I grew up in a rural town in southeast Georgia. Though it is the 21st century, 1940s and 50s attitudes about racial relations still prevailed. Which meant people dated and married their own kind.
Racial diversity was something you only saw on television or via the internet. It existed but not in our part of the world. Race mixing is severely frowned upon. Blacks went to our black churches, whites went to their white churches, and that was that.
Thankfully, I was an outstanding high school football player but more importantly an exceptional student, which I knew would get me out of that area. I drew interest from the top football colleges throughout the country. Pro football was a goal, but if that didn't work out, I wanted to earn an engineering degree.
Schools such as Alabama, Florida State, Georgia, Penn State, Ohio State and Michigan, among others, came calling. Most people expected me to choose one of the SEC schools so I could be close to home where friends and family could see me play. I was leaning toward playing in the south as well.
But out the blue Stanford University offered me a full ride and my parents encouraged me to go out west. What made me feel special was when the Stanford coach told my parents and me, "Not everyone has what it takes to get into Stanford on grades, and that's why we don't recruit everyone. We believe you've got what it takes to make it academically and athletically."
What hooked my mom and dad was when, after my dad asked if "you'll take good care of my son," the coach said, "Sir, we'll make sure your son can take care of himself." And after taking one of my allotted visits to Stanford, I fell in love with the campus and knew that was where I needed to be.
My college years were awesome. I made friends from various backgrounds, races and religions. I met and bedded women of all races. It was, fortunately, a vastly different environment from where I grew up. I wasn't good enough to become a pro football player, but I was able to earn an engineering degree as well as a master's degree. And there was no way I was going to live back in the south.
I accepted my first engineering job in a town north of San Francisco. When it came time to find a place to live, I was hoping to rent a house, as I had grown tired of apartment living while finishing my education. But rentals were few and far between, and those that were available were way too expensive.
So I went the route of renting a room in a house, hopefully with only one roommate. After several inquiries, I got lucky when a woman named Esther offered me a room in her home.
Esther was a nice looking blonde woman in her mid to late 40s. She was divorced and a mother of two but you couldn't tell because she kept herself in impeccable shape. She had green eyes, good sized breasts and a really juicy ass. The first time I got a really good glimpse of her body was when she was heading to her yoga class. Her yoga pants and tight workout top accentuated her body.
Her kids were out of the house and had their own lives. She said her ex-husband was a drunk, drugged out loser who couldn't and wouldn't change his ways.
Her four-bedroom home rested on one-and-a-half acres of land. My room was spacious and had a gorgeous view of the mountains to the west. She used one of the bedrooms as an office and the other was a guest room for friends from out of town. It was an ideal situation.
