Thank you for reading my stories, and I am sorry if the wait between chapters is longer than you would like. I am doing my best, and promise to keep writing them as long as the response to them is positive. As always, rating and commenting on the stories are greatly appreciated, and if you would like to make suggestions as to possible scenarios you like to see my characters attempt, please fire them at me.
Also, I know that I have other storylines currently still running, but this idea popped into my head and I felt it would make a great story. The good news is that it will involve another woman of the Arbor Heights area, and potentially lead to some interesting encounters with other characters from other stories. I do hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
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My name is Wendy, and this is the story of how I stepped out on my marriage, and fell hard for a black man. Let me start by first giving some background about myself. I am a 40 year old mother and wife. Currently I am still married, going on 19 years, to a wonderful husband who is unaware of my promiscuity. My daughter is 18 years old, and a senior in high school, which upon reflection may be the reason I got into my current situation.
I was thinking about how sad it will be to see my daughter go off to college and become a full fledged adult, and that caused me to begin thinking about my young adult life before having a family. I began thinking about the things I use to do, and the things I always wanted to do but never got the chance too. When I was younger, and heck even now until recently, I have always been a little hesitant to seek out adventure. It is because of this personality trait, that as I reflected on my past, I started to wonder if I had missed out; if I had really had a good time when I had the chance.
This thought processes fogged my head for days and days. I had no idea how to shake it, or to get over the idea that I missed out on youthful experiences. I wanted to go back and push myself to try new things, and meet different people. However, being realistic, I knew that was not possible. I was a housewife, and stay at home mom; there was nothing I could see that would allow me to change that. Unexpectedly though, the universe seemed to step in and help me reshape my life.
It happened during an impromptu visiting of my bank. I had misplaced my debit card, and was looking to get a new one. After waiting for a banker to assist me, I shook hands with the man that would change my life forever. His name was Jerome, and I immediately came to the conclusion that he is the most gorgeous black man I had ever seen. He is tall and muscular, has a shaved bald head, and a smile that can light up a room while at the same time melt the heart of any woman.
As he assisted me with my problem, I was constantly flustered being around him. I have no way of explaining it, but he just seemed to exude an aura of power and control. I felt very defenseless around him, and almost in a weird way servile to him. I kept apologizing to him for the fact that I was forgetful enough to misplace my debit, and he just assured me that it wasn't an issue and that he would take care of me. The way he said he would take care of me hinted at something deeper than just with my card, but also all of me.
I'm sure that to anyone looking on from the outside it would have just been a simple interaction between a customer and a bank representative, but to me it was an electric moment. However, Jerome was the perfect gentleman, and dutiful worker. He took care of my issue, and handed me a replacement card after just a few minutes from when he first shook my hand. It felt silly being so impacted by such a short meeting, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a simple banking transaction.
The weight of the encounter stayed with me, and I kept trying to process why I was reading so into a brief encounter. It wasn't until I stopped off a local coffee shop to get a latte that I realized I was wrong about Jerome and his signals. As I pulled my new debit card out to pay for my drink, I noticed that it had something stuck to the back side of it. What I found was a small sticky note with a phone number and the message, "Call Me" written on it. Instantly I knew it was from Jerome; he was the only other person to have touched the card. My stomach flipped with excitement, and then fluttered with anxiety as to what to do with the number.
I wasn't usually the type of woman that got flirted with or hit on so openly. Standing at five feet tall, and having a slightly curvy body, most often I am looked past by men. I have what many men in my past have called a cute look. My hair, auburn brown, is about chin length and slightly wavy. My breasts are an average size, 32B, and my curves are flattering; especially my butt. Basically, I'm your typical short, cute, mom. Not the type that men come flocking too, so in a way, Jerome giving me his number was very much so a pleasant boost to my self confidence. However, it also made me feel guilty, as I was married.
I love my husband, and he loves me. He works weekdays and the occasional weekend, but is very attentive and caring. Of course, the spark of our marriage has died down over the years, but we do still try and please one another. I would never have thought of cheating on him, but with Jerome's number in my hand, the idea to cut loose and experience something new popped into my head. The fog of regret lifted, and I didn't want the opportunity to seek whatever adventure his number had for me slip away. I went back and forth about whether to call him or not as I drove home, but once I stepped inside my house and was in my comfortable, predictable life, I made the decision to throw caution to the wind and see what would happen if I called.
