Not So Sexy Wanda

Info silverhawk
14 Jul. '19

I’d been following Frank Barnes for the last three days trying to serve him with a summons to appear in court.  He knew it was coming and had done everything he could think of to keep me from getting close enough.  See, the law says I have to personally hand him the summons.  I couldn’t just slip it under his door or anything like that.  I understood why he was doing it, but this was the last straw.  

I knew where the son of a bitch lived because the first day I’d followed him home from work.  He drove into the attached garage of the house and closed the door.  

I waited about half an hour to give him time to get inside, change clothes and take a dump, then walked up and knocked on the door.  After half an hour of knocking, he still hadn’t answered, so I gave up and left.

I was back there the next morning at five so I could follow him again. About seven thirty, the garage door opened and he barked the tires backing out onto the street.  He barked them again when he drove off.  I followed him but he gave me the slip at the burger place he turned into.

I followed him into the parking lot of the burger place and watched him pull into the drive-up lane.  I pulled into a spot to wait for him to come back out and turn onto the street again.

He was two cars away from the sign where you say what you want and then have to repeat it because what the fucking high-school kid inside says comes out of the speaker sounding like “hiss hiss tha crackle ger crackle hiss n crackle ies hiss crackle crackle hiss hiss shake”, so you have to say it all over and then listen to the same fucking thing again.  Finally you just give up and drive around and park so you can go inside and order.

I couldn’t see the drive-up window from where I was parked because that big sign was in the way, but I saw Frank drive in front of it.  Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t come back around to the street so I backed out of my space and drove around beside the drive-up window.  The bastard wasn’t there.  There was a side street with an exit from the parking lot and he’d taken that.  I drove to where he worked and found his car, but he was already inside.

You might wonder why I didn’t just stand in front of his garage door to stop him, and there are some reasons for that.  I’m a PI, not a cop.  A cop could do that.  Hell, a cop could stand there all goddammed day if he wanted as long as he had a reason to be there.  I couldn’t.  If I’d have done that, I’d have been trespassing.

I’m also on the longer side of fifty, and I don’t run worth a shit anymore.  If he came busting out of that garage like he had, he’d run me down before I could get my ass out of the way.  I try to avoid shit like that every chance I get.

That was a Friday and on Saturday I did the same thing, except I didn’t try to hide the fact I was following him.  I stayed right on his fucking ass until he turned into the parking lot of the mall.  I pulled into a space three cars down and got out of my car so I could catch the asshole before he went inside.

At first, I thought somehow I’d lost him and picked up the same make, model, and color car by mistake and followed it.  I thought that because a woman got out and walked across the parking lot.

My second thought was she was one butt-ugly woman.  She had no tits to speak of and her ass didn’t fill out her jeans like women like to do anymore.  Her ass looked like a boy’s ass in jeans that were too big.  I only caught a glimpse of her face, but if I’d have put her picture in my pantry, the fucking mouse that’s been eating my corn puffs would have had a heart attack and died.

I kept watching, and quickly realized I had the right car and this was no woman.  This was Frank dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and wearing a long, brown wig.  

Now, I’ve tailed a lot of people, but I’d never seen anything like this.  Men are usually pretty easy because they don’t deviate much from their normal appearance and patterns.  They wear their hair the same way for years, and either wear a suit and tie or pants and a shirt, and a guy with more than three pairs of shoes is probably really in touch with his feminine side.  

They stop at the same gas station once a week and they stop off at the same bar every Friday night after work.  I just have to figure out where they’re going to be and when, then wait there until they show up.

Women can be a bitch to catch because a woman can and will change her appearance as often as she changes her panties.  They dye their hair, bleach their hair, cut off their hair, and wear wigs so they can have different colors, different styles, and longer or shorter hair.  Depending on the bra, the same woman can look flat chested one day and be sporting jugs the size of softballs the next.  They use makeup to change their eyes and mouth, and body shapers to push the not so slim places into wherever there’s room for the flab to fit.  

They call this “smoothing”.  I call it fucking bait and switch, like when they offer you a red hot sportscar on TV but when you get to the lot, they don’t have any left and try to sell you some goddamned little econobox that looks like an overgrown blue turd and feels like driving a kid’s electric car.

You take one of these women out for dinner and drop about a hundred to get her in the mood, and then when you undress her…well, let’s just say it’s a big let down in a lot of ways.  Doesn’t do much for the old ramrod either.

The other thing women do is dive into their holiest of holy places, the ladies room, and I’ve had them stay in there for hours if they’ve figure out I’m trying to catch them.  Oh, they’ll come crack the door to see if I’m still there, but they’ll duck back inside if they see me.  I know they’ll come out eventually because they have to fucking eat sometime, but I usually give up and try another day.

Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of women do shit like that, but I’ve never had one dress up like a man.  Well, there was this one broad named Harriet Davidson, but she was a fucking dike so she called herself Harry and dressed like a man all the time anyway.  She did try to trick me one day by wearing a dress.  It was the combat boots that gave her away.

I followed Frank into the mall thinking I could catch him in one of the courtyards.  That’s a good place to hand somebody a subpoena or a summons and tell them they’ve been duly served.  Most people won’t try to punch me in the face, kick me in the nuts, or swing a purse at me if they’re in the mall.  

When I got inside the mall I spotted Frank, and he was headed for the ladies restroom.

Now, I know there are men who think they should have been born with tits and a snatch, and I know there are women who think they should have been born with a cock and balls. They aren’t new.  Back in the day, we called them “trannies”.  In today’s world that would be considered an insult.  The correct word today is  “transgender” or “transexual”.

As far as I’m concerned, they can call themselves whatever they want. I don’t understand it, but if that’s how they want to roll, more power to them.  I know some people who don’t understand why I’m the way I am either.  Well…it’s a couple more than some actually.

I knew Frank wasn’t a tranny…er…a transgender person.  I’d watched him fuck his girlfriend that first night I followed him.  She must have worked at the same place he did, because she came out of the building with him and got in his car.  They made a stop in a park on their way to her house.

I guess they were fucking anyway.  It sure looked like they were.  All I could see through my binoculars was what I could see through the rear window of Frank’s car.  I could see his head propped against the right side rear door, and her big tits flopping up and down while she rode his cock.  Frank liked those big tits.  He kept grabbing her nipples and pulling them up.  

Her tits were huge, but then, she was pretty huge all over.  Before you jump down my throat, I don’t have anything against “BBW’s”.  That’s what they like to be called now.  From what I’ve seen, a lot of BBW’s are a lot bigger than they are beautiful, but that’s OK with me.  I know a couple of women who fit into that category, and they’re nice people.  I wouldn’t want to fuck either one, not even on a bet.  I mean, I like a woman with some meat on her bones, but not that much meat.  It might be cool to see how their big tits feel though, at least once.

Anyway, Frank went into the ladies room and I couldn’t follow him.  I waited around for a while to see if there were any screams or if any women came running out half dressed, but that didn’t happen.  Apparently Frank had found a stall and decided to sit there for the duration.  It was Wednesday night and I’d been following him for three days.  I was tired of fucking with his ass, so I gave up and went home.  

