The Docks

You sit there, cock dripping, doing a quick inventory of all your parts and bits. Physically, you feel great; the receding waves of powerful orgasm, coupled with your Blowjob Heaven constitution, means the crash didn't hurt at all. Emotionally, you feel even better: abusing K.U.N.T.'s delicious mouth was the best thing you've done in this crazy place so far, and forcing Guzzle to watch you do it without giving her any attention of her own made you feel like a god. Sadistic pride balloons in your scrawny chest, and you look around at your conquests.

At your feet, the hologram of Guzzle is glitching feebly, disappearing and reappearing every few seconds, leaving only the opaque throat tube you had so thoroughly wrecked. As you watch, she hiccups, spilling your seed down her front, before the image shorts out, leaving a spunk-filled tube atop a coil of limp cable. Your partner's smeared sunglasses and police hat lay discarded to one side.

Speaking of your partner, you look over to the dazed slut, and laugh. She's still shifting in her seat, moaning slightly, though it looks like her movements are hampered by something. The sound of the mechanics in her seat are tired and droning at this point.

"Help me out here," she mumbles, trying to lift herself up. She manages a half rise, but then falls back, exhausted. "I'm stuck."

"Pfft, that's what you get for being a whore," you snort, watching her tits jiggle as she tries to move again. You would think, if you had more than two brain cells to think with, that after blowing a load like that, you wouldn't be game for any more sexcapades for a little while at least. But watching her squirm, seeing the way her tight, stripper body roils and bounces, you feel your cock begin to harden again.

"Let me show you what else you get for being a whore..." you mutter, reaching out for her hair, wondering if the real Guzzle's mouth can possibly compete with the madness of Cop-K.U.N.T.'s hole.

A sudden loud rapping next to your ear startles you, and you let out a high-pitched scream as you whip around, bringing your hands up in a kung-fu karate choppy choppy stance. You see a figure, dimly obscured by the reflection of the dash lights, standing at your window. They wave, and you hear, "Oo...awight?"

You glance around, and push the button for the automatic windows (making damn sure you don't touch any other dials, knobs or switches around it), and wait as the glass lowers with a mechanical groan.

"Hi! Are you alright?"

It's a girl.

It's a very pretty girl.

It's a very stacked girl.

Your jaw drops open as you take her in. She looks like she's some kind of Asian descent, dark almond shaped eyes watching you with concern as she leans forward. But the rest of her looks like a cake exploded. Her hair is wild: violet, blue and pink streaks, swirling into two messy pigtails, held up by what look like flower scrunchies. Her top is a black and pink cut off, with a heart-shaped cutout framing her truly massive rack. You drool and try to mutter out a response, your hands slowly reaching out for your new toys.

"Well...I'm...they're...holy...shit."

"Oh no! Here, let me help!"

She scrambles forward, bouncing deliciously, and opens your door. You're met with a glimpse of her lower half (a strip of thick, tight stomach exposed, pale pink skirt held up by black suspenders, a delicate lace garter adorning one leg, and hot pink stockings) before she leans over your lap, and reaches for your seatbelt.

You stare, wide-eyed, as her perfect covered tits lightly brush against your painfully erect penis, the girl blissfully unaware as she unclips your belt for you.

"There!" she cries triumphantly, standing back up with a smile. "Now you're free! You're welcome!" she strikes a pose, raising two fingers sideways, and throwing you a winking pout between them. You notice she has a pink and white jacket around her elbows, and wonder -

"What the hell storybook did you fall out of, Sprinkles?"

"I didn't fall out of a storybook," she giggles, spinning and kicking out a leg. She turns back to you, head cocked, and grins. "I'm part of the Chupar Familia!"

You stare back, nonplussed.

"Pikachupa...Familiglia?"

She shakes her head and giggles again. "No, silly! The Chupar Familia!" She turns her shoulder to you, and you see a block letter CF tattooed there, with flowers adorning the letters. You nod sagely.

"Ah, the Chalupa Family-log, right. Hey, nice tits!"

Smooth, bruh.

"Aww, thanks!" she says, blushing and putting her hands behind her back, thrusting her chest forward. You grin and start to swing your legs out of the car, but Guzzle's voice cracks into your bony back.

"The Chupar Familia?! That's a gang, idiot, we gotta question her!" She still sounds a little cock-drunk, but the urgency in her voice reminds you that you are technically on a mission to catch a rogue facefucker.

Sprinkles gasps and smacks her forehead. "Oh, that's riiiight, I'm not supposed to blab about the Familia!" she groans, burying her face in her hands. You notice she has very elaborate painted nails, what looks like tiny stars on a deep blue background. Suddenly she raises her head and smiles.

"Oh well, it happens! Hey, I'm actually on my way to meet my sister, she's a higher up in the Familia! You want to come with?"