My Private Stalker

by Cantbuymy

Copyright© 2014 by Cantbuymy

Interracial Romantic Sex Story: A man searches for love after the death of his wife and finds it in the arms of a beautiful black woman.

Caution: This Interracial Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Interracial   Black Female   White Male   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Pregnancy   Big Breasts   Slow   .

OK this is another one my love stories.

Keep up with the change of perspective. Unlike movies I can't show it all at one time so when two people are engaged at the same time I may write their thoughts and move from one to the other. That is how life works. You talk on the phone, think about what you will do later, monitor the kids or the cat, and do it all at one time. So keep up. The statements will always let you know who is talking by saying something that only one of the characters would say.

The first e-mail I got simply said "Listen white boy, you are a racist woman hating pig and I will make it my mission in life to own your ass!"

"Wow that was kind of harsh" I thought, "I will put that with my others." I get a lot of that shit.

A few days later there was another one.

"White boy I have been reading your stories and don't you know any black women who are true and faithful?"

Ok that was not too harsh, but how the hell do I answer a question without a return address? Ok, it is an e-mail but when it comes through an anonymous porn site, there is no return. I publish on a lot of sites and I was not sure where she was seeing them all.

Well here is another one from my private stalker,

"Are all the black women you know whores? I bet all the women you know are just that, whores. Stupid white boy."

Another question with no way to reply, this was nuts.

There were more and more then I got a really scary one. The next one really got to me because it was my social security number. No message, just the number.

Then I got one with my address and another with a picture of me at a concert with a date.

By now they were coming from a web site some place in Eastern Europe.

So now I could reply. I gave it considerable thought, I wanted all my education and writing skills to show, I wanted to crush her with words.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Ok it was the best I could come up with on short notice.

"Well, well, it looks like the white boy has quite a way with words. Why don't you cut that one out and give it to your mommy and she will tape it to the front door of the refrigerator and everyone can see why she is so proud of her racist woman hating son!"

Ok she is doing better than I am.

"Look lady and I will stretch the definition of the word to encompass whatever you are, why give me shit? Yes I use lots of races, and no one seems to bitch when it is a white woman that is the evil person. No one bitches when the title is "White wife fucked by five feet of black cock at one time while white husband loves it" and then you learn that she has a 12 inch black cock up her ass, pussy and down her throat as she jacks off two more 12 inch black cocks; making five feet of cock at one time; or some story equally full of shit. So just give me a break." Well at least I thought that one out a little.

Well it did not do anything to slow her down.

"What is the matter white boy some real man, a black man, take your white woman away from you? Maybe some sister told you she wanted a black man because she needed a real dick instead of a pinky size weenie that you think is a cock."

Damn this bitch wants to play the dozens, I hope she can cope. For those of you who don't know, the dozens was a slave game, where children were subjected to insults by other children and parents, to harden them to insults and to not show emotion. It was a way to shield them from punishment when the slave owner insulted them and if they showed emotion, especially anger, they would be punished. The dozens helped them not show emotion.

"Let me guess, old, black, at least 3 kids, and no fucking husband and all you have are saggy tits, stretch marks, fat belly, a big fat ass, and no man but a dildo and a year's supply of batteries. Why don't you pretend you are a woman in the local welfare office, or food stamp redemption point, aka, your local fucking crack house? Now leave me the fuck alone." I hope that would end it. Wrong.

So this is one I got back.

"Why are you being so mean to me? My husband is dead and I am all alone. I was just having some fun and you are being really mean. I think you are a very mean white boy."

Women! Now I am positive it is a woman, and is probably older rather than younger.

Now don't get the wrong idea, none of this happened quickly, it took a long time and there were hundreds of these flying back and forth. Then things started moving even quicker.

There were still insults but we started talking to each other, rather than at each other. I knew she was married at 15 to a man who was 40. That he died 5 years ago and she had been living with her daughters since then. She was now 40 and he died when he was 60 and she was only 35.

