That's What Friends Are For

Info silverhawk
22 Aug. '19

It’s a bitch doing surveillance at a beach.  You can’t just take your camera out to the beach and start taking pictures of people.  Well, you can and it’s legal because the people are in a public place and legally have no expectation of privacy, but a lot of people, especially women, don’t see it that way anymore.

It’s the goddamned internet that fucked everything up.  A couple websites started up that published pictures of women who didn’t know they were being photographed.  They were an instant success and it’s not hard to understand why.  We guys are a bunch of horny bastards and we really like seeing women doing what they don't want us to see them doing.  Most women don’t like everybody seeing them when they’re naked or when they’re on the can and that’s what most of the pictures were.

It didn’t take long before there were guys installing cameras in swimming pool shower rooms, clothing store changing rooms, women’s restrooms, and their own bedrooms and guest rooms.  At least one guy fixed the ceiling fan in his twenty-something neighbor’s bedroom and while he was up there, installed a camera with a wireless transmitter in the base.  He had a 24/7 view of her doing what she did in her bedroom until one of her friends saw the pictures and recognized her.

There were even guys who put a little camera in the toe of one shoe and then walked around sticking that toe under a woman’s dress to catch a view of her panties or panty hose they saved on a memory stick in their pocket.

A lot of pictures like these ended up posted for the world to see.  Now some of the shower and dressing room shots were pretty neat but I didn’t care much for the shots of women on the can.  Panties, I can understand a little.  On the right woman, the right panties can start raising my flag.  I don’t understand the attraction of panty hose at all.  

First of all, panty hose are about as sexy as a sack of warm dog shit.  Second of all, the crotch, the part that covers what would be fun to see, is usually black or dark brown so all you see is a dark stripe between the woman’s legs.  Third of all, women usually wear pantyhose over their panties, so even if you can see through the goddamned things, all you see is panties and you can’t see them worth a shit.  I guess the crotchless pantyhose are OK, but I’d rather look at tits and a bush.  Big tits are the best, but any tits are better than fucking pantyhose.

Personally, I think whoever invented the goddamned things should be strangled with them…slowly.  They’re a bitch to get off a woman.  By the time you get the goddamned things off, she’s out of the mood.  Well, that’s my experience with my ex anyway.  She wasn’t ever in the mood much to start with, though, so I think she wore pantyhose like a medieval princess wore a chastity belt.

Well, the goddamned feminists found out about these voyeur sites and raised one hell of a stink.  Pretty soon, guys were getting arrested for peeping with all those cameras.  There were even special laws passed to make what was already illegal more illegal, and guys who were convicted had to register as sex offenders.

Now, I understand why the women were so pissed off.  Women tend to let their hair and everything else down when they take a shower or get ready for bed and some of what they let down isn’t all that sexy.  I mean, bras and what women call “body shapers” exist for a reason.  What I don’t understand is how that attitude got transferred to beaches.

When I started out in the PI business, most women wore one-piece swimsuits, and those suits pretty much hid everything a guy would want to see.  They looked more like short-shorts with a matching top sewed to the waistband.  If the woman had really big tits, her tits would swing around when she walked but the whole suit was stretchy so it pretty much kept all the other lumps and bumps in place and hidden.  Women then didn’t care if you took their picture.  You could just walk around with a camera snapping photos of women until your ass fell off and usually they’d just smile.  

Now, women wear skimpy little bikinis that show all of their ass cheeks and most of their tits.  They have to shave their pussies or the hair sticks out around the little strip of material between their legs, and some of the tops don’t cover much of their tits besides their nipples.  

They wear suits like this for one reason and that’s so men like me will look at them.  They like men looking at them, but let just one PI take one snap shot and all hell breaks loose.  You’d think you’d just walked up to the woman and asked her if you could fuck her in the ass.

Even if the woman you took a picture of didn’t see you take it, some other broad will have and she’ll call you a pervert and throw a can of soda at you, and full soda cans hurt like hell.  I think the real reason the broad will do that is she’s just pissed that you didn’t take a picture of her flabby ass and saggy tits too.  Yeah, those broads wear bikini’s too.  Shouldn’t, but they do.

Anyway, I was sitting in my car in a parking lot on an August day and sweating my balls off while watching the beach on Percy Priest Lake through my binoculars.  I was in my car because of what I just said.  If I’d just strolled along the beach in my jeans and shirt trying to see if Belinda was there, I’d have gotten in trouble with the fucking feminist police and also let her know I was looking for her.

Tracking down a cheating lover is a common thing for any PI to do, so I’d done jobs like this before.  What made this one special is Belinda’s girlfriend wanted to know if Belinda was being faithful or not.  Marjorie had given me a picture of Belinda, so I knew what she looked like.  The picture also told me it was a goddamned shame Belinda was a lesbian.  

Now, I don’t have a thing in the world against lesbians.  I have a few former clients who are lesbians.  We became friends and I like them.  I even like Billy Jean Boyd, though that was fucking hard to do until I got to know her.  Billy Jean is a bull-dyke.  Well, I guess today you’re supposed to say she’s a “butch”.  If you’re a lesbian, you can still say bull-dyke, but if you’re not you have to say butch so you won’t offend anybody.

When she walked into my office that day, I thought she was a really short guy.   She was wearing one of those dark blue work uniforms that looked a size or two  too big and steel-toe work boots.  Her brown hair was shorter than mine, and she had on a ball cap that said “IBEW 429” on the front.

When Billy Jean started talking, I still wasn’t sure.  Her voice could have been either a tenor or a low alto.  I didn’t know until she reached inside her shirt and adjusted her bra strap.  When she did that, I saw her tit move under her shirt.

Billy Jean wanted me to find her sister for her.  She said when she came out – that means when she told everybody she likes licking pussies instead of being fucked - her sister had stopped speaking to her.  That was ten years ago, and Billy Jean had lost track of Betty June because she’d moved three times.  Billy Jean wanted me to find Betty June so they could get back together.

Well, I found Betty June and I was there when they met.  It was pretty emotional.  Betty turned out to be about as masculine as Billy Jean, though she was married and had three kids.  She walked up to Billy Jean and hugged her and said she was sorry for not talking to her for so long.

Billy Jean cried her eyes out, and I mean that blubbering, sobbing, can’t understand what the fuck they’re saying, kind of crying.  Before they left me, Billy Jean gave me a hug and told me if she could ever help me do anything, to just give her a call.

