Chapter 7

"That woman's all over these cases, Lefty. Shit, she knew 'em all, could've been there the night they died, doesn't have an alibi. Migod, surely there's something you can find." John Simms sighed. "I know, Sarge. She looks good for it. But we can't even get the coroner to call it homicide. Cause of death exhaustion. What the fuck is that? No weapon, no motive, nothing."

Most of the heat came from the lawyer a week before. His family had political clout, and wanted action, particularly because of the big gift the guy had made to the Platt woman the day he died. It had been in New Jersey, but he was a New York resident. Jurisdiction was tricky too. The detective Sergeant sighed with frustration. The foreigner didn't seem to have any family they could find here, though nothing had come back from the Indian government.

"Well, stay on it, buddy. I need some movement on this. Interview her again." John felt his stomach jump. He could see her during working hours as well as at night. His prick lurched. As he drove into Manhatten, his mind filled with her beauty, her erotic fevor, the fantastic cums.

Sylvia greeted him at the door. She liked his big, rough clumsiness, the way he enveloped her in his heavy but fit body, and the horse cock that stretched her so delightfully wherever he put it. She was being careful to keep him strong, so he could continue to protect her. She was sure the next incident would make it necessary for her to leave New York. She had already arranged for an agent to begin selling Blanton's apartment the next day.

She wore a white negligee loosely over her abundant voluptuousness. Her body seemed to be getting more stunning with each conquest, as their sacrifices filled her with energy and vitality. Her breasts were larger, but almost impossibly firm. Her waist had narrowed, and her genitals swollen. She knew her legs had lengthened. She had enjoyed a shopping spree yesterday, needing a new wardrobe for her sensuous new body, using a little of the money Edward had brought.

"John dear. What a surprise. Come in." She led him into the living room, where her five new conquests reclined in langorous positions around the room. It wasn't even noon, and she had already climaxed with three of them, the swarthy gangster in his silk robe, the nude dancer with large tits, and the small time boxer with his broken nose. The swinging married couple with delightful variations on sex were entangled with each other on the couch, but looked up expectantly as she walked in. They were all nearly emptied.

The woman breathed "Sylvia, please, take us now. We've been rehearsing." Sylvia smiled, and cooed "Soon, darlings. Soon." She grinned at John. Her body felt so wonderful, the flush of her orgasms still tingling, her anticipation of the evening high. They would all motor down to Atlantic City in the stretch limousine, to the Presidential Suite the gangster had reserved in the Casino, and she would be with Arkan. She thought he might be able to stay a whole day, with this much sustenance.

"Jesus Sylvia." She had added two people since the day before yesterday, and he could see they had enjoyed her unique attention. She giggled at his consternation, knowing he kept wondering how he could deter the inevitable investigation. She floated into his arms, letting him engulf her. Their kiss was passionate, and she felt his mammoth cock rising into her belly. "Mmmmm, darling, is that your gun?" she whispered, then signaled to the writhing couple watching greedily.

Even as he ripped off his clothes, she had the husband on his back on the bed, his wife undulating on his face, and his rigid cock buried in her pussy as she straddled his hips. She gazed fondly at Lefty's gaping, ruddy face, and murmured "In my ass, darling." She bent forward to kiss the slender redhead as he crawled up behind her. He leaned over and licked up and down her butt crack, tasting residue of her cream and other's spunk, wondering in the back of his mind at her sensuality, and the matching willingness he felt to indulge her.

As he forced his huge meat into her bowel, he heard her groan with pleasure. His hands reached around to her tits, so firm and spongy in spite of their size. The woman's hands were there too, and they both fondled the luscious globes as the four of them fucked urgently. Over her shoulder, he could see the wide eyed desire in the pretty woman, as moans of rising sensation filled the bedroom. Her hips were writhing at her husband's face, even as he found himself humping wildly into the brunette's tight but pulsating ass.

He heard the two finish rhapsodically, as Sylvia seemed to go into a euphoric trance, mumbling "Yes, yes, yes my darlings." He could feel the mysterious flow of energy into his lover's body from the two as they slumped dazedly. His fucking of the intestine wrapped around his dong sped to a frenzy, and he felt himself shooting gob after gob deep in her bowel. She reached back for his head, holding it as he came convulsively, and he too felt the draining that came with each orgasm they shared. It made the sensation more thrilling than any he had ever experienced.

She cuddled to him as the couple sprawled on the bed in what seemed to be comatose langour, much like the other three in the living room. They seemed pale and weak. She nestled to him, whispering softly "Oh darling, that was so nice, I love your huge cock, it fills me so nicely. They will all die tonight. You must protect me. Then I will leave, and you must come with me." He stared at her, and as she smiled, he knew he would do as she asked. Anything.

The large suite was garish and well appointed, reds and blacks in what was meant to be a sexy color scheme. There was a mirror over the round bed, and plenty of liquor in the bar beside the living room. The bellboy never saw her, as she came up the second elevator as the gangster sent him away, shaking his head at the lack of luggage by the diverse group. As she swept into the large room, the eager faces that greeted her were already starting to leer with need. "Prepare yourselves, lovers." She dimmed the lights, and posed for them in the center of the room.

Sylvia shed her clothes slowly, with an exotic flair that signalled her enjoyment of her nudity. The enthralled group sighed with each moment, as her opulent body was revealed in sexy splendor. When her breasts lept out of the constraints of the dark jersey sweater she had worn, a low groan echoed in the watchers. When she was finally nude but for black fishnet stockings, her plump, dark thatched pussy seeming to pulse in the low light, little cries of desire sought her attention. "Sylvia, darling, take me first." "What a body." "Lover, lover, oh please."

She raised her arms and arched her tingling flesh to their avid gaze. The trip had meant several hours without orgasm, which was a long time when she was in the throes of climactic orgies the preparation of these tortured souls involved. But knowing that now she would have hours of pleasure filled her with keening want. The gangster was first, as she settled on his cock after touring the room to give a little caress to each sacrifice. When he exploded into her, her evil grin thrilled the onlookers. The married couple began sixty nining slavishly, the boxer plunged his prick between the dancer's boobs, and the gangster groaned as she sucked his energy into her ravening pussy.