Call me Ishmael. It's as good a name as any. I'm a private detective, specializing in getting the goods on errant hubby's and wives.
People who know me say I have no scruples. They're probably right. Apparently I just don't give a shit.
I'm an expert in surveillance; and almost always catch my subject doing what they're not supposed to be doing. I'm a voyeur, and not above a little blackmail when it's to my advantage.
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When not on the job I freelance, looking, looking, looking for opportunity. It's there, it's always out there, somewhere.
Case in point
Walter Fidgeon had met Joan Middleton via the internet, corresponding through e-mails and instant messages for two months before actually speaking by telephone.
Joan, a cute woman of 34 was married with two children. She managed the office for a local law firm in Jersey City. Walter was on his second marriage; he had two girls by his first wife and another one with his current spouse, Linda. He worked on Madison Avenue in Manhattan as an advertising executive for a major Advertising firm.
Both Walter and Joan felt something was missing from their respective marriages: that being the excitement of sex. And after two months of teasing and flirting over the internet they decided it was time to meet.
Walter lived just outside Princeton; he selected the rendezvous point -- a McDonald's in Newark, just one short block from a PATH subway station in the heart of Newark. Since Joan worked two blocks from the PATH in Journal Square and Walter took the PATH to Newark to catch his commuter train to Princeton, it seemed a reasonable place from which to meet -- one in which it was unlikely that they might be seen by anyone they knew and affording them easy routes from which they could return home.
Once ensconced in the cozy confines of McDonald's they talked for hours over coffee, salads and burgers. Family, work, friends, not a single topic was off limits in their whirlwind conversation.
They hugged when it was time to part, and Joan gave him a prim kiss on the cheek. Later that night they spent hours talking on the internet, with general conversation fading as the topic moved to their respective sexual problems with their spouses.
Walter set a plan in motion and with Joan's acquiescence; they decided to meet for lunch. Joan feigned a doctor's visit and took several hours off to meet Walter in Manhattan. Walter had the benefit of being allowed extra long lunches.
They met in mid-town and had a lunch during which Walter's hand found its way under Joan's skirt. She made no objection and he touched her sex while they kissed in the restaurant booth.
They kept it to the lunch and went their separate ways afterward. But Joan was haunted by her seemingly unquenchable arousal from his searching fingers and e-mailed him that night suggesting they meet the following Tuesday after work.
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Tuesday -- Walter had driven his Jaguar to an indoor parking lot that morning to insure they had a 'place' they might get together after work. He found a convenient spot in the lesser used lower level and called Joan from work telling her to meet him at an Orange Julius located near the parking lot.
The day seemed to drag on forever, but five o'clock came and both made for the parking lot and Walter's Jaguar. They were hugging and kissing like eager teenagers before the car doors were fully closed.
And that's where I come into the picture.
I happened to be two cars away from Walter's Jag when they started groping one another. I already had sufficient material on my present subject to ensure his wife took him to the cleaners in there forthcoming divorce, and made what for me was an easy decision. I dropped my guy and concentrated on my soon to be new friends in the Jaguar.
It was still daylight and the parking lot had plenty of available light beaming into it as I fitted a 300mm lens to my newly purchased digital Nikon. I work fast. I was snapping off repeated shots before Walter had Joan's blouse unbuttoned.
I stopped to adjust my rising hardon as Walter's hand reached in to feel her half-cup bra.
I admired his sense of pace, not hurrying anything, but slowly massaging Joan's nipple through the bra before slowly lifting her breast - a very firm breast, I might add -- to his lips and giving suck while Joan moaned appreciatively.
In what turned out to be a classic shot, proving him guilty as sin, Walter looked furtively around then raised Joan's right leg and ran his hand up her creamy white thighs to her crotch.
And although her voice was diminished somewhat, I clearly heard her cooing, "Oh, yes, Walt, ummm, don't stop!"
I lay the camera down for a moment and picked up an expensive listening device, turned it on and grabbed the Nikon again and resumed taking selected shots as Walter and Joan got into it.
They kissed while he fingered her pussy, and in a relatively short time, Joan moaned that she was going to cum.
Walter added another finger and increased his thrusting speed. True to her word, Joan came like a locomotive.
I recall thinking at the time that she must not have had any decent sex in quite some time to get off like that so soon.
He held her, kissed her neck and breast while she recovered.
I recorded her soft, almost shy thank you, and then smiled broadly as she followed with, "Now it's your turn," as she deftly extracted his dick.
Walter looked around again, saw nothing to deter Joan and placed a hand on the back of her head as she went down on him.
I liked her style: she planted kisses all over his six inch dick; ovaled her mouth and wrapped her lips around his dickhead.
Of course I documented the entire blowjob, from the first almost hesitant bobbing up and down to the final stages where she all but gobbled his cock up.
Like Joan, Walter came quickly, warning her a second or two before jetting his load down her throat. Joan apparently wanted his sperm, for she held him tighter as he squirted his spunk into her greedy little mouth.
When Joan finally took him out of her mouth she started to laugh and rubbed his slimy cock all over her face then placed him back on her tongue and sucked him until he got hard again.
I knew the pics I got of her rubbing his dick over her face clinched the deal for me to get anything I wanted from her, and to a lesser extent, Walter. If she had any kids, (I would learn all about them the following day) the thought of losing them would bring her to her knees, literally and figuratively.
A car, driven by an elderly lady picked that moment to park fairly close to them. They fumbled with their clothing, putting things to right, with Joan giggling, "My, that was close, wasn't it?" and laughing at their brush with being discovered made arrangements to meet again the following afternoon in the same place.
