"They'd been on the edge of the crowd, I clocked 'em, they seemed less interested in all the flesh on view. Kinda weird for guys that age. But this is your gig, detective, and I only did one year here before I decided I had better things to do with my time, but they look like frat boy dumbasses."
"Get me close ups of all of them, but I agree. Not that it'd be that surprising. Don't lose him."
The camera shutter clicked repeatedly. Shaw held the binoculars with her left hand and used her right to pull the walkie-talkie from her belt.
Graduation
Janice
"Hey, Janice," Janice Holmes heard, or thought she heard, her name. But her gaze and her attention were locked on the pair of very attractive dark-haired women, both tallish and with rather impressive figures. Figures that seemed in a battle to be shown off.
She watched the younger one from behind. Thin denim shorts wrapped her ass and hips. And it was a wonderful ass. From this angle, the bottom thirds of those sweet ass cheeks were exposed and flowed into thighs which showed tone. Janice flexed her own thighs, took a sip of her beer in lieu of letting her tongue loll out of her mouth.
She'd been captivated for the last while by a conversation. A conversation she couldn't hear between two women. But she'd dutifully honed her lip reading ability, it was one of those skills they never mentioned at the Academy, and most of her fellows never picked it up.
She'd learned the basics in junior high, taught by a deaf friend. But it'd been Shaw's discussions of the usefulness of that skill that encouraged Janice to hone it, even attending classes in her free time.
She'd learned more than that from Shaw. The detective might've thought she'd left teaching behind, but the bitch was a natural at it. Not that Janice would ever TELL the older cop that, but she WOULD take advantage.
Directly above the ass that she'd been diligently studying was a firm, muscular back, that was sparsely covered by a bit of white cloth that might possibly be called a tank top. Or, a crop top. The only easy description was 'barely there.' It covered, well, some of the time it covered, tits that were round, not huge, but just about perfect for what Janice wanted to do to them.
The red devil horns that protruded from wavy and sort-of curly black hair that splayed across shoulders were nice. But the devil's tail hooked to the back of those barely-there shorts that shook as the girl talked and laughed simply called attention to that ass. Janice had been running through things she could do to, and with, that ass. And the rest. And, hints had been made that led her to not dismiss the possibility.
But the conversation.
The older woman had similar hair, a couple of inches longer and just a shade lighter. The upper part of her strappy summer dress offered coverage of little more than her nipples, the sides of her breasts and much of her back exposed. And the tits in that dress were almost as gravity-defying, and probably a cup larger, than the younger woman's. The dress ran to the woman's knees, but with most of its buttons unemployed and the bright sunlight on its thin fabric, meant every breeze, every movement, offered views to the attentive.
And if that younger woman had underwear on, they offered little coverage, but the shorts hadn't offered an angle to confirm anything. Careful observation had shown Janice the older woman had foregone panties of any sort. The fullness of the dark bush was unclear, but it seemed to have been trimmed.
But the most easily discerned fact about the two hadn't required such careful observation.
They were mother and daughter. Obvious at even a casual glance.
A fact that made the conversation even more enjoyable. Janice had only the mother's side of things, but that and the view had been enough to leave her happy she'd worn panties that were now soaked, even if only a g-string, and the tightest and skimpiest denim shorts she owned, something she wasn't always certain thighs built by power-lifting were best treated by. But for this crowd... she flexed muscles and felt the pressure against her own flesh. Ah, nice. But she was a bit jealous of the younger woman, her future appeared... rosy, at least in certain ways.
She'd 'studied' the 'private' photos she'd captured from her stint in plain clothes at the University's Spring Carnival, and the sights around her at this backyard gathering weren't quite so unrestrained, but were in no ways disappointing. Although she'd hoped the demonic ass she watched might've been in another too-short skirt, these shorts were no less alluring.
The mother had been a surprise, but the conversation had made clear her reason.
This Devil and her arch-enemy, the Angel, had led a very fit boy in tight leather on leashes at the parade. Apparently, they shared him, when the Angel didn't have her face buried in the pussy of the twin sister of Shaw's boyfriend! More hints seemed to claim the Devil shared the leather boy more widely. More than that Shaw hadn't, quite, said, but Janice paid attention to the spaces between words. It was another skill that benefited a career in law enforcement. Not that Shaw was interested in the sharing, no, she had her OWN piece of young, hot meat to keep her old bones warmed. And the detective didn't share.
But there seemed to be limits as well to what the devil girl was willing to share, where HER leather boy was concerned. This mother had clearly, if not with volume, made the point that "Chris slamming me while I'm here is simply recompense for raising YOU for eighteen years!" Chris. Leather boy.
