Case of the Executed Evangelist Ch. 02

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The order of my stories to read is:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series.

Case of the Executed Evangelist series.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 6 – Youthful Pleasures

12:00 noon, Saturday.

“Mmmm, such a lovely, big cock.” Laura mewled as she licked up the long, veiny nine-inch shaft of the youthful stud’s penis. “I love sucking your cock, Mike.” she said. Suiting her deed to her word, she engulfed his rod in her hungry mouth, sucking him deeply.

Mike was eighteen years old, and had enrolled early at the University on a football scholarship. He would be a Freshman in the fall. He was a quarterback, and slated to compete for the starting job. He was handsome, muscular, 6’5″ tall, with brown hair that was cut fairly short.

He certainly knew his way around women, but had been amazed when this beautiful professor had not only asked him to come to her office, but had taken him into a little room fitted out as a bedroom and began making out with him. Their clothes came off quickly, except for Laura’s high heel strappy sandals.

As Laura sucked Mike’s meat, she made a mental note to tell Todd that this young man was indeed an excellent candidate for the SEX fraternity. His cock was definitely nine inches, and she could already tell he was going to be good in bed.

Mike moaned as he watched the beautiful woman, her knees under her between his legs as she knelt over his cock and sucked it. Her black hair was in a tight bun, her natural, big breasts were scraping the insides of his muscular thighs as she fellated him, her nipples rock hard. The teen stud had never felt such pleasure, having never had a girl or woman deep throat his entire penis as Laura was doing, swallowing every one of his meaty inches into her hungry throat.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Mike gasped. “You’re amazing, Doctor!”

“Call me Laura, while we’re alone together like this.” the beautiful professor said. “And I’m going to show you a lot more amazing things.” She began to climb onto him, ready to impale her sopping wet cunt onto the young stud’s dick, when he suddenly grabbed her, whirled her around and she found herself lying on her back with him on top of her.

“Ooooh, I do like a confident man that does it like he wants.” Laura said, appreciating the young man’s confidence and initiative. After kissing her mouth, Mike began kissing his way down her chest, sucking her tits for a moment, then working his way down to her crotch.

“Oooohhhhh….” Laura moaned as Mike settled between her legs and began eating her pussy. He was good, definitely experienced, she thought as she allowed her mind to lose itself in the pleasure of her body.

As the boy hungrily ate her out, Laura thought of her husband Don. It was nearly noon, a beautiful Saturday, and he had to work that ridiculous event at the Fairgrounds. She remembered how two days earlier, she and her husband had talked…

“Are you going to be there?” Don had asked as they cuddled on the sofa at The Cabin after dinner.


“No way in hell I’m going to be anywhere near there.” Laura replied.

“So,” Don had said, teasingly, “going to find a young stud to fuck?”

“Mmm, I think you’d like me to do that.” she had replied as they shared warm kisses. “Are you really okay with that?” She knew he was, but liked to tease him by asking him, forcing him to admit it.

“Mmm, absolutely.” Don had replied. “My only regret is that I won’t be able to watch you with your young stud.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Laura said, as she opened her lover’s pants and reached her hand inside to fish out his cock. “First installment now….”

Back in the present, young Mike was mounting her. She gasped as the big cock penetrated her labes and began sinking slowly into her. Mike lightly humped his hard ass, working his cock into her as if she were a young virgin. Despite her extensive experience at being penetrated by big cocks, Laura’s tight cunt still had to stretch to accommodate Mike’s size.

“Ohhhhhhh yesssssss! Oh Mike, that feels so fucking good!” Laura gasped as Mike bottomed out inside her, his big balls resting against her ass-crack. “Fuck me with that big hard thing, baby!” Mike wasted no time complying with her request. He began fucking her with a deep, hard rhythm so normal for young men Mike’s age.

“Uhhh, oh shit, I think I’m going to come.” Mike said after only a minute of fucking.

“Yeah haramidere escort baby, come inside me and just keep fucking.” Laura said, knowing Mike would stay hard. Ah, the perpetual hard-on of young men! Laura thought, loving every moment of it.

“Should I pull out?” Mike gasped, his nut beginning to rise.

?”No baby, I’m already pregnant.” Laura replied.

“Shoot it up into me, stud! Give me every drop!

