The Case Of Clarabells Boyfriend

"Oh...oh, Jerry...I'm...I'm gonna cum."

Side-by-side isn't my favorite position, but Maggie had suggested it by throwing her thigh over my legs, grabbing my rigid cock and impaling her pussy with it. After she did that, I didn't have much choice but to stay there. I thought it was a nice gesture that Maggie lifted her heavy breast up and held it so I could suck her nipple, but then, she got a lot out of that too. Maggie likes to have her nipples sucked.

Maggie started to rock her hips back and forth, driving my cock into her tight little pussy with each push. The soft thigh hooked over mine tightened up and held me locked deep inside her as she began shuddering. I couldn't move, but that didn't matter much. All the squeezing and rippling her pussy and passage were doing was enough. I groaned as three shots of cum flew through my trapped cock and splattered inside Maggie.

Maggie sighed and let her hand slip out from under her heavy breast. Since I still had her nipple between my teeth, it bounced a couple times giving her nipple a sharp little tug with each bounce. I felt her pussy contract again. Maggie giggled.

"Wow...that was neat. Keep holding on. I'm gonna do that again."

She did and if my cock hadn't been starting to soften, I'd have cum again because of all the little squeezes it was getting. I knew I would a little later anyway. Maggie is like that movie title, "Once Is Not Enough". In her case, "enough" usually means when my cock calls time out and my tongue is limp too. It's still not enough for her, but it's enough to let her wrap her arms and legs around me and go to sleep for a few hours.

I'm not complaining, though. As my dear old Uncle Jack once told me, 'if you don't use it, you'll lose it'. Even at seventy, he bragged that he hadn't lost it yet, and since Aunt Grace was pretty happy all the time, I figured he knew what he was talking about.

Maggie let me rest for about fifteen minutes. I guess you couldn't really call it resting because Maggie had most of my cock in her mouth and my balls in her hand at the time. It was fifteen minutes before she had me standing tall again though.

She finished pumping my cock up tight with her mouth and before I could do anything, she turned around to face me and grinned.

"I'm gonna fuck you this time, Honey."

It took her a couple of tries to get my cock head and her entrance lined up, but once she did, Maggie didn't waste any time. She took a deep breath, pushed down, then pushed down a little harder, and after my cock head got squeezed through the tight spot just inside her pussy lips, she dropped down and sat on my thighs.

Maggie grinned again.

"You ever heard of those Kegel things? I been doin' 'em at work when I'm not gettin' beers or shots for the guys. See whatcha think."

I'd always wondered what the cow feels when the farmer hooks her up to a milking machine. Now, I knew. Maggie's tight little pussy was clamping down on my cock like always, except the tightness was moving up and down, up and down, up and down, and stroking my cock in the process.

"Damn, Maggie, you better stop that or I won't last two minutes."

"Awww...is my little kitty too much for you?"

I felt a couple really strong contractions that stroked almost half way up my cock.

"Not if you don't mind me cumming in about thirty seconds."

"Oh, we can't have that. You just lay still then until I tell you it's time."

I laid still for about a minute. After that, there wasn't any way I could keep from humping my cock up into Maggie's stroking pussy. That's when she leaned down and plopped her right breast in my face.

"Oh God, Jerry...suck it hard."

I'd learned by then that when Maggie says "hard", she means sucking until I have her big, stiff nipple and half of her nipple bed in my mouth and I'm pushing her nipple against my teeth with my tongue. That always does what I felt next.

Things got really slippery around my cock. Maggie's head fell forward then and the low moan started deep in her chest. I know because I felt the vibration through the nipple I had in my mouth. I relaxed my mouth and let her nipple slip out a little, then sucked back in hard again.

This time, Maggie's head rocked back, and in the same motion she raised up a little. Since I still had her nipple pushed tight up against my teeth, her big, round breast stretched out into a big, long cone. The bedsprings bounced when Maggie slammed her pussy down over my cock. Then she started that erotic little murmur she always does.

"Mmm, oh, mmm...again...mmm, mmm, oh...ah...ah..."

I kept my mouth latched onto her nipple and tried to catch the other with my fingers, but it was bobbing around too much. I had to catch her whole breast and then work my way down until I could pinch the rigid tip. Then I rolled it and pulled down.