I did call her about six months later.  My microwave kept tripping one of the circuit breakers that fed my office/apartment.  I’d called the building owner about six times and he kept telling me he’d tried to get an electrician out to look but they were always busy.  The asshole just didn’t want to fork over the cash to get it fixed since it wasn’t going to burn down the building any time soon.  

I’m smart enough to know electricity isn’t something I should fuck around with, so I called Billy Jean and asked if she knew of an electrician who had time to come look at the problem.  She said she’d be right over.

Billy Jean found my problem, a wire that had loosened up on one of the outlets, and after five minutes, it was fixed.  We sat down in my office and caught up over a little scotch.  I learned Billy Jean had a new girlfriend and it was getting serious.  They were thinking about getting married.

I also learned Billy Jean couldn’t hold her scotch.  When she stood up to leave, she damn near fell flat on her face.  She giggled and said she’d just tripped and then started for the door, but she was walking in sort of an arc rather than straight.  We’d only gone through about a quarter of the bottle and I was feeling fine, but I guess she wasn’t much of a scotch drinker.  I walked her back to my bedroom, put her to bed, and slept on my couch that night.

When she staggered into my kitchen about eight thirty the next morning, she croaked, “do you have any coffee”, and then sat down at my little table and put her head in her hands.

“How much did I fucking drink last night?”

“I’m not sure because I don’t measure except by eye.  I filled your glass up to the flowers a couple…no, it was three times.”

“It feels like my fucking head’s gonna fall off.”

I sat a cup of coffee in front of her.

“Nah, don’t think that’s gonna happen.  Cream and sugar?”

“No, but I’d take about a dozen aspirins if you got ‘em.”

Billy Jean was in the middle of eating a sausage and egg biscuit I’d heated up in the microwave when her cell phone rang.  Well, it wasn’t really a ring.  It was a the same goddamned sound you hear on TV when the submarine is going to dive, and it was fucking loud.  I swear the cups on the table rattled.  Billy Jean smiled weakly.

“Sorry.  That’s the only ring-tone I can hear when I’m working.”

I only heard one side of the conversation, but it told me a lot more about Billy Jean.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Marilyn.  No, I’m OK.  I’m in that PI’s office I told you about.  We had a drink or two after I fixed his outlet, and I guess I drank too much.  He put me to bed to sleep it off.”

“No. Why would you even think I’d do something like that?”

“Look, Honey, even if I was like that, and you know I’m not, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick some prick like Harry.  He’s old enough to be my dad anyway.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Yes, I’m sure.  Don’t you think I’d fucking know if he had?  You know what happens to me.  Believe me, I’d fucking know.”

“Well, if it’ll help, come to his office and I’ll prove it to you.”

“OK, I’ll wait.  Love you.”

Billy Jean looked at me and frowned.

“Marilyn thought I fucked you last night and that’s why I didn’t come home.  She’s on her way over now, so tell her we didn’t do anything.”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“I know, but Marilyn’s a little insecure about herself.  She’ll be OK once she meets you.  You’re not exactly God’s gift to women, you know.”

Well, I didn’t quite know what to say to that.  I mean, it was one thing to call me a prick.  I could understand that, and I was old enough to be Billy Jean’s dad, but I’d always put myself in the “I’d fuck him if he bought me dinner a couple times”, category.  Billy Jean didn’t seem to rate me that high.  That was a little deflating, but then I figured Billy Jean was more than a little prejudiced, so I shrugged it off.

When Marilyn showed up, I could see why Billy Jean liked her.  Marilyn was gorgeous even at ten in the morning.  She seemed pretty upset until Billy Jean gave her a hug and a kiss, and then introduced us.

“Harry, this is Marilyn.  See, Marilyn, he’s just an old guy and he didn’t do anything except keep me from driving home and probably getting my ass hurt.”

I shook Marilyn’s hand and it was like shaking a bath towel.  

She smiled a smile with her bright red lips that threatened to blind me with the flash from her perfect, white teeth.

“Thank you so much for taking care of Billy Jean.”

“It was nothing.  I’d do the same for any friend.”

Marilyn beamed that smile at me again.

“Maybe we could be friends too?”

Well, right then I was thinking I’d like to be more than friends.  I mean, Marilyn was a lesbian and all that, but she had big tits and a really fine ass.  The legs that she was showing below her little miniskirt were pretty fantastic too, long and slender and the kind of legs you just know would feel great wrapped around your waist.  I knew I didn’t have a chance, but it was a nice little fantasy.

“Any friend of Billy Jean’s is a friend of mine.”

“Well, maybe we could get together sometime then.  Billy Jean likes to cook out on our grill.  Maybe we could have some hamburgers some night.  I’ll make my special potato salad.  Billy Jean says it’s the best potato salad in the whole world.”

Well, that kind of killed it for me.  I like a woman to have some balls, well, not like Billy Jean, but I don’t like the “Stepford Wife” type and that’s what I pegged Marilyn as.

Billy Jean thanked me again before they left.  I didn’t miss the fact she didn’t seem quite so enthused about the burger and potato salad thing, but I understood.  Billy Jean was probably more than a little concerned about how Marilyn had acted toward me.  

Anyway, I was looking to see if Belinda was at the beach where she was supposed to be.  Belinda worked seven in the evening to three in the morning as a bartender, so she had her afternoons free.  Marjorie worked eight in the morning to five in the afternoon as a receptionist.  

Marjorie said that had worked out just fine.  They were apart most of the week so they didn’t get on each other’s nerves and they had weekends together.  The problem started once the weather warmed up.  Belinda is a blonde, and Marjorie said when the weather warmed up, Belinda started going to the beach every afternoon to work on her tan, but Marjorie thought Belinda might be working on something else too.

I’d tailed Belinda from their house to the beach, so I knew which beach she went to.  The place was filled up because it was a Friday and evidently a lot of people had taken the day off.  That meant the parking lot was almost full.  By the time I’d found a place to park, I’d lost her in the crowd.  I was back there the following Monday and found a parking place where I could see the whole beach.

There weren’t all that many people on the beach, but it still took me half an hour to find Belinda.  Dumb ass me, I figured since Belinda was a lesbian, she’d be with another woman if she was playing around, so I was looking for a blonde with another woman.

When I finally found her, she was with a guy way down on the far end of the beach and they were pretty much all by themselves. He was built like those Charles Atlas ads that used to be on the back cover of comic books, and he was laying on his back.  I thought his red Speedos were overkill.

Belinda had on a white bikini that did a half-assed job of covering up her tits.  Her tits didn’t hang out under the cups like some I’ve seen, but they did hang out at the sides and top.  The bottoms were a lot smaller.  I figured she must have gotten her pussy waxed.  It was either that or she shaved every day because she was as smooth as a baby’s butt, and if that bikini bottom had been much smaller, I’d have been seeing her pussy lips poking out on each side.  Both were held on by ribbons she’d tied in bows.  She looked like sex in an easy-open package.

