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.

 

(M-voy, FM, MF)

By: Punchinello for Pulp Erotica

 

Los Angeles, 1956

John Mitchell watched his subject pull to a stop and step out of the creamy yellow sedan. She wore a cool white dress that ended just below the knee, white heels, and a white silk scarf that fluttered wildly in the stiff wind off the 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 thru the sky over the 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 white 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 blond, fair, and feminine, with full lips and a delicate little bosom. Her breasts poked at the front of the little white dress as 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 25, her husband had told him, but she looked younger still. Even tho 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 expensive sedan 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 car. 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 pointed leather heels 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 small breasts, which jiggled lewdly in their flimsy lace cups. He unbuttoned it all the way down her flat belly before pushing it off her creamy shoulders. Then he tugged the white 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 yellow panties and 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 little breasts swung free and jutted out proudly at Mitchell. The nipples were small and stiff. He laid her back down and watched her tits stand out and sway 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 thru 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 thru 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 blond. “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 thru 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 blond 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 thru 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 pointed 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 blond 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 thru 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 blond 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 blond 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 blond 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 blond 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 blond 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 blond 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!”