Elevator Dreams
I'm flattered by the many nice and inspiring responses of the stories I wrote so far. Many are from men, some of women. I've received one from a woman of my own age. She is, just like me, a fat black old woman. We've started a chat session and she told me about a young white man, who lives in the same apartment building. I encouraged her to write down her fantasy about him. She asked me if I could edit it for her and permitted me to submit it with my other stories. Here it is!
It's some time ago I'd visited your site and read the story about the fat black old woman with her young white lover. I read a lot and like stories; sometimes I search the Internet and download an Ebook. And by searching I ended at this site and my curiosity brought me by the story. Well, it took my breath; I've downloaded it, printed it, and read it many times. It awakened my deep hidden feelings and described my secret wish, completely surrender to that psychical pleasure with a man; it kept my mind busy. I also must admit, when I read the story, I was jealous of the woman and her young white lover.
After reading the story, and especially the advice in the end, I've observed men in my surrounding. Unfortunately no men gave me that eye which gave me hope to fulfill my needs. Finally I may have something interesting to tell. Live has his surprises and it didn't pass my door.
I'm also a fat black old woman, divorced and live for twenty years alone. My two children left home long ago to settle their own family and made me a grandmother of three. It's a pity they don't live near and my communication with them is mostly by phone or by Internet. I see them a few times a year when I visit them or they visit me. Sometimes I feel very lonely. Although at the age of sixty-three, my sexual feelings didn't fade over the years. In the first years after my divorce I had a lover now and then, but when I passed the age of 50, nobody seemed to find attraction in my fat black old body. In any case, I thought they weren't and in case they did, I didn't notify.
About six weeks ago I came home from my weekly grocery shopping; I do this every Thursday. I live in a big apartment on the seventh floor and have to take the elevator to get to my house, the first apartment on that floor. In my arms I held two paper grocery bags and had trouble pushing the button of the elevator. Some young white man stood next to me, I think he was in his mid thirty, and pushed the button of the elevator to get it up. He had a sign of authority I admire in men. I'm a very shy woman, a type that fits to authority.
We stepped in the elevator, he pushed the button of the third floor, and with some strain I pushed it of the seventh floor. Nothing was said between us; I only saw the young white man, staring at my voluptuous boobs. They looked even bigger because my coat was open and the two paper grocery bags seemed to push my voluptuous boobs more in front as they usably do. And I saw this young white man staring at them and then again in my eyes, somewhat imperative. And when they look that way, with some man I feel a powerful instigation to obey. I don't know what is, but I think it's in my nature to serve. And if it is, somehow I know what the man's wishes are without telling me. I think it's my urge to make him contented.
It's very long ago I had that feeling. I live alone for over twenty years now and from then I always made my own decisions. The last time I had that feeling was when I was married with my ex-husband. So it was a very strange feeling when I notified I had this with this young white man again. Somehow I could feel this young white man would like to lay his hands on my voluptuous boobs. He was staring at me intensely.
I'm a submissive woman and as I had to obey, I did one step forward to him so he could touch them. But he didn't respond. I was too shy to ask him if he wanted too; I was just waiting for him to act. But he didn't; he just kept staring.
I was a little confused and I stepped back again thinking I probably wrong in this, feeling inconvenient I estimated it wrong. I felt a kind of relief when the elevator stopped on the third floor and this young white man stepped out. When I arrived on the seventh floor I went into my house with a strange feeling that kept with me for the rest of the day.
That night I had my first weird dream:
I was standing in the elevator with both paper grocery bags in my arms; the young white man was also in the elevator. I remember the elevator did raze very slowly. The young white man smiled at me, I could see he had nice blue eyes. His friendly look changed suddenly; I saw signs of lust in his eyes. Suddenly he pushed the stop button of the elevator and stepped forwards to me. I took one step back and noticed I was trapped in the corner of the elevator. I was wearing an open coat with beneath it a blouse and a skirt. It was a bit of imminent but for some reason I had no control over me. The young white man stood in front of me and grabbed me by my voluptuous boobs. For some reason I was frozen; still holding the paper grocery bags in both arms. I think I was dazed for that moment.
It was just like a silent movie; no word was said. The young white man massaged my voluptuous boobs and I remembered it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, I notified my nipples became hard and I felt a tinseling in my body. Then the young white man unbuttoned my blouse. He pushed down the front side of my bra and my big black boobs popped out of it. With both hands he grabbed one of my big black boobs and with his thumb and forefinger he began to squeeze my big dark brown nipple for a while. After doing the same with my other boob the young white man began to suck them, bite them and then suck them again, one by one.
Still standing with the paper grocery bags in both arms, I was fascinated by the actions of this man. As if my groceries where more important that the chastity of my body, I let him do with me what he desired for that moment. It excited me and I was fixed on his movements. I have that touch of submissive, letting this young white man touching me this way. I even felt some wetness between my fat pussy lips come.
I could have let go of my groceries and punched him or put a powerful knee at his cross. But I didn't, that's not in my nature. On the contrary, deep inside I felt the instigation that he would go on. Still standing like a statue with the paper grocery bags, waiting what next would happen, I felt the arms of the young white man reach upon my waist.
Still fixed I notified that he unbuttoned my skirt, pulled the zipper of it down and then I felt this man pulling down my skirt until it felt upon my ankles. The next move he made was pulling my underpants down over my big black ass until it hangs upon my ankles. I stepped out of it. The next thing I felt was his feet against the inner side of my right feet. By pushing it, my legs were spread. I remembered holding my breath when this young white man touched my gray fizzy pubic hair and did slit a few fingers between my fat black pussy lips.
I was glad my pussy was already some juicy. As obviously, still holding those paper grocery bags in my arms, I automatically bend a little more my knees as if I would let the young white man had easier access between my pussy lips with his fingers. I don't exactly know how he did it, but I felt two or three fingers inside my pussy pumping and with his thumb and forefinger he massaged my swollen clit. It felt that good that I couldn't hold back a loud moan and some more of my juices began to flow.
It must been a bizarre sight; me, a fat black old woman of sixty three, there standing with her paper grocery bags still in both arms, being fingered by this white young man. And what was more bizarre, I enjoyed it! My moans became heftier and I felt a hot tinseling inside my fat pussy; my breathing became heavier and my tummy automatically followed the rhythm of his pumping fingers inside of me.