Home is my office with a small apartment in back.  It’s one of those narrow, brick buildings set in a whole block of narrow, brick buildings with common walls like you used to find in any city downtown.  At one time, it was a shoe store.  My office is where the showroom was, and my apartment is in back where they kept the inventory.  The owner added some walls to that part, and I have a kitchen, bedroom, and john with a tub.  It’s all I need and the rent is cheap because it’s in that part of town where most of the businesses are pawn shops, corner bars, and resale shops.  There’s a laundromat two doors down the street that comes in handy.

I got back and drove up the alley and parked behind my place.  That’s another reason I like the place.  The shoe store had a loading dock in back the owner didn’t take out, so I can park two cars there.  I only have one, a Ford sedan that’s ten years old and has half the paint gone down to the primer.  It looks like a piece of shit but it runs like a top.

It was about five then, so I pulled a frozen pizza out of my fridge and tossed it into the microwave, then poured myself two fingers of Glenfiddich in my jelly jar and sat down at my desk to look at the other subpoenas and summons I had to serve.  

I was doing that when my front door opened and a woman walked in.  

My first impression was she was timid as a mouse.  She crept through the door, turned around and closed it as quietly as she could.  She turned then and took little bitty steps until she was standing in front of my desk.

My second impression was she was in no danger of winning any beauty contests.  She wasn’t ugly and she wasn’t gorgeous.  She was just somewhere in between like about ninety-nine percent of all the women in the world.  

If she’d have been standing up straight and had worn something that fit better than her cotton blouse, I might have been able to tell if she had tits or not, but I couldn’t.  She kept her shoulders rolled forward and she was kind of hunched over.  I couldn’t tell anything about her ass either, because her pants looked about two sizes too big.  

The only thing about her that did look pretty good was her long, dark-brown hair, but I’m a sucker for long brown hair anyway.

I pointed to the chair in front of my desk and when she sat down, I asked how I could help her.

She did some hand wringing and frowning, and then looked up at me.

“I think my sister is trying to steal my boyfriend.  I went to the police station, but they told me that isn’t a crime and unless one of them committed a crime they couldn’t do anything.   The detective who talked to me told me you might be able to help me.”

That had to be Roger Ames.  Roger and I go way back to the time when he was a rookie county sheriff’s deputy and I was just starting out.

I’d been on my own for a year when I started investigating a guy who’s wife thought he was stepping out on her.  The guy worked second shift in one of the factories in town and she said he used to get home about midnight.  The last year, he’d been coming home as late as four in the morning, and claimed he was working overtime.  She said they did seem to have some extra money, but she’d found a few long, blonde hairs on one of his shirts.  The wife’s hair was red.

I followed the guy to work to make sure that’s where he was really going, and he was.  I went back and parked across from the factory parking lot that night and when he drove out the gate at eleven thirty five, followed him to a farm out over the county line to the ass end of nowhere.  I mean, this place was so far out in the sticks, the chickens fucked the hoot owls.

I’d stayed about half a mile behind him, and when he made the turn onto the county road that went past the farm, I shut off my headlights.  There was a full moon that night, so it was easy to follow the road.  I got to the intersection and made the turn, then stopped in front of the farm.

I didn’t see any lights on at the farmhouse so I wondered what the hell he was doing out there so late at night.  He hadn’t done anything to hide his being there, like turning off his headlights or anything like he would have if he was going to rob the house.  He didn’t even go to the house.  He just drove in the drive, parked beside the barn, and walked up to one of the doors.

He messed around with that door for a while, then opened it and went inside.  A few second later, I saw light coming out of the cracks around the door.  I couldn’t figure that out at all, but I couldn’t stick around to find out.  There were headlights coming down the road in my direction.

I drove on down the road and when I came to another intersection, turned and then turned my lights back on.  When I looked back, I saw at least four more cars on the road to that farm.

The next morning, I dressed up in a suit and tie and drove out to the place to look around in daylight.  What I’d planned to do was drive up to the farmhouse, take the briefcase out of my back seat, and pose as a traveling salesman.  They were pretty common back then and sold everything the housewife could ever need, like brushes and cleaners and laundry soap.  It was a convenient way for people to get what they needed without having to make a trip to a town big enough to find the stuff in a store, just like the Sears catalogue.  I was selling fertilizer so I didn’t have to have anything in my case except some pictures of healthy corn and a few official-looking order forms.

Knocking on the door didn’t raise anybody, so I walked out to the barn.  I didn’t see any cars, trucks, or tractors on the way, and when I got to the barn, things started to smell and it wasn’t cow shit.  It was the heavy lock on one of the doors and the fact the rest seemed to be nailed shut.  That told me whatever was going on in that barn after midnight probably wasn’t a bunch of country guys and gals having a barn dance.

Across the road was a stand of trees with a lane that ran back inside them.  I drove up that lane until it ended at another house that had basically collapsed on itself.  It wasn’t visible from the road, but when I walked out through the trees, I found a spot where I could hide but still look across the road and see the farmhouse and barn.  That evening just before dark, I parked behind the trees and carried my binoculars, camera, a camp stool, and a jug of water out to my spot.

About the same time as the night before, I saw the guy drive into the barn lot and park beside the barn.  Just like the night before, he opened the barn door with the lock and turned on the lights.  About five to twelve another three cars drove in and parked beside his.  I couldn’t see the people very well until they opened the door to go inside but when they did, I started taking pictures.

One was a stacked blonde, the second was a not quite so well-stacked brunette, and the third was a guy with a barrel chest who looked like he could benchpress my car.  A few minutes later, the barn lot started to fill up with cars.

I wasn’t going to be able to see much more unless I went inside, but when I watched the other guys going in, the gorilla stopped each one until they handed him something.  Since I couldn’t see what that something was, I’d fumble around and probably get my ass kicked in the process.  I gathered everything up, went back to my car, and drove back to the road with my lights off.  I didn’t turn them back on until I was headed back to town.

I didn’t know what was going on in that barn, not for sure, but I had a pretty good idea.  That county in Tennessee was a “dry” county at the time.  That means you couldn’t buy alcohol of any type anywhere in the county except rubbing alcohol.  That was about the only reason for the locked barn and the fact nobody was at that farm until a little before midnight.  It was possible there was some gambling going on, but there were too many cars there for that to have been happening.

I have a standing rule that if I run into anything illegal, I hand everything over to the police.  The next morning I drove out to the sheriff’s office in the county where the farm was located and when I walked inside, Roger was at a desk.  I explained who I was and what I thought was going on, and gave him the three rolls of film I’d taken the night before.  He was polite, but I thought he was just doing that to humor me.  He said he’d have the film developed and if it looked like there was something there, he’d let me know.

Well, there was something there.  After they got the film developed, they saw what I’d seen, a lot of people going to a barn too late at night to have been looking at cows.  They were also able to make out the license plate on one of the cars, and brought that guy in for questioning.  Of course, at first, he didn’t know shit about anything, but when they showed him the picture of his car, he started talking.

