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I saw him cup a breast, run his hands over her ass and I watched as she pushed her leg at his crotch. While they were dancing two more guys came in and sat down at the table. For the next hour they took turns dancing with Diane and each one of them used his hands on her like he owned her. From the way they had been feeling her up she had to be hotter than a bonfire. I saw the guys start taking money out of their pocket so I figured that they were getting ready to leave. I got up and went outside and waited to see what would happen next.About five minutes later the five of them came out and got in Diane's Suburban and I followed them to a Motel 6and watched the five of them go into a first floor room. I gave them ten minutes and then I approached the room, but the drapes were closed and I couldn't see a thing. It didn't matter; I knew what was going on in there even if I didn't have visual proof. I headed on home and once there, on a whim, I called Barb's and asked for Diane. Barb. But, I was afraid I'd run into my dear ole drunken Daddy so I continued to lie awake, agitated and contemplating. Almost immediately after humping my pillow in a most refined, ladylike manner, the revelation hit with the rapidity of diarrhoea after a Taco Bell burrito. Tomorrow I would search for sex toys. I hadn't owned one in ten years due to a traumatic masturbation accident. Inadvertently, I had squeezed so hard on the slender, purple vibe that the batteries came flying out the end like a Photon torpedo, striking Papa between the eyes. I had suggested he move three times to no avail. He eventually forgave me. Ma's forgiveness took considerably longer. Getting online while dishing out faux Italian food the next day, I didn't want the commonplace vibes, dildos nor other clichéd toys that lay concealed in bedrooms of every orgasm-challenged female throughout the land. Years ago I found Mom's in a well-worn shoebox in her closet with a 'Do not open! Recipes' note taped to it in shaky.
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