Absolute Devotion Ch. 03

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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?”

“Yes, they did,” I said while clenching my fists.

“Why did you bring cotton candy from home for a tennis match?”

“What?”

“You brought cotton candy and a whole bunch of other shit to a tennis match. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Big sweatpants, cotton candy, banners with your friend’s name on them, a bunch of toys for kids ages six through twelve… this whole picture is fucking with my head.”

“Can we get back to the threats the ladies made towards Miss Erica?”

“Yeah, we can do that, but this whole picture of you at this tennis match with all this shit and the big sweatpants, I can’t figure it out. What the fuck, dude?”

“I’m living in a motel room because my girlfriend kicked me out a week ago.”

“And I’m supposed to give a shit about that?”

“No, I’m just saying. Sometimes I have to take a lot of my shit with me and I don’t always have clean clothes.”

“Toys for children ages 6 through 12? Do you have a kid?”

“No, I don’t have any children. They were for a nephew.”

“I see. It says here you drove your car to the tennis club. Why would you take these toys into the stands when you could have left them in your car? Was your nephew coming to the match?”

“I thought he might.”

“You thought he might?”

“I wasn’t sure. I wanted to be ready.”

“Okay, that is just too fucked up for me to get my head around. Tell me about the elderly ladies threatening your friend.”

Detective Haggerty, which was the name she had on her desk, looked up at me and waited for me to talk. She crossed her legs and then brought her left leg over so that her left foot was on her right knee. She was wearing black ankle boots with zippers, and started casually zipping the zipper up and down while I talked. It was hypnotic.

“They said that they were going to, well, basically that they were going to jump her in the dressing room and, um, eat her pussy and stick their fingers in it.”

Detective Haggerty stared at me without any reaction. Then she abruptly said, “Okay, that’s some serious shit.”

“You believe me?”

“I wouldn’t have believed you except that you said I wouldn’t believe you before you told me, which makes me believe you when you actually did tell me because no one would lie after saying they didn’t want to tell a story that they thought someone wouldn’t believe.”

“Huh?”

Detective Haggerty pulled off the boot on her left foot and then reached under her tube sock with her hand and started scratching at the heel of her foot. I couldn’t stop looking, but forced myself to look away, even though I kept trying to get a glimpse of her bare leg or foot.

“Sorry, had an itch,” she said. “So, the old ladies were threatening to eat this tennis player’s pussy and stick their fingers in it. Do you think they were just talking or did you hear any evidence that they planned to go through with it?”

“One said she’d eaten out this woman to the point where she needed hip replacement surgery.”

“Damn, that is one talented lesbo. You got to give her credit on that one,” Detective Haggerty said before pulling her sock off completely and itching her heel furiously. “This itch is driving me fucking crazy. I think I got bit by a scorpion or something and I probably have a stinger in my heel.”

“Really?” I asked, staring at her bare foot and salivating, knowing it was nowhere near as beautiful as Erica’s, but it was hard not to look with it right in front of me.

“You want to take a look for me? See if you can see a stinger in there, right in the bottom of my heel.”

“Um, well, I really can’t do that,” I said, looking down at the floor.

“What are you, an asshole? I just want you to see if I have a scorpion stinger in my heel. It isn’t like I asked you to shoot my cousin Vito in the back of Marciano’s… oh, wait, I know why you can’t see if I have a stinger in my heel. You’ve got a thing for feet, don’t you?”

“No, I just, I don’t know, I can’t explain.”

“I read in a magazine at the hairdressers that people with fetishes are like alcoholics. They have to stay away from the thing they fetishize to avoid being controlled by it. You must have a pretty serious foot fetish, huh?”

“Can we just talk about the old ladies?”

“Yeah, we can do that,” she said and laughed while pointing her bare foot at me and saying, “Ooh, don’t look at the foot, don’t touch the foot, you won’t be able to control yourself, look away, look away.”

“I have to stay loyal to Miss Erica!” I yelled out suddenly after closing my eyes tightly.

“Excuse me?”

I recoiled in horror at what I had yelled out. I sunk back into my chair and quietly said, “Yes, I have a foot fetish, but I promised Miss Erica I would only look at hers.”

“Oh my, isn’t that some kind of something,” Detective Haggerty said, sliding her foot back into her boot without the sock and without zipping the boot back up. “This woman you call Miss Erica, she is the tennis player the two women were threatening to eat out?”

“Yes.”

Another officer walked over to Detective Haggerty and handed her a note. She looked at it, read it, nodded and tossed it onto her desk.

“And you were afraid they would do what they said and that they actually would eat her out and, what was the other thing, shove their fingers inside her?”

“It wasn’t that I thought they were really going to do it,” I said as I started to cry. “They were being rude and nasty and they wouldn’t stop calling her a bitch and other things and I got really mad and started swinging at them.”

“Because you are some kind of submissive to Miss Erica, you’re in love with her, you have a thing for her feet, and you do anything she says to try to make her happy.” Detective Haggerty tossed the file and her pen onto her desk and stood up. “I’m a very good detective. And just so you know, I didn’t have an itch, just a suspicion that I needed to confirm.”

“Am I going to jail?”

“No, because you didn’t land any punches and those ladies declined to press charges, and on top of that they were arrested themselves after grabbing your mistress in the ladies’ room and doing exactly what they were threatening to do. So the lesson here is, if you hear two old ladies threatening to go down on a tennis player and shove their fingers in her, go to the police with that shit. Don’t keep it to yourself. Say something. If you reported what they were planning instead of swinging at them, Miss Erica wouldn’t be dealing with the trauma of what happened to her as a result of your bad decision.”