It made the front page of the Nashville papers.  My client’s husband was a confirmed capitalist.  He’d rented the farmhouse and barn and turned the barn into a bar.   On Saturdays, he’d tell his wife he had to work overtime, and then fill his pickup with beer and liquor he bought in Nashville.  The blonde and the redhead were his bartenders, and the barrel-chested guy was the bouncer.  When Roger and the other deputies raided the place, they hauled in thirty thirsty county residents, including the mayor of the nearest town and half the local school board.

Well, after that, Roger and I stayed in touch.  He’d give me what information he legally could, and I’d give him anything I thought was fishy.  He changed jobs a few years later and now he’s a senior detective in Nashville.

Anyway, the dinger on my microwave dinged right after she finished telling me her problem.  I couldn’t very well just get up and go get my pizza, so I asked her name and why she thought that was happening.  She looked at her lap, wrung her hands some more, and then started to tell me.

“I’m Wanda, Wanda Murphy.  Well, I thought Gerald and I were doing fine.  We’d go out to eat on Saturday nights and then go to a movie or something.  After that, we’d come back to my apartment and…well, you know.”

“My sister knew about Gerald and she met him once.  She seemed to like him too.  That was a little odd, I thought, because Gracie and I aren’t alike at all.  She’s two years younger than I am, and when she was sixteen, she went boy crazy.  The things she told me she did with the boys she dated…well, I can’t tell you what those things were.  I’d be embarrassed to tears if I did that.  

“She got worse once she got out of high school.  Mom wouldn’t let her wear the clothes she wanted to while she lived at home, but once Gracie got a job and moved into an apartment, well, sometimes she looked like one of those women you see on the corner in parts of town like this.”

Wanda looked up then.

“I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that about where you work.”

I smiled.

“No need for an apology.  I live here too.  I know what you’re saying and it’s true.”

Wanda fidgeted with her hands again.

“Well, about two months ago, Gracie came over one Saturday night to visit, and she was wearing little shorts that didn’t even cover up her bottom, and her top… well, Mom would have grounded her for a month if she’d worn anything like that at home.  She wasn’t even wearing a bra under it either and she’s too big to not wear one.  She was showing so much I was embarrassed.”

“Gerald and I didn’t get to do anything that night because Gracie was there.  She wouldn’t leave until I said I had to go to bed.  She did then, but not before she gave Gerald a hug and said she hoped we had fun.

“Once she was gone, Gerald said he’d better leave too because he had to go visit his mother on Sunday.  When I walked to the door with him, Gracie’s car was still out on the street.  She didn’t drive away until Gerald backed out of my drive.

“Since then, Gerald keeps making excuses for why we can’t go out on Saturday, and if I call him on those Saturdays, he doesn’t answer so I think he’s not at home.  I haven’t seen Gracie since that night either, and if I call her, she always say’s she’s busy doing something and doesn’t have time to talk.  I think she’s with Gerald and that’s why.”

I’d been forming this picture in my mind of Wanda with big tits and wearing little shorts that showed her ass cheeks, but that wasn’t working very well.  Gracie probably looked something like Wanda, but the way Wanda had described her was about as far from Wanda as you could get.  I shook that vision out of my head and then started to do what I always do.  I asked Wanda a bunch of my standard questions and wrote notes about what she told me.

“Your sister’s name is Gracie?”

“Well, it’s really just Grace, but I’ve called her Gracie since she was a baby.”

“What’s Gracie’s last name?”

“Richardson.  That was from the third time she was married, and that’s another reason I think she’s trying to steal Gerald from me.  She got divorced all three times because she was…well, the first time, there was this guy she worked with and her husband caught them together.  They were in bed and…well, you can imagine what they were doing.  The second time, she got caught again, this time in a tent out by the lake.  Her last husband, Ricky, came home sick from work one day and found her in the back yard with their neighbor.  They didn’t even have a fence around their yard so any of their neighbors could have seen them.  It was just nasty, that’s what it was.”

I was getting a pretty nice picture in my head now.  Gracie might look like Wanda, at least a little, but it sounded like she’d fuck anything with a cock.  If that was the case, she might be fucking Wanda’s boyfriend.  I’d seen it before, not with sisters, but with two women who were good friends.  The one with the boyfriend thought she had him wrapped around her little finger until she caught her friend with her pussy wrapped around the boyfriend’s cock.

I asked Wanda for Gracie’s and Gerald’s addresses and where each one worked, and when she gave them to me, she also gave me a picture of her and Gerald.

Gerald wasn’t exactly a man’s man, if you know what I mean.  His shirt was buttoned all the way up to his neck, and he looked skinny as a rail.  I couldn’t figure out what Wanda saw in him.  I mean, Wanda was no prize, but she looked good enough she could have at least found a guy who looked like he had a set of balls.

“I’ll be happy to check this out for you, Wanda.  My fee is three hundred a day with two days in advance.”

Wanda fumbled in her big purse for a couple of minutes, then pulled out one of those envelopes they give you at the bank when you withdraw cash.

“The detective at the police station told me how much you charge, but he said if anybody can find out for sure, it would be you.  I went to the bank this morning and took out six hundred dollars.”

I stuck the envelope in my desk drawer and then told her I’d start tomorrow morning and I’d call her as soon as I knew anything.  Wanda stood up then, stuck out her hand, and thanked me.  Her handshake fit her.  It was like shaking a limp dishrag.  When she walked out the door, I watched her ass to see if it moved or not.  It did, but her pants were so big I couldn’t tell if it was up and down or side to side.

My pizza was cold by then, so I punched the button on the microwave that said “PIZZA” and then added a little scotch to my jelly jar.  There wasn’t shit on TV that I wanted to watch, so after I ate, I poured myself another double and got out my city map to see where Gracie and Gerald lived.

Yeah, I could have turned on my laptop and typed the address into the map program, but it was quicker to just look at the map.  On the map I don’t have to keep clicking the fucking little circle with the plus sign to get down close enough to read the street names and then click the little circle with the minus sign to see where the hell I am.  The street names are already there.  I do have to count the blocks from Main or State, but that’s OK.  If I blow up the map on the computer screen, I can’t see what route I’ll have to take to get from one place to the other.  On my paper map, I can.

It looked like I was going to have to drive all over hell’s half acre.  Gracie lived on the west side of town in what they call the “Historic District”.  What that means is the houses were built over a hundred years ago and you can’t do anything to fix them that doesn’t keep them looking like that.  It costs a lot of cash to buy a house there and it costs a ton in upkeep.  

It costs so much because you can’t just go to Home Depot and buy new shingles or siding.  You have to call a fucking contractor who can either buy or make that stuff and then pay him to do the work so it stays authentic.  I figured Gracie must have come out of her three divorces with pretty good settlements even though she’d caused all three.

Gerald lived on the east side of town in one of the developments constructed right after WWII.  Contractors knew the GI’s came home with a bunch of back pay, and were looking to start families, so they built houses that were cheap enough the GI’s could afford the down payment.  