“Maybe after you have the baby, I can put the next bun in your oven. How about that, Laura? Want me to knock you up?”??

“I’ll think about it.” she replied, knowing Mike was really getting off at the thought and hot talk of impregnating her. Her own orgasm neared: knowing a man wanted to knock her up with his baby turned her on like few other things could. “Now come inside me, give me that sperm! I want your SPERM, Mike!” Her words had the desired effect.

“UUUUHH!!!!” Mike gasped hoarsely as his penis exploded, large spurts of thick, ropy jism blasting out of his rod and coating the beautiful older woman’s cervix. Pulse after pulse of sheer ecstasy coursed through his young loins as he came inside Laura’s clutching cunt.

“Keep fucking, Mike, keep pumping!” Laura ordered. Mike did so, and soon realized that his cock was staying hard.

“Oh god, it’s never been this good!” he exclaimed. He slammed his mouth onto Laura’s and they shared deep kisses as he plowed her pussy into a creamy, frothy lather.

The rutting couple was still humping steadily when the phone rang on the bedside table. It was a secondary number, private to Laura’s office.

Who the hell was calling? Laura thought. She ignored the phone, pulling Mike’s head to hers and kissing him hard to keep him going. He got the message and thrust hard and deep as their tongues twined.

?The phone rang at least sixteen more times. Whoever it was simply was not giving up.

“Just a fucking minute.” Laura said to Mike, exasperated. She wrapped her legs around him to keep him on top of her as her long arm reached out for the phone.

“What the hell *IS* it?!?! I’m busy with a patient!” Laura practically screamed into the phone.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said her grad assistant Connie Chen, a lovely Asian girl. “But Reverend Oldeeds was shot at the Fairgrounds! They’re rushing him to the Hospital now!”

Despite the chill that rushed through Laura’s spine as she heard the news, she said “I’m going to finish with this… patient. Do not call again until I’m done, Connie!” She hung up.

“Okay, Mike, keep fucking me.” Laura said, turning back to the young man whose big cock was still buried balls-deep in her aching pussy. “I want you to come in my mouth this time. I want to swallow every drop of your hot cream…”

Part 7 – A Failure to Communicate

9:00 pm.

We assembled in “Classroom J”, the second-largest meeting room in the Headquarters Building after the main large auditorium. The room had been swept for bugs at my request: I had learned from the late Jonas Oldeeds.

We were using the large space because it had a projector, a small stage and podium, and of course because it had long tables and chairs to fit the sheer number of people in the room: SBI agents, FBI agents, every detective and senior officer on the Police Force, as well as technicians from the Crime Lab. This one was big.

As I walked in, I noticed Steven Ikea sitting in the back. He still looked dazed at what had happened right in front of him, and was still reeling over the loss of the tele-evangelist that he had idolized.

It was amazing what Tanya Perlman’s Crime Lab team had been able to do in the short amount of time. They had voluntarily received 50 video tapings from various people’s mobile devices, and through a subpoena had gotten KXTC’s footage. ADA Paula Patterson was giving a rundown of their actions.

?”No vehicles left the scene after the shooting. The police were that good and fast in locking the scene down. Every vehicle was searched before being allowed to leave.” Patterson said. I noted she did not credit Captain Malone personally, who I had to admit deserved praise for his planning and leadership in making that happen. But the tensions (to say the least) between the black woman Patterson and the race-hater Malone were strongly in play at this moment.

Agent Carter Fischer of the SBI asked “Did anyone object to being searched?”

“Yes.” replied Patterson. “Over 40 people refused to be searched or allow their vehicle to be searched without a warrant. Fortunately, Judge Folsom was on site. He set up a desk in the parking lot and just started issuing warrants. Warrant after warrant. No one had an excuse.” Paulina Patterson was smiling broadly at that memory.

“As a result, every vehicle was searched. The Crime Lab, very efficiently run by Supervisor Perlman of the Town & County Police Force, found one cartridge in an RV. It had not been fired.”

The acknowledgement of Tanya Perlman içerenköy escort was well-deserved, but was also a clear shot at the SBI, whose attempts to interfere had nearly caused problems with evidence collection.

“Supervisor Perlman, would you like to continue from here with the evidence discussion?”