She knew that I wrote trash and that my wife died of cancer after we had been married 20 years and that we had one daughter and one son. We had been married since we were both 18 and now I was 40.

She still called me white boy and a racist and I still played the dozens with her, but I seemed to stay away from the more personal insults. Inside of the e-mails were even more personal and mundane things. With all that was going on she told me about her favorite china patterns, cookware, that wonderful bedroom set she would never have living with her daughter. This was really boring shit, but I had nothing else to do at times, so it passed for companionship. I know, I need a fucking life. Favorite songs, dances, all of those things people end up talking about when that is all they have to talk about.

There were a lot more e-mails and they were more banter than racist bluster; but you got the point of what was happening.

But there it was again, more emails and more of that white boy shit.

"What is it with you and this white boy shit? Damn woman, you are a woman aren't you, give me a fucking break and let's see if we can get this behind us, or at least on the other side of your big black fat ass."

Ok I could not just let it go, I had to show I had a set.

"My ass is not fat." Her next e-mail started.

I had to laugh at that one. You tell a woman she is a low class cheating slut, a lying cum drinking fat whore and the first thing she will deny is being fat.

We went on for over a year. Not everything was angry. I told her about my stories all being love stories, even if they were weird. I admitted I was not a good writer, I was barely a writer, but I enjoyed it. Not one of my stories ever left out love. "I kill monsters" was a love story about two people broken by hate after confronting evil, finally finding love with each other but still confronting evil in the world.

"Tell that lie to someone else white boy I don't need to hear it" she wrote back.

"Well in An Extended Caribbean Vacation the black women are ladies. An older black woman falls in love with a white man but soon learns she is dying of cancer so she devises a way to make him love her younger sister, who has issues and a fear of men. I use the line 'kiss Karen' as the vehicle for getting them together. I admit I am not a good writer but it was a love story and the black women are ladies, like you are."

"So you actually wrote something nice about a black woman but it does not make you anymore understanding than any other white racist. Listen white boy, we have been playing this for one year now, I know everything about you and you don't know anything about me. So here is how it is going to go down. I will tell you a place and a time and you will have your lily white boy butt there! No debate, no excuses. I have a lot more information about you than you think."

"Listen I have never dated a black woman so I don't think I am up for the rest of this game." I wrote her back.

"Up for it or not white boy you will be there and you are going to be there on time and if you don't, well I know a lot more about you than you may want people to know. So it's the Ruth's Chris Steak House on Roswell Road Northeast, in Atlanta. Be there at 7:00 pm and dress nice. You are going to be out with a lady not a black tramp or whore so dress appropriately."

"Now tell me again why you want to date me. I am a little confused about this. You call me boy, you have spent the last year playing the dozens with me and now you want a date. So what the hell is going on?"

"The answer is simple white boy, 'because I can'." The only thing she agreed to was our date being on a Wednesday night.

Even though I had seen pictures of him and knew what he looked like, and I had read his stories and understood his mind, I was not prepared for him. He was not very tall, maybe five foot nine or ten, but he was slender, probably from all that running and he had nice shoulders. He was wearing a midnight blue suit, a color that looks black in the night rather than dirty grey like a black suit looks at night. He was wearing a light grey shirt with a hand painted red silk tie, nothing ostentatious, but quality. He was also wearing black cowboy boots.

He looked right at me and walked over, something was in his hand but I could not make it out at first. He had an air about him that made my eyes follow him. He walked to me and set what he had on the table. It was a silver flower vase, with entwined vines, and a small side pocket. The main part of the vase had one white, pink, red, and Black rose. The black rose was in the center and slightly higher than the rest.

But the pocket was most intriguing. It had the same mix of miniature baby roses, almost the size of baby's breath, but it had three instead one black baby rose and three white ones too.

As I was looking at the vase on the table I felt his finger on my jaw, he raised my face by slight pressure under my jaw, and as I raised my eyes to his I first saw and then felt his lips meet mine. It was soft and moist and his lips were slightly parted. Mine parted in response and then I felt his tongue lightly touch my parted lips.

