Disclaimers: As with almost all my stories, each and every character in this tale resides in the deep recesses of my mind. If they are lucky enough to partake in sexual stuff, they are over 18. If I use the name of a real person, its just for authenticity. Onto my story.
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What the hell am I doing? I'm closing in on my 50th birthday, and I'm actually thinking about dating a man barely older than both of my daughters, and a white man, to boot. You see, I'm a black woman, who some would call plus sized. I'm nearly 5'10" and I won't give you the satisfaction of admitting my weight.
Let me try to explain. I'm Karen Brown, I have been a widow for just over three years, after after 24 wonderful years of marriage to Louis Brown, who played professional baseball for 20 seasons. The last 16 of those seasons in Seattle. Three years ago, Louis lost his battle with brain cancer. It cut his career short, as well as his life.
We both grew up in Tyler, Texas, and couldn't wait to get out of there. Growing up, all we ever heard was Tyler was the home town of Earl Campbell, the best running back ever to come out of this area, if not the entire state of Texas.
Louis and I went to the same high school, with him being three years ahead of me. I knew from the first time I saw him, both in class and on the baseball field, that he was the man for me.
It took until my senior year, and his third season in the minor leagues, for him and I to finally start dating. Oh, be sure there were many others in my school who wanted to date me, but mostly, what they wanted was to get into my panties.
Each fall, when baseball season ended, and he came back to town, we would start dating. He turned out to be the most romantic, kind man I'd ever known. For two years, we dated, with our time limited to the off season. When he made the major leagues, he played for the Texas Rangers, so he wasn't that far from me.
It was at the end of his second season, we got married, at our little church, in Tyler. My parents were ecstatic, as my older brother was living in St. Louis, with his wife and two children.
Let me tell you a little about Louis. We couldn't have been more opposite. Where I was considered chunky, he was 6'3" and didn't weigh an ounce over 170. But, he could hit a baseball. For average, as well as for power.
Signing with the Texas Rangers right out of high school, he quickly made his way to the Majors. We married just as he was promoted to the big leagues.
Two years later, our daughter, Kathy was born. 18 months later, Andrea joined out family. Louis was so proud of his little girls, to the point of telling his teammates, they would be the first girls to play in the major leagues.
It was at the end of his fourth season, he was having problems with the Manager, and the team traded him to Seattle. At first, Louis was pissed, saying all it did in Seattle was rain. In fact, it turned out to be the best move in our lives.
Not only did we learn to love Seattle's weather, his career blossomed. The city fell in love with him, as much as we fell in love with the area.
Our girls thrived in the suburban school district we lived in. No, neither of them played softball, or any other sport. Dad got over the lack of sports activities, as soon as he saw the straight A report cards.
As his salary grew, we both sat down with a financial adviser, and started planning for our future, knowing baseball wouldn't last forever.
With Louis concentrating on his career, I was in charge of our family's finances. I did my research, and let our advisor, Henry Robbins, guide us to financial security.
Fast forward to the fateful year that led to the end of our marriage. In Spring Training, Louis started seeing double. At first, he just said that he was getting old, and maybe needed glasses.
His first visit to an eye specialist, found it wasn't his age, but a 'spot' behind one eye. After consulting with more specialized doctors at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, a world class facility, they found a tumor right above his eye, in his brain.
For the next two years, he fought a brave fight. He walked both our daughters down the aisle. He saw our first grandchild born. And, he never once complained.
We all knew the enormous amount of pain he was in, but he never let us know how he suffered. His smile would return with our grandson bouncing on his knee.
It was just ten days after our second grandson was born that his body just gave up. We had long before decided he would be buried in our adopted city, in the same cemetery as many notables, such as Bruce Lee.
His funeral was one of the largest Seattle had seen for quite some time. Major League Baseball was well represented, with players from many teams attending.
Standing right behind us was our financial advisor, Henry and his family. His son, Michael, came over to our family and told us all how sorry his family was. I didn't even realize how old Michael was, still thinking of him as a toddler, we knew as a child, with our girls. I had to remember our girls were both married.
Over the next two plus years, I managed to keep living, like Louis had wanted me to. I did, however refrain from dating, knowing what most of the offers I was receiving wanted. Once, or twice, I went on dates, only to end up telling these money hungry leachers to back off.
I couldn't believe some of these men, in their 50's, had their hands all over my body, as soon as we were alone. After a few of these encounters, I finally decided to stop dating, altogether. Both my daughters tried telling me not to give up, but when I told them some of the shit I had happen, they sort of agreed.
Over this two plus year period, they would accompany me to the financial guy's office. They both, with their husbands, let Michael help with their own finances. Once, when we were all leaving, Kathy said, sort of off handedly, "if I weren't happily married, I'd jump that man's bones!"