The houses there are all the same floor plan – living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and one bath.  The roof changes on them, some have porches, and some have the rooms reversed so they look different, but basically, each one is the same house.  They’re not cheap to buy anymore, but they’re affordable to most people who work in the Nashville factories.  Many are owned by older couples who sold their big house when their kids moved away and bought something smaller and easier to maintain.

At least the places where Gracie and Gerald worked were both on the North side.  Gerald worked in a factory that made automotive parts and Gracie worked about a mile from there in a bank.

I’d intended to get up early, like maybe eight, and drive over to both Gerald’s and Gracie’s houses to confirm the addresses, but two double scotches are the best sleeping pills you can buy.  They’re also a hell of a lot more fun.  I woke up about ten, took a whiz, decided not to shave, and then got dressed.  On the way to Gerald’s, I stopped by a burger place for breakfast.  Why the hell a burger place serves bacon and egg burritos is beyond me, but they do.

Anyway, I found Gerald’s house, a little brown bungalow like I thought it would be.  It had a one car garage in the back with just enough room between Gerald’s house and the one next door for a car to make it to the garage.  I couldn’t see any place where I could park and watch Gerald’s house far enough away he wouldn’t see me watching.  The houses were too close together and there were cars parked on the street on both sides.  When those houses were built, most families had only one car.  Now, most have two so there’s no place to park the second and still let the other one get out except in front of the house.

Gracie’s house wasn’t as big as I thought it would be given the area, but it looked like it belonged there.  It had that style of the early 1900’s with all the gingerbread trim and shake shingles on the roof.  There was cedar fence on both sides so I couldn’t see any more than the front and sides of the house.  When I drove down the alley I saw the fence closed off the back yard except for the carriage house that had been converted to a garage.

I didn’t bother to drive by the factory where Gerald worked.  Wanda had told me he drove what she called a “teal” Honda Civic, but even if I’d spotted it in the lot, I’d still have to come back at shift change if I wanted to follow him.  I didn’t know what fucking color “teal” was anyway.  Maybe I’m just weird, but I know red, blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, gray, black and white, oh, and brown, silver and gold.  Women seem to have about a thousand different names for colors, you know, like “teal”, “puce”, “ecru”, and “mauve”.  

I can see different shades of colors, but to me they’re reddish-purple, light gray and… well I don’t know what color fucking mauve is.  It sounds more like something you’d hear in a gangster movie, like “You motherfucker, I’m gonna mauve your fucking ass”.

I did drive by Gracie’s bank, then parked in the lot and went inside.  That was a little risky because if she saw me and then saw me again watching her, she’d stop doing what she normally did.  The risk was pretty low, though, because I didn’t plan on her seeing me again.  All I planned to do was find out if she and Gerald were getting down to the nitty-gritty someplace, take a few pictures if they were, and then tell Wanda one way or the other.

Gracie wasn’t a teller like I’d thought. She had her name on one of the doors, and below that name was her title – Assistant Loan Manager.  That probably explained how she could afford her house.  I could see her sitting at her desk, and Wanda was right about Gracie needing a bra.  There are women with big tits, and then there are women with big tits.  Gracie looked like she’d fall over on her face if she didn’t stand up straight with her shoulders back.  She couldn’t get close enough to the desk to do anything unless she perched those big jugs on the desktop.  Gracie really didn’t look much like Wanda, but I guess Gracie had different face genes just like she had big tit genes.

I walked up to the table with the deposit slips and reached into my hip pocket, then frowned and walked back out.  I’d seen Gracie and I didn’t want to wait around until she saw me.

Back in my office I started thinking about where Gracie and Gerald might go if they were doing anything.  It probably wouldn’t be Gerald’s house.  The houses there were too close, and like I said, a lot of the houses in these older developments are owned by older couples.  They’re mostly retired so they have all day to watch their neighbors and they always do.  

No, it was more likely they’d go to a motel or to Gracie’s house.  A motel was a definite possibility, especially if it was one of the cheaper places.  Those places don’t ask a lot of questions and if you pay cash, they don’t usually bother with asking you to sign anything.  Gracie didn’t fit very well into that theory though.   If her house was any indication, Gracie liked nice things.  I didn’t think she’d like shacking up in a cheap motel.

That left her house unless she was the outdoors type.  Since she’d been caught fucking a guy in a tent, that was also a possibility, but Wanda hadn’t said anything about Gracie liking to camp.  I figured the best bet was Gracie’s house.

I also figured since Gracie had a fence all around her property, she might spend some time with Gerald out there.  The sign on the bank said it closed at five.  I figured it would take Gracie maybe half an hour to get home, and then another half an hour for her to change clothes.  That would also give Gerald time to get from work to her house if that’s what he was going to do.  At a little after five, I drove back to Gracie’s place and started looking for a place where I could see into her back yard.

After driving around the block and up a low hill, I found a parking place on the street behind hers that would let me look through the trees and into her back yard. I wouldn’t be able to park there for very long.  People who live in that part of town tend to be suspicious of anyone doing that, and they’d have called the cops, but I figured if I got the timing right, I’d get a few pictures of Gracie doing whatever she did out there if she did come out.

At a quarter to six, a white Focus drove down the alley.  Gracie got out, opened the carriage house door, and then drove inside.  She closed the door from the inside, and a little later I saw her carry a grocery sack through her back door.  I also saw that her big tits weren’t the only thing that had filled out pretty nicely.  Her ass was wide enough to have that soft sway when she walked.  Her waist was maybe a little thicker than a younger woman’s would be, but it wouldn’t have been enough to make me kick her ass out of bed.

Half an hour later, she came back out of her house with a cooler in one hand and a guy wearing shorts and sandals in the other.  I put down the binoculars and snapped a couple of pictures, then kept watching through the camera viewfinder to see what they did next.

It didn’t take long to find out.  Gracie sat the cooler on one of the chairs, opened it and pulled out two beers.  I thought her tits would probably fall out of the bikini top she was wearing when she did that, but they stayed in place.  Well, they didn’t exactly stay in place.  They sort of slipped up higher on her chest when she bent over, and then flowed out around the little triangle of material that covered her nipples.

When she stood back up and sat the beers on the table, she grinned at the guy, untied the string around her neck, and let the bikini top fall down.  Her big tits fell down too and rolled around a little until the guy caught both of them in his hands.  He gave them a squeeze and then thumbed Gracie’s nipples.

She grinned at him again, and then untied the strings that held the bikini bottom on.  It got caught between her thighs when it fell down, but still showed me the brown bush she’d trimmed into a heart.  Gracie opened her legs a little to let the bottom fall off, and the guy took advantage of that by cupping her pussy.  I snapped a picture of them like that and then stuck my hand down my jeans to rearrange my cock.  My cock refuses to remain professional in situations like this.

Well, everything went about like I expected it would.  Gracie did surprise me by leading the guy to the chaise lounge and motioning for him to lay down.  When he did she stripped off his shorts and then sat down on his legs.  She had her back to me, but I didn’t need to see her from the front to know the guy had grabbed her tits.  I didn’t need to see her hand on his cock either.  The up and down motion of her arm was enough.  I kept taking pictures and watching until she raised up, grabbed his stiff cock and moved forward until she had it where she wanted it.  I snapped a picture of that just before she started bending her knees to get his cock in her pussy.  

