Jilly was a woman who seemed to have lost everything. Her Husband; Her expensive lifestyle and - just last month - her job.
And yet, as she lay sunbathing in her garden, she felt younger and freer than she'd felt for a long time.
She could say it now, but her husband had been an idiot.
He'd left her for the reasons so many middle aged men leave their wives - for a younger and (some would say) prettier version of themselves. In his case, the trappings of so-called wealth had been the honey-trap for her ex-husband's new 'squeeze' but she had realised, with reasonable haste, that a company car, a couple of holidays a year and an expensive suit did not make her new acquisition a wealthy man. She had been looking for a Sugar-Daddy but it was now a bitter-sweet experience for them both. She had dumped him unceremoniously after another credit-card-supported holiday, leaving him up to his neck in debt and seemingly trawling the internet for another chance at romance.
He was now a regular at Jilly's door, telling her he'd made a dreadful mistake and begging her to take him back but the betrayal had broken her heart and when she'd finally put it back together, she'd made sure that it was made of steel.
In the immediate aftermath of the divorce, she'd bought him out of his share of the house which she now owned outright. Yes, there'd been hard times, but her recent job loss had given her a huge settlement with which she'd cleared all of her outstanding debts and given her a very tidy lump sum. She was in the process of looking for a new job but wasn't trying too hard as she was enjoying the summer too much and the attentions of a new found admirer.
Their 'romance' was based on pure animal lust and the attraction had been so fast and strong that she'd agreed to almost everything he'd suggested without question.
"Let's fuck in the car."
"Let's fuck on a train."
"Have you tried anal"?
"I bought you a vibrator, try it'.
"Can I take photos?"
It had become such a strong bond (based, she had to admit, on his absolute control of her) that she was on-call to him every need every minute of every day.
Some of the photos he'd taken were on the street. He'd told her to dress up.
"I want you to look like a tart. A street-walking, MILF slut".
She had obeyed. She hadn't objected when he'd posted the images on a photo-sharing site. She was so obsessed and truly trusting of him that she believed him when he said that only the 'non-intrusive' images would ever make it to the wider web.
Occasionally, she'd typed into a search engine "Patterswick (her town) Blonde MILF Boots Walking Dog" and experienced a tingle and a surge of wetness to her pussy as she perused the photos which he'd taken and posted.
But their firecracker of a relationship, it seemed, was over. At least, it had been forced to take a back seat. He was married. She'd known, of course, but the intensity of her feeling had left her unable to resist. She didn't know for sure, but she assumed that his spouse was becoming suspicious.
Though she felt a certain amount of sadness, she was calm. She felt good about herself as her lover had made her feel so alive; so attractive. She was determined to follow his lead and grab every opportunity with both hands, even those opportunities that scared her.
********
His school friends, with ill-disguised racism, had dubbed him 'Chocolate'. Daniel had been too young to care until he'd become educated. He was a mixed race boy. The son of a Black father and a White Mother. But now he was all grown up and was able to flex his muscles both mentally and physically, he'd started using the moniker as his online name.
'Chocolate Blue Eyez'.
He was in his twenties and had the kind of body that only the young can truly possess. Taught, lean without an ounce of fat. His torso rippled; his six pack (or was it eight?) the envy of many during those topless days in the park or at the beach.
Like so many young men these days, he spent a good deal of time at the gym. Some of his mates had gone and then given up, but 'Chocolate' wanted to be ready. He didn't really know what for yet, but when his day arrived, he'd be ready. But he was respectful of the older guys at the gym and listened to their advice on nutrition and it was now really paying off for him and he was now passing on advice to the 16 year olds arriving at the gym.
In the summer, he enjoyed being out in the sun, catching rays. His skin turned the colour of mahogany during these months, contrasting with his ice chip blue eyes. He'd done some modelling and had a reasonable portfolio. Nothing lewd. But he was very open minded. He was, he had concluded, very 'blessed' in the trouser-snake department.
Though he'd never measured, he was sure he could satisfy any woman with his generous, black truncheon of love (and would frighten quite a few.) It was long but it was also nice and thick. 'The true mark of greatness' he often said to himself.
When he wasn't pumping iron at the gym, he worked (he'd had a few jobs with varying degrees of success but he hadn't truly found his calling...yet) and he surfed the internet. He was prolific and had a photographic recall of web pages he'd seen years before and could find information and images with a few short, sharp clicks.
Inevitably, his surfing included pornography. Some of his friends (they said) had stopped watching it so much but for Chocolate, he seemed to be drawn to it more and more. He'd didn't waste hours and hours but his laser like brain would seek out his favourite forms of porn and he'd sit and watch, imagining his own glistening torso pumping like a piston into the pneumatic-chested nubile models he saw.
Over the years, he'd discovered his favourite type (Big tits, tiny waist and bubble butt); the clothes he liked to see them squeeze into (anything tight that could be ripped off and he loved high heels on a woman - who didn't?) and the types of sex he wanted. This was becoming tricky for him. The girls he dated were nice. And that was the problem. The girls he wanted to date weren't nice. They were nasty and wanted nasty things done to them. His tastes weren't too specific but he knew that he wanted to be in control of is 'bitch'. He wanted to take from her whatever it was he wanted. He wanted her to be dick-sucking, rough sex slut who would respect him and let him do with her as he pleased.
"Fat chance in this town." He'd say.
*********
Their first meeting was by pure chance. Their subsequent meetings were never by chance, Chocolate would see to that - or so he thought.
It was a hot Friday. The weekend was coming and his lunch break was beckoning. His anonymous office was near the town centre and, as he was trying to trim a little body fat, he'd downed a protein shake and then ventured into town. He idly went to an electronics shop, a sports' shop and then a coffee shop.
He ordered a milkshake (he HATED coffee) and sat by the window. He pulled out his phone and started to check emails and some of his regular web hits when his eyes were drawn to the pavement outside.
From his slightly elevated position, he saw that an ash blonde woman had just walked past wearing the shortest skirt he'd seen in a long while. Her legs were bare, long, light brown and toned. He wanted to reach out and stroke the slender flesh. She was walking away from him but he could see that her vest top was straining against her obviously fit body and large tits. It was so tight he could clearly see the strap of her bra across her back. She was wearing high, open toed, platform heels which helped to accentuate her calf muscles. He watched as she strutted past. She was a deliciously petite package and he hesitated for just a moment before leaving the remainder of his shake and bolting for the door.
She'd turned a corner into the pedestrianised area but he'd watched her go and he fell into step behind her, transfixed by her legs and perfect butt. It was hard to gauge her height as her heels were so high, but he guessed she was no more than 5ft in bare feet, maybe 5ft 1.
He looked around the precinct, wondering why no-one else was following this beautiful specimen and as he looked he smiled as he noted women looking daggers at her while their husbands - presumably forced to shop with their wives - cast longing glances in her direction while being careful not to arouse their spouses' suspicions.
He had to speak to her. He had to ask her...what?
'Would you come back to my place so I can fuck your brains out'?
'I want your perfect legs wrapped round my neck'.
'I want you to feel my cock go balls deep into your pussy, baby'.
