I stood there ogling her plump, firm ass as she worked her way down the next block. I don't know what brilliant bastard invented spandex, but I could... kiss them whenever she walked by my yard.Diane was turning forty later this year but still had the body of a twenty-year-old. She had mentioned in passing that she ran every evening around nine-thirty to keep herself in shape. That was the only free time she had since only two of her four kids were in school.I was usually in for the night by. “I thought you were some kind of a drug lord.”“Do I look like a drug lord?” I said, standing in my pajamas with a glass of juice in my hand.We both laughed. “So what else would you like to say about me?”“I think you’re the best cop in Metropolis-2109. And also the most attractive one.”“What a good boy.” She gently took me by the hand. “And if you are my fan you probably know that I am very harsh towards all sorts of thugs and criminals.” She embraced me and continued, “But when I come across. How would that even be possible, Nichelle?”Mabel was born into slavery, probably right before or at the start of the Civil War. Mom tracked her to being a slave belonging to a planter named Malcolm Wainwright, Senior, who lived in what’s now Jefferson County, West Virginia. It was part of Virginia at the time. Slaves often took the surnames of their masters. There’s a chance that, if you’re related to Malcolm, then you and I could be distant cousins.“What ... wait ... She belonged to Malcolm. " Derrick kept one hand on Megan's ass, but ran the other through her hair. "Well, not really a catch, but we do need to make sure people are distracted from your neck." Both of his hands moved to Megan's shoulders as he grinded himself into her behind, his bulge very pronounced by this point. "I have a plan, though." With that, he pushed down on Megan's shoulders roughly, forcing the woman to her knees. She stared at herself in her pretty necklace one last time before being roughly turned.