This is a story about a chance meeting that got me into bed with one of the most beautiful African American women I've ever had the opportunity to even speak with.
Now, I'm a married guy and I've got a couple of kids at home, so this isn't something I regularly go looking for. However, when an athletic, big breasted, chocolate-skinned goddess throws pussy at you, you tend to take notice.
When this all happened, I was working as a middle manager at a local grocery store. Meaning I wasn't running the store but also wasn't just a regular worker. Believe me, thats not me bragging, it just mostly meant I was stuck doing whatever BS no one wanted to do but needed to get done and I got paid a little more.
On this specific day, a delivery of frozen food had been dropped off and the kid that was supposed to work it was a no-show. It needed to get done, so there I was breaking open the cardboard boxes of chicken nuggets and ice cream and packing the stuff into the freezer section. It wasn't that bad to be honest, I usually just put on a pair of freezer gloves and zoned out and before long it would all be done. Once you got going it was just a matter of locating the correct empty hole and shoving stuff inside of it (pun intended).
What did complicate things was people would intermittently approach me and ask where items were. As it wasn't my normal section, I usually had no clue and would have to walk around to figure out where the organic bread or whatever was. Meanwhile the frozen stuff on the cart I had wheeled out was melting at room temperature and dripping water on the floor.
As you can imagine, after about ten or twelve people approaching me with these sorts of requests which took me away from my work, I was a little aggravated. So much so, that when the subject of this story walked up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder, I didn't turn even around. Keeping my eyes on the stuff inside the freezer door, I said with what I'm sure was an audible amount of irritation in my voice: "Can I help you?"
I detected a little attitude in the soft voice of a mature black woman as she responded, "Maybe, can you?"
Not wanting to play games, I finished putting the items I had in my hands into their places and turned around, starting to rip and break down the cardboard box as I did so.
There, standing in front of me was a gorgeous African-American woman. You could imagine a shorter Gabrielle Union; I'm talking about 5'8, flawless caramel skin, dark hair that was straight but pulled back in a ponytail, a large bust that was barely encased by a sports bra, yoga pants that showed off very shapely legs and the curves of womanly hips, beautiful white teeth, and a look on her face that said 'dont fuck with me'. A quick mental assessment told me this was someone who had just left the gym around the corner and was in here shopping for dinner supplies.
To be honest, I saw all of that and it didnt fully register, I was still in my working mindset and like I said before, I wasn't looking for romance. I continued, with a little surliness, "Maybe, if you want to tell me what you're looking for?"
She stared at me with a puzzled expression. I couldn't tell if it was, 'This white-boy looks like he could fuck' or 'I'm gonna get this mother-fucker fired.' Her lips pursed and she asked me about some item I had never heard of.
By now I realized I was talking to not only a beautiful woman, but also a black woman who could complain I was being racist. Regaining my composure, I went into working-guy mode and started looking for whatever it was she wanted. Since I ended up not being able to find it, I turned on the charm and asked her what she was trying to make, hoping to suggest some other similar product. As she responded, I sized up her grocery basket. There wasn't much in there, about the same amount of food a single-person would buy. I don't remember everything she had specifically, but I do remember a couple of boxes of frosted flakes.
We went back and forth a little talking about her recipe and I really started getting a good look at her face and eyes, realizing this woman was a total MILF and I had basically brushed her off. Feeling sheepish, I made a joke about "Hey if nothing else, you could just make cereal for dinner, right?"
That got a laugh out of her, but she countered, saying the cereal was for her daughter's breakfast. We kept talking, and I made some suggestions for random recipes. She joked, "You sound like a good cook, maybe you could come over and just make all this stuff for me."
I laughed and told her that was a service the supermarket didn't provide and sort of cordially wrapped it up. People would make jokes like that all the time, 'Hey, how about you come home with me and help me put all this stuff into my cabinets', so I didn't read too much into what she was saying. She went off to finish shopping and I continued stocking the frozen food.
Before long, though, the hottie black MILF re-approached me. "Hey there, can I give you my number?"
I was a little shocked, forward women are something I hadn't had much experience with, so I probably blushed. "Uh... I dont know about that."
She pressed forward, instructing: "Give me your phone, I'll put my number in."
I think I laughed a little and then took off the gloves, showing my wedding ring. "Hey, thanks so much, you're very pretty and thats very flattering, but I'm married."
What she said next completely blew me away and will forever live rent-free in my mind: "I don't care. You can come over to my place. She doesn't have to know."
As a married man, that's a very hard offer to pass up. I'll be honest, I hadn't always been one-hundred-percent faithful to my wife (but those are stories for another time). As a middle-aged dad who sort of hated his job and was in a boring routine at home, I had used Ashley Madison and Tinder as an outlet for my wandering eyes. In that moment, my eyes were settled on this foxy, athletic brown-skinned mama who was offering herself up on a platter.
After looking around to make sure no one was watching me, I reached in my pocket, pulled out my phone, and handed it over. She typed in her number and called her phone. "My name is Evelyn. But dont put me in your phone like that, put it under 'Edgar'."
I laughed at this woman telling me how to be secretive. Like I mentioned before, this wasn't my first time messing around on my wife. I wasn't some sort of adultery mastermind, but I knew enough to cover my tracks. As she walked away, I said something like, "Yeah, and make sure you put me in yours as 'Sharice'." She giggled at my stupid joke and gave me a thumbs up.
I took a nice, long look at her big black ass as she walked away from me and went back to work, now with a new reason to get it done quickly.
As soon as I was able, I started texting back and forth with Evelyn. She told me she was a divorced single mom, a math teacher, and a freak in bed. I countered, telling her I hoped she would be able to teach me how to multiply. I dont remember what else I said to her but she seemed into me and was responding with these equally silly/sexy replies. As corny as it sounds, the joking-ness was actually working. She also sent me some pictures of a white Camaro muscle car and a motorcycle that she owned. Between the two street machines and the forwardness in her approaching me, all I could think was I guess she really liked to go fast.
As we texted back and forth, she kept giving me instructions about how to hide this thing from my wife. I advised this wasn't my first rodeo with this stuff. She seemed a little taken aback, but it was true and she lightened up on the directions after that. Our conversation continued until I left work that night. I told her to not text me until the next day when I'd be back at work and away from my wife. Like a pro, Evelyn agreed.
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The next day after I had been at work for awhile, I shot Evelyn a text. All morning I was spinning naked fantasies in my head and sneaking looks at my phone every few minutes to see if she had responded. I was so excited I even went into the bathroom and looked up a bunch of interracial sex videos, all these white guys banging out these fine ass black girls. Along with that, I also did a little digital stalking and found and 'Evelyn' listed as a math teacher at a local elementary school. Sure enough it was my chocolate beauty, and I know knew her full name. From there it was easy to find her Facebook account and other social media.
After a few hours, Evelyn hadn't responded to my earlier text and I was pretty disappointed. Part of me chocked it up to her having second thoughts, or maybe I said something she didn't find as funny as I thought she did. 'Oh well, it was a fun fantasy while it lasted.'
Around lunchtime I was surprised and relieved when I got a text back. It dawned on me, 'She's a school-teacher, she probably doesn't look at her phone all day' and I wanted to slap my forehead.
She was still very forward in her texting, and I took her lead: When Evelyn asked when I could come over; I responded 'How about later tonight?' Every week I had a game night at a buddy's house. We'd drink some beers and play some cards or watch a sufficiently manly movie. It just so happened to be that night, so it would a perfect cover. Also, I wanted to seal the deal as fast as possible before she could loose interest.
