The Early Years: Blac Daddy

Hello Readers. This is not a traditional story where you need to read chapter one to understand chapter two, or two to understand three. Each post can be read separately. I am simply using this system to organize my stories. ~Janet

*****

I was definitely out of my element. Normally in these situations I felt confident and in control, but I had never actually been in this situation before.

"Well, Janet, what are your thoughts?"

I scrambled for an answer. "To be honest, I kind of like the idea of experiences being important, but tossing science aside seems silly."

"Class? What do you think of this? Has Janet's simple approach captured a flaw with Existentialism? Think about it, and we will discuss this next time."

And with that the first week ended. I was thankful that I didn't embarrass myself too badly. I have always enjoyed classes, but I wasn't a student here, and this was my first philosophy class. In fact, very few of us may be students here. Community colleges often fill summer classes with students home from their colleges, with older people looking to exercise their brains, or with students like myself -- those trying to stay ahead of the competition.

Although uncertain in class, I was certainly enjoying the benefits of being a summer student. The campus was quite beautiful in the summer, and leaving class after 9PM into the warm summer air made me feel free. The drive home -- cruising down 495 with the radio blaring -- was also freeing, placing me in my own small world where anything was possible.

As the class continued, I became more confident. Once feeling more normal, I took stock of my classmates. Too many took the class lightly, and some seemed forced to be there. The person who took the class most seriously, and definitely wanted to be there, was the only person who looked more out of place than I felt.

Andre was quiet, and the professor almost never called on him. I wondered if it was because Andre was the only African-American in the class, or if it was because Andre was the oldest student. Andre was the oldest man in the room, actually, as he looked older than our professor. Regardless, Andre seemed engaged with the material, which I thought was pretty cool.

Andre and I didn't speak to each other for the first third of the summer session. It was only when I spotted him sitting alone at a table in the library, just a few hours before our first test, that we finally spoke.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Of course not. It's Janet, right?"

"Yes, and you're Andre?"

"Correct. Are you also cramming for the exam?"

"Not cramming, really, just going over notes. Want to do that together?"

He did, so we did. For two hours we discussed class material, imagined questions that the professor might ask, and focused on the exam. As we were leaving the library Andre asked a question that I had never asked myself before, but have repeated to myself during every class I have taken since.

"Is this class giving you what you need?"

"Um, I haven't really thought about it that way. Why do you ask?"

"It's a philosophy class, Janet. We are supposed to be thinking about life. Investing in this class means that you cannot invest in something else. The benefits of this class should outweigh its costs. You need it to, or you're wasting an opportunity."

I was blown away by his words and responded lamely by turning the question back to him. "Is this class giving you what you need, Andre?"

He smiled. "I'm pretty far from needing any more course credits, Janet. What I seek is stimulation, and interaction. Until you sat at the table tonight, this class had not been giving me what I need."

With no additional words spoken, we went and took the exam. His words were re-spoken, however, in my mind all during the exam. I did OK, but my focus was elsewhere.

*****

Andre and I met before class for the next few weeks. We discussed class material, mostly, but our conversations covered other topics as well. I asked the more personal questions while he focused more on personal philosophy.
For example, I discovered that he was my father's age, but instead of asking me mine, he discussed how age-itself might not be linear in the way that we normally think of it. When I made mention of racial issues, he dismissed them as focusing on tiny differences instead of celebrating similarities.

I fell for Andre, but it wasn't because he was so clearly wrong for me. Rather, his words convinced me -- without trying -- that he was so right for me. Still, I hid my crush from him. As it turned out, he was hiding his from me.

In early August, after our third and final exam, Andre walked me to my car.

"I'm going to miss you, Janet."

"We can still be friends, Andre!"

"Maybe, but that will be a real challenge. I'm moving to California. I'll be flying out Sunday morning, I've already shipped my possessions. This class was supposed to be my goodbye to the area and to this school. As it turns out, I'll be most sad to say goodbye to you."

I was speechless. I didn't want to say goodbye, and I definitely didn't want him to leave. When Andre saw me tear up, he bent down and kissed me. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
It was a beautiful kiss, slow and tender.

When the moment broke, and I realized what had happened, I became nervous. With my nerves, came insecurities, and doubts. I had to leave.