I took a couple more pictures after that, but then closed up shop and left.  The rest was going to be like when you go to a movie.  About five minutes before the end of the movie, the good guy has shot the shit out of all the bad guys and picked up the half-naked girl and carried her to safety.  The next shot is her mostly-exposed tits heaving while she starts telling him how grateful she is.  

You know what’s going to happen right after she plants a lip-lock on him.  They’re going to fuck like rabbits.  You aren’t going to see that, but you know that’s what’s going to happen so you might as well leave and beat the goddamned crowd to the parking lot.

When I got back home, I downloaded all the pictures to my laptop and then had a look at them.  My camera lens is a good lens, but looking through the viewfinder is like watching a TV screen from fifty feet away.  No, I didn’t just want a better look at Gracie’s tits, ass, and bush.  Well, that was a lot of fun, but mostly I wanted a good look at the guy.  He was about the right height and weight, but I hadn’t gotten a good look at his face.  When he popped up on the screen, I still couldn’t tell if it was Gerald or not.

There’s a funny thing about women who think their guy is cheating.  They want me to find out, but in their hearts, they don’t want to believe it.  Unless they see a picture where there’s no question it’s him with his cock stuck in another woman’s pussy or mouth, they’ll tell me it’s not him and I made a mistake.  Sometimes they’ll also say they’re not going to pay me if I’ve spent more than that first two days they paid in advance.  I’d have to go back and get better pictures of the guy.  

That’s what I did the next day and the day after that, but I came up empty both days.  Either Gracie had gotten her libido under control or something else was keeping her from riding the guy’s cock.  Given how fast she stripped and then stripped him that afternoon, I figured her libido was doing fine and it was something else.  There was only one thing I could think of that would do that, so I called Wanda and told her I had something else I had to do the rest of the week so I wouldn’t charge her until I started again on Saturday.

Gracie wouldn’t work on Saturday.  Fucking banks are never open on Saturday or Sunday.  They somehow are still able to immediately debit your account for anything you use your debit card for on Saturday and Sunday, but if you deposit a check on Friday morning, they don’t credit your account until after they close on Monday.  Odd how that happens, isn’t it?  It’s almost like they planned it that way so they can charge you interest if you go over your balance.

Anyway, I knew she wouldn’t be working on Saturday so I drove over to my special parking spot about ten.  I waited about an hour before she came out of her back door, but she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt this time and she was alone.  The T-shirt was the right size for her shoulders, but it was having trouble getting around her big tits.  It had pulled up enough her belly showed under the tail.

A couple minutes later, her garage door opened and she backed out.  She was evidently going somewhere, so I decided I’d go see if Gerald was home.  It was possible she might be going there.

When I parked two houses down from Gerald’s, there was a blue Honda Civic sitting on the two narrow strips of concrete that serve as a driveway for most of these houses.  I guess it was what Wanda had called teal.  To me, it looked like blue with a little green in it.  Evidently Gerald was home.

I hung around for a while to see if Gracie showed up of if he was going to go meet Gracie somewhere, but after two hours, he hadn’t so much as stuck his head out the door.  I was getting ready to leave when a black Mustang pulled into Gerald’s drive.  The guy who got out was…well, you’ve seen the razor trimmed hair that’s all spiky looking, really, really tight jeans and the shirt that looks like it was painted on top of muscles like you see on a body builder.  Yeah, that’s what I mean.

The guy walked up to Gerald’s door and knocked once.  Gerald’s door opened, and he grinned.  Mr. Muscles grinned too and after he opened the door, put his arm around Gerald.  I did take a picture of them kissing, but then I’d had enough.  I don’t judge anybody, like I said before, but there are some things I just find it really hard to watch and two men kissing ranks right up there at the top of my list.  I wasn’t going to get anything more anyway because they went inside after that.

I really didn’t have to go back to Gracie’s after that, but I decided I would if only to prove to Wanda that Gracie didn’t have any intentions about Gerald.  I was going to burst Wanda’s bubble, but maybe I could patch things up between her and her sister in the process.  I’m a nice guy like that…not often, but sometimes.  Besides, I felt sorry for Wanda.  I was going to tell her Gerald liked the muscle guy more than he liked her and that was going to hurt.

Evidently I was right about Gracie.  When I got there, parked, and got out my camera, she and the same guy were outside.  She wasn’t riding his cock.  She was laying in the chaise lounge reading a magazine and he was sitting in one of the chairs sucking down a beer.  

Gracie had on the same bikini, and just like before it was doing a piss poor job of holding up her big tits.  The bottoms had pulled up tight against her pussy as well, and through my binoculars I could see the cameltoe it made.

They weren’t doing anything, but the guy sure was thinking about it.  He’d tip up the beer can, then wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and look at Gracie.  He’d make this stupid grin for a while, and then rub his crotch.  Finally he said something.

Gracie put down her magazine, untied the strings that held on her bikini bottom and then layed back down.  The guy hopped out of his chair and knelt down at the foot of the chaise lounge, grabbed the front of the bikini bottom and pulled.  Gracie lifted her ass until he had it past her thighs, then spread her legs.

The last I saw, he had his face buried in her pussy and Gracie had pulled her top up and was pinching her nipples.  I didn’t need a program to predict how that was going to end up.  I snapped a couple pictures of them like that, one more where Gracie had her tits pulled up by her nipples, and then left.

I called Wanda after I’d downloaded the pictures and had a look to make sure I could see the guy was definitely not Gerald.  I told her she needed to come see what I’d found.  She said she’d be there a little after four.

It was four thirty when she walked through my door and took the same little-bitty steps from there to my desk.  She sat down and adjusted her skirt so it covered her knees, then smiled, but the smile was fake.  She was worried about what I’d found out.

I didn’t just come right out and say Gerald was fucking another guy.  Well, I wouldn’t have said fucking anyway, but she looked so vulnerable I wanted to work up to that so I started with Gracie.

“Miss Murphy, I can tell you your sister Gracie isn’t trying to steal your boyfriend.  She has a boyfriend and it seemed to me like they’re pretty serious about each other.”

Her face told me she wanted to believe me, but she didn’t.

“How do you know that?”

“Well, I have some pictures of her and another guy together.  I don’t know who he is but I’m sure he’s not Gerald.”

“Can I see them so I’ll be sure too?”

I hadn’t intended to show them to her.  There was nothing going on with Gerald and I thought if she saw them, it might cause her a problem with Gracie.

“Well, they’re…they’re pretty explicit.”

Wanda smiled a half smile.

“I’m not a little girl anymore.  I’m almost forty.”

I pulled up the file on my laptop and clicked on the first picture, the one of Gracie and her guy walking out of the house.  Wanda looked at it for a second and then said, “That’s Gracie but it doesn’t look like Gerald.  Do you have more pictures so I’ll know for sure?”

