Kayla 5

Sometimes when I'm all alone, I think back to the circumstances in my life that have brought me to where I am now. I don't really have a lot of time alone, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Let me explain.

I met my husband Lawrence during our second year of law school. He was six feet tall and weighed about 185 pounds, and I thought he was the most handsome man in the world. People who saw us together said that we were the best-looking couple on campus. Although he wasn't my first sexual experience, he was actually quite good, and we settled in to lovemaking three or four times a week.

He proposed, and we got married two months after graduating. Lawrence went to work for a large firm in the city, and I joined a small-town lawyer's practice 25 miles away. Lawrence was one of several black attorneys in his office, whereas I was the only black attorney in Deerfield. Life was good for a few years, and we both made good salaries and were able to buy a nice house and save more than $600,000.

It was when we both reached 28 years of age that we decided it was time to have children. Unfortunately, over the next 12 months, it was determined that we couldn't have children, so Lawrence announced that he wanted a divorce. "I always wanted kids, Kayla," Lawrence said. "And since you can't give them to me, I'm going to go find a woman that can."

I was devastated. I begged and cried and pleaded with him. I told him we could adopt children. As many as he wanted. I told him I would do anything, but please don't leave me.

I thought Lawrence was thinking about it. Looking back now, I realize he was just playing for time and manipulating me. He told me that he wanted sex more often so we had sex whenever he wanted, and I initiated it many times. He told me we should try different things in bed, so he brought home some videos. I gave him my virgin ass and learned how to suck his balls and give a rim job. He used sex toys on my pussy and ass and nipple clamps on my breasts. I did whatever Lawrence wanted me to do. He said I should dress slutty when we went out together, and I let him approve my clothes.

When I finally thought I had complied with all of his whims, he broached the subject of sharing me with other men. "Come on, Kayla," he said. "You're a hot little thing and Frank and Marv would both like to fuck you. And fucking Marv would help my career, because he would steer more business from his company my direction."

"I c-can't, Lawrence.," I whined. "Its.. it's j-just not r-right."

"Come on Babe. Your hot little body has turned them on for years. Marv has wanted to get in your pants since he mt you."

"B-but I d-d-don't want t-to, Honey."

We had the same discussion for a few weeks, until Lawrence finally said, "If you won't do this one thing for me, then, we need to get a divorce."

Once again, I cried and pleaded and begged. I promised him I would do it. Well, a week later, I was fucked by Marv. And he fucked me again a week after that. Then when Frank came to the house to watch a football game, Lawrence sent us to the guest room where I fucked and sucked my husband's best friend.

Two weeks later, Lawrence hosted four of his college buddies for another football game. After plying me with a few strong drinks, the men started flirting with me. They patted my ass and put their arms around me. After my second drink, I stopped fighting off their hands on my breasts. Before I knew it, they had my top and blouse off and I was willingly sitting on their laps after my fourth drink.

Lawrence let them all fuck me after the game. I had their cocks in all of my holes and swallowed cum from all of them. I fell asleep crying that night, and knew that I had to put a stop to it, or grant Lawrence his divorce.

Well, as it turns out, I was not only fucked and gangbanged. I was totally outplayed. The day after the game, Lawrence told me he was divorcing me and I would only get 25% of our assets. When I tried to argue with him, he started the DVD that he had recorded the day before of his friends gang banging me. The picture and the sound were excellent as it showed me moaning and screaming and begging them to make me cum. He told me that if I contested anything, the tape would be used in court and be sent to my family and the partner in my law practice.

So, as it turns out, my indiscretions to appease my husband, meant that after selling the house and cashing in everything, I would only get about $225,000 and a few pieces of furniture. When the house was sold, I was given three weeks to move.

I used my cash to buy a villa in a large gated community. The community uses me for their legal contracts and litigation. The villa needed new cabinets, painting, plumbing fixtures and a few other items before I could move in. It came down to the last few days, and I was concerned that I may be homeless for a few days while one house was sold and my villa was getting upgraded. I got permission to have my furniture moved into the guest bedroom of the villa while the work inside was being completed.

I got to the villa at 9:00 to meet the movers. When I pulled up to my unit, I noticed a John Deere Gator parked in front. The door was unlocked, and I heard music playing when I entered. "Hello," I yelled.

