Magnum Dong P I Vol 4 Pt 02

This is part 2, of a dirty story about cheating trophy wives.

Part 1, being the set up, and introduction to private investigator Magnum Dong. This story's about a young man, who comes home from college during winter break, and finds a porno magazine while snooping around in his mother's bedroom for batteries. Chapter 5, starts off with the young man flipping through pages, and reading another exciting adventure of Magnum Dong P.I.

Read tags, for further information on sexual content.

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Chapter 5. God Save the Queen

Flipping the page. The following story titled "Smarty Pants." Starring: Leggy Lexi Ledger. Would go much the same as the one with Mrs. Huxley.

The differences being, a sexy long legged librarian, with blonde hair in a tight bun and bangs coming down the sides of her face. Wearing thick black framed glasses, that fogged up when she's munching the warm lunch boxes of female college students. Often seducing the young women in a private study room, with an imprompitu poetry reading of the "Book of Disquiet," by Fernando Pessoa.

Magnum Dong, in his van, listening to the recorded audio of a raspy voice Mrs. Ledger. As she sits around conversing with 5 other white colleagues in a crowded smoke filled bar & grill off campus. Beers, cocktails, and margaritas taking up space on their table. While a mariachi band plays live, with the occasional plate and glass breaking in the background.

"Listen, listen to me. Are you listening? I'm telling you, United States will always be on the white side of history. Especially when it comes to apartheid South Africa. Leave it to the pinko Soviet Union, to be on the side against apartheid." Mrs. Ledger, turning her head in circles. "Now where's our Mexican jumping bean with the side table guacamole? Hey bartender, order us another round of tequila shots."

"Lexi, it's called progress," a female professor said. "Culture and social structures are always changing. If not, we'd still be living under segregation, women wouldn't be able to vote, and abortion wouldn't be legal."

"Segregation... really. If redlining, didn't hold back the dark hordes, those people would be drowning in our public pools." Mrs. Ledger, squinting at the approaching petite 19 year old waitress pushing the side table guacamole. "Where in hell did you get the avocados, Tijuana?"

"I'm sorry," the Latina waitress said, with eyeballs jumping around the table. "Kitchen is short staffed and they needed--"

"listen to me, I don't care. Next time bring me my guacamole first before going down on the pig in the chef's hat." Mrs. Ledger, glaring up at her.

The waitress nodding her head. Turns away in 3 inch black heels, with every step tapping on the tile. White fishnet stockings contrasting against her bronze skin. Her curvy hips in a black pleated mini skirt swaying from left to right. Ringing dinner bells in Mrs. Ledger's head.

The bar maid, with serving tray in her hand approaches. Placing on their table several tequila shots, with salt and lime hanging off the edges.

"Here's to you, doll face," a man in their party said. Handing over a wad of cash to the attractive female server. "And sweetheart, this 7-year-old spit is killing me. Next time, bring us the 18-year-old tequila, the bartender likes to hide for himself. And keep'em coming."

"Excuse me Miss, I'd like another margarita on the rocks please," a squeaky female voice said.

"Cheers," they all shout, with small glasses clinking together. Throwing back their shots and biting into salted limes. Smiling sour faces, passing the large bowl around digging out dollops of side table guacamole on to their small plates. Devouring the dip one scoop at a time.

With the mariachi band on break. A customer drops quarters into the jukebox. Selecting "Sympathy for the Devil."

"Please allow me to introduce myself.

I'm a man of wealth and taste.

I've been around for a long, long year.

Stole many a man's soul and faith.

And I was 'round when Jesus Christ.

Had his moment of doubt and pain.

Made damn sure that Pilate.

Washed his hands and sealed his fate.

Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name"... Song by the Rolling Stones.

Mrs. Ledger, tapping the tip of a slim menthol coffin nail against the gold cigarette case it came in. Sparking a flame between her long pink fingernails. She takes a drag crackling tobacco and paper, with glossy pink puckered lips exhaling smoke rings. Legs crossed, leaning back on her chair.

Her pinpoint pupils floating in a sea of tropical blue, with long eyelashes and smokey black eyeshadow lowered to open slits. Zeroing in on the waitresses liberated perky b cups under a gold and black pinstripe blouse. Rosa, on the name tag over her lapel.

Taking another drag, from the lipstick stained butt. The crackling cherry glowing bright red and flicking ash on the floor. Her other hand scooping guacamole with a tortilla chip. Tossing the appetizer into her mouth, teeth mashing the flavors together, sending her lips smacking from the salt. Mrs. Ledger's glossy pink lips growing into a grin.

