This story is based on a true experience told to me by a friend represented by the Kelly character and how she was set up by an older woman with a huge black guy. I was always fascinated by the motivation for her to do so, hence the angle I have come at it from. I like to give the characters some background so stick with it until the naughty bits later on. How much I have enhanced for your pleasure,I'll leave you to decide. Enjoy...
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The minute I saw him my stomach somersaulted. It sounds like a cliché from a girly romantic novel, but it is the only way to describe what I felt as this gorgeous man entered the room for a contract meeting with me.
He was dressed immaculately in a beautiful suit and tie, crisp white shirt to perfect contrast to his dark black skin. I had never really seen black guys as particularly my thing, but Joseph was different. He was in his late 30's, educated, well spoken, smiling and confident, not arrogant or flashy at all.
This was a different animal to the black guys my husband and I had encountered in London or on holiday in the sunny places we visited. I'm just not turned on by a six pack and a bad attitude. Joseph, or Joe as he asked me to call him had the six pack, that was obvious even under the threads, but he also had the intelligence I wanted from any man I was to take seriously.
That he stood at over six foot, clearly had a superb physique and sculpted features that gave him almost a perfect classical look may have been secondary, but having passed through my acceptance criteria in the first minute, I found myself drinking in these attributes as we went through our business.
Me? Despite my schoolgirl 'crush', he was never going to be mine - for a start I am married to Ian, a lovely man a couple of years younger than me. He is my second husband, a regular looking middle aged man with a decent job and a good companion and friend. Whilst not thrilling, it's a good relationship and one I enjoyed and valued..
I'm also 53 years old. I have a good career and my job demands propriety. I've been a 'good girl' most of my life, doing what was expected of me and getting on. Sure, I am probably what you would call attractive for my age, a typical English Rose with delicate features, average sized breasts and a slim almost boyish figure and still blonde, even if there is a little grey mixed in with it. Not an obvious vamp, but pretty for sure.
As for my sex life, it had been ok. Two husbands kept satisfied, though increasingly rarely nowadays and a few other boyfriends when not wed. I'm certainly not a missionary only girl, but hardly a porn star either. I guess this all sums up why I just couldn't imagine being with a man like Joe in any sense of the word. Mind you, it didn't stop me looking and dreaming.
Over the course of our long meeting I found Joe a really interesting and articulate man. After the deal was concluded he offered to take me for lunch to say thanks for the deal. The couple of hours in the restaurant ended with us laughing and talking like old friends, me less the starstruck teen and back to the confident business woman I am. We parted with a promise to keep in touch and chat again. The ongoing contract would ensure we did. Our future meetings were always followed by lunch or dinner and a great chat - we had become good friends.
Shortly before I had met Joe, Ian and I had been on holiday in one of those all inclusive resort places in the Caribbean, a couple of weeks of sun and not much else. It was a little out of season, so the place was pretty quiet. After a week of starring into each others eyes, Ian and I were glad to make friends with a younger couple, Kelly and Andy.
He was a pretty dull guy for someone in his 30's, a civil servant, liked a bit of golf, and seemingly not much else. He dressed well and was decent looking, which may have accounted for the pretty girl on his arm, but really other than that was an unremarkable man.
On the other hand she was dynamite - at first glance this thin blonde was nothing but a pinhead bimbo, every wife's worst nightmare of the other woman. It was easy to see why my husband had been drawn into a conversation with her that lead to the drink that led to us sitting having fun at the bar. However, within the time it took us to down that first cocktail those first impressions had been totally overcome.
Kelly was a doctor who now specialised in minor plastic surgery. She swore blind she hadn't done any herself, so despite being 35 years old, that figure, and my what a figure it was, was all her own. Boy could she talk, but it was interesting and fun. She had done stuff and had opinions she could back up. And all this in a package that stood on the most awesome slender legs to 5'2", probably no more than a hundred pounds and with a fantastic and proudly displayed 34D rack pushing out that tiny bikini top. Being a woman I couldn't help but notice how 'buffed' smooth she was and that seemed to continue to the bikini bottoms which rode smoothly over her pubic mound.
I could see Ian trying to sneak odd glances when he thought I wasn't looking, but hey, no harm was being done. Andy was paying her no attention, happy to watch the big screen over my shoulder, so I don't think Kelly really minded. She seemed more than able to cope. She clearly had no designs on Ian, her bar clearly set much higher physically judging from her own sly glances at the ripped and shorts clad waiters that buzzed back and forth with refreshments.
After the week we were firm friends and good to her word, Kelly kept in touch afterwards. As we got closer, she confided in me and I in her. It was great having such a young 'gal pal' to have fun with. She and Andy came to visit just a few weeks later and it was obvious from the word go all was not right with them.
It transpired that the holiday had been a bit of a make or break for them and it looked like it was broken. She asked my opinion and I tried to diplomatically tell her that she seemed to deserve something a bit better from her relationship.
The next time she visited, it was on her own. The confident Kelly bristled with energy and fun. When Ian had gone out and left us with the bottle of white wine and a ton of gossip to get through she told me so much about herself I felt like I was just getting to know her properly now.
Sure enough, they had split. She said the final straw had been when he caught her masturbating and had told her to stop as 'it was disgusting'. I was pretty shocked at this - me and my other women friends never talked like this. I'm sure, like me, they all did do it, but to confess to it so bluntly was unheard of.
She conferred to me that sex was a big thing for her and that she needed to cum almost every day, so if sex wasn't on offer, masturbation with fingers, pink rabbit's and anything else she wanted was essential. Since the break up, Kelly admitted she had fucked a couple of guys on one night stands and begun what seemed a very promising friendship with benefits with an older married man she had known for years and trusted not to get clingy.
This was probably the most frank conversation I had ever had with another woman. She kept looking to me for acknowledgement that I understood, which I did, but not necessarily from the point of view of feeling the same way. Needless to say our conversation was getting naughtier and naughtier, before turning to the things which turned us on most.
