WARNING: This story is an act of fiction that contains graphic sexual
descriptions and language. If you are a minor (under 21) or if you are
offended by this kind of material then you should stop reading now.
Any resemblance between this story and a real event is purely
coincidental. The participants are imaginary; their actions have no
negative consequences other than those portrayed in the story. The
story is intended for entertainment only and should not be emulated in
the real world.

Episode 2: Dr. Whatsin and the Evil Dr. Phallus!

by Arthur "Cunny" Kay

SURELICK HOMES said, sounding quite excitedly for him, "Whatsin, you
look absolutely ravishing!"

Whatsin, looking at himself in the full-length mirror, had to agree.
Homes had outdone himself in the female disguise arena. It was
impossible for Whatsin to believe that the lovely creature staring
back at him was, indeed, himself, and not a real woman.

If Whatsin hadn't known better, his crotch area would be quivering by
now. As it was, he did feel a minor twinge in his scrotum. Twinge! He
stared at the imaginary creature in the glass, carefully studying each
womanly facet in turn.

The shoulder length blond hair! A wig, but perfectly coifed, with a
charming spit curl hanging down sensually over his left eye, the
mirror's right. The lips! Ruby red and luscious, the bottom lip
resembling a small, protruding pillow. Twinge! The eyes! Deep-set, and
very beguiling as they sat surrounded by long, sexy lashes and
perfectly tweezed arched brows. Twinge! The bosoms, the ample bosoms!
Twinge! Twinge! Twinge! Whatsin pulled his eyes from the vision and
turned to the great detective, who Whatsin saw looked quite pleased.

"I say, Homes, she would give a bloody erection to the stone statue of
Eros!" He tugged at his floor-length frock, pulling it around more to
the front.

Homes nodded, his eyes darting back and forth from Whatsin in the
flesh to Whatsin in the mirror. "Quite so, old man. Although you
flatter me, I must most humbly agree with your assessment. But let us
hope she has the allure to draw the evil Dr. Phallus into our web.
Eh?" Whatsin nodded in agreement.

They heard a gentle knock on the door. "Ah," Homes said. "That would
be Mrs. Handson with your tutor."

"Say what?" Homes didn't answer. Instead, he went to the door and
opened it. Mrs. Handson stepped in, with a young woman in tow, and
said, blustering, "Here she is, Mr. Homes, and I'll tell you, sir, it
wasn't easy finding a willing lady of the evening at this late hour!"
The young woman blanched, and look slighted by the remark as to her
choice of employment.

Homes looked at the woman and said, "What is your name, my dear?"

"Maizie, guv'nor." She said, a Cockney accent in evidence."Where's me
quid the old woman promised me." 

Mrs. Handson glared at the woman and said, quite huffily, "Old woman,
indeed, you underfed gutter trollop . . . "

Homes interjected, speaking sweetly, "Now, now, Mrs. Handson, I'm sure
Maizie meant it in the nicest way, didn't you, dear?" Maizie nodded,
not looking at Mrs. Handson. Homes added, "That will be all, Mrs.
Handson." Mrs. Handson took her leave of them, muttering to herself on
the way out.

Maizie looked at Whatsin. There was something not quite right with
what she was seeing, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Her thick
Cockney accent came out again. 

" 'Ere now, guv'nor, the old woman never mentioned another woman to
me. I don't do no queer stuff, I don't. She crossed her arms defiantly
in front of her chest, and glared at the two men. "Unless I get me a
little extra . . . say another guinea?" She looked at Homes, a hopeful
expression on her face.

Homes laughed. "That won't be necessary, dear Maizie. All I require of
you is your teaching my . . . woman friend here . . . how to walk the
way . . . a woman does." Maizie's eyes widened as Homes continued. "I
would do it myself, but I know when to call in an expert."

"Show 'er 'ow to walk? Why, guv? What's wrong wit 'er? She looks right
'nough to me." She smiled at Whatsin as if to signal a female bond of
sorts had just been formed.

Homes chuckled, and said, "Walk for her, Whatsin!" Whatsin looked at
Homes, coughed once, shrugged his shoulders, and clomped across the
room. He turned smartly, military smartly, and started back to his
original place. His size eleven shoes made loud noises on the wooden
floor.

