The Case of the Suing Swinger

by

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Fiction, FemaleDom, Light Bond, Swinging, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Meet Jerry Mason, a private investigator in Nashville, Tennessee. Jerry is sort of the budget version of a PI, but his cases can be interesting, among other things. His latest cases include finding a boyfriend and investigating an insurance fraud. He solved both cases, and also found some things he didn't expect to find.

Gloria's big breasts pressed lightly into my right shoulder when she sat the little red basket with my cheeseburgers and fries down in front of me. She seemed to be doing that more often lately, the thing with her breasts, I mean.

"Here you go, Jerry. I hope you like everything."

I knew I was going to like everything. I always liked everything at Joe's, including Gloria's generously endowed chest, but tonight, I just wanted to eat and have a couple more double shots of Endenmoor single malt to ease the throbbing in my head.

"Thanks, Gloria, and I will. Say, you don't happen to have a couple aspirins back there somewhere, do you?"

"You got a headache?"

"Yeah, getting hit with a woman's purse always gives me one."

Gloria chuckled.

"And just what were you doing to her that made her hit you with her purse? Probably trying to get a feel or two, weren't you?"

"No, I wasn't trying to feel anything. I don't normally try to feel up women who have a couple hundred pounds on me anyway. I was just serving her boyfriend with a subpoena, and she got all pissed off for some reason."

"Two hundred pounds ... must have been a really big girl. What was the subpoena for?"

"Well, maybe it wasn't a whole two hundred, but she was bigger than I am by a bunch. Her boyfriend was ordered to testify in a DUI case. How was I supposed to know the woman's sister was the one being charged? All I was doing was delivering the paperwork. Anyway, she got all hissy, called me a fucking bastard, and swung her purse at me. She wasn't very tall, so I couldn't duck low enough and it hit me on the head. Must have had a cannonball in there, the way it felt."

Gloria patted me on the shoulder.

"Well, Jerry, you try to eat, and I'll go see what Audrey has in the first aid kit. Would you like another scotch? I'll have Audrey bring you one if you do."

Gloria walked away ... well, she was walking, but I'm sure she knew I'd watch her. Gloria is probably a little past fifty, but she looks like the early side of forty. She's a pretty brunette with long hair she keeps piled up under a baseball cap, and though her curves aren't slender, they're mighty inviting. She was using some of those sensuous curves a lot more than she'd have had to. That seemed to be happening more often too.

Gloria Morrison is one of the reasons I've been coming to Joe's Burgers And Barbecue for the last ten years or so. I like her burgers almost as much as I like her, and her fries are just this side of perfect. She's was the cook at Joe's when I moved into my new office about a block away, and she quickly learned how I like my cheeseburgers.

Gloria lost her husband three years ago and was out for a month. I was worried that she might not come back, but she did. Since then, well up until a couple of months ago, she was pretty much the same Gloria as before. I suppose she still missed her Dave, but she seemed happy, and she remembered how I like my cheeseburgers.

One night last spring, I was joking with Audrey about how hot her cook was. The next night, Gloria brought out my burger basket and she seemed a little more friendly. In fact, she was friendly enough to touch me on the shoulder. Since then, the touching has gotten more frequent, and the last couple of weeks, I've been treated to the soft press of her breasts against my shoulder, or my back, or my head when she sets down my food. She doesn't seem to do that with anyone else.

Audrey brought my scotch to my table.

"Gloria says you got hit with a purse trying to feel up a fat woman. You should be ashamed of yourself."

That was Audrey being Audrey. She's the owner of Joe's and the other reason I like the place.

I like Audrey Cunningham a lot, because I always know where I stand with her. She always says what she thinks and means what she says. There's no hinting and hoping I'll pick up on what she's thinking. It's just there, naked as a baby's butt and with no apologies. That suits me fine. I've never been able to decode "woman speak" very well, and that's probably why I've never been married. Most women think I'm not very understanding. Audrey doesn't wait for me to understand. She just tells me exactly what she thinks or wants.