"Oh, God, Jerry...now."

Maggie didn't need me slamming my cock up inside her. It was already as deep as it would go. I couldn't help it, though, and lifted her up off the bed about six inches. She cried out, "Now, now, now" just as my ass tightened up and shot the first spurt in her. Maggie shuddered, then gasped, and then her hips did some really weird but really wonderful gyrations. I let her back down and then pushed up again to let the second shot go.

After the third, I collapsed back onto the mattress, but Maggie was still moaning and doing that fantastic thing with her hips. I kept stroking because it felt good and it seemed to keep Maggie going too. It was at least another minute before she eased her body down on my chest and sighed.

"Did I do good?"

"Maggie, if you'd done any better, I'd have passed out."

She giggled.

"I think I did for a couple seconds there. Things got all dark and all I could feel was your cock squirting inside me."

After about five minutes of kissing me breathless and trying to revive my shrunken cock, Maggie gave up, curled up beside me and went to sleep. I slept pretty well until eight. It was about then I felt a soft hand curled around my cock and soft, wet lips nibbling my ear.

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I got back to my office around eleven in the morning and crashed on my couch for another five hours. It took another hour to really wake up, and by then it was time to eat. I settled for some left over pizza I had in the fridge and went back to bed. By eight the next morning, I was feeling mostly alive again.

I spent the day serving subpoenas, well, two anyway. The first seemed like it was going to be easy. I caught up with him in one of the parks. His name was George Gregory and he was about as nice a guy as you'd ever find, a little weird looking with his short, skinny body, big ears, and thick, black-rimmed glasses, but nice.

George's uncle had passed away and left him a healthy chunk of an estate. His ex-wife's lawyer had gotten wind of George's new found wealth and reasoned since his uncle's will had been written while George and his client were still married, she should get half. I suppose it didn't hurt that the lawyer would collect a sizeable chunk of that half of George's money.

I didn't know the amount, but I figured the tall, stacked blonde hanging on George's arm did. She wasn't all that great looking, once I got past the big tits that bounced around under her T-shirt because she wasn't wearing a bra, but George didn't seem to mind. He was grinning from ear to ear.

George didn't seem to mind the difference in their heights either. The blonde kept hugging him, and when she did, she mashed his face right into her breasts. I figured for a chick like her to be rubbing herself all over a guy like George, she had to know that George had just come into some money.

Anyway, I walked up to George, handed him the subpoena and informed him he'd been duly served. He looked at it and just gave me a little smile, so I turned to walk away as he was saying something to the blonde. It was right after that she hit me with her purse...twice.

Judging by the stars I saw, I'm pretty sure she had an anvil in one side. I'm not sure what was in the other side, but it felt bigger and harder. By the time I got turned around to defend myself, she was striding away on her tall high heels and dragging George behind her. George was still smiling. He even called back over his shoulder and asked if I needed any help getting to the doctor. I didn't need to go to any doctor, but I thought it was a nice gesture on his part, considering.

Serving the last subpoena was a real bitch. Virgil Harrison hadn't paid his child support in two years. He knew there was a subpoena out there with his name on it, and he wasn't about to go back to court. The problem wasn't finding Virgil. He was in the phone book. The main problem was my size. I'm five eleven if I stand up straight, and weigh in at about one-eighty if I've had a big meal. Virgil was about six-six and three hundred pounds, so there wasn't any way I was going to just walk up and hand him the subpoena.

I'd watched his house from behind the darkened windows of my minivan, and saw him come home. After giving him fifteen minutes to make sure he wasn't on the can or doing something else, I straightened the ball cap with "Hendersonville Auto Body" on the front and knocked on his door. He was bigger up close than I thought he'd be.

"Mr. Harrison?"

"Yeah. Whaddaya want."

"I'm Billy Joe Jordan, from down at Hendersonville Auto Body and you've won our sweepstakes."

"What sweepstakes?"

"Oh it was in all the papers. Sure you didn't see it? We picked some names at random from the phone book for a free car detailing - you know, cleaning the carpets, polishing up the dash, buffing out the paint...your car'll look like new when we're done."