Maizie gasped. "She walks like a bleedin' duck! A lame duck at that."
Whatsin showed his umbrage by saying, "Harumph! I'll have you know,
miss, my gait was good enough for Her Majesty's service in the Crimea,
and at . . . "

Homes cut him off. "Hush, Whatsin! She has a valid point." He turned
to Maizie. "Well, my dear, do you think you can teach this duck how to
walk . . . ladylike? There's an extra guinea in it for you if you
succeed."

Her face brightened. "Succeed? For an extra quid, I'll show ducky 'ere
'ow to do handsprings and leg splits!" Homes chuckled, picturing
Whatsin attempting to try either.

Whatsin grimaced. "Ducky, indeed. My word! Harumph!"

Maizie said, as if hearing Whatsin's voice for the first time, "But I
ain't no voice coach, guv'nor. If you want 'er voice to sound less
like a frog's, you better get someone else."

"Whatsin had had it. "First she calls me a duck, then a frog. I say
Homes, you better stop her before she makes an ass out of me."

"Hee hee," Maizie giggled. "She's a regular menagerie, she is!" 

Homes looked at Whatsin. "That's she is, Maizie, that she is! Now, the
evening latens, so let us get started."

* * * * * *

AN HOUR LATER and Whatsin was sashaying all over the room as well as
any street walking prostitute could ever hope to imitate. His bustle
wiggled seductively as he pranced across the room with tentative,
mincing steps. "I say, Homes, I feel quite foolish doing this
nonsense. Giddy even. Is it at all really necessary?"

"Quite, old thing, if we are to fool the evil doctor. For, you see,
you will be stationed outside the King's Arms Lager House to begin
with and, every half-hour, you will walk over to the Lion's Tooth Pub.
Then back again. I coined the word decoy to describe this deceptive
action. So, old thing, you can see how important your walk becomes."
Whatsin nodded. As usual, Homes was way ahead of him.

"Maizie," Homes said, turning to her. "I think we have gone as far as
we can with the walk, my dear, and I thank you for your effort. Now,
what would you say to a little, uh, let us say, action that is more in
keeping with your usual line of work?" He winked at her.

"For another quid?" She was all business, this Maizie creature.

"Two, if you put your heart into it, and please us greatly."

"Me heart? For two quid, guv'nor, you two can have me arse!" Homes
smiled, and said, "I was hoping you would say that!"

* * * * * *

MAIZIE did a little striptease for the great detective and his loyal
companion, who was still in full drag. When she was down to her corset
and knickers, Homes said, "Quite buxomy, Whatsin, don't you think?"
Her breasts were spilling out of the corset's top edge, as if trying
their best to escape the tight confines.

Whatsin, his eyes glued on the tops of the titties, said, "I'll say,
Homes, they remind me of the Queen Mum's bum!" Homes chuckled. They
did have that flavor about them.

Maizie danced and twirled a bit, then removed the corset. She tossed
it high into the air with an air of gleeful abandonment. She then went
over to Homes' bed and sat on the edge, her black knickers the only
garment concealing the rest of her womanly flesh.

Maizie licked her lips and said, "Well, you two, ain'tcha gonna get
them clothes off and join me? Or are you just gonna stand there
starin' like bleedin' arse holes?"

Homes was out of his clothing in less time than one could say
"Moriarty makes many mellow milkshakes." He went to her, knelt, put a
hand on each side of her breasts, and buried his face in the mighty
mammaries. And started kissing and licking them feverishly.

Maizie squealed, "Oooh, Mr. 'Omes, you've some hot lips on you, now!"
She grabbed his head by the ears and pressed him to her, wiggling his
face around in the bargain. Homes said, "Mmmmph!" Twice, and quickly.

Whatsin, on the other hand, was having a bit of trouble getting naked.
He had shed the frock easily enough, and his shoes, but the damned
corset had a hook and eye arrangement in the back, unlike Maizie's
front-closing model, that was beyond his reach, save for the uppermost
couplet. He was now spinning around and around, like a dog chasing its
own tail, in a futile attempt to get at the lower most closures.

Maizie, laughing, watched him twirl for a minute or so, then said, "
Bring it over 'ere, love, and let me do it for you. Before you turn
yourself into bleedin' butter!" She giggled. Homes said, "Hmmmph!"
Twice, and quickly.

Whatsin, glad for the offer of assistance as he was getting quite
dizzy, went and stood directly behind Homes' naked back. Maizie
ordered the good doctor to turn around and 'ave a seat. She giggled
again and pointed to Homes' back. Whatsin turned, and sat down,
placing his fat ass squarely onto Homes' upper shoulders. Homes, as
absorbed in rapture as one can get, didn't even flinch at the sudden
added weight. 