Devil girl hadn't seemed to agree with that contention. They were Mel and Helen, but Janice preferred Devil and Spawner of Demons for the pair.
After a moment, her next reading forced Janice to clench her jaws to prevent her face being locked in a gaped stare.
"I only had a bit of a suck on it, after it was in YOUR ass! What about MY ass? And you'd got the best part of that load first!"
She'd missed whatever Spawner of Demons had said after whatever the Devil had responded to THAT. Janice's brain had momentarily shut down.
But it'd brought a thought to Janice's mind. Like the Angel, hints and rumors said the Devil would bury her face in a pussy as readily as she no doubt sucked down leather boy's shaft or, apparently, took it up her butt! Janice wasn't really interested in cocks, and what they were attached to, but she might be able to broker a deal with this mother and daughter, insert herself and get everyone what they wanted. Including herself. And every picture she'd taken that day, and every hint she'd pried from Shaw, told her that a drive-by fuck from leather boy might be worth it, despite her lack of general interest. She'd had a couple of guys when she'd just wanted something in her. It'd be nothing more than physical and mostly the Devil could have him. Unless the mother got between...
"Uh, OFFICER HOLMES, report, please," the voice wasn't loud but it was firm, and the EXACT tone and cadence of a pissed-off dispatcher not happy a patrol car hadn't checked in ALREADY. Janice coughed with the remnants of her mouthful of beer and swallowed before she turned.
Joyce Shaw smiled at her. Dirty blonde slightly curly hair fell loosely around her face. From the gym and Force photos of Shaw's days in undercover vice, Janice knew the detective had a sweet set of tits, nicely sized for a frame a couple of inches taller than the younger officer, if the younger woman was overall more solidly built. But her schoolmarm loose and opaque and mostly buttoned blouse, even sleeveless, made you guess at that. Likewise, her thin pants didn't show what Janice knew were also well preserved legs.
"Reporting, detective," Janice said with as much sarcasm as she could, but she smiled and Joyce smirked back. She'd rather hoped Shaw wouldn't introduce her as another cop, but, really, they were over a decade apart in age and it seemed everyone here knew Shaw was a cop herself, so, what else would she be?
Shaw's eyes darted left, toward the continued conversation of the Devil and Spawner of Demons, joined now by that very tall, very weird Anna amazon with the truly gigantic tits and weird, very weird, green eyes, a woman who'd been caught up in part of the Broiler drug robbery slash kidnapping slash knife-fest. Although her tits were better covered than the other two, her elastic top simply created cleavage that Holmes could happily get lost in. That weird bitch's absent boyfriend was the only taller one, based on her photos of the Carnival. They simply couldn't hide. Shaw shook her head slightly as her eyes caught Janice's and she chuckled.
"Janice Holmes," Shaw said, "I'd like to introduce Terry's and Teresa's aunt, Ladonna Young, and her husband Braxton."
Janice fought back her smile when the husband's gaze dragged away from the Demonic mother-daughter pair and the giant-titted Amazon, and back to the trio of women around him. Like a dentist extracting an impacted wisdom tooth, Janice had worked at Shaw about this 'Terry' she was fucking with abandon, and the fact that he and his lesbian sister were from Idaho, and they and their extended family were all members of the local dominant faith, almost universally a very conserative bunch, had been a definite surprise. And whatever had led the twins to their current statuses, one dedicated to sapphic pursuits, the other fucking brainless a police detective fifteen years his senior, this aunt and uncle had apparently avoided it.
"Good to meet you, Janice," Ladonna said, her hair blonder than her niece and nephew, her voice that weird, soft, 'Scandihoovian' accent that they must teach in their Sunday schools. The woman offered her hand and Janice took it.
"Good to meet you, too, Ladonna," Janice said, then Braxton offered her a cursory nod and his hand. Janice read his disinterest as his eyes tried to return to sights clearly more interesting to him. Janice's sleeveless tee wasn't loose, but her broad shoulders and tits that were nice but nothing like what was on view with the demonic trio clearly didn't seem to impress him. He'd likely been nicely built, but already had a developing gut and jowls determined to keep up with it.
Ladonna, on the other hand, seemed to have a figure utterly the opposite of her lithe niece, albeit hidden under a short-sleeved blouse looser than Shaw's and a flowered midi-skirt that offered no clinging fabric. It was a look common locally in the Valley and the state and Janice's trained eye was likewise practiced at peeling those layers.
"But there's no way you can be aunt and uncle," Janice said, with genuine interest, "what are you, like, almost the same age?"
Ladonna chuckled and her long, straight blonde hair shook. "If I could charge people anytime they ask that! No, it's real. Three years older."
