He was the one who wasn't trying to jump every woman in the Grownup Fun Finder New England chatroom. He didn't say much but when he did it was to the point and from the heart. It was clear from his handle, blknsweet, that he was a black man. For some reason I'd been thinking about black men. A lot. It kind of put me off, though, that he'd say he tasted sweet. How did he know? Had he tasted himself?
But on a whim I clicked on his handle to look at his profile. I quickly realized that he was talking about his personality and not something else when he said he was sweet. And he did seem to be. His profile gave me the same feeling I had about him in the chatroom. Okay. I'll admit it. The next thing I checked was his "male endowment". So sue me.
He said he was of average length but "extra thick". I felt myself tingle down there. So where does he live? Oh shit. My heart started beating fast. He lives in Albany. I sat back in my chair and exhaled nervously. The palms of my hands were damp. I knew I was going to do something that, if I thought about it too long, would scare me to death.
"Hey blknsweet, we're neighbors," I typed.
"Is that so," he replied.
"I live in Albany too."
"Cool. Would you like to meet sometime?"
"Maybe. Let's get to know each other a little first."
"That's cool. Do you have Yahoo Messenger?"
"Yes."
"Contact me. The handle's the same."
And I did. Even though it took me a couple of minutes to type in his handle because my hands were shaking so much. He responded right away and we began to chat. With a gentle calmness he steered the conversation, asking me questions and offering information about himself. And he seemed to want to know me as a person. The subject of sex was only touched on briefly. The more we chatted the more I felt myself relaxing. He told me his name was Royal. I told him mine.
We chatted often over the next several weeks. The subject of sex was coming up more and more and we were both enjoying the flirtation. He asked if I'd like to see a nude photo of him. I said, "But of course." God, he was beautiful. Rich dark brown skin and the build of an athlete. He told me that he'd been a wrestler in college and had made a point of keeping in shape afterwards. It made me feel very insecure; I mean, why would he want to be with me? I'm 45 and time has done some damage. And I could lose a few pounds. But a girl can dream. The only disappointment was that he was soft. When I said so he replied by saying that he wanted to keep some secrets for when we met.
He asked for a photo of me and I kept putting him off. But he kept asking. So one Saturday when everyone was out of the house I figured out how to use my husband's digital camera and started taking some pictures of myself using the timer feature the camera had. I started out full clothed. I knew, however, that he wanted more than that. I slipped out of my dress and took one of myself in my bra and panties. I felt like some kind of pervert. But I was having fun. I took off my bra and cupped my breasts in my hands, thinking of him seeing me like this. I could feel the familiar ache of excitement in my pussy. The last photo was of me on the bed, wide open, showing him everything I had. I had to use my vibrator. A couple of times.
The photo I sent him only showed my face. He said he thought I was beautiful. I didn't really believe him but there was a little spark of hope that seemed to grow stronger every day. I'd look at the photo of him lying on his side on a bed, smiling into the camera as if looking into my eyes, his penis and balls dangling against his thigh, and try to imagine what it would be like to be with him.
He asked me if I had any special fantasies. After sharing a couple of rather tame ideas, and with some prodding from him, I confessed that I'd never been with a black man. He asked if there was anything else. It took me a couple of days to work up the courage to tell him I had fantasies of being with two men at once. He revealed that he'd been in quite a few threesomes with a woman and another guy and had enjoyed them. Immensely.
I very shyly told him he was sending me to my bed to use my vibrator on myself after every chat session. He said he liked thinking about that. He kept asking me if I was ready to meet and each time I told him I wasn't. But the flames of hope and desire were burning brighter . He would sign off by saying he was a patient man. And he was.
"Lena," he wrote, finally. "How about getting together for a cup of coffee? No expectations. No pressure."
I took a deep breath. "Okay." I could feel myself trembling as we made the plans.
We agreed to meet at a Starbucks in a mall not far from my house in three days, in the evening; I figured I'd say I needed to do some grocery shopping. As the time of our meeting drew near I became more and more nervous. By the morning of the fateful day I was a wreck. What am I doing? I thought to myself. Meeting a strange man for sex. A gorgeous younger black man. With a well upholstered middle-aged body like mine. I'm insane.
I almost didn't go. I got myself there in stages. I'll just go to the mall, I told myself. I won't meet him. Once I was at the mall I decided I'd walk past Starbucks, I wouldn't go in. Maybe I'd catch a glimpse of him. My knees were shaking so hard I could barely walk. I felt as if I was losing the sensation in my legs. The first time I cruised by my heart sank. He wasn't there. Two black guys were sitting at one of the tables but all the single men were white. Several stores past Starbucks I sank down onto a bench, my hands clasped between my thighs, biting my lip. I must have looked odd but I was past caring.
After sort of pulling myself together I made a pact with myself that I'd give it one more shot and then go home. There still weren't any single black men. But when I was almost past, almost free, one of the two black men seated together caught my eye. I realized it was Royal. I stopped, frozen. He smiled and beckoned me over.
"This is Nathan," Royal said, once I'd managed to cross the distance between the entry way and their table. He stood up to pull out a chair and help me get seated. I needed help. "I hope I wasn't out of line to invite him. I was thinking of your fantasy. He's a nice guy too."
I looked at Nathan. Thinking he must know I had fantasies about being fucked by two men. I knew I was blushing. I was probably the color of a firetruck. He looked into my eyes and smiled, as if a woman wanting to be with two men was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn't leering at me at all. He was a good looking man, darker than Royal, and much slimmer. Not skinny, by any means, but not as built up.
While Royal went to the counter to get me a Caffe Latte, Nathan and I began to talk. He asked me some general questions and I struggled to answer coherently. But Royal was right, he was a nice guy. After Royal returned the three of us chatted. I began to relax. And then I started having fun. They were both warm and funny. Nathan was quieter and in some ways I felt closer to him. But Royal had a sexual aura that made my body hum. The sound of Royal's voice, deep and resonate, caused a vibration deep inside me. The reason for our meeting wasn't brought up until almost the end.
"Well, as far as I'm concerned you're a beautiful woman, as I've mentioned. I'd love to be with you," Royal said. "I think Nathan will agree."
"Oh yeah," Nathan said. I was stunned by the sincere appreciation in his voice.
I took a deep breath. "If you want me you can have me," I said. I couldn't believe I was saying this. But I'd never meant anything more in my life.
"Great," Royal said, standing up. "I promised not to pressure you so let's leave it at that for now. If you still feel the same way in a couple of days we'll set something up. Come on, we'll walk you to your car."
