There's nothing quite like a Cat 3 hurricane and no power for five days to eliminate one from being an active participant of the world wide web. It took me half a day to go through all the comments and messages that had been left while I was away. My apologies to those who didn't care for my last story, and to those I couldn't respond to on e-mail I will get it taken care of as quickly as possible. I trust you will enjoy part one of my latest submission, parts two and three are in editing and will be released when done. In other words, a week or two.
All those participating in sex are 18 or older.
Mixed Emotions
black woman 39, white man 30, can they make it more than a one night stand?
As the key card opened the door to room 316 he put his hand on the small of my back and pulled me in for one of the softest yet more demanding kisses of my adult life, my senses were on overload, I wanted this young man, no, I craved this young man. I was his to do with as he wished and I believe he knew it, he slowly moved me inside and away from the door where he maneuvered me to the wall and continued kissing. His hand moved to my breast and I gasped for air, he didn't need to pull me in tighter, I was pushing my abdomen into his and gently grinding, what we called *dry humping* in my high school days.
As he lovingly played with my breasts through the dress a fleeting thought raced through my head, *you're 39 Amy, what the hell are you doing with this 29 year old boy*, I say a fleeting thought because I didn't give it any time to take root within my brain, no, I was going to enjoy my time with him. I almost giggled into his mouth considering I'd thought of him as a boy, judging by the solid bulge pressing against my pussy and belly he was no boy, considering he'd be thirty in two months he was just shy of being ten years my junior, but he was no boy.
As he was skillfully seducing me I thought back to how the evening had begun with me stopping at a bar close to work that I hadn't been to before. For a single woman who hadn't been out for an evening in over four years following a bitter strung out divorce it felt exciting and satisfying as this younger man paid attention to me, he wasn't aggressive or pushy, he was almost too polite, his compliments seemed sincere and not over the top. He didn't babble out a rehearsed line of BS and come on lines, he spoke pleasantly, and after an introduction he complimented me on my hair. His attire appeared to be professional, dress shirt, tie, expensive dress slacks, brown loafers and though he wasn't wearing a coat it was obvious he'd had one on before coming into the bar.
I'd never been in this establishment before but found it to be inviting, clean and friendly. The age group seemed a bit younger than me but I didn't feel out of place, at 39 I could still turn the occasional head, I wasn't toned and fit as some are described, I was an everyday normal lady you'd see walking down a street anywhere and not necessarily notice. My hair was on the long side for a black gal, I had been blessed with large loose curls and I made sure I kept it coiffed, I wear stylish but not gawdy glasses, I stand five foot ten, have an average butt, my legs are still shapely and generally housed in hosiery of some sort. My 34D chest fits my frame perfectly, though I'd never had children I found that somewhere along the way I had a bit of loose skin over my tummy that didn't seem to want to go away no matter how hard I tried. My friends tell me it's called, aging.
As he sidled next to me and sat he nodded hello, for the next five minutes sitting at the bar we shared bits and pieces of our jobs, me in a pool of other ladies who did data entry from hospitals, it's basically deciphering the physicians hen scratching notes and putting them on computer archives. Most of the newer facilities had already upgraded to doctors writing on laptops while with a patient, ours was in the process. He and his sister owned and operated the second largest insurance brokerage business in the city, the office was located four blocks to the south of the sports bar. I was smiling to myself as I looked down at the bar, he wasn't the kind of guy I was normally attracted to, yet here I was with butterflies in my tummy, in spite of the alarm bells ringing in my head it was amusing that I felt so comfortable with him.
There were two glaring features which normally steered me away from guys like him, first off he was white, my family, church and community had driven it into we black girl's heads not to date white boys. According to my aunt they all had small dicks and only wanted to fuck a black girl to brag about it, then dump you. Second he was shorter than me by at least a half inch, I'm not normally attracted to guys shorter than me, with him it was different, I wasn't looking down at him, I was more or less looking into his eyes without looking up or down, that didn't seem to bother him a bit, he smiled and extended his hand.
"Names Ed, not Edward or Eddie, just simple old Ed. And yours pretty lady? By the way, I really like your hair, I like how it flows over your shoulders."
Extending my hand to meet his I spoke softly, "Amy, thank you for complimenting me on my hair, most guys are too busy looking elsewhere to notice." My eyes shifted to my body and then up again.
What sealed the deal that I would try getting to know him better was when he raised my hand to his mouth and kissed it. I felt a little tingle run down my spine, no man had ever kissed my hand before, moving my hand back toward my body he looked at me and asked if I had dinner plans.
I was taken aback momentarily but quickly recovered, "Why no, no I don't have dinner plans."
Before I could say another word he took my hand again, "Would you let me take you to dinner? We're a block away from some of the best Japanese food I've ever tasted, want to join me? My treat."
I pulled my hand away gently and in a waving gesture told him he didn't need to pay for me.
"Sure I do Amy, I invited you, I pay. What kind of cad invites a lovely lady to dinner and then doesn't pay for the meal?"
His words were flattering but not in an ostentatious manner, he wasn't arrogant or flippant in his demeanor, nor did he have an assuming attitude that because he'd paid me a compliment I somehow owed him. As I stood he helped put my light jacket on and gestured for me to go ahead of him, on the street he didn't try to hold my hand or put his arm around my waist, we walked and shared small talk without seeking anything from the other. As we were finishing our meal he asked if I needed to get home right away.