I managed to figure it out.
Erica wanted me to get myself off in the stands while watching her play in the third round of the Gingersnap Open tennis tournament. I had puzzled over how to make this happen for many hours before I came up with the solution. Luckily I had resolved the problem just before I had to leave to go to the match.
I got some very baggy and well-worn sweatpants from the morbidly obese man who lived across from me at the motel I was living at. There were deep pockets on either side, so I cut openings in bottoms of each pockets. Being an ambidextrous masturbator with a lot of frequent flyer miles, this would come in handy.
I tried the big sweatpants on and then sat down on a replica I had built of the benches in the stands at the tennis club. With my arms filled with signs, toys, and cotton candy, I took turns sliding each of my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants and grabbing my penis. Since the sweatpants were so large and billowy, and my arms were filled with colorful items, it was very difficult to tell that I was masturbating.
I gave the motel manager and his wife twenty dollars to come up to my room and see if they could tell what I was doing while I masturbated using all my props and the sweatpants. They both stared, looking very bored, at me and then asked, "When are you going to start doing whatever it is you are supposed to be doing?"
It was the answer I needed. They couldn't tell what I was doing. I gave them the twenty dollars and sent them on their way.
I was off to the tennis club.
I found a seat away from people and sat down. I pretended to be eating the cotton candy as I waited for Erica's match to start.
The man from the tennis club, who fancied himself as some kind of security officer, walked up to where I was sitting and crossed his arms before speaking to me.
"I'm here to warn you that I don't want to have any problems with you today," he said to me in a very stern tone of voice.
"I'll try not to get too excited cheering for my girl today," I told him, smiling because he had no idea I was going to be masturbating in the stands with help from my big sweatpants and multiple props.
The man sighed. "Look, you realize this isn't Wimbledon or the US Open, right?"
"Yes, this is the Gingersnap Open and Miss Erica is playing and she's the best tennis player ever."
The man shook his head, sighed, and walked away.
Since it was the third round, there were even more people in the stands, and while I tried to stay away from others, two elderly women came and sat down just behind me. They started jawing back and forth about how their granddaughter Brittany was knocked out in the first round and how they were going to "get" the player responsible for "humiliating her like that."
Erica and her opponent came out onto the court and I began cheering loudly. One of the elderly women leaned down and tapped me hard on the shoulder.
It was hard to turn around with so many props in my arms, but I managed to do so in spite of the difficulty.
"That your girl?" one of the elderly women asked me while pointing towards Erica.
"Yes, Miss Erica, I'm her biggest fan."
"She's the one who humiliated my granddaughter in the first round. Bitch doesn't know the first thing about good sportsmanship."
"Excuse me?" I glowered. I found myself standing up to these elderly women, the first time I had ever stood up to anyone in my life. I felt proud.
"Bitch needs a good pussy licking," the other woman said as she used her tongue like a snake twisting through the air in front of her lips, which were encrusted with cheap red lipstick.
"What?" I was completely stunned by the comment.
"I was licking this bitch's pussy once and all of a sudden her left leg goes limp and starts having these spasms like my sister Mildred after she had her first stroke. That leg is just jumping around like it had a mind of its own. She needed hip replacement surgery after I finished eating her out."
"Yeah, Martha, you've told this story a thousand times. We all know, after that she wasn't no bitch no more. Am I right?"
"I'd like to lick that bitch's pussy," Martha told her friend while pointing her bony finger towards Erica. "I bet that thing is a little patch of heaven."
I stood there, barely holding onto the props in my arms, and staring at these women in complete and total shock.
"You ever eat that bitch's pussy?" Martha asked me. "What's it like? Does it taste real good or is it nine kinds of sour?"
"I like to put my fingers in a pussy like hers," the other woman said. "You work enough of your fingers into a bitch's pussy and she comes around to your way of thinking."
I dropped my props and started swinging at the two elderly ladies. Not having any experience at all in fighting, I was unable to land any punches before the security officer and two police officers restrained me and pinned me to the ground.
"It was terrible, officer," Martha was telling one of the cops, "Lana and I were talking about how this was the player, the blonde there, that beat my granddaughter in the first round. We just happened to say that we thought it wasn't very sportsmanlike of this blonde girl to humiliate her the way she did when they played and this man turns around and attacks us!"
I was handcuffed and led away to a police cruiser. I said nothing during the ride, not sure what I could say, but after I was taken to the police station and brought to a desk where a female police detective wanted to interview me, I knew I had to say something.
"This is pretty ridiculous," she said as she looked at my booking information. "It says you physically assaulted two elderly women at an amateur tennis tournament. Seriously?"
"They were saying things about my girl."
"Your girlfriend was playing in the tournament?"
"Well, not exactly my girlfriend, it's a long story, but they were saying things about her that really upset me."
"It says here they said your 'girl' was being unsportsmanlike in beating their granddaughter in an earlier match. Is that what upset you?"
I could see the disbelief on the female detective's face. "Why am I talking to you?" I asked. "I mean, no offense, but isn't this a little, you know, not usually what a detective looks into?"
"I have my reasons," she said and looked the file up and down while studying my face. "What's with the sweatpants? They're really way too big for you."
"I like big sweatpants. Is that a crime?"
"No, just trying to make conversation."
"Look, I got upset at something those ladies said, and maybe I shouldn't, but it was a lot worse than complaining about Miss Erica's sportsmanship."
"Such as?" her right eyebrow raised as she asked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Are you sure about that?" she said, looking back down at the single page in my file.
"Yeah, pretty sure."
"So, you won't tell me what happened because you think I won't believe you?"
"Correct."
"Did they make any threats, veiled or otherwise, towards your friend?"
