All characters are 18 or older. This story was written in collaboration with Diana R. This story features a relationship between an adulterous older white female (53 yo) and a young black man (18 yo). If that doesn't appeal to you, then please save yourself the aggravation. If it does appeal to you, we hope you enjoy.
Recap
Part 1 -- Diana, a 53-year-old married retired white female takes in Dion, a black 18-year-old recent high school graduate, into her home to help him afford to go to college. After moving in, they soon begin an affair while Diana's husband is out of the house and away on business.
******
My husband warily eyed Dion during dinner. He arrived home yesterday, tired and grumpy from working for almost a month on an oil industry site start-up project that was not going well. Last night he fumed privately in our room as we were going to bed about allowing Dion to move in. I reminded him kindly that he left it to my discretion to invite Dion into our home, and I informed him of all the conditions Dion had to follow under our roof. I admit, it must've been a big change for my husband to come home and find a new person living under our roof. That said, I know my husband well enough to know that he was just blowing off steam and that Dion wasn't really the source of his frustration. His anger had a lot more to do with his work stress and nothing to do with anything Dion beyond his existence. Still, he never voiced his frustrations about Dion directly to him. Dion was, as my husband often reminded me, my problem.
Dion, for his part, was reticent around my husband. My husband wasn't hostile to him, but he wasn't outgoing either, and I'm sure the fact that Dion and I were having an affair made it awkward for Dion. It was one thing when we were the only ones in the house while we carried on the affair, but my husband probably didn't seem real to him at first. And now that my husband was here in the flesh, it put our affair in a whole new light, and Dion was noticeably shy around me, as well. He mostly stayed in the basement and avoided my husband in those first few days.
My husband icy façade started to thaw after he saw that Dion really was an okay kid. Dion was gone for most of the day in classes, and then he worked his part time job in the evenings, and my husband always appreciated someone willingly to work hard toward a goal. By the end of the week, my husband was calling up Dion for dinner and trying to make small talk with him to make him feel more invited and comfortable in our home. Dion noticeably relaxed, feeling more welcome in our home again, although he still seemed to avoid eye contact and talking with me.
I, myself was happy, of course, to finally have my husband home again, but it was obvious that the dynamics of my affair with Dion had changed. Before my husband came home, we had a mutually beneficial agreement where he'd focus on his studies and not go chasing girls, and he could use me to relieve his sexual needs without all the effort and drama that goes into skirt chasing. Ostensibly, I was sacrificing my body to give him a better chance for collegiate success, although, if I'm being honest, I knew my motives were much more selfish than altruistic.
I had started dressing up nicer around the house after starting my affair, wanting to keep myself presentable and desirable for Dion. I continued doing so after my husband came home, and he took notice of the change one night.
"I noticed you're dressing up around the house," he said wryly, "not just lying around in sweat suits."
"Oh, I just figured I should try to look nice for you," I quickly replied. "I didn't want you to forget about me after being away for so long," I said with a wink.
"Luckily, Dion's only 18," my husband continued. "I'm sure he's chasing after some college girls. He can't appreciate a fine, older woman like yourself. But I certainly can."
I laughed uncomfortably as he came onto me that night, and we made love. He's a good man, and I knew he needed some stress relief himself. I was sex starved myself with Dion becoming more withdrawn, so I welcomed the attention. My husband is a good man, and I want to be a good wife and please him but making love to him only reminded me what I wasn't getting from Dion anymore. I ran my hands over my husband's body, and all I could think about was how much firmer Dion's arms and legs felt in comparison. My husband's skin was leathery and wrinkled, becoming worn over the years, whereas I remember marveling at how smooth Dion's skin felt to the touch. I suppose I shouldn't be one to complain; I'm no spring chicken myself, but if given a choice, who would choose a body ravaged by time over one still basking in a youthful glow? They say beauty is only skin deep, but in a purely physical relationship, skin deep is all that counts, anyway.
And Dion was black. I know a person's color shouldn't matter, and I don't let it influence how I treat anyone in life whether it be strangers or friends. But we all have our private proclivities, our kinks. For some people, it could be hair color like blondes or redheads, or it could be a sexy accent like eastern European or British, but for me, there's something I find incredibly attractive about other skin colors. My husband's pasty white body just doesn't hold the same allure as the contrast of Dion's dark skin against mine. And given the history of racism, there's still a taboo factor, even though I'm glad to see that interracial relationships no longer raise eyebrows like it did in my youth. Does my kink perpetuate racist tropes and stereotypes? I don't know. Maybe it does, but I figure if everything is consensual, then what is the harm?
But I laid awake that night. I laid next to my husband, and even though he had just fucked me, and his cum was dripping out of my pussy, all I could think about was the young black man sleeping in the basement below, wishing that it'd been him instead.
******
The next day, my husband was at work in his local office, and I finally confronted Dion about our relationship while he was home for a few hours between classes. I went down the stairs to the basement where Dion stayed, and I found him seated at a desk, diligently studying.
"Dion, can we talk for a few minutes?"
He turned around, and I saw the apprehension in his eyes. My years as a guidance counselor gave me a wealth of experience in reading people's body language and tone, which often helped me get to the root cause of behaviors. People's frustrations often manifested itself in other areas. In my experience, 90% of the time student issues could be traced back to drugs, alcohol abuse, or relationship drama (girlfriends or family).
I saw Dion's nervousness, and I tried to calm him down. "It's alright. I just want to talk," I reassured him.
