Scooby Doo Porn Story: DAPHNE VELMA 2

“Man, I’ve got my eye on that take-out from Tito’s Tacoteria on the table. I can practically smell the frijoles!” exclaimed Shaggy. He flipped on a camera and zoomed in on the food containers. 

Daphne and Velma fell back on the bed. Still kissing, Velma slid her hand over Daphne’s stomach to trace circles with her red-tipped fingernail around Daphne’s belly button. We could see Daphne’s stomach muscle tighten and relax as Velma made the lazy circuit. “Oh Velma, the place you’re touching gives me the goosebumps,” she gasped.

“We can’t let them do that!” said Shaggy. “It must be against the law or something, or at least departmental regulations.”

“Two consenting adults, shift’s over, I don’t see any infractions, Officer Shaggy,” I said in my best police captain voice. 

“‘If rove is a crime, then I plead guilty’,” yelped Scooby.

“Huh? What’s that, Scoob?” I asked. He rarely had such sophisticated thoughts on his mind, although, come to think of it, neither did Shaggy.

“Ralvin Klein’s Obsession ad, you dunce,” he replied. His articulation was improving, I noted.

“Cool it and let’s see what happens,” I said. “Or you can take a hike.”

“Not ’til I know what happens to all that Mexican food.”

We didn’t have to wait long. While Velma made ever-widening circles on Daphne’s stomach, Daphne unknotted Velma’s cowboy shirt. She unsnapped the few remaining buttons and the shirt fell open around Velma’s breasts, which more than ever reminded me of fresh-from-the-field cantaloupes.

“Jeepers, you’ve got pretty boobs, Velma!” exclaimed Daphne, breaking the kiss and propping herself up on one elbow. “Girlfriend, it’s time you stop wearing those thick orange turtlenecks. Save those for your Princeton reunions. They don’t do a thing for your figure. Your boobs look so yummy I’ve got to have a taste right this minute.” Daphne leaned over and lightly kissed the hardening nipple.

“That was a nice little Scooby snack. May I have another?” asked Daphne in a teasing tone.

“Fill yourself up, you starving little minx,” said Velma, grabbing Daphne’s head and guiding it to her breasts. While she sucked she moved a hand up to remove Velma’s black plastic glasses. As her head pushed towards Daphne’s mouth, Velma’s glasses went askew. 

“Allow me to make you more naked,” whispered Daphne, removing the glasses and putting them on the nightstand. 

“But my glasses – I can’t see anything without my glasses,” protested Velma weakly.

“Oh, Velma, anything (lick) you want to see will be (slurp) right in front of your (nibble) nose before long,” said Daphne as she moved her head from breast to breast. 

“God that feels so good,” moaned Velma. “I never knew how great it would feel to be with you. I’ve wondered, you know.”

“I have too, ever since we were teenage crime fighters. I always wanted to put the moves on you but there was always another ghost or werewolf or alien zombie mystery to clear up and they kept screwing up my plans.”

“I’m so glad we finally joined a real police force and can carry guns and arrest people and read Miranda rights,” said Velma. Her hand encircled a breast while the other caressed the back of Daphne’s head. “You know what would get me even more turned on? Could you smear guacamole on my nipples then lick them clean?”

“What a fabulous idea! I’d love to.” Daphne reached to a small container, popped the plastic lid, then scooped some guacamole with her fingers. With a look of concentration she dabbed it on Velma’s hard, brown right nipple. We saw her hips, still in the cut-off blue jeans, squirm.

“Ahhh, it’s so cool and refreshing, just like a spa treatment,” said Velma.

As Daphne began licking, she reached down to unbutton and unzip the jeans. Before long the jeans and panties were down around Velma’s shiny pink boots. 

The girls’ erotic heat was literally fogging the camera lens. No, actually Shaggy’s heavy breathing was fogging the monitor. “Man, I can’t stand this any more,” he panted. “I can’t believe what those girls are doing. I gotta get out of here.”

“You gonna go jack off in the Denny’s restroom?” I asked – not a bad idea.

“Hell no, that’d get ME arrested. Nope, Scooby and I are going to get some snacks. I’m gonna faint if I don’t get something to eat. Come on, Scoob!”

“Ruck no, I’m staying right rere,” snarled Scooby. 