Hearing that, I turned beet red.
When Andrea echoed her sister's comment, I just stared at both of them.
"You two are crazy," I told them both.
"Mom, haven't you ever seen that man's crotch, with that piece of kosher meat?"
"Are you telling me you're a crotch watcher?"
"Mom, some of the pants he wears are a bit tight, besides, if he's showing, I'm looking!"
Getting back to our cars, I finally remembered his father inviting us to the boy's Bar Mitzvah. I thought it was just a short time ago, but I did some figuring, and realized it was 14 years ago, and Michael was now just 27. Even thinking about this made me feel like a cradle thief.
As January rolled around, I got the phone call of a lifetime. When I saw the caller ID, and it said, BBWA, I sort of knew what was happening. Louis had been voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Hearing the committee chair telling me this, I couldn't stop crying, as well as thanking them. Within minutes, the local media, plus the Mariner's owners were on the phone to me. I literally didn't know whether to shit, or go blind.
My girls, sons-in-law, and grandkids were all at my house, for dinner. I just sat back, listening to them talk about our trip back to Cooperstown, for the ceremony, this coming August.
The very first call I got the following morning was from Michael Robbins, telling me how proud his parents were, also how honored he was just knowing him.
As we talked for another few minutes, I just felt comfortable talking with this fine, young man.
Over the next few months, we met several times, with him telling me about some changes to my portfolio, and explaining these changes, in depth.
On a sunny, Spring afternoon, out of the blue, Michael quietly asked if I would have dinner with him, one night. I was sort of stunned, but told him I'd check my calendar, and get back to him. Getting up, when our meeting finished, he leaned over, whispering that he hoped I had a free evening, and lightly kissed my cheek.
Oh, my God, just that little brush of his lips on my cheek, sent my blood pressure upwards. As he held the door for me, I thanked him for the invite, and left, on shaky legs.
When I got back home, I called both my girls and told them what transpired. After calming them both down, telling them he didn't invite me to bed, only dinner, we all started listing the pros and cons.
"He's white," I said.
"So what?" I heard in stereo.
"He's barely older than you both," I countered.
"He looks older," Kathy interjected.
"Girls, he barely shaves!"
They both had to admit I was right about his baby face, and even though he was over 6 feet tall, and a good 180 or 185, he still had that baby face. Cute, but young looking.
It took three more days for me to finally text him my yes, and told him Saturday would be fine.
"God, what have I done?"
When he picked me up, that Saturday, he gave me a nice hug, and another light kiss. This one on my lips. Wow, did that feel nice. It was all I could do to stop myself from dragging him into my front room and jump his sexy bones.
Driving to dinner, he very quietly told me his parents were not overly thrilled. Was it because I was older and black? Nope. It was because I wasn't Jewish. His older sister's husband was Jewish, and their two kids were being raised that, too.
I do have to admit that dinner went far better than I ever would have imagined. Getting up to leave, and helping me on with my coat, he whispered in my ear. "I don't expect to be invited in for a nightcap, and I'm OK with that."
"What if I'm not OK with you declining," I said, with my head on his shoulder.
Standing next to his car, he took my face in both hands and gave me the nicest kiss I'd had in all the time since my love had passed away.
"Jesus, Mike, we'd best get going before I do something in this parking lot that just might embarrass us, both."
One more very deep kiss, with his hands holding onto my behind, and holding me close enough to feel his growing bulge.
"If you promise to behave, I might be tempted to invite you in for a nightcap," I breathed.
"And if I don't behave?" he grinned.
I had a pretty good idea what just might happen. With a white man young enough to be my son, no less.
By the time we arrived at my house, my entire body was shaking like a wind blown tree. I truly needed his strong hands helping me out of his car. Again, he kissed me, this time with his tongue doing a bit of jousting with mine. Fuck me, my toes were tingling. And that wasn't the only part of my body that was tingling.
It took two or three steps into my front room, when my coat was tossed aside. His hands had a very nice grip on my curvaceous buns, and his even harder bulge was pressed up against its eventual target.
I just turned, and led him upstairs to my bedroom. A bedroom that had been empty for far too long.
Without a word being spoken, my trembling hands tried unbuttoning his shirt, without success. His hands were very successful freeing me from my blouse.
Unhooking my bra, I tried covering my breasts, when he gently moved my arms away, just mouthing the word, beautiful. When he leaned down, taking one engorged nipple in his mouth, I had to hang on, for fear of falling over.
By body was on fire. We eased ourselves onto my bed, with him lowering both his briefs and my dripping wet panties. Even in the dark, I could feel his size. I silently prayed I was ready for the first cock, beside my husband's in many, many years.
