Banging Betty Boop

"Banging Betty Boop"

by J.D. Savanyu

Hollywood, 1947

Dirk Peters was a hard-boiled private dick, investigating lots of celebrity infidelities. Peeking through windows all over town, catching famous actors and actresses (human and toon) cheating on their spouses on camera. Human sexcapades were crazy enough, but toon flings were fucking insane. The pay was great, so Dirk suppressed his revulsion about the private lives of Minnie Mouse, Pepé LePew, Jessica Rabbit, and many more.

After a long day of snooping around L.A. and Toontown, Dirk was eager to catch Jessica's stage show at the Ink and Paint Club. That forty-something hunk hopped into his red 1946 Frazer Manhattan and cruised down Sunset Boulevard in a glorious sunset. Various hotties paraded along on the sidewalk in fur coats (completely unnecessary in those mild southern California winters.) He spotted Lana Turner and Rita Hayworth in front of an upscale department store, and Lola Bunny next to a hosiery boutique. Lola looked stunning in a white mink stole, tagging along with her goofy husband Bugs, who wore nothing but his own natural silver and white fur. Only male toons were exempt from the public nudity laws that applied to every homo sapien. Go figure.

Dirk parked his car near Ink and Paint, then he strutted into that art deco building and checked his coat at a counter with Cinderella. She had one hit movie a few years ago, and now she was struggling in a town full of blonde bombshells. He took a seat in the front row of tables along a runway that protruded from the stage. Jessica poked her sexy red stiletto heels around a blue curtain, singing the opening verse of "Why Don't You Do Right?" in her trademark seductive drawl. The rest of her busty body soon emerged, tightly wrapped in a glittering red cocktail dress. The male customers hooted and hollered as she tossed her long red hair and batted her false toon eyelashes. The curtain rose toward the ceiling, revealing a toon jazz band. Four creepy black crows in sharp gray suits, playing a slow sultry tune.

"You had plenty money in... 1922 / You let other women make a... fool of you..."

Dirk's face flushed with arousal as Jessica backed her big ass against a side wall, sliding downward while grabbing the wood with her slender hands, covered with long purple gloves.

"Why don't you do right / like some other men do?"

He kept gaping at that wiggling burlesque ginger like a horny teenager. Betty Boop approached his table with a tray full of cigars for sale. That black-and-white toon was equally beautiful in a tight black romper dress, but nobody noticed her.

"She's married to Roger Rabbit?" Dirk sighed at Betty.

"Yeah. What a lucky goy-al," Betty replied with a comically girlish Brooklyn accent. "Long time no see, Dirk."

"What are you doing here?"

"Work's been kinda slow since cartoons went to color. But I still got it. Boop-boop-a-doop, ah!" she beamed, cocking her wide hips to show off her lacy vintage stockings and flapping her right wrist adorably.

"Yeah, you still got it."

Betty giggled sweetly and stepped aside, selling a cigar to another guy. Jessica wiggled over to Dirk while singing seductively. She straddled his lap, much to his surprise. Grabbing the lapels of his blazer with her big tits pushing against his muscular chest. Raising his dick instantly to a full seven inches, pressing hard against his pants. Jessica took off his classy Stetson top hat and pushed it against his handsome face with a devious snarl.

"Get out of here, and... get me some money too / Why don't you do right, like some other men..."

She leaned back against the stage, then lunged forward and grabbed Dirk's necktie, pulling his face real close to hers. He gazed right into her big green animated eyes, hypnotized with lust.

"Doooooooo... "

The band of crows finished with a shimmering crescendo. Jessica sashayed back onto the stage, wiggling her heart-shaped ass real good for the audience. She disappeared behind the curtain, and the men cheered loudly.

"God damn," Dirk groaned. "That hot fucking ginger has the hots for me!"

"No she doesn't, you nutsy-dopesy," Betty giggled. "She gropes lots of guys in the front row, to keep 'em coming back here and buying overpriced drinks."

"A major league cockteaser."

"You don't stand a chance with that flaming redhead, even if Roger Rabbit fell in a vat of turpentine and went to toon hell."

"You're right, Betty. Do I stand a chance with you?"

"You sure do, big boy. Why don't you come over to my apartment in Toontown, and let me cool off that rocket in your pocket," she giggled, pointing at the mountain in his pants.

"Are you fucking serious, girl?"

"Hell yeah, Mister Peters. They don't call me Betty 'Boop' for nuthin," she uttered slyly, thrusting her pelvis to illustrate the innuendo.

"Hot damn. I wanna see how they drew your sexy body, before they drew that sexy dress."

