I don't like people. Never have. Oh, I've maybe made an exception for 5 individuals who weren't members of my immediate family, but 90% of the time, they are just an aggravation.
As a result, I have arranged my life in such a way that I have to interact with them as little as possible. I do my food shopping late at night at the 24-hour store, use the self checkouts if possible, and work from home.
I live in a small apartment, alone. What about women, you ask? Sure, I wouldn't mind a girlfriend, but she'd have to be very accepting of my antisocial personality. I had one once, but she kept trying to drag me to social events. I don't want to see movies in the theater or go meet 50 of her friends at a party or go out to dinner at a crowded restaurant. Eventually, when neither of us was willing to budge, we split by mutual consent.
Just about out of food. Time to hit the store.
I drew up the list and proceeded around the aisles. I was just about to head for the front, having picked up everything I needed, when I saw HER.
I'm not tall - actually, at 5-foot-5, I'm short for a white American male - and I'm kind of scrawny. I never was into physical activities, being more of a computer guy even back in school. And my living arrangements didn't lend themselves to me becoming a weightlifter. At age 32, I was set in my ways and wasn't about to change.
But even so, she was overpowering. She had to be six inches taller than me. My first sight of her was kind of at an angle and from behind. She was wearing yoga pants that seemed painted on and a very tight shirt. She looked to be about my age (I confirmed later that she was just a year older), and there wasn't an ounce of superfluous fat on her body.
Toned and muscular, with coal-black skin and a firm chest. It didn't look like she was wearing a bra, as near as I could discern. Her legs were perfect. I wanted them wrapped around me. And then she bent over to get an item. I immediately understood why black women had the reputation of being "bootylicious." Hers was large and firm, perfectly rounded. I could spend hours worshiping that perfect ass. Burying my face between those cheeks. I was picturing her bent over like that with the pants off...
"It's not polite to stare, white boy."
I snapped out of my daydream. She had finished getting her item, turned around, and noticed me lost in la la land.
"S-sorry."
"Were you imagining me naked?" Her voice was teasing now.
I blushed furiously. "Um..."
"You were practically drooling on yourself."
I looked down to make sure I hadn't actually dripped drool on my shirt.
"Don't worry about it. I know I'm gorgeous. If you want to make it up to me, you can pay for our first date. I wasn't thinking anything fancy, just a local coffee shop."
I gulped. "Um... I kind of don't like crowds."
"What's your name, white boy?"
"Paul."
"I'm Keisha. Tell you what. We can get the food to go and return to my place to eat it and talk. And if we keep dating afterwards, I'll never make you meet me in public again, if you would like."
"Perfection." We swapped phones, put our information in, and agreed to meet on Friday evening.
"One more thing. I like my men clean-shaven. And you could stand to buy a comb." Keisha ruffled my messy hair. I hadn't done anything with it because I hadn't been planning to interact with anyone. She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "See you Friday."
On Friday afternoon, I showered, put on my nicest clothes, and actually ran a comb through my hair before shaving my thin beard. Keisha was already inside and waiting when I arrived.
"Good boy." She pulled me against her with one of her strong arms. "Now let's get our food."
I paid for it, as promised. For both of us combined, it was only 16 bucks. Keisha directed me to follow her home. She only lived a few minutes away from me, as it turned out. We went inside her modest two-bedroom house.
We sat on the sofa, and she leaned me so that my head was resting against her chest. She had inherited the house from her deceased parents, who died in a car crash about 5 years ago. She had been working at a local company for 10 years and was now in middle management, where she was likely to stay for the rest of her working life. Her superiors liked her, but the company had an unwritten rule that all executives had to be white males. They would never fire her, because they needed her as proof that no, they weren't racist or sexist - how could they be if they had a black woman in management? Besides, she was good at what she did and had helped the company triple their profits over the past 3 years.
She gently ran her fingertips over my clean-shaven skin, lightly caressing me as I told her about my life, not leaving out my disdain for humanity. I explained why I had set things up the way I had.
"H'mmm," she mused. "If we get serious, you could move in here with me, and I could handle all the shopping and stuff. You'd never have to leave the house again."
I gave her a big smile. "You have the best ideas."