He slowly pushed his chair back from his desk and turned around to face me. "Alright, what is there to talk about?" he wanted to know.
I started slowly, choosing my words carefully. "It seems that you've been avoiding me lately."
"I -- it's complicated," Dion started to explain after taking a deep breath. I could tell he was also carefully choosing his words. "Ever since your husband got back, I just -- I feel guilty. I mean, you're his wife, and I'm staying in his house. You and me - it seems so - disrespectful."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. But where does that leave you? I mean, are you back to swiping left and right on tinder?"
Dion threw his head back in a hearty laugh. "I've been tempted. Haven't gone back there just yet."
"What my husband doesn't know won't hurt him," I countered.
"Don't you feel guilty about what you're doing?"
"Like you said -- it's complicated. But my offer still stands. I still want you to succeed in school, and -- "
"You make it sound like you offering to spread your legs is some great act of charity," Dion said in cutting me off. "It seems to me like you just want some dick up in your pussy."
I blushed at his brazenness. "I'd like to think our affair was mutually beneficial and pleasurable."
"You're a sly one. And a lot of fun." Then he doubled over and screamed in frustration before composing himself and continuing. "Ok, truth be told, I want to tap that pussy again. But I also don't want to mess up this chance at college. So, what happens if I don't sleep with you? Will you kick me out?"
"Nothing bad would happen," I assured him. "I promised you a home for college, and as long as you adhere to the original conditions I set, you're more than welcome to stay here. I may just have to provide my own pleasure again like that first time when you walked in on me," I said, reminding him of the first time I seduced him.
With that, I got up and started to make my way up the stairs, although I stopped and turned around halfway up.
"If you ever change your mind," I told Dion, "I'll be waiting for you." I purposefully swung my ass like a pendulum as I walked up the stairs, and I looked back and caught him checking me out, to which he sheepishly looked away. At least if he didn't come back to me, I'd know it wasn't for lack of trying.
******
My husband and Dion grew closer over the next few weeks. The next thing I knew, they were going out every weekend. From car shows to baseball and basketball games, they were always out and about. They'd come home at night after a long day going about, eating out at whatever sports bar, and bragging about their day's adventure.
I hadn't seen my husband act like this in years and years. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if he just missed our son that badly. Brandon had been out of the house a few years by now, and it left us as empty nesters, which was a big change for both of us. Or maybe it was a second chance for him to be a father. With all the hours he put in at the office, he missed a lot of Brandon's games, plays, and recitals growing up, so maybe this was his way of atoning. Whatever it was, my husband clearly relished taking on a patriarchal role in Dion's life and sharing all the traditional manly interests with him.
For Dion, he gained the father figure always missing from his life. My husband took him fishing and deer hunting for the first time in his life. You could see the excitement in his eyes at finally experiencing father/ son type bonding. After all the years suffering through parents who abandoned him and getting shuttled through the foster system, Dion soaked up all the attention and drank it all in.
I know I should've been happy to see my husband and Dion bond so easily, yet I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Somehow, I felt like a third wheel, left out of so much of their activities. On weekends, I was left alone. I'd visit my girlfriends, and we'd go out for lunch and gossip like old hens, but I also spent a lot of weekends alone.
Given my high sex drive, I ended up spending a lot of afternoons lying around naked with my plethora of toys. I'd run the gamut of my toys from vibrators to dildos to ben-wa balls. I'd take my big, black dildo and pretend it was Dion, just like I did the first time I seduced him. I made myself cum repeatedly, and yet, I never felt fully satisfied. I longed for the touch of a man. I longed to feel Dion inside me again. Still, I couldn't help but worry that maybe age really was catching up with me and, maybe Dion had his fun with me and no longer found me attractive.
I wasn't above giving Dion little reminders of what he was missing out on, though. On weekdays, I always wore a dress or skirt that was above the knees and often without panties. I'd find opportunities to flash Dion. Bras are always so restrictive, so I never wear them at home, and I'd wear loose tops, finding ways to bend over in front of him and giving him clear views down my top. I caught him staring at my goods on more than a few occasions.
Maybe it was desperation or denial. Maybe it was just my vanity or insecurity. I wanted the validation, to know that Dion still found me attractive. I know men are dogs, and I could've put myself out there and found another lover, but I had already seduced Dion once, and it was Dion I wanted a relationship with again.
I think I could even accept it if I lost him to some young hussy. I know I'm no spring chicken, so I don't necessarily expect to win a beauty contest against some young thing, although what I now lack in youth, I'd like to think I make up for in experience. But that didn't matter because that wasn't the case, at all. It's like Dion abandoned me for a man. And not just any man, but my own husband. The indignity of it all.
As close as Dion and my husband became, I also saw the grind starting to get to Dion. As the semester wore along and final exams loomed, Dion spent more and more time studying. I saw him struggling with some of the subjects, and the workload seemed to almost overwhelm him. He still worked part time, and I could tell he was struggling to keep up in some of his classes.
Per the conditions I set for him to live with us, he shared his grades with me, and he was actually doing well, on track to get all A's and B's in his classes, but he was burning the midnight oil to keep up, and I saw the lack of sleep and hard work starting to catch up with him.
One time I went down to the basement to offer Dion a snack, and I found him lying on the bed, having passed out while reading one of his textbooks. I silently descended the stairs and stood by his bedside for a few moments, just watching him breathing peacefully as he slept, the textbook rising and falling slowly as it lay open on his chest.
