True Love Ch. 01

It was a relief to get off the grimy grey streets. I'd been pounding the baking asphalt for hours, wearing the already paper thin soles of my five dollar shoes into a fine mist. Now I was sat in the reception room of my latest client, a Major Benson, waiting for him to finish pounding whichever floozy he had bent over his office desk.

He certainly had plenty of get up and go for an old guy, I put him at around sixty three but sometimes it was hard to tell with those brash army types. Anyway, he'd certainly got it up and he was going alright. I could make out the pair of them, blurred silhouettes through the frosted glass in his office door.

He'd hired me to tail his wife. He knew she slept around and for the most part with his blessing. But there was one guy he didn't like her playing hide the sausage with and that guy was Monkey Johnson. She swore blue that she wasn't involved with him, but her old man thought he knew better and supplied me with enough green to make it worth my while photographing the pair of them going at it through a handy bedroom window.

Well, that was the plan. So far I'd come up short and the old man was losing patience.

The sounds of hot sex next door were getting to me and I was starting to heat up in the trouser department. I adjusted my pants and allowed myself a few sly strokes of my little man courtesy of my trouser pocket.

The broad was certainly getting her rocks off. I could hear her panting and moaning as the old man slammed into her from behind. Her voice sounded strangely familiar to me and I wondered who it could be, I hadn't seen a secretary around here before.

Just then the old man cried out and I saw his shadow stop moving as he emptied his balls into the mystery woman.

I concentrated hard on getting the steel out of my pole before it got embarrassing – something I'd learned to do in Sunday school out of absolute necessity many years ago. When you have a hot teacher who likes to bend down and pick up her chalk a lot, it adds new terrors to the thought of being called up to the front of the class.

Then the office door opened and my whole world turned upside down.

My wife walked out smiling contemptuously and my jaw hit the floor. She was still rearranging her blouse, doing up the last few buttons to hide those big mams that had just had an extra marital mauling.

"Hello Chuck," she drawled, still giving me that nasty smile.

She stood with her hands on her hips for a moment before she was moved on by a swift slap to her big round ass.

"Get on Loretta," the old man chuckled as he reacquainted his hand with her backside - but this time he didn't slap her, instead giving her a playful squeeze before she left by the out door.

I guessed that this wasn't their first time.

My attention turned back to the old man who was still chuckling and looking pointedly at the crotch of my pants. I looked down and saw that for the first time in years I'd failed to run down the flag, I was loaded and on a hair trigger.

"I've always been able to read a man," laughed the Major. "It's been quite an advantage over the years, both in business and in my years of service to Uncle Sam."

I must have looked puzzled because the old man went on to give me a very frank explanation.

"I knew from the moment I saw you that you were the type to get off watching another man fuck your wife. Next time I'll give you a ringside seat, now to business," growled the Major indicating towards his office with a nod of his grey head.

I guessed the pleasantries were over so I walked in and sat down, my detective's eyes picking out the small puddle of semen on the carpet by the desk, my husband's nose picking out my wife's perfume amongst the strong smells of sex that filled the room.

The Major sat on his desk, still warm from the recent fucking of my wife. I idly wondered if she'd left the imprints of those big tits of hers in the green leather of his desk top.

"Got the photos?" the old man snapped me out of it.

I was startled slightly by the flare of a match as he lit a large Cuban.

"Not yet," I replied.

"Tonight," he chewed around the cigar. "I know they're meeting. I've had a tip off."

He blew a long stream of smoke towards me and his eyes flicked towards the office door. I knew then that my wife had done more than just beg him to go deeper. Did he want me to know? I wasn't sure yet, but I guessed it was only a matter of time before I'd find out.

I nodded.

"Rolled by the thighs of virgins...or so they say," he mused as he held the lit cigar between his fingertips. "I don't suppose your wife has rolled a cigar for a very long time," he laughed as he looked at me.

I looked away and said nothing. I got the feeling he could see the movies inside my head and was watching the one of him taking my wife in our marriage bed, his fat white ass rising and falling between her wide open thighs.

"Here's the address," he said as handed me a folded piece of paper.

I scanned the address and slipped the note into my pocket.

"Be there at eight O'clock. It's your last chance."

I nodded and began to head for the door before he stopped me with another chuckle, "Oh...and be here tomorrow afternoon at three O'clock sharp, we wouldn't want to start without you. Man she's got a great ass!"

I felt another stirring in my pants, his laughter as I left just seeming to make things worse. I had time to think before that night's little rendezvous and I intended to spend it well.

***

I'd had plenty of time to think and the more I thought the more things heated up in the boiler room downstairs. I was walking around like a permanent erection and watching the Major's young wife getting the old in out from Monkey Johnson and his enormous pole really wasn't helping matters.

I'd nearly finished a whole roll of film, snapping the two lovebirds in just about every position known to man and animal, when the urge began to overtake me. I quickly swapped the film, tossing the full one into the undergrowth for later just in case I got any unexpected company.

It was the only wise move I made that night.

Unzipping my pants I turned back to the action. He was really giving it to her now, the guy didn't just look like a monkey he fucked like one too and she was really getting off on it. I reached into my pants and managed to get in all of three measly strokes before the butt of a gun caressed the back of my skull and the lights went out on the main event.

***

"Just some fuckin peepin tom boss."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, he had his little pecker out and wuz gettin off on you an' your lady friend doin da Rhumba."

The world was coming back slowly like a train heading out of a tunnel into broad daylight, except that this train couldn't see straight and badly needed a drink.

I tried to move my hands but found that they were tied tight behind my back.

"He's coming round, get him outta here before he clocks too many faces." I assumed that was Monkey.

"Your da boss."

If a mountain had a voice I guessed it'd sound like Monkey's goon, it went from deep harsh gravel to avalanche and back again in once short sentence. Something was wrapped around my face and mountain man made like a sack of potatoes with my aching body.

A little while later I was dazed but free, rubbing some life back into my hands. Thankfully they didn't seem to know who I was. But now I didn't know where I was. There'd been a car ride somewhere and now I was on a highway out of town. There was nothing for it, I headed in the direction of the distant lights of the city and put my thumb to good use.

***

Getting the roll of film and the camera back next day was child's play. Luckily they hadn't found it or my camera and it gave me just enough time to get back across town and take my seat at the afternoon performance.

I was right on time and held the street door to the Major's office open to let my wife in before me. She was dressed to the nines today, seemed stockings, heels and a skirt so tight I could read her ass like a map.

That ass of hers always fills a skirt or dress to the limit and today it was vying with the two guys upstairs to be the main attraction.

My wife has big tits, there's no getting away from that. She comes home every day with a dozen guys eyeballs impaled on her nipples. I love them and so does everyone else, hell I love that they love them and she knows it. I regularly whack off to her stories of strangers hands clutching her mams on crowded buses around town.

Today they were presented gloriously in tight satin, open necked and swaying with a cleavage big enough to lose a battleship in.

Before we went in she presented me with some tissues.

"You'll need these," she smirked.

I pocketed them and said nothing, watching as she was greeted by the Major, his old veiny hands travelling across her ass, lifting her tight skirt and running along her stockinged thighs as the two lovers kissed deeply. After a few moments they quit the tongue hockey and moved into his office. I followed closing the door behind me.

"Did you get the photos?"

I nodded dumbly and handed him the roll of film which he threw into a desk drawer.

"Good, now sit down and watch," the old man growled at me.

I did. He tore open my wife's blouse and sloppily French kissed her tits, tugging her skirt up over her thighs as she moaned pulling his old grey head deeper into her velvet chest.

I settled back into my chair and unzipped my pants...this promised to be quite a show.