"No, Janet, don't go."

"I have to get home, Andre, sorry."

"Come on. Let me take you out for a drink."

His comment was unexpected, but it did clarify his perception. He didn't know that I couldn't be served yet. I liked that, so I didn't correct him.
"No, seriously Andre, I just need to get home."

"Look, Janet, we just had a beautiful moment, after a beautiful semester. I know that more paths cross than meet, but in a small way, we have been on the same path during this class. I'm not ready to end that walk."

The man's mind was absolutely beautiful. His body, too, was beautiful. He was tall, on the thin side, and definitely fit. His dark features were framed with graying hair, his smile was broad and genuine, and his eyes were magical.

"I can walk for a bit Saturday morning."

"Great, Janet. Lets meet here at 10:00. I'll bring a picnic and we can walk around Kenoza Lake and eat in the park. How does that sound?"

"Perfect."

*****

Saturday was a beautiful summer day, with just a few clouds to momentarily block the sun. I dressed for a walk -- I wore sneakers, jean shorts, and a tank top. I had decided that our kiss, our magical, impossibly sexy, impossibly 'wrong', kiss would be our only kiss.

Andre was in the parking lot as I pulled up. With a giant wave, and a huge smile, we started our day. We hiked around the lake, chatted about class, about life, and about experiences. During lunch, Andre spoke about the World with profound confidence, and I loved his perspectives on people, on interactions, and on community.

"Janet, people focus far too much on trivial issues, and ignore deeper truths."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, for example, we weren't exactly alone on the walk. Every time we passed another group of people I could see them looking at us, and not knowing what to make of our situation. They see age and color, and ignore the gentle connection between two people with similar interests."

"That's funny! I didn't notice. Are we scandalous?!"

We shared a laugh over that, which Andre broke with this comment.
"No, we aren't scandalous. Nothing we could do would be scandalous. We might, however, regret not doing things we could. I know I would."

"Andre ..."

"No, Janet, hear me out. I feel a connection with you that's stronger than any I've ever felt. We may not have a lot of time, but what time we do have could be perfect. Most people never feel perfection, I just have to believe it is in our grasp."

Before I could get a word out, Andre kissed me again. I melted into his arms, and he was right. It felt perfect.
I broke the moment.

"I'm sorry. I'm expected somewhere. I have to run."

"Now? Are you sure?"

"I am. I'm sorry."

"Hey, I get that this might be too much. And if nothing else happens, I loved our two kisses, and I will cherish them forever. But I'll never forgive myself if I don't ask. Can you get away for dinner tonight?"

"I'm not sure."

"Fantastic! That is a hell of a lot better than no! I'm staying in room 210 at the Marriott in Andover. I'll be there all night. If you can get away, just drop by and I'll take you out."

With that no more words were said, but we did share a sweet and gentle goodbye kiss.

*****

In my mind, I wasn't sure what to do, but I think my heart knew. I spent the rest of the afternoon fantasizing about Andre, and comparing each of his kisses to all of my previous kisses. I imagined, too, what it might be like to make love to him.

At that stage, I had only been with three people -- the man who was my first, my boyfriend at that time, and another guy that I had met at a frat party.
Andre was completely different. His visual differences -- his age, his race -- set him apart from my previous lovers, but the emotional differences were far greater.

Andre was a dream, he was a clear-thinking, intelligent, and kind man. And I think he loved me, and thought that we would be perfect together. Regardless of my emotions for him, the thought that I was perfect for him was intoxicating.
Around 4:00 in the afternoon, my mind finally agreed with my heart and I decided to join him.

After showering, and packing my book bag, I left the house. I arrived at the Marriott around 5:00, entered through a side door, and went to the woman's room.
In a stall, I undressed. I removed all my clothing -- my tank top, my jeans, my sneakers, and my underwear.

From my book bag I pulled a black, sleeveless, ribbed sweater dress. I normally wore the dress with my jeans, as it barely covered my backside. But tonight, it would stand-alone.
I exited the stall, went to the mirror, and applied my make-up. For my eyes, I wore earth tones. For my lips, I wore a glossy dark red.

