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From: punchinello@pulperotica.com (Punchinello)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 16 Sep 2003 03:25:31 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} The Jumper (M-voy, sleep, FM, MF) Pulp Story!
Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 07:10:06 -0400
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The Jumper

Private detective John Mitchell witnessed his subject jump into San
Francisco Bay. Saving her life was only the first wrong move he made.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually
explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This
material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the
consent of the author.

Find the story and cover art at
http://www.pulperotica.com/stories/jumper.php!


The Jumper

(M-voy, sleep, FM, MF)

By: Punchinello



San Francisco, 1956

John Mitchell watched his subject pull to a stop and step out of the
green Jaguar sedan. She wore a cool black dress that ended just below
the knee, black heels, and a white silk scarf that fluttered wildly in
the stiff wind off San Francisco Bay. She went down to water, standing
at the edge for a long time, gazing out over the bay, the golden sun
reddening by the moment as it prepared to set. She watched the gulls
wheel through the sky over the Golden Gate Bridge in lazy circles,
calling to one another.

Then she jumped.

Mitchell was moving before he realized it. He raced across the thirty
yards between his black coupe and the edge of the bay and hesitated
only a moment to locate the girl before leaping in. He caught the
black dress in one hand and hauled her in, pulling her to an access
stair and heaving her bodily up over his shoulder to carry her up the
steps.

The detective put the girl down gently, cradling her head in his hand
as he laid it back on the concrete. Jane Kovak was as beautiful a
woman as John Mitchell had ever seen. She was blonde, fair, and
feminine, with full lips and a full bosom to match. Her breasts nearly
spilled out the top of the little black dress, though the wet fabric
clung to her body desperately.

Mitchell gazed at her for a long moment, drinking in her damp allure.
It was the first time he had been so close to her since he had started
watching her weeks before. She was 27, her husband had told him, but
she looked younger still. Even though she was unconscious and soaked
to the bone, her skin glowed with that strange pearlescence that
entranced him the first time he had laid eyes on her. But now, her
melancholy gaze was obscured by fluttering eyelids.

The young woman writhed and gasped, clearly not drowned but also not
regaining consciousness. Mitchell went to the Jaguar and opened the
doors, only to find a bottle of pills spilled over the front seat.
"Sleeping pills," he growled aloud as he read the label.

The detective picked up Mrs. Kovak and slid her gently into the
generous backseat of the Jag. Then he went around and climbed into the
driver's seat and fired up the powerful engine. She had left the keys
in the ignition.



At John Mitchell's apartment, he went to unlock the door before
retrieving the sleeping blond. He carried her up to his room, both of
them still soaking wet, and laid her on his bed.

Mrs. Kovak whimpered slightly and pulled at her bodice. John decided
he should get her out of her wet clothes and make her comfortable. The
pills she took ensured she would be out for at least a couple of
hours.

He started at her feet, pulling off her black leather high-heeled
shoes and setting them aside. She wore silk stockings that had
suffered badly in the rescue effort; they were tattered and torn in
places, revealing bruised skin underneath. Mitchell pushed her dress
up enough to reveal the clips that held her stockings up. He unclipped
them, one by one, and rolled the silk stockings down her legs, first
one--carefully, slowly, down her long slender legs, revealing the bare
pale flesh, soft and moist--then the other, right down to the tips of
her pink-painted toes. Her smooth bare legs were chilled with the
moisture that remained, but that wouldn't last long once he got her
completely undressed and under the covers.

Mitchell moved to Mrs. Kovak's dress. It was the kind that buttoned in
the front, so he undid it easily, releasing her large breasts, which
jiggled lewdly in their flimsy black lace cups. He unbuttoned it all
the way down her flat belly before pushing it off her creamy
shoulders. Then he tugged the little black dress down Mrs. Kovak's
slender young body and draped it over a chair.

Then he adjusted his half-stiff dick.

Next, Mitchell undid the woman's garter belt and tossed it aside. Jane
Kovak lay on his bed wearing nothing more than her black panties and
black lace brassiere. She murmured and tossed her head, but didn't
wake. Mitchell lifted her up into a half-sitting position so he could
unsnap her bra at the back. In a moment, Mrs. Kovak's big breasts
swung free and jutted out proudly at Mitchell. The nipples were large
and stiff. He laid her back down and watched her big tits flatten
against her and roll as she moved slightly. God those breasts were
beautiful.