It was not an electric shock but it was an emotional one. I wanted him. I flushed, and yes even a black woman can flush with emotion.

I saw her immediately when I walked in. I was nervous; would this night go as well as I had planned? I had played the scenario over and over, but still I was nervous. I had a new suit, new everything. I had picked up the vase after months of looking; I knew this day would happen and had long determined how it would go.

She was sitting in a rear booth all by herself. She did not rise to meet me but had a smirk on her face. Susan that is what she told me her name was. She was busty as hell, but the sisters probably had to be held up with a 5 clip industrial strength strapless purple or black bra. She was five toot four, about 140 pounds, a little on the heavy side, but certainly not fat. She was wearing an off shoulder purple dress, and her skin was beautiful, not a blemish. Her face was beautiful. Slightly oval but with large full lips that women pay thousands to fake, her eyes were black and deep and were slightly almond shaped. She had that east African nose that was not as flat or wide as those from the central areas. Her hair fell in natural rings around her face. I could see it was soft and I so very much wanted to touch it. She wore a complementing small stylish hat, with a black mesh one quarter veil that just barely covered her forehead.

I tried not to fall over I was so nervous so I had to walk slowly. I reached the table and put the vase on it. I moved her face up from looking at the vase and as I looked into her eyes I kissed her, her lips were moist and hot and parted slightly so I snaked my tongue briefly between her lips and withdrew.

I sat down to her left and she started to say 'white boy' and I put two fingers over those wonderful lips and picked up her hand with my other. I shhhed her with my breath and said, as I kissed her hand, 'no dozens tonight my love; tonight will be different for both of us' I told her."

No sooner than I said that two Manhattans, up, appeared on the table. 'To new discoveries and loves' I said and she smiled and took a sip. This was my favorite drink and she had already ordered them. The next was Calamari and it was promptly delivered. It too, like the rest of the menu was just brought to the table without ordering.

I took a box out of my pocket and opened it. Inside were two lapel pin flower holders, also silver, matching the design of the larger vase, but less than an inch and a half in height. I took one of the small black and white roses, kissed them, and put them into the lapel vase and put it on Susan. Then I presented her with the other black and white roses, she bent and kissed them, took them from me, and put them into the remaining vase and pined it to my lapel. I bent forward as she did the same, and we kissed again; tenderly but with obvious passion. This was going better than I ever hoped.

Soon an endive salad with hearts of palm arrived at the table, again without ordering. She must have put the order in before I arrived. And it was everything I loved, yes everything. She had been paying attention as we exchanged e-mails.

I could see it in his eyes, his surprise that everything was just being brought to the table. I had been careful, and I had re-read all of our e-mails and found just what I needed. Everything was something he liked. I was taking care of him. The drinks, "Up" as he likes them, not on the rocks. It had to be perfect, I don't know why it had to be perfect, but it did.

But there was a few problems and they were sitting across the restaurant from me; ladies from my church. What would they say, how would they react, me a widow having dinner with and kissing a white man? What else would they say, would he find out?

Sure enough Janice walked over. "Funny seeing you here like this" she said to me, but looking at Franklin. Before I could answer Franklin stood, he sure was a handsome man.

"My name is Franklin, it is a pleasure to meet a friend of this wonderful woman" he said to her.

She introduced herself as Janice and soon said she had to be leaving and she would see me at Mass on Sunday. Franklin was so sweet and what a gentleman, he never sat down as he spoke with a soft voice with her. He invited her to join us but she said no, of course. I could see her looking at the flowers on the table and the two lapel vases with our two black and white baby roses.

She went back to her table and talked with the others and it did look like a hen party. Then he did it again. He looked at Janice and bending down and lifting my head gently he placed another kiss on my lips.