He answered after the first ring, and I almost hung up. But after he said hello for the second time, I timidly answered his hello and spoke to him. I indicated that I was the woman from earlier that he had helped with the debit car and had given his number to. He chuckled and said he knew who I was and was happy that I called. I asked why he had given me his number, and he just stated that I seemed to be lost and thought I might enjoy getting to know him. I almost sensed that he read me and could tell I was looking for adventure. Since I was, I decided to not back off, but instead continue moving forward down this unknown path.
I nervously asked, "I think I would enjoy getting to know you more. When can we get together to talk?"
"Well, I'm off from the bank tomorrow, so how does getting lunch sound," he replied.
I took a moment to think before responding, "Uhhh, yeah that would be good. Where should we meet at?"
"I know of a place that is great. You will love it. I'll text you the address and we can meet at let's say 10," was his reply.
My response was a little unsure, "Okay. Yeah that will work for me. Should I dress any particular way? Is it a nice place or casual?"
He answered confidently, "Oh it is just casual. Wear a simple dress and you will be fine."
"Okay, I can do that. I'll see you tomorrow then," I answered back.
"Cool, see you then. Bye," he finished.
"Bye."
I hung up the phone and was in disbelief with myself that I just set up a lunch date with a man I don't even know. Never would I have ever thought that I would have done something like that. However, as I stood in my kitchen replaying the conversation, and going over the plan to meet, I could feel that I was becoming aroused. My body warmed and began to tingle with giddy excitement. The rest of the night I was a cheerful little housewife. I prepared dinner, and did all my other tasks around the house with a joyous spring in my step. I just couldn't stop thinking about the lunch date.
My husband and daughter seemed unaware of my gleeful spirit once they both got home, and after dinner they both retreated to their own spaces. My daughter to her room for the rest of the night, and my husband to ours to shower. I cleaned up, and then checked in with my husband who was just getting out of the shower. He told me that he felt really tired, and was thinking of calling it an early night. I told him I wanted to stay up to watch some of my shows, but that it was fine by me if he wanted to go to bed. He kissed me, and then finished getting dressed before getting settled into bed. I washed up in the restroom before heading back into the living room to watch my shows.
As I sat on the couch alone, watching the t.v., my mind began to wander. I kept thinking about Jerome, and how handsome he was. I still couldn't believe I had set up a secret lunch date with him; someone I barely knew. The more I thought about it though, the more I couldn't wait to meet with him. He was such a handsome man, and looked to keep himself in good shape. I started to fantasize about what his body looked like, and how it would feel to touch him. Those visions quickly progressed into a curiosity of what his naked body looked like, and how well he may be endowed. Once those thoughts were in my head, I had to do something about them, so I reached for my phone and began to search for pictures of naked black men, pictures of naked black cock, pictures of big black cock, and finally pictures of black cock white women.
What I saw and viewed was breathtaking, and extremely erotic. I never looked at such images before, but at that moment I couldn't pull myself away from them. I wanted more; I needed more. Soon my hand snaked into my panties, and I was then playing with myself as I looked at countless images of thick black cocks being used on white women. I began to imagine myself as them, and the black cocks in the pictures belonging to Jerome. Once that stream of thought entered into my head it was too much, and I immediately erupted in a powerful orgasm. I shocked and panted like a possessed woman on the couch until I finally came down from the euphoric high.
Regaining my composure, I looked around in an almost frightened state to make sure neither my husband nor my daughter had walked in on me. When I was satisfied that I was still alone, I began to bask in the afterglow of what had just occurred. I had just actively searched and then masturbated to the images of black men fucking white women. Not only that, but I envisioned myself in the place of the women in the pictures, and that it was a man I briefly met once who was giving me his black cock. If I wasn't already excited about the lunch, I was after that couch time adventure. With a big smile on my face, I washed up at the kitchen sink before heading to bed to sleep. My dreams were filled with images of black cock that night.
The next morning I had breakfast with my family and then saw both my husband and daughter off as they went to work and school respectfully. I then cleaned up the dirty plates and table left from breakfast while I failingly tried to keep from looking at the clock every ten seconds. I was like an eager girl on prom night waiting for her date to come and pick her up, but in my case I was waiting to go see a handsome black man for lunch.
