Scully Dips His Wick

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Scully Dips His Wick

Scully likes to fuck whores, and he wants to talk about his war medals while he's doing it.

I get a kick out of that, so I went down to the Dolphin because it's the best place for whore shopping. There wasn't much action, just boozy old Moll at the end of the bar with an empty glass and some sailors shooting pool in the back. I sat on a stool and ordered two shots—one for me and the other for Moll. A sailor came out of the men's room, and a smell like piss mixed with diseased gardenia came with him. I drank my shot, and as soon as the Moll downed hers, I went straight up and pitched her.

 "I'll pay you forty bucks to fuck Scully and let me watch." 

She punched me in the solar plexus, and I reeled back with the wind knocked out of me. I held my stomach and called her a cunt when the sailors started punching me. 

I don't go down easy, but a haymaker caught me and sent me crashing to the floor. I was bleeding pretty good from the nose and mouth. I hauled my ass off the floor and spit a piece of bridgework out. The sailors stood back. I guess they figured I'd had enough. It might have been enough for some men—but not for me. I grabbed Moll's twat and offered her eighty. That cheered her but pissed off the sailors. They gave us both the heave-ho out the door. I was missing a tooth. Moll took a stolen bar rag out of her purse and handed it to me, and off we went. 

"You're nothing better than me, just as bad off." I let her know. 

When we got to the docks, we found Scully. His face looked worn and dark in the light. He had his usual yellow slicker on, soiled with gore from his chopped bait. The chum buckets sat in the stern of his cabin cruiser, all spilling over with fish heads with filmy eyes. The stink mixed with Scully's cologne made me wince.

I said, "What's up, Scully?"

"I'm shipping out to feed the sharks, is what,"

I said, "This here is Moll. You've fucked her before. Do it again and tell the Pearl Harbor story while you're fucking."

 A sorry mutt came down the dock, and Scully pitched her a fish head, saying, "That bitch loves a fish head better than sharks do. She's the worst smelling dog I know. And it's a stink that keeps changing. And she's shiftless. But she ain't got mange."

I told Scully to leave off about mange and get to fucking, Moll. Meanwhile, Moll was painting herself a clown-looking mouth with lipstick.

We all went below decks. Moll dropped her britches and got down on all fours. Scully got up behind her and started working his cock in her cooze. He lifted his palms like he was feeling for rain or praising God and rolled his eyes up. That was my queue!

I shouted, "Tell Pearl Harbor, Scully!"

He said, "The bombs started dropping, and it was like the Almighty was crushing volcanos in his fists and hurling down the slag. A wall of fire turned my hair to soot. I stumbled away from the inferno. A bomb punched through the deck before me, and I froze. Black smoke poured out of the hole. I couldn't breathe. More bombs hit; my shipmates screamed with the blasts. A moment later, my ears quit. I was deaf, but the concussions kept coming. Bulkheads tore apart. I took off running. No direction. No reason. A three-hundred-pound hatch blew into the air. It came down in front of me so hard my feet went numb. The ship's bridge took a hit and exploded. An anchor chain tore loose and helicoptered over my head. Fuel washed over the deck, and my feet went out from under me."

"Keep driving that cock home, Scully! What happened next?" I shouted again.

Scully paused to adjust his balls, and then he started up again, poking Moll's pussy.

"I tried getting up, but I kept landing on my ass because of the fuel. It's ridiculous, I know, but I was worrying how foolish I must look going ass over bandboxes on the same spot of the deck. I told God I'd swear off if he let me live. You might think that's funny. Laugh if you want, but I'm talking about death. Hell, I could have already been dead for all I knew. The thing is, my body wouldn't let go. I crawled. Fuel in my eyes, I couldn't see. I grabbed the ship's rail and pulled myself over the side. That's how I escaped that tub. She was a heavy cruiser."

I guess Moll had had enough doggie style. She turned around and started jerking Scully's cock.

He seemed to like that just fine. He smiled at me.

"Well, finish her up, Scully," and he started back in.

"Six months later, I shipped out on a destroyer. A U-boat sent her to the bottom with a single torpedo. Down she went, and back into the water, I went. I was sure the sharks were going to rip me up. Instead, a rescue operation came along. They gave me a medal for bravery. I still don't understand why. I don't expect anything from life, Alfred. Nobody wants to hear my stories but you. I want to say thanks. I want you to know that you're my kind of guy."

Scully shot his load with that, and Moll demanded another twenty bucks for the trouble. And then we all laughed together because it was all a crock of shit.



Submitted: May 25, 2022

© Copyright 2022 Laird. All rights reserved.

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