“I didn’t think…”

“Yeah, you didn’t think. Get out of here. Get out of my police station, pervert.”

“Can I get my signs and toys back?” I asked.

“See the desk sergeant, he’ll return your weird ass possessions,” Detective Haggerty said as she looked down at papers on her desk.

While I was getting my things, the phone rang and the desk sergeant answered. He held the receiver out to me and said, “It’s for you.”

“Hello?” I said after I picked the phone up.

“If you want to give me a foot massage, meet me in interview room two right now. You’ve got two minutes to make up your mind,” Detective Haggerty’s voice said before she hung up.

It sounded like a great opportunity, but I remembered the day when I was still a kid and my father had bought a pig farm. “It sounded like a great opportunity,” my father said at the time. And then my mother left him, just like Erica would leave me if she found out I gave Detective Haggerty a foot massage.

I took my things and marched out the door.

Erica had been taken to the emergency room after the attack, so I drove to the hospital immediately. I ran as fast as I could into the hospital, having to hold my oversized sweatpants up with my left hand as I did, until someone could tell me where Erica was.

“She was taken up to intensive care,” I was told.

“Really? Is she that bad?”

“You’ll have to talk to her doctor about that. Are you family?”

“No, I’m a friend.”

The desk clerk looked at my t-shirt and said, “Yeah, I can see that,” and laughed. “Second floor, turn right, go down to where all the pylons are piled up and talk to one of the nurses there.”

When I got to the pile of pylons, a powerfully built man who fit the “tall, dark, and handsome” profile a bit too perfectly, stood up and put his hand out to stop me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I’m here to see Miss Erica,” I told him. “Is she okay?”

“Are you the crazy fan who tried to stop those old ladies from attacking her?” he asked.

“Yes, they were making threats and saying terrible things and I started swinging at them.”

“I’m sorry you got arrested, but no one ever suspects old ladies, which is why they can get away with just about anything. They ate out Erica pretty badly, but the doctor says she’ll recover.”

“How badly?” I asked. “One of them claimed she dislocated a woman’s hip doing that to her.”

“Not that bad, thankfully. I’m Mike, by the way. And you are?”

“I’m Keith. I’m a big fan of Miss Erica and her tennis playing,” I said, not lying about my relationship with his girlfriend, but not giving him the whole truth about it either.

“What’s with the giant sweatpants?”

“They’re comfy.”

“I see. Well, thanks for coming by. I’m not sure if she will see you or not, but she is awake and aware of her surroundings. Shall I ask her if she wants to see you?”

“Could you? I’d just like to say ‘hi’ and tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“You could have brought some flowers,” Mike said. “That would have been a nice gesture. You’re a fan and you just want to go into my girlfriend’s hospital room and say ‘hi’?”

Before I could response, Mike stuffed forty dollars into my hand and said, “Do yourself a favor, weirdo, go down to the flower shop on the first floor and come back with some flowers while I ask if she’ll see you.”

I found a nice arrangement, thought about paying for it with my own money, but instead used Mike’s money because they were very pricey. I got back up to the second floor and Mike told me to “go on in” when I asked what Erica had said.

“Monkey boy,” Erica said when I walked into her room. “You brought me flowers. How sweet.”

“I almost forgot, you know, to get the flowers, because I had to rush over here to see you.”

“Well, it was good of you to try to stop those old ladies from assaulting me, but I wish you had been able to do more. My inner thighs are all bruised up and I have some kind of rash all around and inside my vagina. That one lady had a tongue like really rough sandpaper and the other one’s tongue was so long I think she was able to tickle my kidneys.”

“Damn, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Daisy, one of the other players, came into the bathroom while they were eating me out and managed to call security even after they threatened to eat her out as well. They were nasty, awful old ladies.”

I walked closer to Erica’s bedside, making sure not to accidently touch her or brush up against her. “Does Mike know about us, I mean, about you know, things?”

Erica laughed. “Sweetie, he knows you are a fan who comes to all my matches to support me, and that you tried to stop those old ladies from attacking me but they kicked your wimpy ass. I don’t think he’s worried about you.”

“They didn’t kick my ass,” I replied. “I was arrested after swinging at them.”

“I heard you swung seven or eight times and couldn’t land a punch. That’s pretty pathetic, and, as far as I’m concerned, quite adorable. I love that you rise up to defend me like that, but I love it even more that you couldn’t defend me from, well, from pretty much anything.”

“I wish I could have stopped them,” I said sadly, looking down at the floor.

“Sweetie, I know you can’t protect me, you’re the biggest pansy I’ve ever seen. That isn’t why I keep you around. I keep you around to worship me and the ground I walk on.”

“Yes, Miss Erica, I do worship you and the ground you walk on.”

“I think this might be… present time,” she said with a smile as she stuck her left foot out from under the hospital sheets. “It’s your old friend from your favorite jack off picture.”

I stared at it and didn’t say a word until I caught my breath and said, “So beautiful…”

“Do you want to kiss my foot?”

“Yes, Miss Erica. I would love to. I would very much love to.”

“First, tell me the truth, why are you wearing those gigantic sweatpants? Was it so you could play with yourself while you watched my match?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, “I cut the bottoms out of the pockets so I could do it without anyone knowing.”

“Very brave and very creative as well; what a good little monkey boy you are.”

“Can I please kiss your foot, Miss Erica? Please?”

“Only if you get down on your knees and show me how you play pocket pool with your pervert pants,” she replied.

I knelt down at her bedside, right next to her naked foot, and reached into my right pocket and grabbed my rock hard cock. I started stroking it slowly, trying not to make it look obvious, but Erica could see the way my arm was moving and smiled.

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