"We'd just need to arrange for a token amount to be transferred to cover your food, since my other expenses wouldn't change anyway. I pay a set amount for Internet and cable, and I doubt you'd add very much to the utilities. Well, since I'd be buying your razors, those too, but same principle, and that could be set up as an automatic transfer between the accounts." She reached a hand down to my groin. "Of course, whether we get serious might depend on what kind of package you have down here."
"I hope you're not expecting -"
"Don't worry. I don't expect it to be as big as a black man's. In fact, I would probably prefer if it wasn't. I swore off black guys because the last one I dated had one that was so large it was uncomfortable, plus he wanted to stick it up my ass."
"Are you saying -"
"Oh, I don't mind getting it back there every now and again, but I want it to be on my terms. He wanted to ream me practically every time, and he didn't seem to understand the concept of consent."
"I promise not to force myself on you."
Keisha gave me a big smile. "Paul, one of the reasons I agreed to date you, and am considering taking it farther than just dating, is because I doubt you could force yourself on me even if you tried." She wrapped an arm around me and held me firmly against her. "You're a cute little thing. Adorable and shy and sweet."
I blushed and smiled back. "You're gorgeous and understanding and kind."
She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I never do anything sexual on a first date. So how about you go home now, and come here tomorrow morning? That way it will officially be our second date." She wrote down the address, though I was pretty sure I could remember how to get here. "How's 10 o'clock sound?"
"Great." I rose from the sofa and blew a kiss at Keisha. "See you then."
The next morning, I made sure to shower, wear clean-but-casual clothes, and scrape off my day's growth of beard.
"You listened and remembered," Keisha grinned, hugging me as she pulled me inside and closed the door. "That's better than 90% of men."
"Thank you," I replied. My head was pressing against her chest, and there was definitely only a T-shirt between them.
Keisha guided me to the sofa again. This time, there was a pleasant silence as she caressed my face. She eventually spoke.
"I think it's time for me to see what you're working with." She reached down and rubbed her hand against the front of my pants. My cock stiffened. She then unbuttoned my pants and with one motion pulled them and my underwear down.
She wrapped a hand around my pole and gave it a couple of strokes. "About six inches, and decently thick. This'll do nicely. But we need to clean you up."
She got up, leaving me lying on the couch. She returned a moment later, carrying shaving cream and a razor. A quick lather, and she carefully began removing the hair in the area. Her touch was delicate, and it had been a while since I'd had a release. My cock twitched and throbbed.
When she finished, she cleaned me up with a washcloth that had been wetted with warm water. "Much better. You look bigger down there without all that hair."
"Uh, I'm glad?"
"Move in with me. I don't think you can keep yourself shaved down there without cutting yourself, and we don't want to damage the equipment."
"Um, will you give me an orgasm next time you remove my clothing?"
"Sure. But you can't expect me to only give. You have to give me pleasure in return."
"That's fair."
"Now get dressed and get on back to your place. Take these boxes with you and start packing. Unless you'd like me to come along and help."
"You really want me to move in with you?"
"I would love it. I have plans for you." She ran a finger along my hard rod.
"Well then, come along and help, by all means."
The next day, all my stuff - not that I had a lot of it - was in Keisha's house, unpacked and set up. I had been living in a "furnished" apartment, so all the big stuff was theirs, not mine. The largest item I had was my computer. We let my landlord know. I was already paid through the end of the month and living there "month to month", and the landlord appreciated having me out two weeks before the month expired - it gave her a chance to fully prep the apartment and screen potential clients before the next month began, and she could have someone move in on the first.
After some calculations, Keisha asked me for $500 a month to cover expenses. That was less than half of what I had been paying for rent. We both used the same bank (not surprising, since we had been living in the same neighborhood), so getting an automatic transfer set up was a snap.
"If you're not comfortable with the idea of sleeping in the same bed as me just yet, you can sleep on the couch until you are ready. But I do expect you to be sleeping in the same bed as me sooner rather than later."
"Oh, it'll definitely be sooner," I assured her.
"And now you never have to go outside again. When I go food shopping, just let me know if there's any specific requests you have."
"You're not a vegetarian, are you?"
"Fuck no. There's plenty of red meat in my diet."
"Then, nope, no special requests."