Maizie removed her hands from Homes' head and, in a trice, had Whatsin
free of the restraining garment. He stood, turned around, and peeled
the corset off his body. As he did, two small, white pillows popped
out--the falsies Homes' had Mrs. Handson construct--one going east,
the other heading due west. Whatsin stood there now in just his white
knickers, and Weatherly Brothers' argyle socks.

Maizie gasped. "Ow, dearie, they looked like two bleedin' white rats
leavin' a sinkin' ship!" Then she gasped once more, and said, "Ow,
dearie, I can now see why you needed them! You're as blinkin' flat as
a bleedin' cribbage board, you are, you poor thing." Homes said,
"Hmmph! Just once this time, but with greater feeling.

Whatsin looked down at his manly nipples, then at his white knickers.
"Maizie, my dear, before you come a shocker that might set you off,
there's something you should know about me . . . "

"What's that, love?" She had her hands firmly on Homes' head again,
and was moving him around as one might move a stiff steering wheel.

"Whatsin hesitated, then spoke softly, "You see, dear, I'm not . . . "

"Speak up now, love, I can't 'ear you when you mumble so."

"Well, you see, I'm not . . . " He hesitated again, seemingly afraid
to say it to her.

Homes looked up, and bellowed, "Oh for Christopher's sake, Maizie,
he's trying to tell you . . . he's a man!"

"A what?" She looked suddenly scared, as if she had just been told
that Whatsin was the devil in female disguise. Then she added, feebly,
"A man?" She still couldn't fathom the strange thought. 

Homes said, rather dryly, and much too patiently, "Yes, Maizie, a man.
I disguised Dr. Whatsin here," he pointed a thumb back at Whatsin, "as
a woman, so I could use him as bait," Whatsin blanched at the remark,
"as a lure, a decoy if you will, to try and catch a most nefarious
criminal, one Dr. Phallus, who has kidnapped many a young woman for
all sorts of vile and evil sexual purposes." He left it at that, as if
further explanation was superfluous.

"Oh," she said. "I've 'eard of 'im! Who 'asn't? But I must say, Mr.
'Omes, your bait 'ere really fooled me," Whatsin blanched again, "so I
can tell you, guv'nor, it will surely fool Phallus, 'im being a man
and all." She grabbed Homes' head and pressed it to her large chest.
As Whatsin removed his knickers, Homes was heard to say, "Hmmmph!"
More than once . . .

* * * * * *

HOMES stood up and offered his small, but very hard penis to her face.
Without protest or hesitation, she placed her mouth on the head, and
proceeded bobbing up on down. She had no problem whatsoever deep
throating the short 4-1/2" stalk, and was quickly executing the action
over and over. 

After less than a minute of her ministrations, Homes moaned, and said,
"You had better slow down, my dear, before I ejaculate too . . . oooh,
oooh!" It was said too late. He was about to cum, and there was
nothing the great detective could do about it. He tried conjuring up
the two images that usually helped him retain penile control:
Whatsin's ear hairs, and the Queen Mum taking a bath. Both failed.

Homes was unloading. He yelled out, "Here I cum, for the Queen Mum!"
The two men watched as Maizie's cheeks puffed out, and she gurgled,
sounding as if she was being drowned. 

Then they hard her moan, sounding appreciative it seemed, as if she
was being fed mother's milk instead of male sperm. "Mmm, mmm!" Her
cheeks now resembled a bellows by repeatedly puffing out, then
collapsing in. "Mmm, mmm!" she said over and over as Homes deluged
himself into her.

Whatsin said, "I say, old man, she handles it all rather well, don't
you think?"

"I agree, Whatsin, she's quite adept in the fellatus arts. She must
get lots of practice in her trade of choice." Maizie continued to suck
him, cleaning him up quite adroitly.

Whatsin nodded, played with himself a bit, and said, "Yoiu should hire
the lass, Homes. She could assist you greatly on that monograph of
yours concerning the proper way to suck a penis." He now stroked his
dick more noticeably. He could hardly wait to be next. 

While she listened to all this, Maizie sucked away, as if she enoyed
this part of her work and took great pride in doing an expert job.

"Wonderful idea, doctor, I could . . . " Maizie piped up, cutting him
short.

" 'Ere now, you two! Stop goin' on about me as if I wasn't 'ere! You,"
she pointed to Whatsin, "get yer bloomin' arse over 'ere if you want
me to bleedin' suck you off. And be quick about it, you flamin'
fruit!"  

