A Fantasy created by International Writers Curt B, Julie Van and Wunderboi
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If this is your first time reading this story we strongly suggest going back and reading the earlier chapters so you know what's brought us to this point.
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Clarissa woke on Monday morning excited by what the next few days would provide if everything went her way; she was confident it would. Sunday's Church Service at The Church of the Black Staff had been an eye-opener, at least the parts she could remember. The wonderful sermon which had held her almost breathless when the Pastor delivered his philosophy was frankly brilliant. She remembered when she confessed the sin of being naughty with her wonderful black lover and was immediately sorry she said it.
She remembered her lovely private meeting with the Pastor when she promised to encourage an increase in black membership, black management and black workers at the Confederacy Country Club which she dearly loved.
She was pleased when he was pleased and was delighted when he took her downstairs for a special viewing and to participate in the religious ceremony at the lower level. He told her it was 'very rare' for a new worshipper to be invited on her first visit.
She felt quite tired. Even thinking about the Pastor for some odd reason made her ache all over.
Igoro had left earlier for classes, and her husband Maxwell had gone fishing with his mates. Her body ached, but she felt entirely sexually sated, which did not happen that often.
Also, her jaw was sore.
The only other time she remembered that happening before was when she had sucked Igoro's cock for nearly an hour a few weeks earlier. Must be coincidental she concluded.
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Clarissa was truly thrilled to have been elected to be both Chair of the Greens Committee and Vice President of Confederacy Country Club's Board of Directors; the first VP in its long and storied history. She could feel new respect that other club members, friends and especially the employees accorded her. She had settled into a new routine which meant being at the club several days a week. She now knew that one day she would become the first woman President, but how many years would she have to wait in the wings?
Maxwell, her loving husband, had also been most supportive and helpful. When he wasn't travelling on business he was dutifully by her side at the many receptions and events they were being invited to attend. He was proud of her. She had increased her wardrobe with the ensuing big bills and he didn't mention a thing except to praise her and admire the way she looked. He was in his early seventies, fabulously wealthy and becoming more so with every passing year. Clarissa had listened to her father's advice, and Maxwell had fit the bill. She had married an older rich man when she was just 22.
Igoro was the icing on the cake. In the few months since he moved into the guesthouse, he had made her happier than she had ever been. A vigorous, attentive, smart and athletic lover he had taken her to places she never imagined sexually. Clarissa was now in her late forties and Igoro was just about nineteen, but he acted with a maturity well beyond his years and filled her life with his youthful enthusiasm.
As she had suspected, her husband was delighted with the guesthouse makeover Igoro had achieved with his friends in such a short time. Anything that added to Maxwell's assets pleased him and he insisted on paying the boy for all his hard work.
Her husband was also pleased to pay Igoro's full tuition at the local University.
However, his opinion or consent was never sought whenever he went off on his frequent travels and Igoro was invited by her to take her husband's place in the master bedroom with its big bed.
If six months ago, she was told she would have a handsome young well hung black lover who adored her, she would not have believed it possible. Sometimes in the throes of passionate sex, he even called her 'mother' which always sent her over the edge to a crashing orgasm.
When Maxwell was home, Igoro used the opportunity to visit and go out with his friends which Clarissa was happy about, and Maxwell thought was a normal thing for a nineteen-year-old to do.
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Tuesdays at the club were often very quiet, especially in the late afternoon. David, the newly voted President of the Club (and very proud of his new title) scheduled that time slot to take golf lessons from the 22-year-old College grad assistant pro.