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One should always tell the police the truth.

Sherrie and I watched spellbound, as the housewife's fingers curled more and more tightly around his rippling biceps. She was pulling him down onto her, now holding him in such passion that we could see her fingernails scratching him. He was on top, and bigger than her, but we could see that she held him as if he were the one submitting to her will, a decade or so's worth of sexual frustration being canceled out now. His limbs flailed almost helplessly when she was not clutching them. We were nowhere to be seen in the picture. There was sound, and even our sighs were lost in the other couple's urgent, animal messages.

On the bed, it was like a curtain was lifting for Sherrie. We simply watched. As the tape rolled through the machine, and Susannah dominated the picture, my friend the investigatrix felt better and better. A couple of times, the automated camera quickly searched the room, once catching a barely visible ebony hand twirling in an almost balletic way.

It was a sweet reflex of Sherrie's that I knew meant that it was when I was kissing the soft undersides of her breasts, but the camera seemed to lose interest when it compared us to the other couple, and never showed our tender touching. Automation was wonderful!

In fact, as we watched the video, waiting for what we expected to be the incriminating evidence that would either blackmail Sherrie into silence or end her career, I noticed that her hands would idly twirl. It was such a cute habit for a woman who was so tough. Her right hand idly caught the bedpost, and gently stroked it as the video rolled on.

The camera even liked staying with the other couple as she began to teach him how to actually make love. They would move around to one of the new positions she was showing him, and it would lock onto them again. Even when they paused for her to kiss him into new hardness, the computer loved her camera eye-catching golden hair and crisply focused on her bobbing head as she admired his hard-on and then gleefully swallowed him.

Finally, the CALF picked us up again as we hurried out of the room. That was it! For a moment I felt disappointed that we were not considered interesting enough. I hit the rewind button. Then the silent woman at my side exploded with joy!

"They screwed up! They didn't get us! They can't prove we did anything!" She bounced up and down on the bed like a teenager and then hugged me. The television clicked back to a news report. Fred Francis of NBC blabbed on about something.


"Uh, oh!" Voiced Sophia. "After watching a video like that, did she just keep it sisterly?"

I paused, took a deep breath, and then resumed my story.

"You can imagine for yourself, I'm sure, but I'll tell you about it."


Sherrie's enthusiastic hug brought me full against her, and we rolled around on the bed. As we became aware of each others' reactions to so closely watching the video, our tussling and teasing slowed. Sherrie's tongue darted across her lips, and she sighed.

"Let's celebrate your keeping your job!" I caressed her through her blouse, tenderly finding her nipples pushing up beneath her bra.

"Yes!" she whispered emphatically, and for the second time that night we were at each other's buttons, snaps, zippers and clips.

This time, she gently urged me onto my back, and pressed herself against my freed manhood, pleasuring herself with me as it firmed in her fingers. She reminded of my coeds, who learned that way of quickly bringing me back up to meet their urgent needs as a helpful expansion of their knowledge.

But this was different, as Sherrie knew the sweet secrets of touching already. She absorbed all of my attention with her strokes, smiling confidently as I became a part of her.

We barely spoke, concentrating on keeping pace with each other, spiraling higher and higher, until at last the insatiable itch overcame her control.

Sherrie rose high enough that my penis glided off of her clitoris, and then plunged my staff deep inside her heat.

This time, with the slower pace and without the distractions of the Casin

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