“Fine, I’ll bring you some Scooby snacks – maybe,” yelled Shaggy over his shoulder as he bolted from the Mystery Machine. I took over the controls while Scooby curled up in the other chair, watching – if not understanding – the sight. And what a sight. Tall and short, white and tannish, long blonde hair and short brown hair – but 100 percent pure sex appeal. By the time Daphne had the guacamole licked off Velma’s nipples she had also palmed Velma’s cunt with her right hand, pressing her palm against Velma’s clit, easing her cunt lips open with her fingers. Velma was bouncing up and down on the bed so much that Daphne barely kept her lips and fingers engaged at the same time. 

Just as the last green bits of guacamole vanished, Velma’s breathing got quicker. “Finger me hard, Daphne,” she said.

So Daphne did, Velma’s legs sprawled wide with the cutoffs and orange and black panties swinging from one ankle. Suddenly Velma wrapped one arm around Daphne’s head and pressed her other against Daphne’s hand covering her cunt. “Now, please!” she gasped and bucked back and forth. I zoomed Camera One onto Velma’s face as she came. Her nose scrunched up adorably, while sweat plastered her brown hair around her face. “Camera Two,” I murmured out loud, snapping to a view of Velma’s crotch gyrating under the two hands. Once Velma passed the first yelping bouncing waves of orgasms she came a couple more times, and I loved the way Daphne guided Velma gradually up and down, using her hand like a pilot would, shifting the cunt-lip ailerons – and aren’t cunt lips just like an airplane’s flaps? – to guide Velma from the stratosphere down to a smooth landing on earth.

I leaned back on my chair. This was intense, and I sensed they had just started. I checked my watch. They had 15 minutes until they were supposed to be back to the Mystery Machine. Should I call them? I decided to wait.

For a minute Velma and Daphne lay panting, Daphne still cupping Velma’s cunt. I could see the wet, curling hair sprouting from between their intertwined fingers. Daphne pulled her Velma’s earlobe.

“Well, now I know,” said Velma.

“Know what?”

“What it’d be like to fuck you. The closest we ever got before — can you remember?”

“The shower room at the academy?”

“Hmm, close. That’s when we got to check each other out. But real contact, that came during training. It happened during physical training, when Fred taught that class on how to subdue a perp,” recalled Velma. “Remember? We were partners, learning how to break holds and do takedowns. The first time I broke your chokehold and tossed you down and sat on your back to put the cuffs on you, well, I creamed in my pants. The rush totally too me off guard. My panties were soaked. Now you know.” I could see Velma blush through her freckles.

“Sweetie!” Daphne replied, stroking, Velma’s hair. “I never knew! I thought that was really sexy too, the way you just, well, took me.”

“Like you just did to me?”

“Yeah!”

“Tell me how you like this.” With a lynx-like quickness Velma sat up, grabbed her glasses from the side table, flipped Daphne onto her stomach, pulled off her white pedal pushers, untied the neck of the halter, and sat on Daphne’s thighs. “Ohh,” said a surprised Daphne. “This is a new kind of takedown move.”

Velma leaned down. Brushing Daphne’s hair to the side, she kissed Daphne neck while she held her shoulders. “I like to think of it as a cumdown. You’ll see, Daphne. I mean that literally. Stay right there.” Velma jumped up and disappeared from the frame of the video. In 20 seconds she returned with the large wall mirror from the bathroom. With Daphne still on her stomach, Velma propped the mirror in front of Daphne’s face leaning against the headboard. 

“Now you just stay nice and wet and keep your eyes on the mirror, OK?” asked Velma; she spread Daphne’s thighs and sat between them, her bare cunt rubbing against Daphne’s wet white panties. Daphne thrust back to rub against her. 

“I’m putty in your hands,” promised Daphne, resting her head on her crossed arms. The big mirror gave her a perfect rear view, so she could see Velma hovering over her. 

Velma rubbed the back of her hand against Daphne’s cunt through the panties, then raised her fingers to her nose. “Ummmm-mmm, there’s a lot more than putty on my hands. Smell.” She put her hand in front of Daphne’s face. 

“Don’t stop now,” she whimpered, wriggling her ass back so it touched Velma. 

“Who said anything about stopping?” asked Velma. “Your back and ass are so sexy, but they look a little dry. Let’s see, how can I make you a little wetter? Oh, I know,” she said, reaching toward the night stand for the bottle of Mezcal de Oaxaca, still two-thirds full with the reddish worm bobbing sleepily at the bottom. “A jigger of mezcal baby oil should do the trick.”

First Velma pulled off the halter, then she tipped the bottle so a few dribbles, then a stream, drizzled on to Daphne’s back, from the neck down her spine to her tailbone. Putting the bottle on the night stand, she smoothed the mescal across the back, ribs, right down to where the pantyline – but no further. 

