My husband is a trucker and travels a great deal.
Before we had children, I would go along with him on some trips but until just recently I was a stay-at-home wife.
Two kids are in the first and second grades and the third is in the 6th grade. Frank (my husband) makes good money and rarely do we want for anything.
When he comes home, he likes to relax (sleep mostly) for a day or so before getting active again.
I always volunteer to clean the cab of his truck and he also allows me to drive it to the garage and leave it for maintenance.
I am a small woman (in my younger days I was into gymnastics) and I get off to sitting up in the large cab of the truck driving it to the shop.
Not sure how he handles it but the cab of the truck is usually filthy as a pig pen.
Just horrible.
Candy wrappers, potato chip bags, fast food papers, soda cans and bottles and an assortment of other items. I just shake my head and be thankful that he does not live like that at home.
As I was cleaning the sleeping compartment of the truck, I discovered a pair of panties.
They clearly were not mines and my heart sank when the gravity of finding the panties sunk in.
I thought we had a good sex life but I was not naive enough to think the panties in the sleeping compartment got there by themselves.
I said NOTHING to him.
Several months passed and on two other occasions I found panties in the sleeping compartment of the truck.
I was devastated.
When I finally confronted him, he dismissed it by saying some of the day labors he would hire to unload cargo sometimes used the sleeping compartment to rest and occasionally spend the night.
It sounded logical but I did not believe one word.
From that point on my heart was never in it when we had sex and instead of being a stay-at-home wife, I decided to get a job since I was losing trust in Frank and I began to feel very insecure.
I did get a job at a semi-high end department store and since I had several years of prior work experience the pay was good.
The drawback was it was in another part of town (a longer commute for me) and my hours were from 7:00 -- 11:00 and from 1:00 -- 5:00ish. The two-hour lunch was less than ideal.
Too far away from home for me to drive back and spend my time at home and too long to kill time just sitting at my post or in the mall some place.
I found myself usually just sitting in the mall killing time.
One day I saw a mall walker that I recognized. It was Bill, my supervisor on a previous job before I became a stay-at-home wife.
I waved at him and he frowned before finally recognizing me and waved back.
We spoke briefly and I ended up seeing him 3 -- 4 times a week.
Even though he was nice and one of the few people I dealt with at the company he was a man of color (black -- like the night) so I kept a respectful distance.
Other than reporting to him I doubt if he even knew I was alive. He paid no attention to me or anyone on a personal basis.
One day I mentioned to him how I like my job but having to kill 2 hours each day was not ideal. He seemed to agree and before leaving said, "I live about 2 1/2 miles from here. Why not drop by sometimes? You can relax more, watch TV and have a little more privacy than just sitting here."
He gave me directions to his house but it was a week or so before I actually went by.
He had a nice house and he told me he had gotten divorced about 18 months ago and he was happier.
His motto was, Life is Good! A sign with those words actually hung in his garage.
I started going by almost every day and he seem to welcome me.
Sometimes I would talk issues and why I had gone back to work.
I told him I thought my husband had been unfaithful but Bill never made a pass at me or made any suggestive comments.
I didn't expect him too actually. I just took for granted I wasn't his cup of tea, which made it easier for me to stop by and just be friendly.
There were days when I was on edge because my sex life had slacked off at home but I did not tell Bill that.
One Friday when I stopped by, I was very agitated and Bill could tell something was wrong. I just told him I was a little frustrated but I did not say about what.
I was sitting on a bar stool facing him and he was standing on the other side of the room.
He was talking to me as he started to approach.
Not sure what he was sensing but as he stepped closer, he put his hand on my left knee and eased his hand up along the inside of my thigh and between my legs.
I did not protest or put up any resistance and he seemed a little surprised and pleased when he realized I was not wearing any panties under my blue skirt.
His fingers started to stroke the lips of my pussy and without thinking I spread my legs a little more to allow him access.
When he inserted his finger in me, he said, "Aaaaaah yes, you got a nice, wet and hairy pussy."
I grabbed his arm but not to push it away. I just needed to hold on to him.
Our eyes were locked on each other and I started think about the myths I had heard about black men. How big and over powering they were and I wondered if I would be OK.
To my surprise he slipped off my shoes, raised my skirt above my waist and said to me, "I'm going to eat your little white pussy. I've been wanting to taste you."