"Let's make a date for the stroke of midnight. Don't be late, you crazy private dick."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dirk barrelled down Santa Monica Boulevard in his V8 Manhattan, surging with testosterone. He'd never banged a toon before, but he heard their vaginas were simply divine. "It makes fucking a regular woman seem like sticking your weiner in a Twinkie," Yosemite Sam remarked to him last week at a Beverly Hills bar; drunk as a Texas skunk.

He veered around a trolley car and passed the Maroon Cartoon studio complex where Roger Rabbit made those stupid theater shorts with Baby Herman. Not as popular as Tom and Jerry, but they were still filthy rich. Dirk approached a tunnel under the San Gabriel hills, with a big sign that said "TOONTOWN, THIS-A-WAY!" in rainbow-colored letters. He gunned his engine up to a hundred, barrelling through the dark tunnel. He soon emerged into a big valley full of goofy animated characters in artificial sunshine. Hundreds of toons along Felicity Road sang an annoying Disney-esque ditty in perfect harmony:

"Smile, darn ya, smile / you know this old world is a great world after all... / Smile, darn ya, smile, and right away watch Lady Luck pay you a call..."

"Hey there, Grumpy!" Dirk shouted mockingly at that dwarf from Snow White.

"Go fuck yourself, ya human douchebag!" Grumpy shouted back, sticking up his tiny middle finger.

Dirk turned left on Melody Lane, entering the downtown district full of tall anthropomorphic buildings that swayed merrily, with giant blinking eyes that followed his every move. Even the mailboxes gazed at him while whistling "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah" from Song of the South. He parked in front of an apartment tower on Fantasia Avenue, next to a bunch of toon prostitutes. The only one he recognized was...

"Daisy Duck? You're a hooker now?"

"That's right, pal," she quacked indignantly. "Walt Disney is a chauvinist pig who pays his female talent peanuts, so we have to turn tricks."

"Dumbo doesn't mind getting peanuts."

"Whatever. Hey, you're cute. I have a thing for older men. Why don't we go up to my apartment, and have a little fun on my waterbed?"

"No thanks. I never stick my dick in dirty ducks."

Dirk whistled his way into the apartment building. He entered an elevator and smiled at Droopy Dog in a dapper red liftman outfit... but then he fell six feet down to the floor of the elevator.

"Mind your step, sir," that wrinkly Basset Hound murmured lethargically.

"Yeah, whatever," Dirk grunted. "Floor thirty, please. I've got a date with Betty Boop."

"Good for you, sir," he replied, expressing no emotion whatsoever. Droopy closed the metal gate and cranked a switch, blasting the elevator upward at 100 MPH. Dirk's body crumpled down against the metal floor. A moment later, the car stopped abruptly at the twentieth floor. He flew up and slammed against the roof of the car, then crashed back down on the floor.

"Jesus! How is this elevator even legal?"

"Beats the shit out of me, sir," Droopy murmured while opening the door. "Have fun with that vintage slut, sir."

Dirk hurried toward room 1012, adjusting his rumpled suit and top hat. He couldn't believe he was about to fuck a toon... but he figured he should get a real taste of what he'd been experiencing vicariously as a Sam Spade-esque private eye. Crossing another crazy thing off his bucket list. He knocked on the door, and it opened a few seconds later, revealing Miss Boop in all her black-and-white burlesque glory. Her tight black dress glimmered like ebony in the moody midnight ambience of her suite.

"Great to see ya, Dirkie-werkie! I knew you wouldn't blow me off," she beamed, raising her right hand gracefully.

"I would never blow off a finely drawn lady like you," he chortled, reaching out and grasping her hand. A sudden electric shock raced through his body, shaking him violently and blowing off his hat. She pulled her hand away and giggled girlishly.

"The old joy buzzer trick! Ain't I a stinker?"

"Yeah, you're really something," he grunted as she tossed the novelty device aside. He pulled her buxom body against his burly frame and kissed her passionately. Her skin felt just as warm and pliant as a real woman, but her warmth and softness were far more intense than any mortal female, with subtle electric vibrance. His dick sprang right up, pushing against her flat toon abs.

"My-my, you're super-horny, Dirk. No silly spy business for you tonight."

"Just monkey business, with my big fat cock. They don't call me 'Dirk Peters' for nuthin."

Betty giggled sweetly. He pulled back and glanced around her living room, full of stylish furniture and paintings from the bygone art deco era.

"I want you to put a record on that Victrola and dance for me. Just like you did in '33, but getting naked to the rhythm."

"With pleasure, Mister Peters."