“Oh my God, did you learn massage in the academy? That feels fantastic,” groaned Daphne. Her blonde hair was pulled over to the side so, from the camera, I had a fine view of her neck and shoulders, which positively glowed under Velma’s touch. 

“I’ve been practicing on Shaggy.”

“Gross!”

“I’m kidding.”

“That’s a relief. He didn’t seem your type.”

“What is my type?”

Fred, yes? Sturdy, hung-like-a-burro Fred? I was started to feel a little left out of the party.

“Fred.” I couldn’t believe it! She thought I was Velma’s type!

“Now you’re kidding me.”

“Yeah, I am.” Daphne’s eyes flickered in the mirror. She looked at Velma’s face floating over her shoulder. “For the moment, Velma my dear, you’re my type.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” 

Velma, sitting between Daphne’s thighs, pushed down on the dents beside Daphne’s tailbone with her knuckles, rotating her fists in unison. 

“Hmmm, you’re making me make a puddle in the bed. The aroma must be going all the way back to the Mystery Machine. Not that it could penetrate the smell of junk food.”

I took a whiff. Daphne was right. The Mystery Machine smelled like the place where junk food goes to die. The smells of burgers, chicken, Mexican food, greasy French fries and spilled soft drinks all slopped together in one rank odor. I jotted a note to schedule a cleaning at the departmental garage, just in case Daphne and Velma wafted some more eau de twat my way.

“You know, Daph, you drove me so crazy with the guacamole I think it’s only fair to return the favor.”

“Sure, just don’t put guacamole on my ass.”

“Right place, wrong food. Wait and see.” Velma scooted back a bit to ease Daphne’s panties down to knee level. Then she picked up the mezcal bottle, took a little swig, and poured some directly down the crack of Daphne’s spread-open ass. I zoomed the camera in; she twitched from side to side as the liquid flowed languidly downward. Her asshole cupped a few drops, the rest drifted and disappeared into her cunt. I flipped the camera up and down, just enrapturated – is that a word? – by the vision of moist, squirming, moaning Daphne. If those girls ever decided to start hooking for real, they’d make a fucking fortune, or maybe a fortune fucking. 

“Now this is what I call a Scooby snack,” Velma said playfully. “I’m hungry all of a sudden.” 

Daphne pushed her ass up and back, frantic for some no-nonsense fucking at this point. Velma slid down, grabbing Daphne’s hips while planting a big, wet tongue lick on Daphne’s tailbone. Daphne reached back, putting her hands on Velma’s and pulling her ass and cunt lips open. “Oh, Velma, keep going, I can’t stand it,” she said.

I was riveted, but Scooby had curled up on the floor, nosing a huge bag of corn chips. His crunching dueled with the popping kissing sounds pouring through the speakers. I flipped from camera to camera. Every angle was a treat: Daphne opening herself like a gift box for Velma’s tongue and fingers; Velma’s fogged-up glasses, coated with Daphne’s cunt juices; Daphne’s twat and asshole pulsing like – what? – flowers, supernovas, portals to another dimension? Hell if I know – I majored in business, not philosophy. I just liked what I saw.

As did Velma. By now she wore just those cowboys boots. She had grabbed Daphne’s hips hard, like was ready to bulldog her in a rodeo, but instead of throwing a lariat she threw her face right into Daphne’s rear, kissing, licking, slowing down to slide two fingers into Daphne’s cunt. I tried to zoom in, but when I got too close everything became indistinct, one big image of hair, flesh, holes and fingers swirling together and apart. I pulled back in time to see Velma lean back and take a deep breath, like an artist admiring her work in progress.

“Pretty,” she panted. “Very, very pretty. How you doing down there?”

“Mmm,” gasped Daphne, her face and chest on the bed with her ass still high in the air. “Can’t talk. Too (pant-pant) turned on. Fuck me just a little more, OK?”

“All righty. I’m gonna get you over the top. Hold on to your g-spot, mi chula.” Velma pushed forward on the top of Daphne’s ass crack, pulling the flesh tight. With her other hand she slid her middle and index fingers in and out of Daphne’s cunt, slowly.

“There, I bet that feels nice. Such a pretty pussy,” teased Velma. “Not too fast, no rush, don’t want any premature something or other.”

“It’s mature, it’s mature, Jesus, you’re driving me nuts, Velma,” cried Daphne.

“Really? How ’bout this?” In a flash Velma licked her other thumb, and then pressed it flat against Daphne’s throbbing asshole. “Now I’ve got you covered.” Velma kept the same steady, unrelenting pace, in with the fingers, then firmly press with the thumb, again and again and again while she bent over and kissed Daphne’s hands and ass cheeks.

