When he tried to investigate “Bobby Wilson”, he ran into a blank wall. Mister Wilson was busy and the reporter didn’t have an appointment. When ...e tried to make an appointment, none were available. The team had decided, unanimously, that long term memory should be off limits, and Bobby agreed, so that wasn’t an option. Eliminating him wasn’t an acceptable option. We didn’t think buying him off would work. Nor would being ordered to stop his investigation by either the NSA or [redacted]. All. All during the conversation I was mentally arguing with myself. Should I offer him a blowjob? No, it's too dangerous picking up a stranger. But I want to try a black cock. Do I really? I think so. But maybe he has a loathsome disease. But he's married so he's probably clean. Maybe he's an axe murderer. That's ridiculous. He's obviously well educated. It's still dangerous. But I might not get another chance. On and on, back and forth. Finally I opened my mouth and the words fell. Maybe I'mnot sure who teased who. He helped me down from the tall bar stool. Helead me towards the back of the bar. I felt very unstable on my heels andwas grateful, I gaped a little when he put his hand on the small of myback. I think I remember going out the back door and guided into his blackSUV but that part's very foggy.I remember waking up, feeling out of it and cold. Stripped naked exceptfor a corset and black stockings with the rest of my outfit is lying onthe floor I was kneeling over. What was your summer like?" Same old same old," Jane said with a sigh as she looked at her lunch tray. Unlike Gwen Jane wasn't trying to hide her tits with bulky clothes, in fact she barely passed the school's lose dress code the way that it hugged her oversize breasts and left her belly bare to her waist. "How about you? How was that road trip you took with your cousin and grandpa?" It was great," Gwen said with a broad smile as she slipped a hand down to her own belly to pat the bulge under.