She was rubbing suntan lotion on the guy’s chest and I figured she was enjoying the hell out of it because she kept licking her lips.  When she got to his abs, she rubbed lotion into them for a while, and then looked around.  A second later, she slipped her hand down the front of the guy’s trunks.  I could see her hand moving and when she pulled it out, the guys cock head stuck out over the waistband.  She put a little suntan lotion on her fingertip and then rubbed it on the guy’s cock head before she pushed it back under his trunks.

She laid back then, and he sat up and started putting lotion on her front.  Now,  there was no way in hell any sun was going to get under that bikini bra, but the guy kept sliding his hand under it.  When he moved down to her belly, he didn’t look around like Belinda had.  He just slipped his hand under the bottoms.  Belinda either jerked or adjusted things so he could reach her better, I couldn’t tell which, but either way, the guy stuck his hand a little deeper.  The crotch on Belinda’s bottoms started moving up and down.

By then I had enough pictures to satisfy even the most skeptical client.  I didn’t think they’d do any more because it was a public beach, so I finished off my second bottle of water and then drove home.  

That night about six, I called Marjorie and told her I had the answer to her question and if she’d come by, I’d show her what I’d found.  She said she’d be there about seven if that was OK.  I took a shower and then warmed up a frozen dinner while I was waiting.

When Marjorie walked into my office, she looked really concerned.  I figured she was expecting the worst, so I didn’t try to beat around the bush.

“Marjorie, Belinda was at the beach with a guy, and I’m pretty sure they’re more than just friends.”

I expected tears.  What I got was a wide smile.

“A guy?  Oh thank God.”

“You’re happy about this?”

“Oh yeah.  This is way better than if she was with another girl.  She won’t feel so bad when I break up with her now.”

I shook my head.

“Now I’m really confused.”

Marjorie grinned.

“I’m not a lesbian.  I might be kinda bi, but I’m not a lesbian.  I like guys better than girls.

“See, what happened is I was married to a jerk and I got a divorce.  After everything was final, I didn’t want to screw up and hook up with another jerk.  The guys in clubs are all jerks, so I didn’t go to any of those clubs.

“One night after I’d stayed home every Saturday night for three months, I was going crazy.  I needed to relax and have some fun.  All I wanted was to have a couple drinks and listen to some music so I went to The Lipstick Lounge.  I figured since there wouldn’t be any guys there, I wouldn’t have to keep saying no.

“I guess since it was my first time there, I got a lot of attention.  These girls kept coming up to me and asking if they could buy me a drink, just like guys would in any bar.  I didn’t quite know what to think about that, you know.  I mean, I’d never thought much about being with another woman but it sure seemed like they wanted to be with me.  

“Most of them came on pretty strong so I kept saying I didn’t drink much, but one didn’t and that one was Belinda.  She just walked up and asked me my name.  I told her and she told me hers and then asked if I’d dance with her.  I didn’t see any harm in that.  I’d danced with girls since I was in junior high.

“We danced a lot and we drank a lot, or at least I did.  When I got ready to leave, Belinda said she thought she’d better take me home instead.  She finally talked me into it, and when we drove into my drive I thought I ought to thank her so I asked her if she had time for a cup of coffee.

“We were sitting there on my couch when she touched my arm and said she thought I was pretty.  She started rubbing my arm then, and pretty soon, she moved her hand up enough she was rubbing my boob at the same time.”

Marjorie grinned.

“I’ve always had really sensitive boobs, and I hadn’t been touched like that in a long time.  If I hadn’t been drinking, it probably wouldn’t have affected me so much, but one thing led to another until Belinda kissed me.  We ended up in my bed together.

“It wasn’t like with my ex.  Belinda was really slow and really gentle.  It was almost like she was afraid of hurting me.  Well, by the time she kissed me about a hundred times and squeezed my boobs a lot, I was a long way from hurting anywhere.

“Belinda stayed the night and we started seeing each other on Saturday nights.  Then it was Friday and Saturday nights, and then we added Sunday afternoons.  That went on for about six months before I decided being with a woman was OK, but I really wanted a man again.  I just didn’t know how to tell Belinda that.  Now that I know she likes men too, it’ll be easier to tell her why we need to stop seeing each other.”

Marjorie left after I gave her the USB flash drive with the pictures.  She said she was going to ask Belinda if her guy had a friend.  As I poured myself two fingers of Glenfiddich, I was wishing I could be that friend.  Yeah, I know I’m too old to be chasing pussy that young, but a guy can dream, can’t he?

The next morning I went down to the bank to deposit the checks I’d gotten for serving subpoenas, and then had lunch at the Chinese restaurant down the block.  By one, I was sitting at my desk and looking over the mail I’d gotten.

The woman who walked into my office then looked about my age, but with a little work, she could have passed for ten years younger.  She wasn’t wearing much makeup, but what she was made her one of those women you look at, then look at again and keep looking until you couldn’t see her anymore.  Her pants and blouse were obviously business attire, and I don’t see that very often.  Most of my clients don’t have jobs that require that, so they just wear what they wear every day.

Her pants didn’t fit tight, but they didn’t have to to so show me the soft, side to side sway of her hips when she walked in.  Her lace trimmed blouse didn’t fit tight either, but it was a pretty sure thing that under that white cotton was a pair of really fine tits.

She walked up to my desk and smiled.

“I’m Barbara Wicks, and I got your name from a woman who works where I work.  Maybe you remember a girl named Marjorie?  She said if anyone could help me, you could.”

I asked her to have a seat and then asked what she wanted help with.

“I want you to find my daughter.”

Well, that seemed pretty normal, so I started asking my normal questions.

“I can do that.  What’s your daughter’s name.”

I had my pen on the paper when she said, “I don’t know.”

Well, that wasn’t normal.  I put the pen down and looked up a Barbara.

“Uh…why don’t you know your own daughter’s name?”

Barbara looked at her lap.

“Because I haven’t seen her since the day she was born.  I know.  I need to explain that.

“When I was seventeen, I got pregnant by a boy I was going to high school with.  It was my fault.  I was seventeen and thought I was a woman, and John acted like he loved me.  We did it in the back seat of his car one night.  After that, he never spoke to me again.  I found out later he’d done the same with three other girls.  He just didn’t get them pregnant like he did me.  I told him he was going to be a father when I was three months along.  I figured we’d do what most people in that situation did then.  We’d both quit school, he’d get a job, and we’d get married.