Looking in the mirror, I saw a confident, sexy woman staring back at me. It was my hope that Andre would feel the same way.
My heart beat loudly in my ears, but it was more than my blood pressure that made me turn red. By rushing out of the house the way I did, I forgot appropriate shoes!

I had wanted to wear heels, but it wasn't to be. With sneakers on my feet, I rushed to his door hoping no one would see me as I went.
I stopped at room 210, took my sneakers off and put them in my bag, and knocked on the door.

*****

"Yes, hello?"

"Andre, quick, open the door."

Andre opened the door, and stared at me as a huge smile crossed his face.
"Do you always go around barefoot?"

"No! Just let me in."

And he did. I walked into the room, walked into a different world, a world where only Andre and I existed.
"You look gorgeous."
He kissed me, slowly and perfectly, and I felt at home.

"Well sweetheart, without shoes we are just going to have to order in."
And with that he kissed me again. Breaking our kiss, just momentarily, Andre said what might still be the sexiest, most provocative thing any man has ever said to me.

"This is our perfect moment. Most people live their entire lives without perfect moments. We only have tonight so let's not detract from this moment with useless inhibitions or barriers from our love."

He kissed me again and whispered in my ear, "no inhibitions." And I repeated it for him. And then he whispered again, "no barriers." And I repeated that as well.
Andre pulled my dress over my head, threw it to the floor, straightened my hair, and stood back and stared at me.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Andre smiled, turned slightly from me, and unbuttoned his shirt. He let it fall to the floor. I stared at his beautiful back. Andre unbuckled his pants, pulled the belt from them, lowered his zipper, and let his pants fall to the floor. With his back still to me, Andre stepped out of his boxers.

My heart was racing but my focus was on him. Andre turned to face me. I stared. I'm embarrassed to say, but I stared at his penis. I didn't stare because it was big, although it was. I didn't stare because it was black, although it certainly was that too. I stared because at that stage of my life I had never seen a penis that wasn't fully hard.

I'm not sure what Andre thought, but he laughed.
"Do you like what you see? Would you like a better look?"
And with that Andre moved closer.

As we kissed, I took his penis in my hand. It was heavy, and hot, and long, and thick. It was, and this is a strange word, 'meaty'. We continued to kiss, I continued to stroke him, and he continued to harden and to thicken.

This was the sexiest moment of my life, and I did the one thing that I felt most confident doing. I bent to a knee and took him in my mouth. I pulled him in as deeply as I could, and matching my mouth movements to those of my hand, I tried to please him. From his sounds, I assumed I was doing well.

Andre stopped me, led me to the bed, rested supine on the mattress, and pulled me on top of him. With my knees now by his head, he pulled my weight down onto his face. As Andre tasted me for the first time, I turned my attention back to his now rock hard penis.

My body was the first to give, and as he pushed his tongue deep inside of me I orgasmed. And then again. Having now lost my own rhythm, and no longer able to take care of him, he rolled us onto our sides, and he continued to play with my body. My body responded as if he owned it.
Then, as a final orgasm subsided, Andre repositioned and kissed me.

We kissed as he rolled me to my back, then he kissed my cheek, then my neck, and finally a breast. With a breast in one hand, and a nipple between his teeth, Andre kept me on the edge of orgasm.
My body was on fire. Without warning, Andre knelt, and I looked up at him through my spread legs.
"You are gorgeous, and we are perfect."

I felt the head of his penis press softly against me.
"No inhibitions."
I repeated his words.
"No barriers."
And as I repeated those words, he pushed into me.
Andre felt my body's resistance, and took things very slowly. With his elbows by my shoulders, his penis slowly working into my body, he whispered in my ear.

"You can do this. You can handle this."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissed him, and said that I believed him.
Our lovemaking was amazing. We shared a few quiet laughs, some deep kisses, and we found perfection. Once Andre was finally able to enter me fully, after some initial long and slow thrusts, and after I had multiple orgasms, he began in earnest.

With progressively faster and progressively more powerful thrusts, Andre taught me a lesson about myself. When my body tells me that I have had enough, and that I can take no more, that is the point that I really begin to enjoy myself.

Andre swallowed my final scream with a kiss, pressed deep inside me, and came. He continued thrusting, now with short thrusts deep inside me, as we kissed. Andre pulled from me, stared into my eyes, and read my emotion.