"Seriously Lexi, what the fuck," a male professor said, named Ben. "It's only guacamole."

"It's only guacamole now. You give them an inch and they'll take over the whole goddamn country." Blowing smoke, pointing to the Mexican flag hanging above the bar. "Seriously Ben, sometimes I don't know whose side you're on. Do really want to give California back?"

The bar maid, removing the small emptied glasses, with more tequila shots knocking on wood as she places them around table.

"What side I'm on?" Ben said. Shrugging his shoulders and laughing. "You've been riding this poor girl all night. I can hear the small rodent scratching in your head to turn the wheels. What do you say, to leaving this little fish alone to swim in the pond, while you sink your line and hook in the ocean for bigger game."

"Are you kidding. Spare the boring lectures, of overused cliches for your class." Rolling her eyes. "See how she walked away from the table with her head down about to cry. I've been working on this little border hopper for weeks. I'll have her, the same way I have this next shot."

Throwing back the glass, swishing tequila around in her mouth, gargling, and swallowing in one gulp. Not bothering to chase it with the salted lime. The shot glass knocking on wood.

"Mmm, I bet she's goes down even better, than 18-year-old tequila," Mrs. Ledger said.

The waitress, not making eye contact. Places several hot plates around the table, with everyone immediately digging into their food orders. Mrs. Ledger, tapping the bowl of guacamole with her right index fingernail.

Rosa, grabbing emptied glasses and dirty dishes on to the side table cart. Before rushing to the kitchen, only to return minutes later with a fresh bowl of guacamole.

"Listen, are you listening?" Mashing guacamole scooped tortilla chips between her teeth. "Another thing about the Soviet Union, if they were losing the war against Nazi Germany, United States would have ended up on the white side of history. Why do you think we dragged are feet when starting the second front. Finland, would have been in control of St. Petersburg. And the Queen of England, would have been gargling Goebbels ball sack."

Party goers roaring in laughter, with a professor using his fist as a mallet hitting the table. Sending forks, knives, and condiments rattling in place.

The bar maid, circles the table with another round. Tequila shots being thrown back into open mouths. Sour faces biting into salted limes. Emptied glasses knocking on wood.

Knowing Magnum Dong's love for all things dainty, fancy, and British. He had enough listening for one day.

"Gargling Goebbels ball sack," he said, thinking out loud. "How dare she. The iron clamp between this diabolical witches legs must be unbearable."

Placed on a small makeshift table. Photographic evidence piled together of the 37-year-old married librarian, with her nose buried reading volumes of co-ed bush in the school library. Aong with the cute apple bottom waitress, getting one hell of a spiral ribbed tip inside the back of Mrs. Ledger's brown and white Ford Bronco. The cargo compartment, decked out with a brown shag carpet and a large mirror anchored to the ceiling.

A streak of light cracks the night's sky, as raindrops collect on the outside windows. Rosa's white thong hanging off the rearview mirror, with clothes piled on the dashboard. Dressed in only white fishnet stockings, a black spike dog collar, and an upside down bowl placed on her head with guacamole soaking in the girl's hair. As she's on all fours, with her ass in the air. Taking the pink girthy strap-on from behind, with a terrified expression similar to a person bracing themselves right before a car crash.

Mrs. Ledger grinning, clenching the end of the dog leash between her teeth. While jamming two fingers knuckles deep inside the Latina girl's anus. As she attempts to drill through her cervix with every thrust. The black leather dildo harness being Mrs. Ledger's only article of clothing.

Audio recorded evidence captured heavy breathing, roars from lightning strikes, and rain pelting the vehicle. "Evil Woman," by E.L.O. plays in the background. Mrs. Ledger, tapping cheeks, the way one claps the bottom of a glass ketchup bottle. Her bell shaped jugs, jiggle with every bump generated from smashing into Rosa.

"Smack," from a hand slapping against apple bottom cheeks.

"Ahh, no Mrs. Ledger," she said, in a heavy accent. "Stop going so deep."

The dildo, held in place deep inside the girl's pink furry puffy taco, with Mrs Ledger's lap smushed against Rosa's bottom. Mrs. Ledger, on one knee, lifts her right leg over the girl's glowing back, pressing the ball of her foot down on top of the bowl until the dog leash stretches tight with the collar pulling on the girl's throat.

Rosa's nose and mouth, buried in long carpet fibers, similar to a cow grazing in green pastures. As she begins trembling, gasping for air, with her eyes glowing bloodshot red. Before grabbing the leash with her right hand, and yanking it out from between Mrs. Ledger's clinched teeth.