It was interesting watching her as Janice approached. I could see it in her eyes, would I find out? It was interesting but in the greater scheme of things it was of little or no moment. The kiss was wonderful and I wanted her friends to see me with her, it was an added benefit I did not expect at this dinner. Would this make it impossible for her to turn back? I wanted this to be without compulsion.

There would be more to this before the evening was over, but it was a pleasure to be with her. It had started simply as insults but over the year had become more. The insults were still there but the sting was gone from them now. We talked, we really talked, about many things, we had become comfortable with each other in that respect. But I did not feel there would be an end to it tonight. There was a plan and I had it.

Dinner was wonderful and I did not want to leave but I had to, it was part of the plan. I knew I would see Franklin again but this had to end tonight. He asked if I wanted desert and I told him no, the evening was over. All he had to do was pay the bill and I would be gone by then. He would never be able to find me.

As I was walking to the door my cell phone went off. Out of habit I just answered it.

"Ester, you name is not Susan, I have already cancelled your cab, dinner is not over, come back and have desert." I looked around and Franklin was smiling at me holding his cell phone up. I was busted.

I came back, a little depressed at being caught, and wondering what he would say or do. He stood as I approached and returned me to my seat, holding my hand but this time he moved in to my right. He was very close to me and put his left arm around my shoulder. He was not angry, just amused and I blushed again, feeling the heat overtake my body. He had a smile for me and I had to giggle a little. It was a funny game to him and he made it a funny game for me. I felt very comfortable as with an old friend.

The waiter came over and asked if we would like desert, this time Franklin ordered. "My usual would be white cake with vanilla frosting, but I think I need to make a life change. We will take the Chocolate Sin Cake." I then looked at him and saw his enjoyment in our being together and the meaning in his order.

Then it was my turn. "He would like a double espresso with a lemon rind twist, no cream or sugar is need" Ester said.

Franklin took his turn and responded by asking if they had Hojicha Tea, which was my favorite. Receiving a no he simply took a small airtight bag out of his pocket, handed it to the waiter and said "here it is, I presume your people know how to brew tea without burning it." Franklin not only knew my favorite tea, he brought it with him to the restaurant.

Then the Espresso and tea were served along with the Chocolate Sin Cake. The waiter set down two forks but Franklin handed one back, "one is enough" he said to the waiter.

The cake was perfect and I wanted to be able to feed her; it is something very primal as well as sexual. I fed her the first piece and she got a little chocolate on her lip. I leaned over and kissed it away, not forgetting a little tongue lick; and handed her the fork. Janice and her friends were watching us. She did the same with me and the little chocolate she 'accidentally' hit the top of my lip with was taken care of with the warm feel of her delicious lips on mine and a small but recognizable tongue swipe took care of it. Ester smiled at Janice and the others. I think she enjoyed being naughty. That is how we finished our public desert. Janice and her other friends were still watching. I knew that they thought it was a downright disgusting sexually laced display between a widowed black lady and a similarly widowed white man. Both Ester and I loved it.

We walked out to his car and he repeated my home address as the place he intended to drive me. How the heck did he get that, well he got my real name, so that would be easy. He opened the door of his car, it was a Bentley, I had no idea he had that kind of money, and I got in. He got in on his side and I gave him an alternate address, his! He smiled, leaned over and kissed me passionately.

I had already decided on a third address if she did not want me to take her home; it was part of my surprise, but only part. When we arrived I took her hand and helped her out of the car. It was dark so she did not even notice. I took her in my arms and we kissed again. Inside the front door I had her sit and took off her shoes and put on slippers, they were red velvet with gold dragons and green flowers, they were a perfect fit. I took off my boots and put on a plain pair of black slippers. The light was low and she still would not be able to see much.