“Thank you, District Attorney Patterson.” Tanya said, returning Paulina the favor of respect by leaving off the “Assistant” from Paulina’s title. I loved it that my team was learning these little social tricks, which bonded us and really shoved our buttocks into the SBI’s faces.

“The unfired cartridge was a 7mm-08 caliber.” Tanya said. “This is a .308 necked down to a 7mm bullet. It’s a hunting cartridge, but it’s not common at all, and we rarely see it used in crimes.”

“We found two bullet fragments, also.” Tanya continued, looking oh-so-fuckable in her white blouse, blue skirt and high heel blue pumps. Why was I thinking of fucking this woman during the intensity of this crime investigation? I wondered to myself as I listened to Tanya’s details.

“One bullet was found smashed into the wall of the metal shed where our MCD Supervisor was standing. It was a soft-nosed, jacketed bullet, and we recovered the base of it. We were able to measure that it’s very likely a 7mm bullet. Further testing should be able to show if it is from the same lot as the unfired cartridge we found.”

“The other bullet was the one that went through Jonas Oldeeds’s chest.” Tanya said, her voice crisp. “It struck the top edge of the podium and was found with a metal detector. It was on the ground in the middle of the tent. I don’t understand how it did not hit any other person in the tent, but it fell to the ground between two rows of chairs. We will run comparisons against the other bullets… “she paused for effect.

“… but from our measurements we believe that this cartridge was not a 7-08, but a .308 caliber.”

A murmur went up in the room as this fact was revealed, and then continued as Tanya said “The .308 caliber is well known as a sniper round, is very common and is often used in crimes. We will now see a 3D mock-up from our technical team.”

Myron Milton took the stage. I noticed he seemed to be enjoying the limelight as he showed a short film.

“This is a computerized 3D composite taken from the video we found useful today. As you can see from this red line here,” he said, stopping at a frame looking down from behind the podium where Oldeeds had been standing, “the first bullet struck at this angle and close to Don’s head… too damn close for my comfort.” The crowd murmured at just how lucky I had been to escape harm. They had no idea just how close, I mused.

“This yellow line is the bullet that hit Jonas Oldeeds in the back. It went through a lung, clipped his heart, exited just left of the sternum between two ribs, struck the podium and apparently tumbled up into the air and back down between a couple of rows of chairs in the middle of the tent.”

“The third bullet struck Rev. Oldeeds solidly in the head. We hope that an autopsy will recover the bullet. It was from virtually the same direction as the second bullet, from what the computers can simulate.”

An SBI agent piped up: “So the first shot was from a completely different angle. What conclusions do you draw from this?” It sounded almost as if it were a challenge.

“Don?” Myron offered. I got up and approached the podium…


The nine hours between the murder of the Rev. Jonas Oldeeds and the present moment had been some of the most tense and chaotic in my personal memory.

Shortly after the murder, as Tanya Perlman’s Crime Lab teams quickly and efficiently gathered evidence, the State Bureau of Investigation showed up. “Special” Agent Richard “Dick” Ferrell attempted to put himself in charge of the investigation. He began bossing people around, including Lt. Maxwell, who technically outranked him.

When she began yelling at him, he made physically threatening gestures towards her, which was a huge mistake. At that point I had one less T&C officer to work with, as Cindy Ross confronted Ferrell and openly challenged him to try to get physical with her. She and Britt stayed together and harassed Ferrell for the next hour.

And it only got worse: One of our guys was using a metal detector on the grounds of the tent, and was being harassed by SBI agents. When he found something, they tried to take it from him. Tanya Perlman went for her gun but didn’t draw it as the SBI officers backed off.

And then Ferrell tried to confiscate our Crime Lab’s collected evidence. The State Crime Lab people actually disregarded Ferrell’s orders, out of what I was observing to be their increasing respect for Tanya Perlman… but also because a certain other Detective was now brandishing a blue crowbar in his hands, and no one present wanted to test my willingness to use it.

After 90 innovia escort minutes of this crap, Ferrell and his fellow agents had become so distracting, and so inept, that I finally got on the podium, took the microphone that Oldeeds had been using when he was shot and was still turned on and working, and broadcast explicit orders to every Town & County Police Officer that they were to disregard and not follow any instruction by Dick Ferrell, and anyone obeying ANY order of Ferrell would be disciplined by losing pay and even rank.

