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” They don’t use those words, but they make it clear that you, the customer, are not always right (even though that’s what you’re taught in many countries) and that there is no point in complaining.I’m not going to change things on my own, I know, but I will let them know I’m not happy. That’s why I was “marching” into this office.The guy at the desk said it wasn’t him and must have been his colleague who was off today: I could go and talk to Customer Service. So that’s what I did.In a side office sat a formidable looking black woman with a pretty face and dark eyes that labored under the strain of industrial-grade false lashes. A loose white top caressed her voluminous chest and when I had explained why I was there, she got up and strode out of the office and barked in Caribbean English at the guy on the desk. I saw her loins and thighs were wrapped in a tight, stretchy turquoise skirt.She sashayed back in and said the guy wasn’t there but she would look it up. Tapping with her. I put my face into her wet pussy, smelling and tasting its sweetnes. Maria held the back of my head and groaned. I could see her rubbing her tits so I reached up and pinched her nipples. Within seconds of lightly flicking her clit with my tongue, Maria erupted in an orgasm. "Oh, yes!" said Bill, trying to drive straight while listening to his wife cumming in the back seat. I had a feeling his cock was out and he was stroking as he was driving.Technology now allows us to talk on the phone and still have both hands on the steering wheel. We need to have a machine that strokes our cocks while we drive. They can call it Maria.I sat up and began a long passionate kissing session with Bill's wife. We kissed and fondled each other until we got to their house. Maria and I got out of the back seat and we kissed as we walked up to their house. Bill unlocked the door and just inside the entryway I pushed Maria up against a wall, threw her hands up above her head and held them there with my left.
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After I thought about what mom told me, I decided that it was the reason I would hear her cry sometimes late at night. I knew she missed my dad, because I could hear her talk to Aunt Eileen about it. Aunt Eileen was still friends with me and mom even after mom hurt dad, who was Aunt Eileen's brother. I heard mom tell her one day that she had some pictures of me she wanted Eileen to send to dad. Eileen said she would do that. I felt better that my dad would know what I looked like. I hoped I looked like him.I didn't say any more about it to mom and I let her think I had forgotten all about it but I hadn't. I talked to Eddie about it and he suggested I talk to one of my teachers, one that I liked real well and who treated us kids like adults. He was cool and I knew I could trust him. I told him where my dad was and I asked him how I could get in touch with him. He told me he would check into it and get back to me.It was a week later when he called me to stay after class. He told me.

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