Taking her by the hand I led her upstairs to the master bedroom. I immediately started to kiss and undress her. The dress had a rear zipper that made it easy. We kissed, this time deep kisses, and I backed her up to my tall bed. I undid her bra and what had been proud DD's now sagged slightly, the result of gravity, age, and breast feeding three kids two years apart. Six years of being a milk maid had taken a slight toll. We still kissed and she moved her hands over her breasts. She was embarrassed but I was enthralled, with her breast size, their shape and color. They still had shape and some lift, but now they were a woman's breasts and not a girl's. Her nipples were large and rubbery, perfect for the rough play of a man with his woman. She asked if they were as good as the pictures, men always wanted her tits. I asked what pictures and she said the pictures I had of her before the date. I told her I knew many things about her but I never saw a picture; she was a perfectly wonderful surprise for me. She purred for me.

I moved her slightly away from the bed so her dress would fall to her waist. As I kissed her I said 'clothes' and she started to pull off my coat and shirt, the tie would wait, making me look like a cartoon character from Animal House. Using her hands removed them from her breasts, giving me free reign to feel and caress and stimulate. Still kissing she undid my pants and they dropped to the floor.

She dropped to her knees and pulled my boxers down, freeing a very hard cock. She looked up and I saw her smile as she first licked the head and then engulfed it. Still looking at me she began to move up and down but I stopped her. "Did I do it wrong" she asked.

"Not at all, but enough of that for now", I said "you first, then us, then we, then, maybe then, me, but you first."

I pulled her to her feet and pushed her back onto the bed, pulling off her dress. It, like all my clothes, is now on the floor. I moved over her and began to kiss. Her lips were still warm and her body was pumping out pheromones which were driving my testosterone to new heights. We kissed, we touched, we licked and caressed. Her breasts were deserving of attention and she would get lots of that from me. But for now she was laying with my body on top of hers, her legs open and only a pair of lace French cut panties blocking the entrance to her passion.

"Do you really do all of those things you write about" she asked me. "Do you, well you know, do things down there, with your mouth? No one ever did anything like that with me."

I had to smile, did I do those things? You would have to beat me with a board to stop me I thought to myself.

I smiled at her, not saying a thing as I moved down her body to her stomach and she moved her hands to block my path. It was the stomach of a mature woman who had given birth the same year she was married, at 15. There would be another at 17 and at 19 without any ability to recover, but it was still a very sexy stomach. I showered it with kisses and nibbles; and I told her it was a perfect stomach for any woman to have and I was honored to be able to share it with her. She moved her hands away as I kissed and loved that part of her body where she allowed the life she created to grow. I told her that I thought it was sexy as hell and she put her hands on my head and stroked my hair, or what little I allowed to grow.

Then I moved lower on her body. The French cut panties came off over the black garter and purple nylons. She was almost panting as I loved my head to her legs, which I had moved apart. She was looking at me with anticipation as I kissed first one inside upper thigh then the other. I ran my hand over her pussy hair, it was dark and curly. I make a joke, "It looks like steel wool, but it feels like lambs wool and smells like ambrosia. We will have to shave it off soon."

"Why would you want to shave it" she asked.

"Because I intend to spend a lot of time with my face down here and I don't like hair in my mouth" I responded.

"Well you better get ready to shave yourself, for the same reason" she said as giving me a sexy smile that disappeared the moment my tongue licked from the bottom of her pussy to the top. She just held my head and I started the tongue dance I knew so well.

"No man has ever done that to me" she said as she panted and shuttered with a first mini orgasm.

I was opening her up with my tongue when I felt for and found her clit. A few licks there and she had another mini; then I just sucked it in and she bounced on the bed like it was a scene from the Exorcist and then flooded me with pussy cum. By this time I had moved my mouth until it was all over her pussy and clit and just sucked a little more. And no I did not neglect those large breasts of hers. I put my arms under her legs and lifted them to get a better position on that loving chocolate pussy of hers, reached up and over and I had two huge tits in my hands and I made sure to stimulate them as best as any man could.

Say what you want and do what you want, but I love the taste of my woman. I love to eat her before sex, during sex and even after sex. There are only two conditions, she has to kiss me after and do the same with me. Esther would meet those conditions with flying colors.