“John’s daddy owned the hardware store and wanted John to go to college.  He also didn’t think I was the kind of girl he wanted for a daughter in law.  See, Daddy’s job didn’t pay very much, so we lived on the wrong side of town.  John’s daddy told my daddy he’d pay us ten thousand dollars if we’d agree to never tell anyone John was the father and never contact him or his family again about anything.  Daddy said it was up to me, because I was the one who’d need the money.

“Ten thousand dollars was more than Daddy earned in a whole year, and we were barely getting by.  There wasn’t any way Daddy and Mom could afford to help me.  I didn’t even really read the contract the lawyer brought for Daddy and me to sign.  I just told him it was for the best and he should sign it.  We signed two copies, one for John’s daddy and one for me.  John’s daddy wrote me a check and then left.

“I knew if I stayed at home, everybody would have been talking behind our backs about how I was such a bad girl to have let that happen.  I knew how that worked because I knew another girl who had gotten pregnant a year before.  I didn’t want to put my family through that.  

“Mom had a sister who lived in Nashville, and nobody else in Nashville knew me or my family.  Aunt Sally told everybody I was her niece and my husband was in the Army and stationed in Germany.  She took care of me and talked to me about what I was going to do after the baby was born.  

“Aunt Sally never went to college, but she was a smart women, and she helped me see some things I hadn’t been thinking about.  What I thought about was the baby growing inside me and all the things my baby and I would do together.  Aunt Sally listened to me up until my eighth month, and then sat me down for a serious talk.

“She said since I didn’t have a high school diploma it was going to be very hard for me to support myself, let alone support a baby too.  She also said most men wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I already had a child.  She wasn’t being mean.  She was just trying to make me see reality.  She said it would be better for the baby if I agreed to adoption.  

“Aunt Sally worked as a secretary in the Hull Building, and she knew a woman who worked for Children’s Services.  She took me to talk with the woman.  The woman was really nice and explained all about what would happen if I gave my baby up for adoption and what might if I didn’t.  

“One thing she said really hit me.  She said bringing a new life into the world was a big responsibility, and I should try to make sure my baby had the best life I could manage.  After Aunt Sally’s talk with me and then this one, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to give my baby much of a life.  When my daughter was born, I got to hold her until they cut the cord.  Then they took her away and I never saw her again. I signed over my parental rights later that day.

“After that, I stayed with Aunt Sally and got my GED.  Then I got a part time job and started going to Nashville State.  I got my associate’s degree in social sciences and then transferred to MTSU for my bachelors.  When I got out of college, I started working for Child Services in Nashville as a counselor to women who can’t take care of their children.  I still do that.

“I think I’m pretty good at my job because I can identify with the women.  A man probably can’t understand what having a baby means to a woman.  You carry a baby for nine months and you feel her moving inside you and kicking you.  I’m sure a woman and her baby connect mentally too.  I don’t know how that happens, but I know I felt it.  I never forgot that feeling.  I still feel her today and I want to find her and see how she turned out.”

I said I figured since she worked for the same government department that arranged the adoption of her daughter, she’d be easily able to find her, but Barbara shook her head.

“I can’t just walk down to Records and ask them to give me my daughter’s name and name of the family who adopted her.  That information is sealed unless she’s filed a consent for it to be released and she hasn’t.  I was able to get her original birth certificate since I’m her birth mother, but all it says is “Baby Girl McClain”.  McClain was my maiden name.  I got what we call “non-identifying information”, but most of that was on her birth certificate anyway.  The only other thing I could do was sign a consent form so if she’s looking for me, she’ll be able to get my information.  She hasn’t tried, or at least I’ve never been informed she has.  That’s why I need your help.”

I’d only done one of these investigations in the past and it had been ball-busting work.  You haven’t experienced the fucking government bureaucracy until you dive into the adoption system.  Most of the laws are old and were intended to keep birth parents and children from ever finding each other.  Tennessee does have consent laws now where birth parents can release their information and how they want to be contacted and their child can do the same, but it depends upon both doing that and then sorting out who is who.

I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but she had to know what it was going to entail.

“Mrs. Wick, I’ve only done one other investigation like this, and it took months.  That means it’s going to be expensive, and I still might not come up with your daughter’s name and a way for you to contact her.  You might be better off going to one of the bigger agencies.  They do this sort of thing, not frequently, but more often than I do and they have some more resources than I do.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want a bunch of people knowing my business and in a bigger agency that would happen.  Marjorie said you’re very discreet and I could trust you.  As for the money, my late husband owned twenty-three pawn shops in Tennessee, Georgia, and Alabama, and I own them now.  My share of the profits comes to about three hundred thousand a year, depending upon how the economy is doing.  Money isn’t a problem.”  

Well, she was serious, and far be it from me to turn down money when somebody offers it to me.

“OK.  I need as much information as you have.  Let’s start with the father’s name.  We need that to make sure he hasn’t signed a court order denying release of the information we need.”

Barbara smiled.

“His name was John Ferguson, but you don’t have to worry about John signing anything.  He’s dead.  His daddy had enough money to buy me off, but he didn’t have enough money to bring John back to life after he ran his new Corvette into a bridge abutment at a hundred miles an hour.”

“OK, do you still have the contract you signed when you were seventeen?  Sometimes lawyers write things into a contract that neither party really understands.  I’ll show it to a friend of mine to make sure you’re legal in what you’re trying to do.”

“Yes, I still have it and I already had a lawyer look at it.  John and his family gave up all their rights in return for not having to pay to support me and my daughter.”

I got as much information as Barbara could give me, and almost all that information was on the copy of the original birth certificate she gave me.  I also got the name of the woman she’d talked to at Children’s Services.  Barbara said the woman had passed away three years before, so I wouldn’t be able to talk with her, but she might have left notes or something else with her son.

I didn’t hold out much hope that those notes or any other non-government information still existed.  Barbara’s daughter was born in 1975, and it wasn’t likely any of the people involved were still working in Children’s Services even if they were still alive.  It would take forever to track them all down.  That’s what had taken me so long on that first case.  I did have another idea made possible by modern technology.

As you’ve probably gathered, I’m not a big fan of the internet.  It’s a good way to waste time looking at pictures of cats doing stupid shit and their owners doing even stupider shit.  The amateur porn is pretty good on a couple of sites, but other than that, I don’t use it much.  

The one good thing the internet has done is make it easier to get around a lot of laws designed to keep people from finding other people.  Since I’m not a cop, I can’t access NCIC or any other police database.  I can get a person’s credit history if I have to, but that takes a while.  I also can’t get anybody’s phone records.  