Betty pranced over to a vintage record player, pulling a vinyl disc out of a paper sleeve and setting it down on the turntable. She gently guided a diamond needle onto the outer rim, and the tinny sound of a seven-piece orchestra emerged from a fluted speakerphone. She strutted gracefully toward the center of the room, wiggling her hips and swaying her arms like a flapper at a speakeasy.

"Aww yeah, that's some hot animated action," Dirk grunted pleasantly, sitting down on a plush sofa. "I always jerked off in the bathroom at movie theaters after watching your seven minute shows."

"You won't have to wank your Steamboat Willy off after this performance."

Helen Kane started singing through the Victrola speaker. Betty Boop sang along in perfect harmony, dancing seductively for her latest human beau.

"There's a moon way up high / here are you and here am I / oooh do, ooooh do, something... / boop-boop-a-doop!"

Betty bopped her boop over and over while gradually taking off her clothes. Driving Dirk crazy. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his long dong, and masturbated slowly. She turned around to show off her bare heart-shaped ass, shaking it like a hula girl with her panties falling to the floor.

"It's been told, and explained-uh, nothing tried is nothing gained-uh, oh honey, do something, boop-boop-a-doop!"

Peters tried damn hard not to jizz a gallon before even touching Betty's naked body. The other pieces of furniture started dancing along with her, just like her early films. Shattering any sense of realism in the heart of Toontown. Even the flapper chicks in her wall paintings started dancing on the canvases, taking off their own outfits in front of men who were all drunk on bathtub rum. Dirk laughed incredulously, getting so hot under the collar.

"You know, other pairs, they're making haste / but look at me, I'm just going to waste / oh honey, do something, boop-boop-a-doop! Boop-boop-a-doop!"

She boop-boop-a-dooped all over the place as the record wound down. Helen Kane's voice reached a shrill climax, and the orchestra faded out. Dirk cheered and clapped for her captivating performance.

"Great job, honey. Now come over here and 'do something' to me."

"Fuck yeah, you silly sweetpea. I'll suck your cock just like Max Fleischer after my first audition."

She jumped onto Dirk's lap, making a loud smacking sound against his rock-hard thighs. She kissed him hard while stroking his cock slowly, squeezing the thick shaft real hard.

"Oh my god, Betty. Your hands are strong as Popeye. Why did you break up with him?"

"That spinach-sucking sailor couldn't raise the cannon on his battleship, if you catch my drift."

"Yeah, I catch it," Dirk grunted. "Blow me down, matey!"

"Aye-aye, cap'n."

She swooped down and shoved his massive penis right down her throat, gagging loudly. She rocked her up and down with a skillful twisting motion. Better than any blowjob he ever got from a homo sapien woman. (And he got plenty.) Those electric animation vibes hit the many sensitive nerve endings on his cockhead, making him growl with intense pleasure.

"Holy shit, Boop. You suck cock better than Nancy Davis!"

She giggled on his thick shaft, then pulled back with a devilish grin on her cute little black lips. "If I had a dime for every guy who said that to me, I'd be the richest goy-al in Hollywood."

Betty performed fellatio frantically, slurping and gagging up a storm. Dirk grabbed her curly jet-black hair and held her head in place, with her mouth covering only the tip of his dick. He thrust his hips rapidly up and down, skullfucking that hand-drawn bitch.

"Fuck yeaaaaah, you slutty fucking toon! Jessica wishes she could get a real manly dick like mine."

Dirk kept pumping her piehole, stopping at the first inkling of orgasm and letting go of her hair. Betty pulled back with a loud gasp.

"Oh my god," she groaned breathlessly. "Fuck Jessica Rabbit. Shove your dick up my bunny hole!"

"With pleasure, you nutsy-dopesy."

Peters grabbed the narrowest part of her hourglass figure and bolted off the sofa, making her giggle. He set her down on a bearskin rug and quickly removed his trendy private eye outfit.

"Gimme that hunky body, Dirk. I need some Grade A man-meat in my diet."

He was soon wearing nothing but his birthday suit. Betty swooned comically in admiration at his bulging hairy muscles.

"Fuck Popeye. You're really strong to the finish!"

"Shut the fuck up, you vaudeville cunt."

He grabbed Betty by her shoulders, plopped her featherweight body on a grand piano, and pushed her legs way back against her shoulders.

"That's right. Stab that Dirk Peter up my pussy!"