After I wore her out eating her out I moved up and held her, kissing her and letting her kiss me back as I caressed her body. She was a rag by that time and she needed to be held. I was going to literally fuck her brains out but there was a lot to do first; and number one on the list was to make love to her.

I held her for a long time and finally we kissed. "Is that what I taste like? Do you like that taste and smell? My husband said he would never do that, it was nasty. Will you do it again?" Three questions women always want to know.

"I love your taste and I love your smell. You are my woman and even if you can't control it, your body makes pheromones designed to excite me. Well here is a news flash for you my love they excite the hell out of me. Your taste and smell make me want to mate you every time I am around you. So the short answer is Hell Yes!"

I slowly moved over onto Ester and she scooted under me as I moved. She wanted this as much as I did. I felt her leg slid under me and now I was on top of her.

Then I got a little playful and I hit the remote and played a song. It was Tom Jones playing at Santa Isabel singing "You Can Leave Your Hat On." "Suspicious minds are talking, their trying to tear us apart, they don't believe in this love of ours... ," and that is when she realized she still had her hat on. It did not break the mood, it caused her to laugh and relax. I made her keep the hat on as I played the rest of the song.

Ester looked up at me with a combination of lust and trepidation. "Please, it has been more than five years, go easy, please, don't hurt me."

"What the fuck" I thought. This woman must have had some damn poor sex, better for me. No matter what I do it will be better than what she is used to. That took the pressure off of me and probably let me do better than I would have otherwise been able to do or maybe not.

I continued to touch and excite her. I wanted to smell her excitement, which was a little difficult considering how much of her was already in my mouth. I just let my cock rub up against her pussy and let the excitement flow, but still being careful not to punish her clit. Her body would tell me when and what to do, I just had to make sure to listen.

He was moving over me as I moved under him. This part I remember. When my husband did this I knew he was going to stick it in and give me what he called "a good fucking." It may have been good for him but a lot of the time it hurt but it would get better the longer he did it. I did not always have an orgasm; rarely had an orgasm was probably more accurate. Franklin gave me more this night than I ever got in 20 years of sex with my husband. My husband was not a bad man, but he was not tender or loving; and he was not a good lover by any standard that I now know about. Maybe if I had been reading more about sex then I could have helped him do better, if he would have listened.

Franklin is talking to me, sweet words to match his tender and loving touch. He tells me I am beautiful, that I am perfection in his eyes and he wants to make love to me. I feel his kisses all over my face and all over my neck and breasts. They are kisses, nibbles and loving licks and sucking. I can feel myself getting wet and I can smell my own passion, not just on his lips but from my own sex.

His body rubs gently against mine and I am responding to his movements with my own. I don't have to think about them, or consider them, they just happen. I am telling him things, telling him I am ready, telling him I want him in me. I am saying things I have never said to anyone before.

I can feel her moved under me, kissing me, holding me as I caress her body from her thighs to her face. She is caressing my body the same as I am hers. I love the feel or her body and her hands. She is so smooth and soft; and I am almost mad with desire. I want to fuck her right now but that is not what will happen. I don't want a piece of ass, or a fast hot fuck, I want her to enjoy it. I want her to come back for more, and I want to be the drug she cannot go without, which is how I feel about her.

She desires me and almost demands for us to be joined. I sit back on my heels, looking down at her as she looks up to me. Her look is passion and desire and I see what I have wanted to see, yes I see love and trust. Now it is time.

I am between her legs which are bent at the knees and open. I run the head of my cock between what is now a very wet slit. I tell her to watch. It looks sexy as hell to see my white cock moving over and then piercing her inner core. I tell her to look and she gets up on her elbows and her breath staggers, then increases.

I move the head in an inch or so and then out. My white cock glistens with her juices following the pink head disappearing in her wet black pussy; then I move in a little more and then out. I look to her for approval, and she knows and nods to my questioning look. It is time.