I don’t have to fuck with any of that now because of social media.  I’d used the social media sites before to track down a person.  People are just fucking dumb when it comes to giving out personal information on these sites.  

They won’t just come out and say I’m Lisa Ann Snuggledick and I live at 69 Kummer Lane or anything like that, but they put up pictures of themselves doing stuff where you can see the names of places where they did that stuff.  They think they’re still being secretive enough when the give you the name of the city and state, but once I have that, all I have to do is figure out where they were doing what they were doing and then start talking to people.

The other thing that’s happened is people looking for their birth parents don’t have to navigate through fifteen goddamned government employees who’s main concern is if they’re going to get laid that night.  All they have to do is register for one of the sites that helps people find each other.  They’re kind of like dating sites without the pictures of women in bikinis and guys with their shirts unbuttoned half-way down.

I have accounts on all the social media sites.  I don’t use them to post pictures of me standing in front of a statue of a naked woman with my hands on her tits like a lot of guys do, but I do use them to find people.

After Barbara left, I pulled up my account on each of those sites and then typed “adopted children looking for birth parents” into the search box.  That got me to the group or groups of people on that site looking to reunite with their birth parents or other relatives.

Like any of the groups on social media, these groups are full of ads for people who’ll search for you for a price, a lot of testimonials about how people found each other, and a bunch from assholes who just write shit like “I’m so happy for you”, because they like to see their name in the header.  I wasn’t going to look through all that crap.  I just typed enough information to get a response in the box where you add a post.

If you are a white female born at Centennial Hospital in Nashville, Tennessee on April 2, 1975 and have brown hair, please leave me a message.  I might be your brother and I’ve been looking for you for twenty years.

OK, so I lied a little but there was a reason for that.  In the only other one of these cases I’d done, I was looking for a man whose birth mother wanted to find him again.  I found him after talking with a lot of people who either had something to do with the adoption or knew someone who did and had told them about the case.  It turned out, the guy didn’t want to have anything to do with his birth mother.  He thought she’d abandoned him and he’d never forgiven her for that.

I might have better luck if I claimed to be a sibling looking for a long lost sister.  That wouldn’t be quite as traumatic for some people, and I could straighten things out if and when we made contact.

There are also several sites that do pretty much the same thing except they maintain a database of parents looking for kids and kids looking for parents.  There are some where you have to pay a fee to register, but I bypassed them.  They’re out to make a buck, and just like the dating sites, it’s more profitable if they keep you on the hook and paying the monthly fee for as long as possible.  The free sites looked pretty honest, so I put my ad on three.

I didn’t expect all the responses I got on social media.  The next day I had fifteen or so instant messages on each site.  Some were duplicates, but I had eleven solid leads.  I replied to each one and asked the number on their birth certificate.  In Tennessee at that time, as well as in most other states, when a baby was adopted, a revised birth certificate was issued.  That certificate shows the names of the adoptive parents and the name they gave the baby, but all the other information stayed the same as on the original including the number.  Since I had a copy of Barbara’s daughter’s original birth certificate, if the numbers matched, it was almost certain I had her daughter.

I’d learned from my first case that you have to do this.  As cruel as it sounds, there are people out there who will claim to be your long lost son or daughter in hopes of getting as much money out of you as they can.  I’d talked to three guys who said they were the guy I was looking for, but when asked for something I’d held back, like the name of the hospital or the doctor’s name, they couldn’t give it to me.

I checked every day after that and didn’t have any return messages from any of the eleven until one a week later.  The message gave me a birth certificate number and asked my name.  The birth certificate number was a match, so I replied and explained who I was and why I’d lied.

I didn’t get a response for another week, and then it sounded a little cautious.

“I won’t give you any more information until you tell me more about my mother.  Why does she want to meet with me?  Does she need money?  If I agree to meet with her, can I bring my husband with me?”

I didn’t want to get Barbara’s hopes up only to have her daughter decide she didn’t want to meet.  I didn’t think Barbara would mind if her daughter’s husband was there, because I intended to be there too.  I hadn’t told Barbara that, but I’d been in a position before where I arranged for two people to meet and it hadn’t turned out well.  I wrote back that her mother was financially independent and just wanted to see her and how she turned out.  I also said I understood her concerns and it would be fine if her husband came with her.

Another week went by before I got an answer.  Barbara had already called me three times to ask if I’d found out anything and I’d told her I hadn’t but I was still working on it.  After this answer, I could finally call her.

Barbara was shaking like a leaf when we walked through the gardens at The Opryland Hotel.  That’s where her daughter wanted to meet so there would be a lot of people around.  Barbara spotted her daughter at the same time I did.  The woman looked like Barbara had probably looked twenty years ago.  She had the same long, brown hair, the same eyes, and the same build.

Barbara grabbed my arm.

“That’s her.  I know it’s her.  I feel it.”

I asked Barbara to stay put while I found out for sure.  I didn’t want her to walk up to the woman with me and then find out she was just some woman who looked like Barbara.

I smiled as I approached the woman and the man beside her.

“Were you born on April second, in 1975?”

“Yes”, she said.

“What hospital?”

“Centennial Hospital in Nashville.”

I offered my hand.

“I’m Harry, the guy you’ve been messaging over the last month.  I’m sorry I mislead you with my first ad, but it was necessary.”

She smiled.

“That didn’t upset me once I found out what you really wanted.  Is that my mother over there?”

“Yes.  She’s really nervous about this, so don’t be surprised if she seems a little cool.  She’s just trying not to hurt you or get hurt herself.”

I didn’t hear what they talked about.  Once I introduced Barbara and then found out her daughter’s name was Tiffany Rodgers, I stepped back and let them talk.  Tiffany’s husband, Mark, walked over a little later.

“I didn’t know if Tiffany was going to go through with this or not.   She’s wondered about her birth mother since she learned she was adopted.  She kind of wanted to find her but she didn’t.  Her adoptive mother and father are really great people, and I think she thought she’d be giving up what she had with them.  I don’t know if she’ll want to keep meeting Barbara or not, but I told her this was her chance to find the answers she’s been looking for.”

I said I understood.

“Barbara’s kind of the same way.  She kept telling me she didn’t want to interfere with your life.  All she wanted to do was find out how her daughter turned out.  I think she was looking to feel better about giving her up.

Mark nodded, but he didn’t say anything more.  We spent the next half-hour just standing there and watching them.  