Whatsin, looking chastised, meekly obeyed. As he placed his 7"
erection into her hot mouth, he said, "Harumph! Flaming fruit,
indeed!" The way he had said it hinted that he'd show her he was no
flamin' fruit. Indeed.

He grabbed her head firmly, and proceeded to mouth fuck her with great
gusto. On his second inward stroke, his cock head found the back of
her throat.

Showing her no apparent mercy, he plunged beyond, expecting to at
least force her to groan, if not gag. She surprised him by swallowing
every inch without evincing even the slightest trace of general
discomfort. To the contrary, she was moaning frequently, and with
obvious relish. Whatsin said, "Good lord, Homes, her hot tongue is
swirling all over the place!" Homes said, "I know. She did  the same
to me. Feels wonderful, doesn't it?" Whatsin nodded.

Increasing the force of his strokes, Whatsin yelled, turning to Homes,
"My God, Homes, she's a veritable bloomin' sword swallower!" He then
proceeeded to deep throat mouth fuck her for all he was worth. In,
out, in and out. His cock would pull out to where just the head was in
her, and then he'd plunge it all the way to where his hairy pubic hilt
was slamming into her oval-shaped red lips.

Homes said, excitedly, "By Jove, Whatsin, she can really suck it down
now, can't she? I've never witnessed anything quite like it. And, as
you well know, old man, I've had the best London has to offer." 

Whatsin had hardly heard him, as he was about to spurt. He pulled his
penis out of her mouth and bellowed, "Stick your tongue out!" She
complied. 

The two men watched as Whatsin's first sperm blast shot out of him
with such force it easily traversed the small distance and found the
back of her throat. It had hit that punching bag shaped pendulum of
the palate and caused her to gag, her tongue protruding even farther
from her mouth, her head bobbing.

His second forceful burst, seeming to have better manners than the
first, landed squarely on the center of her now elongated tongue, and
bounced slightly before settling itself into a round, pearl-colored
shape. Her tongue darted into her mouth and she swallowed, closing her
mouth in the doing.

His third blast, having no mouth to crawl into, hit smartly on her
bottom lip. It clung there a second, dripped down somewhat, hanging
delicately, and resembled an icicle on an eave. Whatsin chuckled, and
said, "Flamin' fruit, indeed!" He'd shown her as far as he was
concerned.

Maizie, apparently unfazed by the remark, or having not heard it,
stuck her tongue out again. She was just in time for Whatsin's
puddling up effect. He placed the tip of his cock on the tip of her
tongue, and dribbled copiously. Cum bubbled out of him from what
seemed to be a bottomless well. In mere seconds, her tongue was
flooded with his sperm, so much so it overflowed its edges, gravity
taking the blobby masses to the floor. 

Homes said, "Swallow it up, dear, it'll put hair on your chest!" The
tongue disappeared into her mouth again, and she swallowed. 

"Mmm, mmm," she said. "Tastes lovely, it does, but I can do witout the
hairy chest part, thank you very much." The two men laughed. She
looked at them, and giggled. Then she said, quite girlishly, "Now,
gentlement, how about we all rest a while, perhaps with a drink or
what have you, and then you two can fuck my bloody brains out. All
right with you?"

Her cockney accent had fully disappeared. Homes said, "What's your
game then, Maizie, if that is your name . . . "

* * * * * *

MAIZIE CAME CLEAN. Over drinks. For starters, her name wasn't Maizie.
It was Miranda, Lady Miranda at that. And she wasn't a full-time
Cockney talking street walker, either. Just a part-time one. It was a
little game she and her husband, Lord John Arlet Wigwarm, had dreamed
up to spice up their sagging sex life. 

She would go out, once a month, walk the streets dressed as a
prostitute, and entice men to go with her to the Shoreham Arms hotel,
where she and his Lordship kept secondary quarters. They had a large
house northeast of London, with maids, butlers, and sundry other
household help at their beck and call. 

At the Shoreham, hubby would be hiding in a locked closet, peeking at
the action on the bed through a cleverly concealed peephole. After
exactly five men had been sucked and fucked by Miranda, hubby would
get his turn. They had been doing this for two years now. And,
according to Lady Wigwarm, they were enjoying it immensely.

They even had a game plan when it came to the type of men she allowed
to pick her up. Four of them had to be of a handsome countenance, but
the fifth was to be the slimiest, sleaziest, and ugliest male she
could stomach, with the advancement of his years holding no weight in
the matter. She had fucked them well into their nineties! 