“Mmm,” moaned Daphne. She caught her breath, panted, and then looked in the mirror. “Oh, Velma, look in the mirror while I’m coming,” she said. As Velma raised her head their eyes locked. Even as Daphne bit her lower lip and held her breath, Velma’s eyes went wide and she bucked her hips forward. Funny thing, MY hips started shakin’ a little, too.

“LookatmelookatmelookatmepleasePLEASE,” cried Daphne. She thrust hard back, so Velma, now a cowgirl than ever, had to hold on tight to keep from getting thrown off the bed. Daphne pushed back, Velma pushed forward, and suddenly the two collapsed on the bed with a rush of happy gulps and pants.

I realized I had been hyperventilating, but took a few deep breaths and my pulse began to slow down. Scooby raised his head from the corn chip bag. He eyed a spreading wet spot on my pants, then woofed, “Spill romething on your pants, Fred?” I looked down. Umm, I hadn’t spilled on, but rather in, my pants. Well, wasn’t this special? I felt like I was back in junior high school, as my sticky jizz crept down my pants leg. 

“Something like that, Scoob old pal. Something like that.”

Daphne and Velma were utterly wiped out. They sprawled on the bed, sheets kicked to the floor, holding hands with their legs thrown over each other.

“Oh Daphne.”

“Oh Velma.”

“You blew me away.”

“Ditto.” 

I pulled the camera back. They were whispering to each other. Silly girl stuff, I imagined. Then they turned their heads and looked directly into Camera Two.

In unison, they asked, “Fred, did we blow YOU away?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Did they say, “Fred”?

“Hey, Captain Jones, don’t pretend you didn’t see or hear us,” laughed Daphne.

I looked around the room. They couldn’t see me. That was impossible. “Hello, Officers Velma and Daphne, are you there? Over?”

“Come on, Fred, we know you’re in the Mystery Machine watching,” said Velma, nuzzling up to Daphne’s still-throbbing pinkish nipple. “Don’t you think we can tell when the cameras are rolling? We work here too, you know.”

“Ahhh, I just walked in and . . . “

“Liar, liar, cock on fire,” scolded Velma. “We could see the red ‘active’ light blink. AND, don’t forget this place is wired for intercom. When we left to go get dinner we never turned it off. Remember? We were talking two-way when we all left. We never disengaged it at this end. We know that Shaggy got turned on looking at the food and had to go get a bite.”

“And you spilled something on your pants a few minutes ago,” chimed in Daphne, licking Velma’s fingers. 

“OK, I’ll admit it. I saw everything.”

“And was that spill something sticky?”

Boy, that had me by the balls this time. I felt a hot blush spread over me.

“You could say that.”

“Could we say, you came in your pants?” teased Velma.

“You could say that, too.”

“Oh, Fred, that’s so sweet! The three of us came together. Talk about a team-building exercise. They should try that at the academy. Don’t be embarrassed,” said Daphne. “We’re not embarrassed.”

“Well, OK. Just don’t say anything about it at the station house.”

“Same for you about us, right?” said Velma.

“For sure.”

“Now let’s all turn off the cameras,” said Velma lightly. “Daphne and I will close up shop here and catch a ride home from the night shift cops working the Convention Center area. We’ll do our paperwork tomorrow. Then Daphne and I are going to do some research on earlobes. So say good-night, Fred.”

“Good-night, Daphne and Velma. Have a good weekend.”

“We will, we will,” said Daphne. “My cunt’s already bouncing back. Oh, we forgot to do something.” She turned the mezcal bottle upside down and shook the worm on to Velma’s palm. Velma pulled it in half and handed a section to Daphne. Then, like newlyweds with cake, they fed the worm halves to each other.

“You know, Fred, the legend is that the worm makes you horny,” purred Daphne. “Patrolbabe Velma and I are going to check that out as soon as we get to my place. I know it’s either true or extremely true.”

As I flipped the switched to turn off the cameras, the door to the Mystery Machine opened. Shaggy climbed in with a big bag. Scooby-Doo jumped up and sniffed the bag. “Man, did I score some primo Scooby snacks at Denny’s. I’m glad I left you and those two gals to get some grub. Fred, you OK? You look a little spacy.”

“I’m OK, Shaggy. Just a little tired. I guess I am hungry.”

“Now you’re talking, hombre.” He began to pull containers from the bag. “Care for some guacamole?”