It didn’t last as long as I thought it would.  After that half-hour, Barbara held out her arms and Tiffany gave her a weak little hug.  Then she walked over and told Mark she was ready to go home.

When Barbara joined me, I asked her how it went.  She slipped her arm in mine.

“I still need to pay you, so let’s go back to your office.  I’ll tell you there.”

When we got back to my office, Barbara plopped down on my couch.

“I’m kind of glad that’s over.  I’m still shaking.  I sure could use a drink to settle myself down a little. You have any vodka?”

“No.  I’m a scotch man, sorry.”

She grinned.

“I think you’re a lot like my Joe.  He always drank scotch, neat.  It’s not my favorite, but it’ll do.”

I got the jelly glass out of my desk drawer, wiped it out with a tissue, and then poured a little into it.  

Barbara chuckled.

“I see you have a love of fine glassware.”

“Yeah, well, it holds scotch just as well anything else and it didn’t cost me anything.  I draw the line at plastic though.”

She grinned.

“So did Joe, but he was a lot more generous with his liquor.  I need to be more relaxed than that.”

When I had about two fingers in the jelly glass, she said, “that’ll do for a start” so I walked over to the couch and handed it to her before I sat down on the other end.

Barbara took a healthy sip, but she didn’t make a face or cough like I figured she would.  She just closed her eyes for a few seconds and then swallowed.

“I don’t drink much anymore unless I want to relax.  I’m feeling more relaxed already.  You look like you could use relaxing too and I don’t like drinking alone.  Go ahead and pour one for yourself.”

Well, I was getting a little tense.  Barbara was wearing a skirt that was fairly short, but about right for a woman her age.  I mean, it wasn’t really short, like ass cheek short, but it hit her well above the knee.  When she sat down, the dress rode up far enough I was looking at some really nice legs and got a little peek at the lace tops on her stockings.  I got my glass from my desk and poured myself two fingers and then came back to the couch.

Barbara turned toward me and pulled one leg up on the couch.  That made her dress ride up even higher, and now I was looking at black panties between her soft thighs too.  She took another healthy sip from her jelly jar and then smiled.

“I want to thank you for finding Tiffany for me.  She’s a beautiful woman and her husband seems like a really nice guy. I guess it turned out as well as you’d expect.  I can’t imagine how it must feel to have a woman you’ve never met tell you she’s your mother.  I think Tiffany was a little confused because she was kind of cool about the whole thing.  I didn’t expect her to hug me to death because she couldn’t possibly remember me, but I thought she might be a little more friendly.  

“Maybe she’ll change after she has a chance to think about it.  I told her it’s her choice because I’d found out what I wanted to know – that she’d grown into a good woman and that she was happy.  I told her I wasn’t trying to replace the people she called mom and dad because I knew I couldn’t ever do that.

Barbara drained her jelly jar in one gulp and then smiled and handed me her jelly jar.

“Could I trouble you for a refill?”

I filled her jelly jar up to the same place and handed it back to her.

“Well, at least she did want to see you.  She could have just said she was happy like she was and dropped the whole thing.”

Barbara’s little sips were getting bigger and that worried me a little.  I figured she was feeling down about the way her daughter had acted and was trying to feel better by getting buzzed.  She wasn’t acting like she was getting buzzed, but scotch can sneak up on you when you’re not looking and put your ass on the floor.  It looked like I was going to have to give up my bed so she could sleep it off.

Barbara looked at her jelly jar and then ran her finger around the rim.

“She said you didn’t tell her why I did it, and I suppose it was better that she heard it from me than from somebody else.  It was hard to tell her it broke my heart to give her up, but I did it for her so she’d have a better life than I could have given her then.  I think she understood a little, because she nodded and said it would be hard for her to do that too.

“Oh, I found out I’m a grandma too, twice  - one girl and one boy.  I’m not sure how I feel about that.  Joe and I never had any kids, so I didn’t think that would ever happen to me.  Makes me feel old.  I guess I need to get my hair cut short and start wearing long dresses now.”

I smiled in an attempt to make her feel better, but I really did think what I was saying.

“You don’t look old to me, and I don’t think just because you’re a grandma you need to dress like that.  I know a couple of really sexy grandmas.”

Barbara rolled her head around and winced.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.  This grandma does feel old though.  Since I turned fifty, my shoulders keep cramping up.  Joe used to give me a massage and that helped.  I wish he was here now because it’s starting to hurt.  I don’t suppose you’d want to help me out, would you?”

I said I didn’t know the first thing about giving a massage.  

Barbara smiled.

“You don’t have to.  All you have to do is squeeze my shoulders a little.  That and a little more scotch and I’ll be able to sleep tonight.  Here, I’ll turn around so you can reach me better.”

Barbara turned her back to me and then slid down my couch so she was closer.  I had no fucking idea what I was doing, but put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.  Barbara chuckled.

“You can do it harder than that.  You won’t break me.  Squeeze a little harder and sort of work the muscles.”

I tried doing that and after a few times, Barbara sighed.

“That’s it, that’s what does it.  I feel better already.  Now move your hands a little closer to my neck.”

Well, I was feeling pretty fucking good too, or at least my cock was.  Every time I squeezed Barbara’s shoulders, I felt her bra straps and how tight her tits had made them.  My cock was pushing out the front of my jeans enough it was starting to get uncomfortable.

It got more uncomfortable when Barbara gently pulled my hands down over her shoulders until I felt the soft rise above her bra and murmured, “it feels tight here too”.  

Now, I’m no doctor, but no tits I ever felt ever got tight.   Tits are kind of like Jello.  You squeeze them and they sort of flow out of your hand.  To get stiff, they’d have to have muscles, and I’ve never felt a tit that did.  Well, there was this one gal who had really firm tits, but they were mostly silicone, so they weren’t really tits.

I said I didn’t think anything there could be stiff.  Barbara held my hands in place, laid back and put her head on my lap, and then batted her eyes at me.

“A man your age should know what I’m really saying.  You do, don’t you?”

“Oh, I do.  I think it’s the scotch talking though.”

“It’s not the scotch.  I told you I feel old.  All I want is to not feel that way, and I don’t know of any other way to make that happen.  I don’t know any other men I’d trust not to tell everybody they knew either.”

Well, I’d like to say I asked her to get up and when she did, I called her a cab to take her home.  I did think about doing that… for about three seconds.  That thought sort of went away when she pulled my hands down on top of her tits.  

Barbara looked up at me then.  

“If I feel what I think I’m feeling, I think you wouldn’t mind all that much.”

Well, she had me there.  As soon as she pulled my hands down to her tits, my cock stood up and started nosing around for any pussy that might be in the area.  Since Barbara was laying on my cock at the time, she had to feel it.