"I got a pickup."

"Hey, a pickup is fine with us. We can put our sticker on the back window so everybody who looks inside can see who did the job. How's that sound to you?"

"Ok, I guess. Whadda I have to do?"

"Not a thing except just show up at our shop with the coupon in this envelope.

We'll have you done in a couple of hours."

I handed him the envelope in which I'd placed the subpoena. Virgil pulled out a pocketknife that opened into what could be considered a small sword, slit the envelope and pulled out the paper. He read the heading, and then looked up with a frown. That was my cue to start backing away as I stated he'd just been duly served and was expected to appear in court on the day on the subpoena.

It's a good thing big people like Virgil are usually slow, because Virgil hadn't put the knife away yet. I made it to the minivan about twenty feet ahead of him, and all he got in was a punch in the back hatch as I drove off. I already had a dent there anyway, so I considered another one an even trade for getting away without being sliced and diced.

That was the last of the subpoenas I had to serve that week, so I went back to my office for a shower. About six, I went down to the Chinese restaurant run by Herbie and Minnie Chin. Yes, they're really Chinese, but they're proud to be third generation American's too. They're not really all that proud of their American names.

Herbie's mother evidently had a lot of respect for Herbert Hoover so instead of a traditional Chinese name, she named him Herbert Hoover Chin. Minnie's mother loved American cartoon shows because she thought watching them was about as American as you could get. She named her first daughter Minnie Mouse Zhang. Minnie never uses her middle name. I only know it because it's on their business license.

Minnie has two sisters too -- Daisy and Clarabell. They don't use their middle names either, and Clarabell prefers to be called Clara.

Herbie and Minnie are in their fifties, but even after three kids, Minnie looks more like thirty. She's always happy, and so is Herbie, but I guess if I could take Minnie to bed every night, I'd be grinning all the time too.

That night, Minnie looked worried when she came over to take my order. I asked her if something was wrong.

"Yes, but not something I can tell you. It's too embarrassing."

"Minnie, I'm your friend. You can tell me. Maybe I can help."

"Let me get the kitchen started on your order first. You want kung pou chicken, like always?"

"That'll do fine, Minnie. And could I have some tea to go with it?"

Minnie chattered something to Herbie in Chinese and he relayed it through the pass-hrough to the kitchen. Then she filled a glass with unsweetened tea and added some ice. I once asked Minnie if they served iced tea in China and she said not according to her grandmother. Then she giggled and said she served it because she was southern Chinese.

She sat the glass down and then took the chair opposite mine as I added four packets of sugar to the glass.

"Are you sure you want to hear this? It's a family thing, and you can't do anything about....Jerry, you shouldn't use so much sugar, you know. Honey would be better for you."

Minnie is an expert in Chinese herbal medicine, one of the better things her mother blessed her with, and she's always trying to get me to be healthier. Her idea of healthier involves eating and drinking things that look and taste really nasty and not eating things that look and taste really good, unless she's cooked them. Evidently that makes the really good tasting things really good for you too.

"Minnie, I've been drinking sweet tea since I could drink and I'm not dead yet.

Now, what's got you upset?"

Minnie sighed.

"It's my little sister, Clarabell. She lost her husband a year ago, and she has a boyfriend already. She's with him every night, and she's started talking about living with him, and maybe getting married again. All she can talk about is how nice he is to her and...and how good he is in bed."

"I'd think that would make you happy for her, well maybe not the bed part, but happy that's she's not alone anymore."

"It would if Clarabell's husband hadn't left her a big insurance policy. We met Jack yesterday. The man is supposed to manage the sales department of a car dealership here, so you'd think he'd at least be good at acting happy to see us. I

got the feeling he really wished we weren't there. Clarabell isn't very practical, like I am, and she thinks she's in love, so she can't see him like I do. I'm worried he's going to take all her money and then leave her."

"I could help with that."

"How? Clarabell won't listen to me, so I know she won't listen to you."

"She'll listen to facts, though, won't she? Give me a couple of days to check out this boyfriend and we'll see if he's real or not."

Minnie wrote down the boyfriend's name on the back of an order ticket and handed it to me.