"What the fuck, you crazy bitch." Rosa, coughing uncontrollably.

"Crazy bitch? I'm not the little slut in heat wearing the dog collar." Lifting her foot off the bowl, and pulling the dildo out the girl's wet vaginal lips. "If you are going to be a big baby about it, you can take off the dog collar. Now help me forget how mad you made me tonight, and bring your cute face over here."

"Yes ma'am," Rosa said, in a quiet voice. The dog collar, leaving a red mark across the girl's throat.

A belts unbuckles with velcro being pulled apart. "Thump," from the dildo hitting the vehicle's carpeted floor.

"You bring the demon out of me. If I decide, to have you again... don't suck off any more boys. I hate it when my little girl's smooches taste like dick." Mrs. Ledger, on her back, twisting her nipples, and biting her bottom lip. "Oh, yeeess. Love a girl not afraid to get her nails dirty. Keep sliding your finger in my ass. Yes, yes, yes, that's it. Don't stop licking up my clit. Rosa, you really are one of the good ones. Almost feel guilty for having your dad deported."

"What?" Popping her head up from between Mrs. Ledger's thighs, with jaw dropped and eyes wide.

"Listen to me." Glaring at the girl with disgust. "Best to remove the stupid look off your face. Your lucky, I don't have you deported. And take off that dunce hat, you look like a Vietnamese guerilla hiding in blonde bush."

Rosa, removing the ceramic bowl from her head, before dropping it to the floor making a loud "Thump."

Mrs. Ledger, grabs the pink dildo she used to screw the 19-year-old girl's brains out. And begins washing the sex toy with her tongue. Licking the dildo and making yummy sounds, as if enjoying a pussy flavored popsicle. After hocking up a loogie and repeatedly spitting on the sex toy, she hands the mucus glazed dildo to Rosa.

"Here, sticking this up your ass." Rolling her eyes. "Don't just look at it you dumb bitch. Stick it in. I already lubricated it for you."

Rosa, with the tip of the sex toy pressed against her anus, applying pressure, as the pink dildo slowly stretches her brown rim.

"Oh-shit. Aye-no, mmm, mmm!" Holding her breath seconds at a time.

"Unless you want me to do it. I suggest you hurry up and shove it in already."

"Aye no. Mmmm, aye, aye, aye."

"Okay, it's deep enough. Now face plant yourself back in the gutter and eat me."

Whimpering, sniffing short breaths. Smacking lips, with tongue mopping clitoris, her nose brushing against blonde bush.

A light flashes in the sky. "Boom," with a crackling roar. Rattling the Ford Bronco's door windows. Fog forming on the glass.

The waitress trimbles. Her face lowered licking rim. Back arched and butt wiggling in the air.

Mrs. Ledger, grinning at her ribbed pink toy flagpole planted in the girls ass. As she diddles her clit, breathing short breaths, and shifting her head side to side.

"Okay Rosa, move your face higher," she said, in a soft voice. "That's it honey, come a little closer. Now open wide and stick your tongue out."

Feet planted on the floor, knees bent, and lower back arched upward. Lifting her butt off the ground with Rosa's face inches from her crotch.

"That's it. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yeeeeeeessssssss!" Liquid erupting in bursts, from fingering herself with her palm clapping against clit. Droplets pelting Rosa's face.

Mrs. Ledger left trembling. Breathing deep, calming down to the tapping of rain against the roof. Exhausted, she continues to lay on her back, grinning at the waitress.

Rosa, pulling out the pink dildo. "Thump," goes the toy hitting floor. Sitting on her back legs. Face wet, jaw dropped, with eyes drawn down at the woman who popped her cherry.

Mrs. Ledger's right foot combing out guacamole from the girls hair. Before wiggling manicured pink toenails, inches away from the waitresses lips.

"Well honey, they're not going to lick themselves clean." Smiling, sparking a flame between her fingers. Igniting the tip, as she takes a drag from the crackling rolled up joint. Placing her right hand behind her head, as she blows smoke rings from glossy pink puckered lips.

"That's it, start with the big one. This little piggy went to market. This Little piggy ran home. And this little piggy hopped the border, instead of staying in Mexico."

Smacking lips, with tongue wiggling between toes. Watery eyes streaming down Rosa's face.

The musky air, hot boxed into a fish market inside a sweaty gym locker room. Three flashes of light outside. Rain continuing to pelt the vehicle.

