Heather was a slut when we met. I didn't know it when we met, but it didn't take long to figure it out and once I did it didn't take long until we were fucking. There were two obstacles for our relationship; my wife and her boyfriend.
I was 44 and she was 20. I was an average looking guy, but at 44 looked more in my early thirties. She was 20 and looked 20, if that. She wasn't beautiful, but was definitely not unattractive. At 5'6" with a slender waist and ample 36 D tits with long curly strawberry hair, she could be stunning at times.
She didn't like black guys. Well, it wasn't that she didn't like them. She had never been exposed to them and was also from a very racist southern family. She told me she would be disowned if her family ever found out that she fucked a black guy.
I loved pushing her past her limits, so when I found out she wasn't into black guys, I became obsessed with her fucking black guys.
We had become members of a swinger's website. We had met a few guys and a girl or two from the site but never a black person. I eventually came upon a guy named Brian.
He was black, reasonably attractive, pretty close by and had two things that Heather really did like going for him. He had these wonderful abs. In the pictures his athletic body was shiny and wet and the dark, rippled abdomen reflected the flash of the camera. And he had a huge, erect, shaved cock. At the time it was difficult for me to admit that I admired a cock, but I admired his. It was perfect. It was dark, and veiny and looked like it was chiseled from ebony granite. It was perfectly shaved and erect, with just a slight upward turn at the end.
She was as taken by his cock and abs as I was taken by the idea that he was black. So, she let me contact him.
It wasn't more than a day when we got a response. He lived in Harrisburg, PA, which is about an hour and a half away. We decided to go to his house.
He lived in a pretty nice town house neighborhood. When he let us in the door, he had an Oakland Raiders rug on the floor. That was my common ground to begin conversation.
"So you are a Raiders fan", It was more of a question than a statement, but really lived somewhere between the two.
"Born and raised", he replied as he shook my hand.
"I don't know if this is going to work out," I said with an ornery smile. "I am a Patriots fan."
He held up his fingers in the sign of a cross as his eyes moved up and down Heathers body. She was wearing her favorite black skirt, so short that her ass cheeks were peeking out the bottom. But only about two inches of the skirt showed because she had an almost transparent white lace shirt that covered a black Victoria's Secret push up bra and came down very low on the skirt. She had on tall black heels and she had on no underwear.
Brian had two large pieces of furniture in his smallish living room. He had a sofa and an armchair. He sat on the armchair as we started to talk.
He was a nice guy. I liked him and he joked how we were the same person with different skin. We liked a lot of the same music, the same TV, plays, books, sports. He played tennis competitively and that was the reason and the means for him to stay in such good shape.
This was the first time Heather and I had met a black guy, and she was nervous but he was so cool that the meeting had turned from a nervous sexual encounter to a group of friends hanging out and I didn't want that. If it had gone on much longer Heather would have been too nervous to continue.
So, as we talked I began to slide my hands up and down her thighs. Each time I would go a little further under her skirt until eventually I was touching her inner thigh right next to her pussy. I touched her clit and was shocked that she didn't try to stop me.
Just by touching the outside of her beautifully shaven pussy, I could already tell that she was wet. She got wet fast and often and a lot. I mean, running down the crack of her ass wet. She wasn't there yet, because she was nervous.