Audrey's about forty, I think. At least that's what she told me when I helped her divorce her husband. He'd been banging their neighbor's nineteen-year-old daughter, and my video of him humping away on top of the little redhead beside their pool pretty much cinched her case. She got enough from him to buy Joe's when the actual Joe retired and kept the name of the place to keep the regulars coming in. Like me, she's not getting rich, but the regulars are a pretty loyal bunch, and she does all right.

Audrey is kind of pretty, but she's not all that sexy a woman. Her figure is what I'd call slender. Her ass is about average and her bust is there but nothing to make you say "Wow." I wouldn't kick her out of bed, but there's not much chance of my getting her into bed anyway. Since her divorce, Audrey doesn't have much use for men other than as customers. I won't go so far as to say she's a lesbian because I've never seen her with another woman other than Gloria, but I've never seen her with a man either.

I do know that a couple of the regulars have tried to get close to her but gave up after she said no with a few words they were sure to understand. The only man she seems to like is me, and she doesn't like me that way either. I think she likes me because I helped with her divorce and also because were pretty close to being the same kind of person.

"I was not trying to feel up any fat woman. I was just serving a friggin' subpoena when the bitch swung her purse at me."

"Well, maybe Gloria got it wrong, but she worries about you. Did you know that? I don't know what's got into her lately, but she seems to be taking an interest in you that I don't think is just friendly. You need to watch out, or you might end up doing something you'll regret."

Well, I figured Gloria had just adjusted to being without her husband and was getting comfortable being around other men. I didn't mind that one of those men was me, but I didn't figure it was going to go any further than it had. Gloria seemed like one of those "mom" types who bustle around taking care of someone they like, not a woman who'd try to do anything else. Besides, we both know we're just friends.

Gloria came back a little later with two little white pills in her hand.

"We don't have any aspirin, but we have these and they're about like aspirin. I used to take them when I had cramps but they work for headaches too."

I must have looked at her funny.

"Cramps, you know, at that time of the month?"

"Oh ... Uh ... I'm not gonna grow boobs if I take these, am I?"

"No, silly, they're just pain pills, a little stronger than aspirin, but they're not hormones. You'd need hormones to grow boobs. That's why I have 'em and you don't."

I figured Gloria must have had more than her share of hormones to grow a pair like she had. If she'd been any other woman, and my head hadn't hurt so much, I might have tried to find out just what her hormones had made. With Gloria, though, I didn't think it would be right. My motto has always been friends don't fuck friends ... well, unless the friend agrees to it, and I didn't think Gloria would ever do that.

The two white pills went down in one gulp of scotch, and half an hour later my headache started going away. Another double scotch helped it along even more so I ordered one for the road.

My name is Jerry Mason, the owner of Mason Investigations in Nashville, Tennessee, but I suppose you've gathered some of that already. What you don't know is that I'm the owner, sole investigator, bookkeeper, and secretary for the company. I got my start at Garrett Insurance when they had their own investigators on staff, but the corporate world just wasn't for me. I don't like being told what to do or how to do it, and corporations have these set procedures they use to make sure everything is above-board and legal. That way, they don't get sued as often.

My idea of investigating procedures is anything that gets me the information I want and need for a client. I never break the law, well, almost never, but I don't see any harm in stretching it until it squeaks. Those squeaks often mean the difference between finding out something or coming up empty handed. My clients don't care how I get the information as long as they get something for their money.

My clients aren't the rich socialites of Nashville. Those people go to one of the big investigative firms with offices downtown or out in the suburbs. They like the idea of all the tech gadgets they see on television and in the movies, and they'll pay a lot to know those gadgets are being used.

My office is downtown – the older downtown of Nashville – and on the second floor over a laundromat. I thought it would be convenient to just run downstairs to do my laundry, and the rent was right. What was the living room now has my desk, a couch and a few chairs. The kitchen and two bedrooms are where I live and it's more than enough room.

My clients need the same services as the wealthy people do, but they can't pay the fees the big firms charge. Since I don't have much overhead - just my rent, car, a supply of scotch, and eats - my fees are more to their liking.

Between investigation jobs, I serve subpoenas the big firms don't want to mess with and sub-contract to me, do a few skip traces for Lonnie's Bail Bonds, and once in a while I get a job from Garret. I was working on a job for Garret right then, as a matter of fact.

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