Ferrell rushed the stage, and me, but stopped when Cindy Ross put her gun in Ferrell’s ear. Damn… I loved Cindy Ross, but she took away my chance to use my crowbar and whip Ferrell’s ass once and for all. Lt. Maxwell threatened to arrest him on the spot, not only for “assaulting” me, but for disobeying her orders as a superior officer. That created another shouting match.

The ensuing standoff was only brought to a peaceful conclusion when Detective Steven Ikea, still dazed and wearing a bloodstained shirt, stepped in and quietly told Ferrell that none of this was helping find the murderers of Jonas Oldeeds. I noted that Ikea and Ferrell at least knew each other and got along… no real surprise for birds of an asshole feather to stick together. Hmmm, was Ferrell also a religious nut like Ikea? Is that the cause of his tension? I wondered to myself.

And then the Deputy Director of the SBI himself came onto the scene and agreed with Chief Griswold to take Ferrell off the case and off site in exchange for us working with some of his other agents.

Chief Griswold told me to choose an SBI agent to work with. I chose a young man named Carter Fischer. He was about my age, late twenties to early thirties, had a full head of brown hair, and had seemed much more reasonable to work with in the short time I had to size up all the agents.

After that, things calmed down, though Ferrell remained on site. Tensions rose when the SBI tried again to confiscate our collected evidence, citing jurisdiction. That was stopped by an amazing turn of events.

To add to the direction of the day’s “progress”, Special Agent In Charge Jack Muscone of the FBI arrived with several FBI agents. He did not try to bully his way into the lead role, but told the Chief that he was sent to “assist” us, and that there was a Federal interest in the case due to investigations of Oldeeds’s religious empire. He and his agents were professional, and did not hinder our team’s progress.

But Ferrell turned nasty with Muscone at one point, and while Ferrell, a tall slender man, looked to be in better shape than the slightly husky Muscone, we found out differently. I admit that I started what happened next: As Ferrell berated Muscone, I noted the FBI agent’s red face and pending explosion as I walked up to them.

“Would you like to borrow a crowbar, Agent Muscone?” I asked. It was my first contact with him on this day, and I remembered that he was the FBI agent that had come and rescued Sergei Molotov from my crowbar previously.

Muscone looked at me, a gleam in his small, dark eyes, and said “Thanks, but I don’t need it.” Then, with unbelievable speed, Muscone threw a right-hand haymaker and smashed his fist into Ferrell’s jaw. He followed it up with several hard punches into Ferrell’s gut, then a knee to the ribs. I could’ve sworn I heard a rib crack, and soon Ferrell was on his hands and knees, vomiting violently. Muscone then shoved Ferrell’s head into his own vomit. “Fuck with the FBI again, you little shit, and I’ll wipe your god-damned ass out, you understand me?”

No one had moved to help Ferrell, but Steven Ikea came over and helped Ferrell stand up, then escorted him away from us, getting him out of there before further damage happened. A good bit of tension left with Ferrell, but there was still that unease amongst the rest of us. The Chief looked apoplectic.

I looked around to see if the Press had gotten any of it, but they were being kept at bay and I could see no cameras in sight. Fortunately for us, Bettina Wurtzburg and her crew were at the hospital, trying to get information about Jonas Oldeeds’s condition.


At 3:00pm Chief Griswold called me into his small conference room, as some of us had returned to Headquarters. Present were SBI Agent Carter Fischer and FBI agent Jack Muscone.

“Ah, the Iron Crowbar!” Muscone said, getting up and shaking my hand as if I were his best friend. “I wish you could’ve seen Sergei in those hours after you whipped him. He could barely walk, his back seized up. I’ve never seen a hardened criminal like him look so defeated. You really put the psychological as well as physical beatdown on him.”

“Glad to have been of service.” I said nonchalantly. I took the time to size up Jack Muscone. For some reason unknown to me, and having no reason to do so, I felt that I liked Jack Muscone… that despite him being a Federal agent, he was someone I could reasonably trust.

Muscone was not particularly tall and looked up when he looked into my eyes, which I noted he had no problem doing. His eyes were small and dark, but very perceptive, I also noticed. He had black hair, and his lack of height made him look even more stout. But I knew he was athletic and in good physical condition after watching him give Ferrell that ass(hole)-whipping.

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