Between the smoky haze and fogged up windows. Leaving only the cherry from the marijuana cigarette visible. As the smoldering red dot floats across the vehicle glowing brighter and dissipating. Followed by the waitress coughing.

"Knock, knock, knock," coming from the front passenger side window. "Hello," a man's voice said.

"Hey Ben, will you give us a minute?" Mrs. Ledger said. "You horny old bastard."

The tipsy professor, with three years until eligible for retirement. Who earlier lectured Mrs. Ledger, to fish in deeper water. Stands in a puddle outside the vehicle under an umbrella.

The overweight man, with a bad dye job and thinning hair combed over a bald cul-de-sac. Wearing a blue and white polyester Hawaiian shirt, with the top buttons undone. His gold crucifix pendant attached to a gold chain necklace, cocooned in long strands of white cotton candy chest hair, resembling a fly trapped in cobwebs. Along with gray bell bottom slacks and white pointy wing tip shoes.

Back passenger side door opens and slams shut. Mrs. Ledger red-eyed with glossy skin. Stands out of the rain under his umbrella in a gray skirt and red blouse. Top buttons unfastened showing off cleavage. Hair pulled back in a ponytail with bangs coming down the sides of her face.

"If you waited another 10 more minutes, there'd be nothing left." Lighting a cigarette and looking around the long alley.

"How the hell, did you convince her to leave with you?" he said, slurring his words.

"Told her, I had a friend working at immigration who can help with getting a green card," she whispered grinning. "By the way, you stink of barf and hard liquor. What's that cologne you're wearing?"

"It's Ole English Leather. My wife got it for me on our anniversary. Don't know if I feel right about this." He whispers, "You are going to get her a green card, right?"

"This from a man, who's been sleeping with his female students for an easy A." Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, flicking the lit menthol out into a puddle. "Don't care if you decide to grow a conscience. Long as you pay my bar tab she's all yours. I'm heading across the street for some coffee and cherry pie. When you're done with my sloppy seconds, bring my Bronco over to the diner."

Placing the gold cigarette case back in her black purse. Umbrella in hand. Walking between two buildings with the wet road glittery from yellow lamps mounted over side entrances. Passing dumpsters, and noticing a homeless man quietly talking to himself. As he sat inside a makeshift shelter the size of a doghouse. The structure made from wooden pallets, cardboard, and several aluminum trash can lids for a roof.

"They're using one and two worded triggers, to keep me responding on a loop," the homeless man said. "It's a psychological whip to break the human spirit. With multiple voices, going from positive to negative. Longer a person runs the loop. The crazier they get. Ha-ha-ha, the crazier they get. Up and down. Round and round. Up and down..."

"Not this shit again," saying under her breath. Mrs. Ledger, stops to look side-eyed at the homeless man's black face barely visible underneath the dark shadow casted over him. Rain bending the structures cardboard out of shape.

He pops his head out from the shelter greeting her with a smile. His yellow safari hat, collecting puddles on the brim with raindrops dripping off the edges.

"Freak," she said. Stepping back laughing with right hand over her heart. "Take your medication and shut the fuck up."

"Don't you get it," the homeless man said, with his voice raised. "Soon, everyone will be a voice activated ventriloquist dummy. At first they'll think there mind readers. Receiving spiritual divine intervention. But the moment they ask, 'Why only languages I know and selected opinions project into my head?' Out comes the triggers and flesh puppets, to run that fucker on a loop. It's the invisible war, of who will win dominance inside your own head."

"Who cares." Mrs. Ledger, stepping away brandishing her left middle finger. Hips swaying, with every stride of her black knee high stiletto boots knocking on the road. Rain pelting and dripping off the umbrella held in her right hand.

"Don't you understand. The person either stops thinking for themselves or start screaming on a street corner with the rest of us schizophrenics. Got to keep the animals in their mental cages. Impair the judgment and control the narrative. Manufacturing consent on steroids!"

"Suck lithium, you fucking burden." Mrs. Ledger, exiting out the alley to her right. "Every god damn time."

"You think I'm crazy, bitch?" The homeless man standing outside his shelter in yellow rubber boots, tan cargo shorts, and yellow rain poncho. "I've heard the accusation before. And I ain't gonna take any more. Believe me. I am the eye in the sky. Looking at you. I am the maker of rules. Dealing with fools. I will cheat you blind.

Do you hear me, bitch!" Stomping in circles from puddle to puddle repeating on a loop. "I can read your mind! I can read your mind! I can read your mind!!!" The homeless man shouting song lyrics, from "Eye in the Sky," by The Alan Parsons Project.