Wanda didn’t say much as I clicked through the pictures.  When the one with Gracie without her top and the guy squeezing her tits popped up, she looked at if for a few seconds and then sighed, “That’s Gracie allright.  She got all the boobs and then some.”

Wanda just looked at the rest until I came to the one where Gracie was starting to sit down on the guy’s cock.  When she saw that one, she clapped her hand to her chest and said, “Oh my, right there in her back yard.”

Wanda looked a little flushed by the time I closed that file.  She looked up at me and sighed.

“Well, I guess Gracie wasn’t trying to steal Gerald, but if she wasn’t, what changed with him?”

Now was the time for me to be sympathetic and tell her in a way that would let her down easy, but I find that really hard to do.  I mean, a buttfucker is still a buttfucker no matter how you try to dress it up.

“Gerald has a boyfriend.”

Wanda fell back in the chair.

“A boyfriend?  You mean like he…?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“I suppose you have pictures of that too.”

I pulled up that file and clicked on the picture of the guy knocking on the door.  Wanda gasped.

“I know him.  He works in the gym where Gerald goes to exercise.  I know because I went there with Gerald one time to try it out.  He seemed like a nice guy.”

I clicked on the last picture, the one of them kissing, and then looked at Wanda.

She was sitting there with her mouth open and staring at the screen, and I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

“He left me for Bruce?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well follow them into the house to see what they did, but most men don’t kiss each other.”

Wanda pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes.

“I don’t know what to think now.  In some ways, it would be better if it was Gracie.”

“Well, just remember all people are different.  Gerald is just a little more different than others.”

Wanda stood up then.

“I assume you’ll send me a bill.”

“Yes, in about a week.  Do you want the pictures I took?  You paid for them.”

Wanda shook her head.

“No.  They’d just remind me of what happened and right now what I need is to forget about Gerald.”

She left then, and I felt bad for her.  It was bad enough when I found out my ex-wife was fucking the mailman.  It would have been worse if she’d been fucking the woman next door…well, on second thought, the woman next door was pretty fucking hot, so if they’d let me watch and maybe join in at some point…

I sent Wanda a bill that Tuesday and started trying to catch Frank again.  Evidently he thought I’d given up, because he wasn’t quite as cautious as before.  That Friday afternoon, he either didn’t see me following him from work or he didn’t think it was unusual that the rental car I was using kept turning onto the same streets he did.  I walked into the liquor store while he was checking out and handed him the summons.

“Mr. Barnes, this is a legal summons for you to appear in court on the day so noted.  Failure to do so could result in a warrant for your arrest.  Thank you for your time and have a good day.”

I was half-way out the door before he could close his mouth and call me an asshole, and by the time he came out with his case of beer, I was rolling down the street and back to the rental agency.

It was almost five by the time I got back home.  I didn’t have anything to do until Monday when I’d start on the next batch of subpoenas I’d gotten in the mail.  I popped another frozen pizza into the microwave and was going to pour myself a double scotch.  When I tipped up the bottle, there was only about a shot left, but I had another bottle in my pantry.  When I went back to my desk with the fresh bottle, Wanda was standing there, but she was a different Wanda.

She saw the bottle in my hand and said, “you wouldn’t happen to have another glass, would you?”

My other glass was a jelly jar that matched the jelly jar I use every day.  I took it out of my desk drawer and held it up to the light.

“I better wash this”, I told her.  Wanda said “just wipe it out.  The alcohol will kill anything that’s left.”

Well, that’s what I did, but this wasn’t like Wanda at all.  

“Say when”, I said, and started pouring.  The two-finger mark on that jelly jar is where the flowers start, and I was passing that mark when Wanda said, “that’s enough to start.”

I handed her the glass and then just looked at her for a while, because I couldn’t believe how much she’d changed.

Her hair was the same but that’s all.  Her face still looked like Wanda, but she’d done something with her eyes and lips that made her actually kind of pretty.  From there on down, was where the real change had happened.

She wasn’t all stoop-shouldered, and her tank top fit her like a second skin.  She had tits, not big tits, but they sure looked like nice tits.  I could see her bra straps beside the straps of the tank top, so I knew she had to be wearing one, but there didn’t appear to be much to it.  I could see bumps where her nipples would have been.  

That tank top stopped about three inches short of the waist of her jeans, short enough I saw a cute little belly button peeking at me.  The low-rise jeans fit just like the top and I decided Gracie might have gotten the biggest tits, but Wanda definitely got the best ass.

Wanda chuckled then.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Well, you’re pretty different.  What happened?”

Wanda sat down in front of my desk, took a sip of scotch and then made a face.  She took another sip, shivered a little and then put the jelly jar down on my desk.

“I was pretty shaken up after you told me Gerald had a boyfriend.  The only person I could talk to about something like that was Gracie, so I called her and told her what had happened.  She said that wasn’t something to talk about over the phone and said I should come to her house.

“I did that, and after we talked a little, I found out Gracie already knew about Gerald.  Her boyfriend goes to the same gym and saw Gerald and Bruce together in the shower room one time.  She just didn’t know how to tell me.  

“I was feeling pretty low.  I mean, I’m getting old and I still don’t have a husband.  That’s what I told Gracie.  She said it wasn’t my fault that Gerald did what he did, but if I wanted to find a man, I’d have to change.  She said I didn’t look sexy enough.

“The next day we went shopping and I bought some new clothes that she said would fix part of my sexy problem.  The undies she picked out for me were… well, I’ve seen bikini’s at the beach that were a lot bigger.  We went back to her house and she had me try on one of the bras, a pair of panties, and a top and jeans.

Wanda took an healthy swig of her scotch, coughed, and then smiled.

“It felt almost like I was naked at first.  The bra didn’t hold me up much and the panties almost weren’t there.  Gracie said that was how a bra and panties had to be if I was going to feel sexy, and if I didn’t feel sexy, guys wouldn’t think I was sexy either.  

“The jeans and tops she picked out weren’t as bad as I thought they’d be once I had them on.  They feel kind of like they’re hugging me.

“Well, when I got back home I tried on a couple more outfits and I liked them, but I still didn’t feel sexy.  I really wanted to feel that way, like Gracie says she feels all the time, but I guess I don’t know how that’s supposed to feel.”

Wanda reached for her jelly jar again, and this time she made a face, but she didn’t choke.  She looked at her glass, then tipped it up and downed what was left, and asked if I’d mind giving her a refill.

I shook my head.

“I don’t think you drink very much, do you.”

“No, but I’m OK.  I just need a little more courage, that’s all.”

I grinned because Wanda was grinning.

“What would you need courage for?”

Wanda looked at her lap.

“To ask you if you think I’m sexy or not.”

“I suppose Gracie told you to do that.”

“No, I thought that up all by myself.  You’re the only man I trust to give me a straight answer.  Do you?”

I hate questions like that because it’s impossible to give a woman the answer she wants.  If I said yes, Wanda would probably accuse me of just trying to make her feel better.  If I said no, she’d think I thought she was ugly.  Usually, the best answer is yes.  The woman still won’t believe you, but at least she feels better.

