As an Introduction, I'm Devon, a 32 year-old black man now living in Chicago, the city where I was born and raised. I work for a mid-sized investment bank and travel a fair amount. I'm 6' 4" and a good athlete, all conference in high school basketball and all state in football. I received a scholarship to play college football on the west coast, where I was an all conference tight end freshman year, but a severe off the field injury curtailed my career. So I hit the books got a degree in economics, and then an MBA, and I now have a pretty good life.
My weakness, or at least my kink, is married women. Specifically, white married women. No use psychoanalyzing the motives, but there are aspects, which I will over time describe, that just make married white women much more of a sexual turn on than more "normal" relationships. My other kink is I'm a dominant man -- not that I enjoy inflicting pain or wearing weird attire, but I know what I enjoy and clearly communicate my desires and expectations. Typically, my playmates are older than me, but not always. Sometimes I meet them on line (which I prefer) before we meet in person, but sometimes the original meeting is in person. Most of these experiences have been during the past five years, although there are some exceptions. I'm not telling these experiences in chronological order -- just the order of what's in my head when I'm writing.
The injury in college I mentioned earlier was a chest injury sustained in a car accident. My heart was damaged slightly -- not enough to curtail physical activity, but it was suggested that I shouldn't participate in any heavy contact sports, so I had to stop playing football. I also need to get an EKG stress test every couple of years to make sure there are no lasting effects of the damage. A technician injects a dye into me, and other technicians use electrodes and a broad scanner to take readings and images of my heart while I run a on a treadmill of increasingly steeper slope. There's always a cardiac nurse in the room to put on the electrodes and monitor the activity.
I scheduled my test (without realizing the significance of the date) for October 31 late in the afternoon, so I could go straight from work. I wore a typical work business suit and brought a bag with workout clothes for the stress test. When I arrived at the medical office, all the reception staff were wearing witches' outfits, and some had interesting make up. I was surprised that a medical office would allow their personnel to play dress up, but it wasn't a big deal.
Then a technician came into the reception area and called my name. She was also wearing a modest witch outfit.
I said, "I feel I'm inappropriately dressed."
She responded with a smile, "All our patients are today."
As I went into the prep room, I noticed everyone in the hallways were also dressed up. I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeve, so the tech could give me the injection of dye. I knew it would take a few minutes for the dye to get through my system. I put my jacket back on. She left and came back a few minutes later to bring me into the treadmill room.
What I saw there made me smile. There was the cardiac nurse, who looked to be in her early forties. She was white, had dark brown hair, very pretty eyes, full lips, and was very busty. The last part was easy to tell because she was wearing a very low-cut witch's outfit. Just out of habit my eyes went to her hand -- yep, there was a wedding ring.
The tech said, "This is Tammy, who I see is our very naughty witch in the office."
I said, "I'm Devon."
The tech then left.
Tammy said, "I hope you won't ruin your suit on the treadmill."
I pointed to my bag, smiled back, and said, "I'm always prepared."
I noticed in her eyes a look that I had seen many times before -- typically at clubs and during dates -- the look of desire. I met her gaze with an equally intense look -- I've been told it's my "I'm going to fuck you" look. But we both realized we were in a medical room where anyone could walk in at any time.
She said, "I'm going to step out so you can change clothes."
"No need. You're a medical professional. Just no peeking."
She got equipment ready while I changed into running shorts and shoes. I did notice her stealing glances at me while I was changing. I then walked over to her so she could put the electrodes on my arms and chest -- I purposely stood a bit closer than necessary just to see her reaction. She seemed a bit uneasy, which I enjoyed.
Then the test started. It begins at walking pace with no tilt, and then every couple of minutes the pace picks up and the incline rises by five degrees. The early stages were uneventful, so I started with questions about her.
After some introductory chat, I said, "Looks like I'm too late."
"Are you talking about the test?"
"No, I'm talking about you. I noticed your ring. How long have you been married?"
"19 years."
"Any children?"
"My son's 17."
"You look too young to have a son that age."
She rolled her eyes. I pressed on.
I asked, "Born in Chicago?"
"Yep but now I live in the burbs."
"I'm going to schedule all my tests in the future on Halloween, as long as you promise to wear that outfit."
"It's only a naughty witch outfit. Just got it from the Halloween section on Amazon."
"Nope. It's a sexy as fuck witch outfit."
She seemed a bit embarrassed.
She asked, "Do you think it's too much?"
"There's no such thing as too much, as long as you're wearing it.
"You're being sweet. I know I need to lose a few pounds."
"As you may find out, I'm NEVER sweet. You look absolutely perfect as you are."
She blushed and said she needed to focus on the test. After a few minutes, she looked puzzled.
She said, "You should be breathing harder with the increased speed and slope."
"I'm good."
I asked her some more questions about her job and her son. Just idle chat to pass the time.
A few minutes later she said, "This next level will max the test out."
After a minute I asked, "Is that all you got?"
She said, "There's one more level, but no one has ever gotten to it."
"Bring it Tammy!"
I admit that last level was tough, but I finished it trying not to breath hard -- my athletic training was to never let a competitor see fatigue, and that training came in handy. She slowed the treadmill down to a cool down mode, and I slowed my pace.
"That's incredible. I've never seen someone as in good of shape as you."
"You do deal with cardiac patients. That's kind of a low bar."
"I know. But still."
"I think that pace and endurance are good features for many purposes."
She blushed and turned off the machine.
Now it was time to take the electrodes off. Again, I stood closer to her than I should. I noticed her fingers seemed to touch a little longer than necessary to pull off the tape.
I said, "That feels good. You have a nice touch."
Then I put my fingers up against the top of her breast, and lightly traced against her skin.
"What are you doing?"
"One good caress deserves another."
"We need to stop."
No means no, so I stopped. She finished removing the electrodes -- I put on my t-shirt and sweatpants. I then walked over to her with my business card from my back, and slowly slid it between her breasts. She pulled it out and looked at it.
"Why do I need this?"
"You might want a good friend some day, and you can always text me. Maybe even later today."
I smiled at her, I gathered up my suit, put in the bag and left. That night after dinner I got a text from an unknown number. Of course it was her.
"I appreciate you giving me your contact information but I can't text you. My husband wouldn't like it."
At that point I knew I had her -- it was just a matter of time.
I responded, "It's a bit odd for you to text me to say you can't text me."
"I'm just being respectful."
"I like a woman who shows her man respect."
"You're not my man. My husband is my man."
"And he should consider himself fortunate. If you pass the phone to him I'll tell him."
"That wouldn't be a good idea."
At that point I just paused for a while, seeing what she might say next. After a few minutes I heard my phone buzz.
She said, "I've never been unfaithful to him."
"There's nothing wrong with texting."
She was slow in responding at times, but I was persistent, asking her lots of questions. We exchanged many texts that Tuesday night. As the clock went past midnight, she started asking more questions about me, which I liked.
She asked, "Why do you want to spend time in a conversation with an older, unavailable woman? I'm sure you could be having a lot of fun with hot young thing."
"Maybe I tried and couldn't find anyone."