Last came her panties.

Mitchell slipped his hands into Mrs. Kovak's panties and slid them
down over her backside, lifting her off the bed slightly to do so. Her
trim blond bush sparkled with moisture, the pink lips peeking through
as the panties came off. Mitchell pulled the moist silk panties down
Mrs. Kovak's bare legs and over her slender, bare feet. They hung
there for a moment before he tossed them aside, onto her dress on the
chair.

Now she was naked. Mitchell stared at her gorgeous nude figure for a
long time, slowly massaging his aching prick. In response, his cock
rose up, demanding real attention. He quickly began pulling off his
own wet clothes. In a minute, he was as naked as his subject, stroking
his big dick slowly with one hand, kneading his balls with the other.

At first he stayed well away from his subject. But soon, safe in the
knowledge the sleeping pills would keep her under for a while, he came
very near, jacking his cock right in her pretty face. Just as he began
to feel the jism rising in his balls, the naked blond before him gave
a big sigh and blew hot breath across his sack, sending Mitchell into
ecstasy, jacking harder and faster, at last spurting come out the top
of his prick and over his hand. A tiny speck struck the beautiful Mrs.
Kovak and hung on her cheek near her full lips, a thin strand of come
connecting it to the tip of his cock. Mitchell wiped the drop up
gently and went to the bathroom to clean himself up.

When he returned in a bathrobe, he covered Mrs. Kovak's naked form
with the sheet and blanket, tucking it in around her firmly to help
dry her off a little more. He even got a towel from the bathroom to
dry her hair a little. Then he took her clothes into the kitchen to
hang them up where they could dry.

Jane Kovak tossed and turned, heaved a sigh and coughed a little, but
remained in a deep, deep sleep.



Later, while Mitchell was reading the newspaper, the phone rang. He
rushed into the bedroom to answer it. As he did, Mrs. Kovak
awoke--sluggish at first, holding her head, squeezing her eyes shut
against even the meager light that penetrated the blinds and spilled
in through the bedroom doorway. Her bare back was flushed an even
pink.

"John Mitchell," the detective spoke into the phone.

Mrs. Kovak snapped alert and turned to look at him, one bare breast
jutting proudly out from behind the bedclothes she clutched close to
her. Her eyes were wide and unblinking now, trying to place the face
before her and the name she had heard.

Mitchell ended the call curtly and hung up. He turned to the blonde.
"Don't try to get up too quickly, Mrs. Kovak. You've had a rough day."

"You're the man who's been following me," she said, covering herself
more fully.

"John Mitchell. I'm a private detective. Your husband asked me to keep
an eye on you. And good thing for you I did. You nearly woke up at the
bottom of San Francisco Bay."

"I took some sleeping pills...." Mrs. Kovak confessed, trailing off.
She looked away for a long moment, lost in hazy thought, and let the
bedclothes slip, exposing one pert breast again.

Mitchell pretended to take no notice. "I thought you might sleep
through the night. I'm sorry about the phone."

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About nine o'clock," he replied, picking up a silk robe he had laid
out earlier. "You can put this on for now. Your...clothes are drying
out in the kitchen."

"Thank you," she said numbly.

Just a few moments after Mitchell left her in the bedroom, Jane Kovac
opened the door and stood in the doorway. The red silk hung on her the
way only silk can hang on a woman's curves. Her breasts moved easily
under it, swaying in countermeasure to the sway of her hips as she
strode across the room toward him. The robe fell nearly to her ankles,
she being several inches shorter than he, but the flimsiness of the
fabric allowed it to open revealingly with each step--each step, a
bare white thigh; each turn, a curve of heavy bosom.

She didn't bother to look for her clothes. She seemed comfortable in
the robe, nearly naked, apparently flushed with the thought of the man
before her having stripped her naked while she slept.

Jane curled up on the floor next to his chair and began eating the
soup and sandwich he had prepared. "Thank you for saving my life, John
Mitchell," she said huskily.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Kovak," he replied evenly.

"I don't know what came over me. I've never
been...depressed...before."