“Well, yes, you’re a whole lot sexier than before.”

Wanda grinned.

“Then you’d want to have sex with me?”

“Well, Wanda, ’m a lot older than you are.”

She grinned again.

“I know that, and that’s another reason.  Gracie said older men can’t do it as often as young guys, but she likes them better because she doesn’t have to teach them what to do.  She did say some have sort of a problem staying hard.  You don’t have that problem, do you?”     

“Well no, I don’t.  Everything works just fine with the right woman.”

Wanda pulled the hem of her tank top up and over her head.  I’d been right about her bra.  All it was, was two black mesh cups with a little ribbon around the cups so the straps had something to hook to.  Her dark pink nipples weren’t really stiff, but they still stuck out.

“Does this help make me the right woman”, she giggled.

Well, it wasn’t very professional, or at least what some people would call professional, but Wanda wasn’t a client.  She was a former client and that made her just another woman showing me her tits and telling me she wanted me to fuck her.  Well, that’s what I told myself anyway.

I didn’t answer her fast enough, I guess, because she walked around my desk, then climbed up on the top and giggled, “we could do it right here, couldn’t we”.

I was more than willing by then.  I mean, a nice pair of tits winds my clock anyway, and once Wanda was sitting on my desk, her tits weren’t as small as I thought.  The bra just didn’t hold them up very high.

“The bed would be better, don’t you think?”

Wanda giggled again and started to unzip her jeans.

“I don’t know where the bed is.  We’ll have to do it here I guess.”

Well, I showed her where my bed is, and as soon as she walked through the door Wanda unzipped her jeans and worked them down over her ass.  Her ass was better naked than in those jeans too.  Like I said before, I like a woman to have a little meat on her bones.  Wanda’s ass wasn’t fat by any means.  It was just round and smooth, and made me want to feel how it would feel in my hands.

Her panties were just like she’d described too – almost not there – and that meant her dark brown bush stuck out around the edges.  Some guys wouldn’t like that, but I like a woman with a bush.  They look like women instead of little girls like the porn stars do.

Wanda was unhooking her bra when she saw I was just standing there.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

I started unbuttoning my shirt at the same time she slipped the bra down her arms and tossed it on the floor.  I almost had my jeans off when she rolled her panties down her ass and then kicked them off her feet.  Wanda sat down on my bed, then rolled on her back and spread her legs.  I rolled in beside her and then raised up on one elbow.

I wasn’t sure what Wanda liked, but her nipples were calling to me.  I licked the tip of the right one and Wanda gasped.

“Wow.  Gerald never did that.  Do it again.”

After about ten minutes, the best I could figure is Gerald never did anything with Wanda except stick his cock in her and pump away until he came, but I suppose when you’re just acting out a part that’s about all you can do.  She seemed amazed by everything and kept telling me that, well at first anyway.

 After I’d fondled her tits and sucked her nipples, she stopped talking about how it felt and asking me to do it again.  She just started breathing deeper and moaning once in a while.  That lasted until I nibbled down her soft tummy and slipped my hand up her inner thigh.  She opened her legs a little more when my hand brushed the hair on her pussy.  When I nuzzled her mound, Wanda caught her breath, but she didn’t stop me.

She didn’t stop me when I knelt between her spread thighs, opened her pussy lips with my thumbs and pushed my tongue flat over her clit.  She did talk a little though.  When I started slowly lapping away from her entrance to her clit and then back down, Wanda gasped “Oh my God” and rammed her pussy up into my face.  I was licking down at the time, and my nose flattened out on her clit when she did that.  She didn’t say anything more, but she sort of mewed a little and started moving her hips up and down to rub her clit against my nose.

After a little of this, I was feeling and tasting how wet Wanda was every time my tongue went down to her entrance.  I figured that and all the gyrations her ass was making meant she was ready for something besides my tongue.  I raised up and moved my stiff cock to her wet lips and spent some time stroking it between them and up and over her clit.  On one stroke, Wanda moaned and then lifted her hips up.  My cock slid half-way inside her then.  Wanda gasped and tried to push up but I was already pulling out, so basically, my cock only moved a little.

She shuddered then, and that sort of stroked my cock really fast right in that same place.  Wanda moaned and wrapped her arms around my back and tried to lift herself higher.  She got what she wanted then because I was stroking back in.  I felt a soft little bump when my balls tapped her ass, and when I was in her as deep as my cock would go, I felt Wanda’s fingernails poking my back.

Now, when I was eighteen, I’d probably have starting fucking her as fast as I could just so I could cum, but age teaches a man a couple of things.  When I was eighteen, it would have taken only a few minutes for my cock to shrink and then get hard again.  Now, it was going to take about an hour.  The other thing age teaches a man is that cumming in a warm wet pussy is pretty fantastic, but cumming in a warm, wet pussy while the woman is rolling around, humping up into your strokes, crying out, and digging her fingernails into your ass is incredibly better.

That’s why I kept my strokes slow and deep, and it was working.  At first, Wanda just made little rocking motions with her hips, but a while later, her face was turned sideways, her eyes were closed, and I started feeling little tightenings around my cock.  

A little after that, her breathing went from slow and deep to fast panting breaths.  When I bent my head down and started sucking on her nipples, she held her breath for a few seconds and I felt her start to stiffen up.  A couple strokes later, she gasped and lifted her hips up, then fell back down on the bed again.  She did that several times, and each time, she held her breath a little longer and then raised her ass up a little higher.

I knew Wanda was close when she started rocking her ass up faster than I was stroking.  I sped up to keep up with her and bit down a little on the nipple in my mouth.  Wanda shrieked and dug her nails into my ass.  She said something too, but I couldn’t really understand it because she was starting to groan and it came out something like, “mmmohgommmohhhdonmmmohhhstommm”.

She shrieked twice more before digging her heels into the mattress and trying to lift us both off the bed.  All that did was push my cock inside her a little more.  A second later, she grunted, ‘Uh-uh-uh” and then made this little shrieking sound.  

It was like I was fucking her on a bucking horse.  About all I could do was grab her ass with one hand to keep my cock in her while I came.  I didn’t really have to stroke.  All the ripples that milked my cock and the way her ass was shaking were enough to make me cum hard.  Those little ripples were still squeezing my cock when I stopped sucking her nipple and let go of her ass so I wouldn’t fall down on top of her.

Wanda slowly eased her ass back down on the bed, but she held me in place and pulled me down with her.  She jerked a little when I eased my cock out and then back in, but after I’d done that for a few strokes, she squeezed her thighs around my waist and chuckled.

“Oh God, stop.  It’s too much.”

I didn’t really stop.  Her pussy felt too good to stop, but I did keep those strokes slow and short, and she didn’t seem to mind.  She opened her thighs back up.  I kept making those little slow strokes while her pussy milked at my cock.  When it slipped out and wouldn’t go back in, Wanda sighed.

“Oh my.  Was it supposed to feel like that?  It never did before.”

“I don’t know.  How did it feel?”