I heard movement, and looked over as a big white man walked out of the kitchen. He was cute, but he actually looked like a big kid, but he grinned at me and said, "Hi. I'm Pete. You must be Mrs. Taylor." I nodded my head. "I'm just finishing up the kitchen cabinets. Can I help you with something?"

"N-no thanks. I'm waiting on the movers to bring some furniture. They'll put it in the guestroom, if that's OK." He nodded his head and turned back to the kitchen. I wandered into the kitchen behind him. "I love those new kitchen cabinets. Did you install them yourself?" He nodded his head. "You did a great job."

He said, "I learned how to do this kind of stuff when I was in high school. I took the career track cuz I wasn't smart enough to go to college. And we lived just down the road so I'd hang around here and help the guys. I would just be their gopher in the beginning, but I learned from them and after I graduated this year, I started working for the HOA."

I said, "Well, you're a big guy. How old are you, Pete?"

"I'm 18, Mrs. Taylor. How old are you?"

I was kind of surprised that he would ask me that, but then I realized that he was just a teenager, so I said, "I'm 30 years old."

Trying to change the subject, I asked, "How much longer before I can move in, Pete?"

Pete stopped and turned to me. He didn't say anything as his eyes traveled from the top of my head, down my body and stopped on my feet. Then they moved back up and he looked into my eyes instead of at my breasts like most men did. "I think it should be another two days," he said.

Just then the movers arrived and I showed them where to put the furniture and boxes. After paying them, they left and I wandered back into the kitchen. As I was about to say something, I heard, "Hey bitch! Where are you?"

"Oh no," I thought as I cringed at the sound of my ex-husband's voice. Pete's face registered shock as I turned and quickly left the kitchen. When I got to the living room, I saw him heading towards the guestroom. "What do you want Lawrence?"

"You stole my box of cuff links," he screamed accusingly as he pointed at me. "I want them back, bitch."

"I don't have your cuff links, but you're welcome to go look." He stormed into the guestroom and began throwing drawers around and opening boxes. "Stop!" I yelled. "Stop. You're making a mess."

As I ran towards him, he turned and roared, "Get the fuck out of my face, bitch before I knock you out."

I stopped and put my hands in front of my face. "OK. OK. OK." I took a couple steps back and stepped on something and felt hands on my back. I spun around and saw Pete behind me.

He had a confused look on his face and asked, "Are you OK, Mrs. Taylor? I heard you yell."

"Y-yeah, Pete. I'm OK. This is my ex-husband who's making a mess in here."

Pete walked over and took the box from Lawrence's hand and said, "You need to leave Mr. Taylor." Lawrence looked up at the big teenager, and decided that leaving might be the best idea.

"Thank you, Pete," I said. "That could have gotten ugly. I hope he doesn't come back."

"He won't," Pete said. "I'll give the guard his name and car information and they won't let him in."

Pete spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen and I worked at straightening the mess that Lawrence made. After a couple hours, I wandered into the kitchen and asked, "Pete, I was going to go out and buy lunch. Can I get you something?"

"Uh,... well uh, you see, Mrs. Taylor. Thanks for asking, but I, uh... I brought my lunch today."

"Oh. OK. Well, I'll be back in a.... "

"Wait," he said. "I got extra food I'll share with you so you don't have to go out. Come on, let's eat."

I was really hesitant about accepting food from someone, but he seemed like a nice kid. I figured I might find something that I could eat so I was on one of the stools. Pete sat a big cooler on the counter, unzipped it and began pulling food out of it: a banana, Twinkies, two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a ziplock bag of carrots, a packet of Oreos, two bottles of water and one can of Pepsi. My eyes were huge and I asked, "Do you eat all of that, Pete?"

"Well,.... not every day, but sometimes when I'm hungry. What do you want? How about a sandwich, a banana and Twinkies?"

I grinned at my new friend and said, "How about I trade the Twinkies for the Oreos?"

"Deal!" He said.

As we ate lunch, I discovered that he lived in a small apartment owned by the HOA as part of his wages. He volunteered that he was 6'2" tall and weighed 210 pounds. And then, in all innocence, he asked my height and weight. I said, "You know, Pete, it's not good to ask a woman her weight."