“Barbara, it’s not that I’d mind.  It’s just that I don’t take advantage of women when they’ve been drinking.”

She pushed my hands down until her tit’s flattened out a little and used that voice women use when they want you to know they want to be fucked.  Well, it was the same voice the actresses in the movies use for that anyway.

“It isn’t taking advantage of me if I want you to do it, now is it?”

“Well, no, I suppose not, but –“

I couldn’t finish saying I’d feel like I would still be taking advantage of her because Barbara turned loose of my hands and started unbuttoning her blouse.  When the first button came loose, I saw some really nice cleavage.  When the second came loose, I saw mesh bra cups.  When the third came loose, her tits pushed her blouse open and I saw really big, dark nipples staring at me through the mesh.

I know I’m weak when it comes to big tits and big nipples.  As long as they stay covered up, they only make me start imagining how they’d look if they weren’t.  Barbara might as well have been naked because the mesh wasn’t doing anything to hide those big nipples and that was cranking my crank.

She undid the last couple buttons and then pulled my hands back onto her tits and sighed.

“Mmm…Just squeeze a little at first.  I like that.”

 Well, I’m just a guy.  Granted, I hadn’t gotten myself fucked in quite a while, but even if I had, Barbara was way too much woman to just ignore so I didn’t try.  It was pretty neat how her nipples got stiff and poked my palms through her bra cups.  After that, well, I knew a couple guys who would have still said no, but they’re into each other instead of women.

“You’re gonna make me do this, aren’t you?”

Barbara grinned up at me.

“I was sorta hoping you’d want to.  Maybe this will help.”

I hadn’t seen that her bra hooked in the front, but it did.  Barbara unhooked that one hook and then pulled her bra cups out from under my hands and her nipples poked into my palms again.  I didn’t think I was moving them around, but Barbara moaned then.

“Mmm…do that some more.”

No, I didn’t fuck Barbara on my couch, though I don’t think she’d have cared at that point.  I did though.  

“I will if you come back to my bedroom.”

Barbara grinned.

“Lead the way.”

Once I got her out of her blouse, bra, and skirt, Barbara was even more seductive.  I left her stockings on because she said they made her feel sexy.  She was right about that.  She got sexier yet when I rolled the little black panties down over her round, soft ass.  I like a woman with a bush, and Barbara’s was pretty damned nice.  She’d trimmed it some, I think, because the hair on her pussy lips wasn’t as long at the hair on her mound, but that just let me see her long, slender lips better.

I stripped while she watched and licked her bottom lip, and then put us both on the bed.  Barbara hooked her leg over me and wiggled her big tits into my chest, then planted her mouth on mine.

Barbara was a great kisser and she didn’t waste any time showing me that.  She just opened her mouth, pressed it to mine, and started working her tongue between my teeth.  She moaned when our tongues touched, and then raked her nails down over my chest until she found my cock.

When Barbara raised up, she looked at me with a grin, and then poked her left tit in my face.  She didn’t have to tell me what that meant.  I sucked her big, stiff nipple into my mouth, sucked a little harder, and then licked the tip.  Barbara shuddered and pulled back a little.  I was still sucking her nipple, so her tit got stretched out a little before the nipple popped out of my mouth.

“Oh, wow”, she giggled.  “I’d forgotten how that feels.”

She poked her right nipple at me then.  It felt a little bigger when I sucked it, I think.  I know it felt like it got bigger after I did.  I know Barbara started jacking my cock a little faster then too.  I wasn’t about to let her get me ahead of her, so I rolled her on her back and then nibbled my way down to her thighs.  

Barbara caught her breath when I stroked up her inner thighs between her stocking tops and her pussy, and then she opened her legs.  Her pussy opened a little too then, and it looked too good to resist.  I stuck my tongue on top of her clit hood and licked.  Barbara gasped and rocked her hips up.  When she eased them back down on the mattress, her clit hood got pushed back and the smooth, little round tip brushed against my tongue.

It was hard to get between her upraised thighs then, because Barbara had pushed my face down into her hairy mound, but she let me go when I slipped a finger between her lips and stroked a little.  Once I got stretched out, I slipped that finger in a little more and licked her rippled inner lips.  Barbara moaned and pushed my face down on her pussy again.

I like the taste of a woman.  I wasn’t sure the first time, but after that I was hooked.  Barbara liked what I was doing too.  For a while, she just lay there and purred out little mewing sounds, but then she started rocking her pussy up into my face.  When I slipped a second finger in beside the first, that rocking got a lot stronger and my fingers got a lot wetter.  Her little purrs started to get louder too, and it wasn’t all that long until she reached down and pulled on my shoulders.

That’s usually a woman’s way of saying “fuck me now” without saying anything, so I figured Barbara was ready.  I got up on my knees and started guiding my cock toward her pussy when she breathed, “Uh-uh, not this time”.  She pushed me onto my back, rolled on top of me, and then pulled her knees up to my chest.

“This time I get to do it.”

Well, Barbara did do it.  She reached down, grabbed my cock, and then rubbed it around between her pussy lips and over her clit.  I could feel her clit on my cock head when she did that, and I know she felt it too because she’d shudder and her mouth would open in a little moan.  When she had my cock head all shiny and slick, Barbara pushed it back a little, wiggled her ass until she found the right place, and then started sinking down over my cock head.

I felt her pussy lips first, and then the snug fit when my cock started going inside her.  She didn’t just drop down once that happened.  She sort of bobbed up and down right there for a while.  Well, if I’d been eighteen again, I’d probably have cum right then and there.  Age takes away the ability to reload really fast, but it also gives a guy the ability to hold back, and I was holding back for all I was worth.  I’d challenge any guy to look down his belly and watch his cock moving in and out of wet pussy lips without having to hold back some.

Barbara did let her pussy swallow all of my cock a little later, and when she did, she purred out a few moans, and then started raising up again.  That was even more fun to watch than my cock going inside her.  Her pussy lips stuck to my shaft and dragged it until my cock head stopped at that tight spot again.

I didn’t watch my cock after that because I couldn’t see it.  Barbara leaned down and stuck her tits in my face, so the tit with the nipple I was sucking pretty much blocked my view of anything else.  I didn’t have to see her pussy lips to feel what they were doing anyway.  I could feel them stick to my cock and then roll up inside her when she stroked down, and then stretch out again when she raised up.