Wanda pushed her ass up to get my cock in again, but it wasn’t going to cooperate for an hour or so.

“Mmm…it felt like I was going to explode unless something happened.  Then it did and I did explode.”

I chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s about how it felt to me too.”

“Is it always like this?”

“Well, if the guy knows what he’s doing it can be, I suppose.”

Wanda giggled and tried to rub my cock with her bush and pussy lips.

“I’m going to make you prove that.”

Well, I did prove that and it didn’t take quite an hour.  I rolled off Wanda because I figured I was mashing her.  As soon as I did, she reached for my cock.

“Gerald wouldn’t let me touch him.  I guess I know why now.  You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh hell no.  You do all the touching you want.”

Wanda seemed fascinated by my cock.  She flopped it back and forth for a while, and she really seemed to like stretching the skin up over my cock head and then pulling it back down again.  Needless to say, it wasn’t long before she didn’t have anything to stretch.  My cock was starting to get hard and the head had swelled up.

Wanda circled the swollen head and said, “does it always turn this color?  It’s almost purple.”

I grinned.

“It only does that when a sexy woman plays with it.”

She closed her hand around my shaft and stroked it slowly.

“So you do think I’m sexy?”

“Uh-huh, I do.”

“Do you want to do it with me again?”

“Oh yeah, but if you keep stroking like that I’m not gonna be able to.”

Wanda stopped stroking my cock and then grinned.

“Remember that picture you took of Gracie sitting on the guy’s you know what?”


“I’m gonna try that and see how it feels.”

Well, I think Wanda liked that position.  I know I sure as hell did.  She did a great job of riding my cock and I got to play with her tits at the same time.  Things got kind of frantic there at the end and that made her fucking me about as great as fucking can be.

Wanda was stroking along and getting us both there when I started pinching and pulling on her nipples.  They were already stiff and swollen by then, and with each little pinch and pull, Wanda would moan or groan and grind her pussy lips into the base of my cock.  That was getting me there way too fast even though it was the second time, so I slipped my hand down to her pussy and started fingering her clit.

I’d had to hold onto Wanda’s ass the first time to keep from getting bucked off.  This time, she gasped and raised up enough my cock slipped out of her.  She pushed her pussy down on my shaft and started rubbing her clit up and down so fast I couldn’t get my cock back inside her.

I’m pretty sure she came then because she was panting like a dog and her body was shaking.  I reached down when she had her ass up and shaking it, grabbed my cock, and pushed back inside her pussy.  Wanda shrieked, stretched out on top of me, squeezed her thighs together, and somehow started fucking my cock again.  She shrieked once more and then lost control of everything.  I know she came again then, because she leaked all over my crotch.  I did too, and grabbed her ass and rammed my cock inside her as the spurts of cum flew out the tip and then got squeezed out and onto my balls.

Wanda was all jelly legs and quivering pussy for a while after that.  When she collapsed on my chest, she just lay there panting into my shoulder.  When she didn’t say anything after a while, I gently rolled her over.  She was asleep, so I shut off the lamp on the nightstand and covered us both up.

When I woke up the next morning, Wanda was lying there on her side and looking at me.

“Good morning”, she grinned.  “How do you feel?”

I blinked my eyes so they’d focus and when they did, the first thing I saw was Wanda stroking her tits.  Her nipples were already stiff and her nipple beds were all wrinkled up.

“I’m not sure I can move.  I think I created a monster last night.”

Wanda laughed.

“No, you just woke up the one that was already inside me.  Gracie said that might happen.  I feel great and I feel sexy.  Wanna see how sexy I feel?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer her, but I suppose what Gracie said was true.  An hour later Wanda was laying on top of me again and I was feeling her pussy squeeze my rapidly shrinking cock.

She wanted to take a shower together after that.  She said Gracie told her taking showers with a guy is really erotic.  Well, it sure was for Wanda.  She washed my cock about a hundred times trying to get it to stand up again.  The best I could muster was half-hard.

She was a little disappointed but she got over that when I picked her naked ass up, tossed her on the bed, and then licked her pussy and rolled and pulled her nipples until she came.  She was laying there, still twitching a little, when she giggled, “I have to tell Gracie about all of this.  She won’t believe it, but I’m gonna tell her she was right about older men and she ought to come see you and find out for herself.”

When Wanda got dressed and then kissed me good-bye, I sat there in the chair at my desk for a while.  That little woman had fucked me flat and I couldn’t believe it.  

It was only eleven, but I pulled the scotch bottle out of my desk drawer and poured myself a couple fingers of pain medicine.  I hurt in places I didn’t remember having.  My cock wasn’t going to stand up again for at least a couple of days, and when I took a leak, it looked a lot smaller than before.

I guess if she’s gonna keep coming to see me like she said, I need to drop by the vitamin place down on the corner and see if they have any of those male enhancement pills you see on TV.  I don’t think they really work, but then, they probably won’t do any harm either, so it won’t hurt to try.

In a lot of ways, I hope Gracie doesn’t come see me.  Gracie is younger but she has a lot more experience.  I’m not sure I could manage a woman who knows what she can do and really likes doing it.  

For a few seconds that morning, I had this thought that maybe they’d come visit at the same time, and thought that might be interesting, but then I decided I wanted to live for a few more years.  If Gracie is like what I saw in her back yard, and with the way Wanda is learning so fast, I’d probably have a heart attack right in the middle of everything.  

I took another drink and smiled.  It would take the mortician a long time to get the smile off my face, so it wouldn’t be all bad.

Well, I got a dozen subpoenas and summons to serve in the mail yesterday.  One of them is a repeat and I’m not looking forward to that one, not at all.  Melissa Rhodes apparently can’t read the goddammed red and white signs that say, “NO PARKING”, and she doesn’t understand that you have to put quarters in the little slot in a parking meter and turn the handle so the little red flag goes away.  The last time, she had twenty unpaid tickets, and she hit me with her purse.  This time, it’s thirty, so I figure she’ll be more pissed than before.

Melissa weighs in at about one thirty, but she’s about five eleven, so she’s not fat at all.  Most of her parking ticket are for spots in front of the gym where she works out.  That’s where I caught her the last time.

What she is, is one of those women who doesn’t like men much, and she especially doesn’t like men who serve her with a notice to appear in court.  After she hit me with her purse that last time, she tried to kick me in the balls.  It was only because I was bent over and holding my head that she kicked me in the belly instead.  I figure this time she’ll kick me in the balls first and then hit me with her purse. I’m going to have to think of some other place to serve her.  

Maybe I can go down to the resale shop, buy a dress and a wig, and follow Melissa into the ladies room.  If she’s sitting on the can with her jeans and panties down around her ankles, she won’t be able to kick me and she probably won’t stand up to hit me with her purse.  I’ll be able to get away without getting hurt.

On second thought, nah.  I’d be as fucking butt-ugly as Frank was and I wouldn’t fool anybody.  Instead, I’d get my picture on the six o’clock news and have to register as a sex offender.  If that happened, I wouldn’t get any more clients like Wanda.  Those clients don’t come along very often, but when they do, well…