Totally unfazed, he smiled at me and said, "5'6" tall, 130 pounds. Right?"

"Uh,... uh,.... well, uh.... Damn, kid! How in the heck did you know that? You were almost right on target." My initial assessment of this guy as not being very astute may need to be reassessed.

He already knew about my ex-husband, but he asked about my job and what kind of car I had and what I liked to do. Normally, I would never impart so much information to someone I just met, but this cute teenager was very easy to talk to, especially when he told me that I was the prettiest girl in the whole community.

I learned that once he got his apartment, his parents retired and moved to Florida. I smirked when he told me he's never been married, and was surprised when he said he can play the piano, but doesn't own one.

As we were finishing lunch, I was surprised to see that I had eaten everything he gave me, including half the carrots. I thanked him, again, for lunch and said that I'd need to leave soon to go get a hotel for the night.

Pete got a confused look on his face and said, "Why don't you just stay here in your guest room?"

"I don't think "I'm allowed to stay here, Pete, because the place isn't ready yet."

"You'd save money if you stayed here. Don't you want to?" I hesitated and then nodded my head. He grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him. "Come on with me."

I followed him into the guest room and watched as he began moving furniture and boxes around. What box are your towels and stuff in?" He asked. I began searching while he started putting my guestroom bed together. It took an hour, but we had managed to find my towels and sheets, assemble the bed, and find a box of wine.

Once the room was ready, he turned and went back to finish up in the kitchen. I carried a couple boxes of clothes in from my car, and at 4:00, I went into the kitchen and asked, "Can you stay and have dinner with me?"

Pete was like a deer in the headlights, and said, "Uh,... Well, I uh... "

"It's OK, Pete. If you have plans, don't worry about it."

"No. No," he said. "I never have plans. But are you sure you want to have dinner with me?"

"Of course, I am sure. How about this; when you're finished, you go home and shower, and I'll shower here. And then I'll run out and pick up some food and we can eat at 7:00. OK?"

He didn't say anything for a few seconds and then said, "Well, I usually eat at 5:30."

I grinned at him and said, "OK, how about we compromise and say that we eat at 6:00? OK?"

Finally, he nodded his head. We continued working for the rest of the afternoon, and then he waved good bye on the way out the door. I quickly jumped in the shower and then tossed on a pair of mid-thigh length shorts and a tank top. I called the local steakhouse and gave them a much larger order than I thought we'd need, but I didn't want to be short of food with Pete.

I heard the Gator pull back in to my drive at 5:45, and the knock on my door was just seconds later. When I opened the door, Pete held a small bouquet of flowers out. I took the flowers, thanked him and looked surprisingly at his attire. He wore khakis, a button up shirt with button down collar, and new tennis shoes. A tie hung loosely around his neck, although the knot looked like a kindergartener had tied it. At the same time, he checked out what I was wearing.

I grinned and asked, "Why are you so dressed up?"

Pete looked down at the floor and began to turn red in embarrassment. "Well. I, uh... I thought, uh... Mrs. Taylor, I thought this was, uh,... kind of like a date. I'm so sorry Mrs. Taylor."

I felt horrible and I reached out and tried to grab his arm, but he stepped back. "Pete!" I said sharply. He stopped and looked at me as I stepped forward and grabbed his arm. "Come inside." He followed me inside, and I continued, "First of all, I want you to call me Kayla. OK? And second, it was kind of like a dinner date, and we forgot to compare notes on what we should wear. So, I guess I didn't dress up enough."

"But... but you look pretty, Mrs. Taylor. I think you would look good in anything."

I smiled up at this sweet young man and lifted and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Pete. But I want you to call me Kayla, OK?"

"OK, Kayla."

"I got steaks. I hope you're hungry, Pete." He nodded his head and smiled. "Come on," I said as I grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen counter. I put the steaks on my plates that I found that afternoon, and as I turned, I noticed that Pete kept checking out my legs and butt. I was flattered, but I had to keep telling myself that I'm a 30-year-old black attorney and he is an 18-year-old white maintenance worker.

Dinner actually went better than lunch, and we learned even more about each other. Pete told me about his parents and that he had only had two girlfriends in his life, and had never attended a school dance. He explained his job working for the HOA, and told about sneaking into the clubhouse to play the piano when everyone was gone.