This facet was all her husband's idea. He felt it added a delicious
aura of humiliation and degradation to the equation. Lady Wigwarm, at
first, found the idea somewhat repulsive, but she ended up enjoying
these pathetic creatures the most. They seemed so needy, so helpless,
and they always adored her so much she felt placed on a pedestal. A
goddess, if you will.

Her story finished, Homes said, "My, my, my, Miranda, or should I call
you Lady Wigwarm? You fooled me completely! You not only look the
part, totally, but that Cockney accent of yours is absolutely
flawless. And I, my dear, have written monographs on language
dialectics of all stripes." Whatsin nodded and said, "That he has,
milady, that he has."

"Call me Maizie, Mr. 'Omes!" The two men laughed. "Calling me 'er
ladyship gives me the bleepin,' blinkin,' bloody 'ives, guv'nor!" They
laughed again.

Homes said, "Because you are here tonight, Maizie, and not at the
Shoreham arms, I assume his lordship is away somewhere. Business I
would guess. And, your seeming ease at handling the situation,
suggests you've done this before, going out on your own. I assume you
share all the steamy details with him upon his return. Eh?" 

She nodded, and said, in refined english. "Oh, yes, John loves to hear
every juicy detail. He's all ears, I'll say And it gets him so randy,
he can orgasm three or four times in that one evening." Then she
switched to Cockney. "And 'oly 'ell, guv'nor, 'e 'as the stamina of a
bloke 'alf his age!" They two men laughed riotously.

"Now, gentlemen, what would you say to some really raunchy vaginal and
anal intercoursing? Eh?" She placed fingers into her pussy . . .

* * * * * *

HOMES AND WHATSIN diddled both ends of the incredible Lady Wigwarn so
effectively, so fully, the woman started yelling out the Seven Deadly
Sins, alphabetically, during her first violent orgasm: "Anger!
Covetousness! Envy! Gluttony! Greed! Lust! Pride! Sloth! You bugger me
well, you two." 

Then, and impressing the two men greatly, she said it again, but in
reverse, with her very next spasmic orgasm: "Two you well, me bugger
you. Sloth! Pride! Lust! Greed! Gluttony! Envy! Covetousness! Anger!"
She then wiggled her ass, exactly four times, counterclockwise.

"Ah," said Homes. "Lady Wigwarm is using the back and forth, sing-song
love language of the lonely peasants, Whatsin, who inhabit the
foothills of Gokyo Ri, an 18,000 foot hill that gives one an
impressive view of Mt. Everest." In further expanation, he added, "The
only way she could have learned that routine, old man, was to have
been gangbuggered by ten of the local townsmen. It being the custom
for outsiders, and all.

"I see, Homes," said Whatsin. "And, I surmise, old man, that that
would explain the utterly strange counterclockwise rotation of her
buttocks. A signal to the next man in line?" He looked across Maizie's
back at Homes.

"Quite so."

* * * * * *

LESS THAN an hour later, Whatsin, in full drag regalia, was standing
outside the King's Arms Lager House trying to look as sexy as he could
manage. I may be the bait, he mused, but there's no reason I can't be
hot bait. He pursed his lips, threw his left hip way out, and swung
his purse in small arcs. 

Men, some in sailor suits, came and went, but after the half-hour
Homes had told him to spend there, Whatsin decided to try his luck
over at the Lion's Tooth Pub. He sashayed the sixty or so feet that
separated the two establishment with such a feminine gait, his tutor
would have been beside herself with one of the Deadly Sins, Pride! 

As he walked, he wiggled his big-bustled ass, jiggled his large ersatz
breasts, and put a look on his painted face that fairly screamed out,
I'm here, I'm hot, so come get me you big hairy ape! And, although the
tight-fitting high heel shoes hurt and pinched his feet, he managed
the trip with no pain. He had used the deep, Zen-like concentration
Homes had taught him during his anal practicing.

He stationed himself outside an alley that was adjacent to the Lion's
Tooth Pub. He now stood, his back to the street, and tried to see into
the inky blackness of the alley. All he saw were some trash bins, and
a cat. A large, cuddly looking white one. Sidetracked from his
mission, he called to it. "Come over here, puss, and I'll give you a
good stroking."