"It can happen to anyone, I suppose."

"My husband must think I'm a crazy woman to have hired a detective to
follow me." She gestured a little grandly, and the robe slipped off
her shoulder, revealing the smooth skin. She ignored it.

Mitchell shifted in his chair. "He's just worried, I imagine; just
concerned for you, for your health."

"You mean he's afraid I'm crazy, and I might try to harm myself."

"I didn't say that."

She turned to him, unaware of the deep cleavage the robe revealed.
"You didn't have to."

Jane Kovak ate her sandwich in silence for a few minutes, alternating
with the soup, making small talk about his handiness in the kitchen.
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked apropos of nothing.

"Very much," he said immediately. "You're very beautiful."

"You...didn't find me...nude; did you, Mr. Mitchell?"

"No," he said.

She leaned against him, stroking his thigh lightly. "Did you like
looking at my body? Did you like taking my clothes off?"

He looked down at her beautiful face. Her blonde hair fell around it
in thick locks. Her eyes were large and needy. The loose robe revealed
the full swell of her marvelous breasts. "Yes I did," he said quietly.
His body began to respond involuntarily.

"I want to thank you, Mr. Mitchell," she said, stroking his thigh
closer and closer to his groin. "I want to thank you the best way I
know how." She slipped a hand into his robe and stroked his growing
cock.

He let her, for a moment. "Mrs. Kovak--"

"You've given me another chance at life, Mr. Mitchell," she continued,
stroking Mitchell's firm cock. "I want to live it up." With that, she
took his dick in her mouth and lavished her tongue on it, warm, wet,
and soft.

Mitchell groaned uncontrollably.

"Mmmmm," Jane moaned, humming it against his cock, thrilling him
through his spine. "Ohhhmmmm. Mmmmmooooohhhhmmmm."

"Oh, God," Mitchell gasped. The woman began to suck him, suck the tip
of his dick, tonguing the underside, teasing his balls with her hand.
"Oh. Oh, oh, God," Mitchell groaned.

She pushed the robe off her shoulders, revealing her whole upper body
to him, her heavy breasts, her soft skin. She continued to suck him,
licking her way down his shaft to his balls, sucking them one-by-one,
sucking them together, leaving them wet and dripping with her saliva,
then blowing gently across them to send a chill up Mitchell's spine so
strong he thought he'd come right then.

Jane pulled her leg under her, pushing her robe aside, and sat down on
her heel, working it under her pussy where she could rock on it while
she sucked him off. The beautiful blonde worked her way back up, hands
caressing his body under his robe, lips nibbling on his swollen prick.
Then she engulfed it, took it all in her mouth, taking it as deeply as
she could, but not able to take the full of it down her delicate
throat. Mitchell groaned again, feeling the tightness of her throat on
the tip of his cock, the tightness of her lips near the base, and
devilish, swirling tongue all around it.

She pulled away, jacking his dick in her hands, and looked up past her
long lashes through lust-soaked eyes and breathed urgently, "Come for
me, John. Come on my tongue." Her words shocked him, enflamed him,
nearly drove him mad with lust to satisfy her. She jutted out her
tongue, flicking the underside of his cock, and jacked it hard as the
jism swelled up in his balls and shot out on her eager tongue.

"Nuuuhuugh," he grunted, shooting spurt after spurt on her tongue, her
chin, dripping down on her luscious tits, bouncing as she rocked up
and down.

"Oh!" she squealed, rocking herself on her heel. "Oh! oh! OH! Mmmmmm,"
she moaned, biting her lip in exquisite torture.

"Make love to me, Mr. Mitchell," Jane Kovak said, his jism still
dripping down her chin. "I want to make love. I want a man inside me
now. I want to come."

Mitchell's dick was still hard. She pulled him up and toward the
bedroom, dropping her robe completely and tossing her misbehaving
hair. He thought she would lay back and take him inside her like a
housewife, but she bent over the bed and offered herself to him like
an animal.

"Take me from behind, John. I want it from behind." Her tits swayed
under her. Her eyes were large and unsure. But John Mitchell pressed
against her, pulled her up, kissed her cheek, her neck, held her tits
from behind, rubbing his dick in the crack of her ass. She cooed
softly, pressing back against him, and he gently pressed her down,
raising her sweet, round ass. She spread her legs, and he pressed the
tip of his semi-rigid prick in her pink pussy. It was wet and warm
with lust, ready for him, willing.