"I love you too, Janet."

We collapsed into each other's arms and shared a satisfied silence.

*****

"I have to go."

"Hell no you don't. Stay, lets share a meal."
Although I had to leave, I couldn't say no to him. Andre called room service, ordered dinner and a bottle of wine, and we chatted while we waited for it to come. When the knock on the door broke our conversation, Andre grabbed his bathrobe, and I went into the bathroom. Once the food was dropped off, and only Andre was in the room, I rejoined him.

"Afraid to be seen with me?"

"No!"

"Just kidding. Now, uncover that beautiful body, and lets eat."
We ate on the floor, naked, sharing a level of comfort that I had never known. Our conversation was easy, and gentle, and sweet. But time was an issue for me, and I mentioned again that I had to go.

"I just don't want you to go, Janet. And I don't think you want to go either. What we just experienced was magical, and I think - although I could be wrong - that I touched you in places you've never been touched before."
And with that he pressed the palm of his hand over my heart.
He was right, of course.

"And our physical expression of that emotion? Well, Janet, that deserves a little more time. Don't you agree?"
I agreed with my eyes.
"And, babe, just look. My body is showing its need for you."
We both laughed a bit at his growing erection, but he was serious.

His eyes transitioned from friendly to passionate, and his voice went from gentle to dominant. He stood, and moved towards me, as I remained on the floor with my back against the bed.
"It wasn't just the depth of your heart that I touched like no other man, was it?"
I shook my head no as he moved even closer.

"I didn't think so. And I like it. I like it a lot. But I can reach deeper, Janet. You just have to believe you can do it. Can you do it, Janet?"
I was powerless against him.

"I think I can."

"No. This isn't a 'think' thing, this is a yes or no thing."

"Yes."

"Good girl."

And with that he pressed the head of his penis against my lips, and gently pushed into my mouth. This was a position that I was unfamiliar with. With his hands on the bed, and his body pushing forward, his weight pushed his erection deep into my mouth.

Using both hands to stroke him, and to keep him from going too deep, I tried to keep up. But his power and passion were more than I could control. Andre owned my mouth, but refused to cum. Instead, once he sensed that I could take no more, he pulled back, got on the bed, and pulled me to him.

"You're wet, aren't you?"

I was, and nodded so.

"Come on then, get on top. Lets see what you can do!"
With my hands on his chest, my knees along his body, I curled my pelvis up along his shaft. I could feel his penis separate my lips, and when I finally reached the top, I could feel his heat at my entrance.

I lowered myself onto him. Slowly. Rocking slightly left and right, accepting him back. Once I had him, I didn't let him go. I lifted and lowered myself only a few inches, repeatedly, until my body clenched in powerful orgasm. I collapsed onto his chest.

"Damn girl, you like it deep, don't you?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Instead he rolled our bodies over without pulling himself from me. "Don't worry, I won't let you down. You can do this, right?"

"Yes."

And with that, the mantra of our swan song was born. His 'right' followed frantically by my 'yes'.
Andre, with his body weight on me, and his hands on my ass, fucked me hard. He showed no mercy for my orgasms, just a consistent and passionate desire for his own. He retreated briefly, wrapped his elbow under my left knee, and growled.

"Right?"

"Yes."

And with that he thrust back into me, but deeper somehow. My 'yeses' became less understandable, but no less loud. Andre pounded into me, quickly, deeply, and with ownership. Andre said two words.
"I'm close!"
He then thrust his other elbow under my right knee, pushed my knees toward my shoulders, and dropped all of his weight into me.

My 'yes' was now a scream. The ratio of my experience - which had been a mixture of pleasure and pain - was now biased toward pain. But he did not stop. With long, fast, powerful thrusts he broke into my body.
He punctuated his last thrust with scream to match mine. His scream seemed to trigger my response. Unexpectedly, through my pain, an orgasm erupted to meet his. Without speaking, or retreating, he kept grinding his body into mine until long after my orgasm subsided.

*****

We hugged and kissed for a while, but there wasn't much more to say. Andre wanted me to sleep over, but that was not possible. In fact, I had stayed too long.
It had been 3 years since I had last had simultaneous orgasms with a partner. And I knew that the similarities between the two lovers was more important to my response than their differences.