The cat ignored him, as cats are known to do at time, but a big
drunken sailor, on his way into the pub, didn't. He went up behind
Whatsin, threw an arm around his face, and placed the large hand over
his eyes. "Cor, luv, get into the alley and I'll give you a good
stroking!"

Phallus! Thought Whatsin. What luck. Play along had been Homes'
instruction. So play along, he did. As the drunken seaman pushed
Whatsin along, all the way down into the very bowels of the coal black
alley, the good doctor practiced his falsetto in his mind. 

"Now, dearie," the sailor said. "Bend over and hold onto that trash
bin." Whatsin obliged with nary a whimper coming out of him. Play
along led his thoughts.

The sailor, in a trice, pushed Whatsin's dress up over his back, and
with deft, strong fingers, pulled his knickers down to his knees. The
drunken seamen then undid the thirteen buttons on his regulation
uniform, and pulled out his cock. In the darkness, anyone observing
would have sworn the man now held a policeman's 14" truncheon in his
hand. A lethal looking cudgel.

Without further ado, he guided the truncheon's large head to the
entrance of the good doctor's rectum and, with one great push, popped
it in. Whatsin yelped, in perfect falsetto voice, "Ouch! Ouch!" Then
said, "I say, it's obvious to me, old thing, that you haven't heard of
the efficacy of KY Jelly or, at the very least, petroleum jelly
Vaseline!" Whatsin, sensing another invasion, started deep
concentrating, in a very Zen-like way. Just the way Homes had taught
him.

"Huh?" the sailor said, just before ramming his entire baton into the
good doctor's backside, expecting more yelping. But Whatsin was on top
of the game now. His inner ass didn't feel a thing. The Zen had seen
to that. 

He said, sounding quite childish and gleeful, "Hee hee hee, you can't
hurt me!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, we'll just see about that!" He pulled back and
yelled," Take that!" and plunged again. Not a peep. He repeated the
menoeuver. "And that!" Silence. "And that!" Plunge. "And that!"
Plunge. "And that!" Plunge. To no avail. The Zen, it seemed, was
Whatsin's magic shield. Feeling the raw power in him now, Whatsin
said, "Sock it to me, sonny, give me all you got!"

The drunken tar, pooped out somewhat, but very impressed with
Whatsin's performance, said, "Blimey, darlin,' you can take it like a
man!" Whatsin smiled to himself, then wiggled his ass a few times as
if in a sort of victory celebration. The high-five used by alley cats.

So the sailor pumped and the lady moaned. The sailor pumped and the
lady groaned. And a white cuddly cat, sitting now on top of a trash
bin, watched with its coal black eyes as the two humans pumped,
moaned, and groaned away, unmindful of its meows.

Then the tar yelled out, "Thar she blows, the Queen Mum's milk!" A
second later, the good doctor felt his rectum fill up to overflowing.
A goodly amount squeezed out and dripped down his legs, soaking his
knickers on the way. Whatsin thought of saying something, but a new
sensation overcame him, making him mute.

The sailor, having spent the last six months at sea, had a stored up
quantity of sperm to be reckoned with. It gushed out of him, and had
soon filled the good doctor up with almost a cup of the sticky stuff.
Whatsin, feeling an enormous inner pressure, now had to defecate. 

The good doctor, however, had nothing in his bowels but air, which was
now expelled with such great force through the almost nonexistent
space between his rectum and the sailor's shaft, it came roaring out
and did an excellent imitation of a large cruise ship's foghorn.
Oooooooommmm!

"Holy bleedin' Cap'n Nemo!" the drunken tar yelled. "I've docked me
bloomin' dickie into the Queen Mary!" 

Then the foghorn repeated itself. Oooooooommmm! Then the sailor
smacked Whatsin on the right buttock, pulled his cudgel from him,
which allowed a torrent of sperm to flow out freely, put the weapon
away, and worked on his thirteen regulation buttons.

"Cor," the sailor said. "That's one arse buggering I'll never forget!"
That said, he walked briskly off. Whatsin, still bent over, and sperm
soaking his legs and knickers, looked at the white cat and said, "We
won't either, puss, will we now?"

The cat, as if in agreement, jumped down from the can and went over to
Whatsin. It purred in greeting, rubbed up against him, and then
proceeded to lick and lap at the good doctor's legs.

Whatsin, not moving a muscle, said, "Harumph! Enjoy yourself, puss.
It's full of needed protein. And, it'll give me time to get my wits
about me. I'll need them when I have to tell Homes that the evening
produced no positive results . . . "

The End.