He pushed slowly into her, making her groan like a whore. She pushed
back against him, eager for full penetration, and slipped a hand
between her thighs. He drew back and thrust again, deeper, hard. She
grunted, whimpered, urged him on. "God, yes! Oh, God, yes, John! Oh
yes!"

Jane frigged her clit as Mitchell quickened his strokes, pounded flesh
against flesh. Jane's tits swung heavily back and forth in counter
rhythm, until she collapsed on top of them, pretty face mashed into
the bedclothes, frigging her own pussy feverishly as Mitchell banged
it from behind. He huffed and grunted, taking her roughly, loving her
moans and whimpers.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she chanted, surrendering to orgasm at last.
"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't stop! Oh! OH! OHHH!" John didn't stop, he
banged the blonde urgently, unrelentingly, thrilled by her cries of
passion.

Then Mitchell groaned heavily and shot another load out of his aching
balls. His jism flooded Jane's juicy twat and spilled down her slit as
he pulled out.

Jane fell onto the bed exhausted. Mitchell fell beside her, taking her
in his arms. She kissed him warmly, soft lips wandering over his face,
his neck, murmuring her thanks for her total satisfaction.

They slept that way for a little while. When Mitchell awoke, she was
gone. "Thank you, darling John. I'll call you tonight," read a note by
the telephone.



A tall blonde strode into Cobb Kovak's office. "Cobb, you son of a
bitch, I want a divorce." The cool dame in the ice-white dress crossed
the carpet purposefully.

"Hey, baby," Kovak smiled, rising from his desk to meet her.

"What are you going to do about it?" she demanded.

Kovak put his hands on her hips and looked into her eyes. "I gonna
hire a sweet doll to pretend to be you and start keepin' company with
some dope so I can take their picture. Then I'm gonna use them against
you in divorce court."

"You bastard," the blonde smiled. "So where's my money?"

"I've got it right here," he said, pulling a fat envelope out of his
suit jacket pocket. "He's hooked?"

"You bet he's hooked. He'll follow me anywhere now. He's my puppy
dog."

Kovak ran his hands up and down her body, breathing in her perfume.
"You can get him to a place where I can take pictures?"

"All the pictures you want, lover," she sighed, kissing him deeply,
their mouths hungry at the thought of her being fucked by another man
while Kovak watched. Kovak raised her white dress, uncovering her
garters, and squeezed her buttocks. "Mmmm," she cooed. "Is this a
bonus?"

"You bet it is," said Kovak, pulling the dress over her head and
tossing it aside. The cool blonde stood before him, shameless in white
bra and panties, stockings, and white heels, getting hotter by the
second.

"I like a good bonus," she said as he turned her around and set her on
the desk. She put her heels up on the edge of the desk and raised her
rear; he tugged at her panties, pulling down over her hips and
revealing that succulent pussy mound and pouting pink lips. "Oh God,"
she murmured in anticipation.

Kovak kissed her silk-clad thigh, nuzzled it, kissed down further,
down into the golden crevice, while the blonde whimpered and pushed
his head in. "Oh yeah," she breathed as his lips finally made contact
with her moist sex.

"Where are you gonna take Mitchell?" Kovak asked, then dived back in,
lashing the tender flesh with a cruel tongue.

"Oh! Oh!" she gasped. "Somewhere public, where you can watch us. The
beach. I'll take him to the beach. Oh, yeah, Cobb, honey. Yeah!"

Kovak stroked the silk stockings all along the doll's legs. "What're
you gonna do there?" Then he sucked one pussy lip into his mouth.

"OH! Oh, God, Cobb, yeah!" the blonde gushed. "I'm gonna fuck him! Oh!
I'm gonna fuck his cock so you can take pictures and nail that bitch
wife yours! Now suck it, baby, suck my pussy! Oh yeah!"

Kovak found her pink pussy knob and teased it gently with his tongue.
"OH GODDAMN! Oh yeah, Cobb, honey! That's it! Right there! Nobody eats
pussy like you do, honey! Suck it good! Oh, YEAH!"


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