power of her divinely inspired suction. Mind-numbing waves of joy raced up my dick as she shifted her head from side to side, lashing her tongue back and forth, inching more and more meat into her mouth. Her tightly stretched lips, bright red from dick friction, mumbled moist endearments to ropy veins, hairless follicles, errant warts, and the smattering of long pubes that sprouted here and there.
It was staggering how much cock she could swallow. Little by little my entire joint slipped down into her throat. And all the while she kept up the marvelous suck action. Only when her small nose nuzzled in the coarse hairs at the base of my cock, when her fat lower lip brushed my balls, did she stop her gobbling. The girth of my dick distended her whole face; it was like she'd impaled herself on a tree limb. Then, huffing and puffing for all she was worth, she slowly let my meat slip from the depths of her gullet.
I nearly squirted as she twisted and turned her mouth about my shaft, wringing it with her trembling lips. And as her mouth withdrew, it left behind a glistening coat of drool and a cock rubbed crimson, a fiery red club.
I swear she knew how close I was to coming and she was determined to stretch out the marvelous agony to the limit. Even as my ass-hole began to flutter, she let the enraged bulb pop from her lips. It was instantly hit by a gust of cool wind that cut off my spasming like a switch.
"Mmmmmm, take heart, Brother...." she crooned, grabbing my dick by the base and lifting its tumescent head towards the ceiling. Her lips showered the hairy skin of my balls with kisses, sending thrill after thrill up my spine. Her tongue laved each of my tender peach seeds lovingly, popping them into her mouth and giving them gentle suck. The sight of such a lovely, such a hot girl rubbing genitals, my genitals all over her face was enough to set my knees knocking. Then she lowered the slimy helmet, and, turning her head to the side, placed her lips just below my slot, upon my pendulous nerve bundle.
"Ooooh!" I groaned, grabbing her by the ears, flipping my hips reflexively, as I felt her teeth gnaw hungrily at my nerve center.
She munched my folds, smacking her lips, applying tongue to my slot every few seconds to sweep away the ever-oozing blob of pre-come. Faster and faster she worked, making a sloppy trough of her mouth and sliding it up and down the underside of my cock, down over my balls and back. Always back to the smegmatic drapery of my nerve bundle, sharp civet teeth nipping, making me whimper with joy.
Again and again she drew me to the verge of orgasm. And, in my mind's eye, I stood on the crumbling edge of a precipice, a yawning chasm, my cock and balls glowing with pleasure, and, above my head, I could feel the beating of great wings. At the precise instant that the tip of my head began to come unglued, at the very second the tickling radiance of come joy sizzled down my tube, she released me ... only to murmur more religious rubbish with her pube-littered lips.
Talk about congested! My ducts felt like they weighed a ton. I craved to spurt in the worst way, to shower her lovely face with streamers of egg flesh.
"Grrrr...." she said, taking cock in her teeth and shaking it like a terrier with a large, bald and earless rat.
I clutched her head, trying to urge just one more nip from her, just one more thrill, just enough to put me over the hump. But she dropped my cock and let it bounce against her cheek, letting the dribbling bulb smear hot gunk on her face. She looked up at me serenely, knowing full well that every time she brought me to the brink another drop or two was added to the seething Moonship Payload.
"Damn you!" I said.
She smiled sweetly, turned her head a bit and licked a gob of spunk from my slot just as it was about to break loose. "Ummmmm," she said, giving my pudcap a quick suck for good measure. "Are you ready for the Light?"
"Hell, yes!! "
"For the Clear Light of Perfect Truth."
"Arrrrgh!"
"Prepare for countdown! Prepare for Glory!" She looked up at me with merry eyes, curled back her upper lip, and sank her teeth into the enraged bulb.
LIFTOFF!! !
I reached for Sister Marjorie's ears, flicks of flapping snow geese exiting my ass-hole, cock muscles flexing, sending hot gobs spurting up the narrow tube. I would no longer be denied. I used her mouth ruthlessly, slogging every inch of my bubbling cock down her throat. She held her eyes tightly closed and took it, cheeks fluttering as she sucked, loving every gullet-busting lunge. Her lips bashed against the wide root of my cock, making a sloppy, sputter-fart sound like a pussy in mid-orgasm.