I had a few glasses of wine which served to loosen my tongue. He learned that my husband divorced me because we couldn't have children. I told him about law school and some of my cases, without mentioning client names. I told him that my breasts were a 'B cup,' and my measurements were 35-27-40.

After dinner, I was sipping my fourth glass of wine, I told him that I thought he was cute, and if I was 10 or 12 years younger, I would ask him out on a date. As the words came out of my mouth, I poured the rest of the wine down my throat and shook my head.

Pete stood and moved in front of me. He looked down at me sitting on the stool and gave me an ear-to-ear smile. "You'd ask me out? Really?" I smiled at him and nodded my head.

"Even though I don't have a good job like you?" I nodded my head again.

"Even though I'm white and you're black?" I put my hand on his arm and nodded again.

"Even though I'm not smart like you?" I squeezed the young man's arm and nodded my head again.

For a big guy, he can move fast. Without warning, he reached out and picked me up off the stool. My feet were off the floor and he pulled me to him and kissed me. It was just a brief kiss, but it was a kiss, but it was nice. As he held me up, I looked into his eyes as he looked in to mine. Somehow my arms went around his neck and I pulled him to me and kissed him long and hard.

I don't know how long we kissed. I knew it was wrong, but it just felt so right. We moved to the floor of the living room and were necking like we were in high school. I asked him if he had ever necked like that before, and he sadly shook his head. Thankfully he didn't ask about my sexual background, although I wouldn't have told him about my husband whoring me out to his friends anyway.

Well, as it turns out, I took this 18-year-old white kid to my bed. He had a very nice size cock, but was woefully inexperienced. As he drove his white cock into my small black pussy, I began thinking about how much fun it might be to break him in. For a rookie, he still managed to give me two orgasms before he shot his cum into me. It was actually nice to have a man make love to me instead of just fucking me to get his rocks off.

We held each other for a long time before he said, "That was so nice, Mrs. Taylor. I mean Kayla. I think I should go now so we can both sleep."

I said, "OK, but you're welcome to stay with me tonight if you want."

After he left, I lay there the rest of the night thinking about what had happened. Kayla Taylor, divorced black professional woman had just thrown herself at Pete... at Pete? I don't even know his last name. Anyway, I had just thrown myself at an 18-year-old white man - almost a kid. What's the matter with me?

I made myself scarce for the next few days until Pete was finished in my villa, and moved on to his next project. I really had to sort out what had happened and how to get out of it without hurting the nicest young man I know. I avoided Pete for almost two weeks, until I came to the realization that it would never work. It was just a fling. I invited him over once I was all moved in to talk about what had happened.

It was one of the most difficult conversations I've ever had with one of the nicest people I know. I knew I hurt Pete, and after he left, I cried. I was really fond of him - maybe even loved him if that was possible in that brief period of time. Hopefully he understands that we had just experienced a one-night-stand, and now we both needed to move on.

Due to the size of our gated community, I didn't know where Pete was working next. I didn't see him for the next four weeks. And I have to admit that I missed him, even though I'd only known him a brief period of time. Then I bought the home test, and discovered that I was pregnant. And the father was an 18-year-old white man.

It took me another month to decide what I should do. Naturally, I was thrilled to be pregnant, but what to do about the father. Should I tell him or not? In the end, I decided to tell him, so I left a note for him at the office inviting him to come over for dinner the next evening. I spent a long time trying to figure out what to say to Pete. I still didn't think it would work.

Pete arrived wearing his khakis and a golf shirt, and I met him wearing a summer dress. He brought flowers for me again, which made me smile. As we sat on my couch, I started through my speech about our different backgrounds. I talked about our age and color differences, and he appeared to listen intently. When I finished, I looked at him in hopes he had the answer.

This big white kid looked at me and said, "None of that should matter. When I first met you, I thought you were the prettiest woman I'd ever seen. I think when you invited me to dinner, I fell in love with you that day. But when you told me it was over, I left because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I still think I...."

I reached over and pulled his head to me and kissed him. We kissed hard and when I leaned back, he saw my tears and said, "What's wrong, Kayla?"