He spit on her gray labia for lubrication, and rammed his rod up her tight streamlined bod. Yosemite Sam was right: toon vaginas were simply divine. It wrapped tightly around his cock like anal sex, but five times better. The electric tingling sensation made him feel so alive. He fucked her like a jackhammer, loving how her glowing body illuminated his ballsack. She squealed like Minnie Mouse in the clutches of a cliché villain, with her lithe body flailing about on that stately Steinway.

"Fucking scream for me, you animated skank."

"Fuck yeaaaaaaaah! You make love so good, you naughty little so-and-so."

"I don't make love, bitch. I fuck... hard."

He smacked her ass loudly, making her squeal louder.

"Oh yes, daddy! Spank the shit out of your naughty jazz queen daughter."

He swung his ripped arms in a rapid blur, smacking her toon ass so many times while pounding her amazing pussy. Betty growled gutturally and uttered every profanity in the book with that comical Brooklyn accent.

"Don't blow your wad so soon, Dirkie-werkie. Make it last!"

"Sure thing, Boopie-Woopie. I'm feeling peckish, so I think I'll nibble your black-and-white moon pie."

He pulled his prick out of her pussy and buried his face in it. Those fleshy folds were magically delicious. Hints of gooseberry, violet, and cardamon.

"Holy fuck, Peters!" she groaned, grabbing the back of his head and pressing his face against her smooth hairless crotch. "You're a real cunning linguist."

He kept fooling around with her vagina, slurping it like cotton candy at Koko's Circus. Tongue-fucking her like hell, making her squirt right down his throat. Then he slurped her clit up into his mouth and clamped his teeth around the base. Whipping his head back and forth like a dog on a bone, driving her bonkers.

"Oh god, just like that. Ohhh, ohhhhhh, oooooooooWAAAAAAAA!"

A highly animated orgasm burst through her body, soaking him from head to toe.

"My goodness, what a mess," she chortled breathlessly. "Come on, you crazy private dick. Fuck my cartoon brains out!"

"Hell yeah, bitch. I'm gonna finish you off on your feather mattress in the clouds."

He scooped her off the grand piano and carried her into the master bedroom, filled with strange sex toys and more slutty flapper girl paintings. A big picture window on the thirtieth floor offered a great view of Toontown. The tall anthropomorphic building across the street gazed at her naked body like a giant peeping tom. Dirk tossed Betty onto a king-size four-post bed, and she literally bounced like a basketball on the plush mattress.

"Naughty fucking Betty. Screwing everyone at that sleazy club, and hanging out with a guy named Bozo."

He flipped her over on her stomach and spanked her nice and hard.

"Oh shit! Spank me harder, Daddy!"

"I ain't your daddy, bitch. I'm your master."

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Ohhhh yessss, Master!"

"Yeah, you fucking love that. Toons can't feel any pain."

"But plenty of pleasure."

WHACK!

"No pain!"

WHACK!

"No pain!"

WHACK!

"No pain!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Dirk grabbed her ass cheeks firmly, jamming his johnson deep in her pussy.

"Woooooooooooo!" Betty wailed like a police siren. "Ride 'em, cowboy!"

He wrapped his hands around her throat and pounded her ass right into the bedframe, rattling that old-school four-poster like an 8.0 earthquake. The pressure in his prostate got stronger and stronger, but he held back his load with all his might. The naked flappers in the paintings masturbated eagerly while watching the rough fourth wall-breaking sex show. Moaning in harmony with Betty Boop. Sweat poured down both of their bodies as they clashed violently in her lofty suite. When she reached around and started working her clit, he knew it wouldn't be long.

"Oh my god, I'm gonna cuuuuuuWWWUUUUUUUUHHHH!"

Another strong geyser blasted out of her cunt, soaking the satin sheets. She moaned and groaned pathetically as Peters kept hammering her honey-hole, spanking her ass even more. He pulled out a minute later, vaulting off the bed and jerking off near the picture window.

"Get down on the floor, Boop. You need a good facial treatment."

"Yes Master," she giggled sweetly, bounding right off the mattress and sticking the landing on her knees. "Pour some sugar on your sweet little jazz queen."

Her absurdly gorgeous cartoon face gazed up at him, pushing him right over the edge.

"Oh gah, oh gah, oh gaaaah... AAAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HAAAAAAA!"

He sprayed a gallon all over her pale white face and jet black hair, splashing down on her perky c-cups. She giggled playfully as the sticky gack kept raining down.

"Good boy. Saving up your splooge for a special goy-al like me."

She wrapped her lips around his fat mushroom cockhead, sucking out every last drop while humming pleasantly. Rubbing that long dong all over her face, licking off more and more cum. Dirk collapsed on a feather pillow in utter exhaustion, and Betty rested her glowing face on his bulging pecs.