As the first spritz of come left my cock, I pinned her face to my groin, lips to cockroot, rubbing my bush into her eyes, nose, cheeks, and my balls into her chin. Rotating my hips in a slow circle, I gave her what she wanted: hot sperm.
She whinnied ecstatically as the initial volley washed over her esophagus and backed up into her throat, her palate. Adam's apple bobbing, she fought to keep up with the sticky tide.
There was lots more where that came from. Buckets and buckets. Blinded by fuck-fury, I hunkered over her head and snapped my hips as pulse after high pressure pulse sent teeming goo spurting into her.
Her lips were a perfect oval seal, sliding up and down my orgasming shaft, keeping all the man chowder trapped within. Greedy bitch! Then her grip suddenly weakened, she choked, her lips faltered and a gout of slobber-come mixture welled from her mouth.
"Mmmmmmurrpl," she gurgled as the hot stuff rushed over her chin, streamed down the front of her lovely neck, ran in rivulets of glistening white over her bountiful tits, her stiff black nipples, trickling down her deep cleavage.
I pumped and pumped but the keen edge of my pleasure was already fading. My entire body tingled with the after glow of orgasm. I felt like a thoroughly used, rolled up tube of toothpaste.
Sister Marjorie allowed my rapidly wilting dick to slip from her lips. She sat back on her heels, panting, reveling in the sperm bath I'd given her. She cupped the heavy domes of her slick tits and squeezed them, making them flatten up against her chest. "Ooooh, Brother," she cooed, ecstatically, "did you see the Light?"
The way she kneaded her come-drenched jugs was mindbending. "Yes, yes, I think I did, Sister," I said.
"Oh, I know you did," she assured me. "Will you cast off the shackles of Terra, the lust for things, the illusion of progress, and soar with us? Will you come to love in the House of Luna?"
I licked my dry lips. "Are all your services to ... uh, physical?"
"The body is the reflection of the spirit...."
"Of course. But ... well ... I need some time to think this over."
"You will join us," she said, rising from her knees. Her pussy actually hung open, puffy red lips pouting from the black fuzz, shining with musky lubricant. "I know it. Even now you walk in Moonlight."
As much as I wanted to bury my Moonship in the blazing Truth of her Crater, I zipped up and excused myself from further religious rites. Before I joined this bunch of sex-crazed kooks, I had to find out a bit more about its founder, the bald Dutchman, den Err, so I paid a call on the turkey who got me involved in the case, my old buddyroo, Detective Ramon.
When I walked into his tiny office, he gave me his usual cheery greeting: "Goddammit! The fucking toilet must be backing up again!! Look what floated in under the door ... Badass Bascom!"
Since he had the muzzle of his .357 Magnum crammed against the base of my skull, I submitted to the inevitable "up against the wall and spread 'em" routine which was a thinly veiled excuse for him to get in a few kidney jabs.
"All right, Dirtbag," the hatchet-faced man snarled, turning me around. I swear he wore that grimy, olive green snap brim hat to bed. "What can I do for you today? A nice Murder One rap?"
I very gently pushed the barrel of his Magnum out from under my nose. "I just wanted to thank you for sending me the business . . .you know, that Knutsen broad...."
Ramon smirked. "I figured you'd be dumb enough to get involved with that kinky bitch! Go ahead, try and dirty the rep of a respected religious leader and humanitarian and I'll personally get your ticket pulled, Badass."
"Tell me about this 'respected religious leader.' Wasn't he a realtor before he started this Lunie scam?"
"And you get paid to investigate!" he sniggered. "Sigmund den Err was formerly the Assistant Tax Assessor over in Langousta. And, for your information, his Lunie Movement is making a hell of an impact on the Inner City ... those Urban Relief Centers and the work with runaway girls, keeping them off the streets. I can't say enough for the man. And I'm warning you, Dirtbag, fuck with him and I'll fuck with you."
"So he's really on the up and up?"
Ramon grinned, showing me his nicotine-stained teeth. "Look, Moron, would I let my own teenage daughter, Marjorie, work for him if he wasn't?"
I got out of his office as fast as my legs would carry me.
"Hey, Dirtbag!" he hollered after me. "What's so goddam funny?"