I kept feeling this wet warmth on my cock too, and then I felt my balls getting wet.  Evidently Barbara was one of those squirters you see on the porn sites.  Well, she didn’t actually squirt, but she sure was leaking a lot.  That helped me keep from ramming my cock up and cumming too fast.  Barbara was taking me there, but not as fast as if she hadn’t been so slippery inside.

She changed that when I closed my teeth on her right nipple and bit just a little.  Barbara gasped and slammed down over my cock hard.  When she raised back up, I was still holding that nipple between my teeth so her tit got stretched out.  She got my cock most of the way out before she shrieked and slammed back down over my cock again.  She did the same thing when I changed nipples, only by then she was starting to shake a little.

Those little shakes started becoming the rocking of her hips to push my cock deeper with each stroke.  I was getting there fast now and tried to slow Barbara down.  She looked down at me with half-closed eyes, grinned, and started pumping my cock for all she was worth.  I was having trouble holding back what with her stretching out her tits with every up-stroke and then grinding her pussy into me when she pushed back down.

A second later, Barbara pulled her nipple out of my mouth, threw her head back, and started to pant.  She wasn’t stroking my cock then so much as she was just rocking her pussy back and forth.  She gasped, then cried out, and then her legs shook until I thought she was going to fall over.  I held her up by her armpits as I started to cum.  After three spurts, I couldn’t hold her up anymore.  She fell down on my chest and kept rocking her hips over my cock for a while, then sighed and stuck her face between my neck and my shoulder.  

When she stopped panting, I asked if she felt better now.  Barbara raised her head, nibbled my earlobe, and then whispered, “I think so, but I’m gonna to need a lot more therapy before I’m cured.”

Well, I therapied her again that night, and this time she let me drive, well, sort of.  I was doing great, just slowly humping away and enjoying all her little moans until she grabbed my ass and ran her finger down my crack.  I pretty much lost it then, but Barbara wasn’t far behind me.  I’d shot my last when she gasped and started lifting her pussy up over my cock.  She raised up off the bed, hung there and held her breath, then cried, “Oh, my God”, and started that shaking again.  If I hadn’t already cum, I would have then.  As it was, it just felt really great.  It felt really great when she snuggled up beside me, pushed her big tits into my chest, and went to sleep.

She was all smiles and sultry eyes the next morning.  She managed to shake my cock back to life long enough to get it inside her while we lay on our sides.  I came that time too, right after Barbara did.  If felt as great as the other two times.  When she rolled back on her back, she giggled.

“I don’t feel old any more.  You must have cured me.”

I chuckled.

“I’m glad I could.  Just don’t expect any more curing today.  It’s gonna take me a week before I can play doctor again.”

Barbara raised up on one elbow, shook my limp cock a little, and then mused, “He does seem to be tired, but that’s OK.  I need to get home anyway.”

She used my shower, then dressed while I made coffee.  After a cup, she grinned at me.

“I might start to feel old again.  If I do, can I come back for another treatment?”

Well, I couldn’t very well tell her no, now could I?  I mean that would be like saying I hadn’t liked fucking her and that would have made her feel bad.  I just said I needed some time to recover.

Barbara was still trying when she kissed me good-bye but she was beating a dead horse…er…cock.  I was down for the count.  She was humming to herself when she walked out the door.  I went back to bed and slept until about four in the afternoon.

Two days later I was back to my old self and starting to work on a couple subpoenas I had to serve.  One was for an older woman who was being sued by her neighbor.  Apparently she didn’t like it that his rambling rose bushes had covered her side of the fence as well as his side, so she cut them off on her side.  A bunch of them died so he was suing her in small claims court to get the money to replace them.  I didn’t figure she could run very fast and probably wasn’t strong enough to hit me very hard, so that one would be easy.

The other was for the owner of a nightclub.  He was being sued by one Marsha Biddlesworth for injuries and mental stress she’d suffered while dancing at his club.  Normally, something like is handled during negotiations with the club owner’s insurance carrier and never goes to trial, but I guess they though it was Marsha’s fault instead of the club’s.  

She’d been wearing one of those stretchy tops that stay up only because the woman’s tits keep them in place.  Apparently, Marsha’s top wasn’t quite the right size, because right in the middle of her big tits flopping up and down while she danced, it came down.  When she tried to pull it back up, she got off balance on her spike heels and fell flat on her face.  She claimed the floor was too slick and that’s why she fell down.

Marsha would probably be harder, but it would be fun seeing tits that big.  I tossed both in my in box and poured myself another cup of coffee.  There was no rush, and since I was feeling a lot better, I decided to treat myself to a one-day vacation.

I was thinking about lunch when my office door opened and Marjorie walked in.  She was grinning when she walked up to my desk.  I asked what she wanted.

“I just thought I’d drop by and thank you again.  Belinda and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.  I sat her down and told her what you’d found, and said I couldn’t keep seeing her if she was going out with a guy.  

“Well, she looked as relieved as I was.  She told me she wasn’t really a lesbian either.  Her boyfriend had broken up with her and when he did, he said she wasn’t much of a woman.  That made her feel pretty low, so she went to The Lipstick Lounge to see if women liked her better.  We didn’t know it, but it was the first time for both of us.

“She met her new guy a couple months after we started seeing each other, but she didn’t now how to tell me.  She thought she’d break my heart.

“We had a long talk after that, and she said she’d talked to her boyfriend and he didn’t care if we still got together once in a while.  We did, all three of us.  It was pretty good with Belinda, but after that, her boyfriend fucked her and all I got to do was watch.  That really sucked.  I mean, there I was, horny as hell, and all I got to do was watch while he fucked her.  I have got to find me another guy, I guess, but it’s great knowing I can now.”

I said I was happy things worked out for her, and I was sure she could find another guy because she was pretty foxy.

Marjorie grinned.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.  My rabbit just isn’t doing it for me.  Do you think you could…you know, even if it’s just once.  I’m so horny I can’t do anything right and you’re the only guy I can really call a friend right now.”

I figured Marjorie for about thirty and that made me a little over twenty years older than her.  That bothered me a little.  I mean, it probably wouldn’t feel right, you know, so it did bother me.  Well, I figured it would feel great, but you know what I mean.  It bothered me all the way up until she pulled off her T-shirt and then grinned.

“I know you like my boobs because you’ve been staring at them since I got here.  Wanna see how they feel?”

Well, far be it from me to turn down a woman who just wants to feel good about herself.  It was three days until Saturday and I didn’t think Barbara would be back before then if she came back at all.  I’d have some time to recover and probably get my subpoenas served too.

Marjorie had taken off her bra by then, and her tits pretty much convinced me I should help her out.  That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?  That’s what the song says anyway.

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