"His name and that he lives in Franklin is all I know about him. Oh...I did take a picture of him and Clarabell with my phone. I'll send it you. I guess if he's OK, I'll be happy. If he isn't...Clarabell will be just crushed."

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The next morning, I keyed "Jack Edinburgh" into all the social networking sites I belong to. I belong to them because they're free, and it's surprising what people will write about themselves there. I got a total of seventeen hits, not counting duplicates, and none of them lived in Franklin. None of them who had pictures posted looked like the man in the picture Minnie sent to my phone either. Things were starting to smell a little off. Most people in sales to the public will do anything and everything to get their name in front of as many people as possible. The social networking sites are a great way to do that, and they always post a bunch of pictures so people will recognize them.

Next, I tried one of my "find out everything about anybody" websites. My search for Tennessee didn't turn up any matches, so I tried Kentucky, Alabama, Illinois, and Georgia. Still no matches. I set up the search for the US, and went to pour myself a second cup of coffee.

I got back all the names from the social networking sites plus about sixty others, and the closest guy lived in North Dakota. It was possible Jack somehow managed to live off the grid, but unlikely. I was going to have to follow Jack a little to see what he did when he wasn't at Clarabell's being so good in bed. That might lead me to more information.

I looked in the phone book for Clarabell Chin. I figured there couldn't be more than one and there wasn't. About nine that night, I was parked three houses down from her drive.

The little green econobox parked in Clarabell's drive didn't look like the car a sales manager for a dealership would drive. It looked a lot more like one of the cheap cars the rental agencies keep for those on a budget.

About midnight, Clarabell's door opened and a man walked out. I could see Clarabell standing in the doorway in a short, silk robe as the man got into his car. As he backed out of the drive, Clarabell blew him a kiss, then closed her door and shut off the outside light.

He turned in my direction, so I had to duck down until he passed me. I waited until he was a block away, and then started the minivan. He was another block away before I'd turned around and started after him. It was chancy keeping that much distance between us, but I didn't want him to notice me. Once he turned onto a busier street, I gradually moved closer, but kept at least one car between us.

Jack didn't drive to Franklin. He only made it to The Sleepwell Motel, a little rundown place that had done pretty well before the area was engulfed by Nashville and the big chains moved in. Now, it was home to a few seniors on fixed incomes and people who wanted a place to stay that didn't require a credit card or any other ID.

I pulled into the gas station across the street and watched him walk to his room. When he knocked on the door, a woman in her bra and panties opened it. She looked younger than Jack, about twenty years younger to be exact. She was a redhead, and even as far away as I was, it was obvious she was happy to see him. Jack was having a hard time getting the door shut since the redhead had her arms around his neck and her mouth glued to his.

Well, if the cheap car and cheap motel room hadn't been enough to convince me, the woman did. Jack wasn't what he professed to be and I needed to find out what he was really doing. I figured the rest of the night he'd be doing the redhead in his motel room, so I drove back home.

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If you're a cop, you can cross reference aliases to real names through the databases to which they have access. If you're a PI, it's harder and it's really time consuming. I went through the "most wanted" sites of six states before I decided there had to be an easier way. I also thought I knew what that easier way might be.

The next morning, I sent an email to Tina Marshall. She's a software engineer who does computer stuff from her home. I knew her because I'd tailed her for her husband who thought she was sleeping around when he was out of town. Once I saw Tina, I could understand his concern. If ever a woman was made to light a man's fires, that woman was Tina, except she was more of a flame-thrower than a match.

As it turned out, she was innocent of anything other than making herself and a whole bunch of guys horny as hell. She did it to get excited because Howard, her husband, was a total idiot about sex. Howard told me they're doing much better now after I made a couple suggestions to him. I hoped she'd remember me and help me out.

Tina is also smarter than your average drop-dead gorgeous, I'll-fuck-you-senseless, woman. In two days with her computer, she found out a lot more about me than I thought possible. In my email I asked Tina if she could find a person's real name and other information from an alias and how much it would cost me. It took two days to get her reply, but she said she thought she could do it if I gave her a week or so. Tina said the price would depend on how much work she had to do, but probably wouldn't be much more than I'd charge my client.