I move in and out and soon move my body over hers. She moved under me her body moved in rhythm with mine. Soon she shifts her pelvis and moved me even deeper into her. It is permission, it is an invitation, it is the ancient way two souls join in a dance whose origins have long since been forgotten, only the steps and movements exist for those lucky enough to experience it.

He has not quit caressing me, touching me, kissing me, even as his body enters mine. It did not hurt, and it was my desire that he blend his body into mine; a desire he immediately but still tenderly complied with.

What was that? What did he just say? Why would he lie? Is he lying? Do I want this? Please God don't let this be a lie, don't let me be hurt after all this time; not again.

I asked Franklin if he had protection and he said no. I asked him if he was fixed so he could not get me pregnant and he said no. I told him that I had not had sex for over five years and I did not have protection. His answer was what prompted those questions above.

He told me "You are my woman, and I am your man. A man wants his woman to love him so that he can love her. A man wants his woman to take his body into her and to create life within her, their combined life. I love you and I want you to have my baby. If it is meant to be then it will be. Make a baby with me my love."

Those words tore at me. I am forty years old and this is the first time I have been asked to make life with another man. My husband took me as his property and sex was his due because I was his wife. I was bought and paid for as a wife. But this was different. This man asks and wants at the same time.

Can I have a baby? Will I have a baby? He has been making love to me for I don't even know how long; but it has been a very long time. No one has ever made love to me before. He will have my answer.

Do I tell him yes? Do I whisper agreement? No, I do what is engrained in me from the beginning of time. I move up into his downward movements, I arc my pelvis drawing him deeper inside me. I feel him swell as I tighten in response. Spasms ripple through my pussy and my body. I feel his passion flowing into me and I respond with greater tightening and loosening, involuntary but pleasure making orgasms rack my body as they also takes over his.

I once heard that the French call this "the little death" and that is what it is to me.

Soon I am telling him I love him in response to his declarations of love. My legs hold him inside of me and my arms keep him close. He had not changed his position at all. He has his arms under me but still rests on his elbows, not wanting to crush me but not wanting to break our contact.

He pulls me over to my side then over again. Now I am laying on him and he continues to kiss and touch me. I have never had this before. My husband just rolled off and turned his back on me and went to sleep. Franklin is holding me, telling me he loves me, letting me stay with him. No that is wrong. He is not allowing me to move away, as if I would ever do that. We are still joined. It is a perfect circle he is joined to me and our mouths keep us joined there too.

She falls asleep in my arms. She is not heavy at all, and I love the feel of her on me. She smiles and cuddles deeper into me as she lays there sleeping with my arms around her.

Soon she moves and wakes and looks down at me. We kiss, tenderly, but with passion. I move her onto her side and get up.

As he rises I ask where he is going and he tells me it is a surprise; everything has been a surprise. He brings in Champaign, his favorites; Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin, Demi-Sec, which means sweet. He also brings in chocolate covered cherries and strawberries. He feeds me the candy and I drink the sweet elixir from a Baccarat Crystal Champaign Flute. It does not appear to me at first but then I see it, my name, Ester, engraved on the Flute. Franklin smiles at my recognition.

I have to get up again. I go into the bathroom and return with warm water and a razor, and some other equipment. I ask and she responds by lifting her butt up from the bed so that I can move the thick towel under her. First the warm washcloth then the cream, all applied with loving fingers that stray as they play. The soap is not harsh, and I have gotten what I need to make sure it does not chafe her. Then I began and moved swiftly until there was just smooth skin and then I followed with more warm water and a washcloth.

I watch him shave the evidence of my sexual maturity, my hair. My breathing became ragged as he did it and I watched his evident sexual arousal at my baldness. Then he did it again. He moved forward and rubbed his face all over my now bald pussy. He kept up his movements until rubbing turned to kissing then to nipping and kissing and tonguing. He was doing it again, as he said he would. His fingers played inside me too, one slipping and touching my bottom place. It made me shudder.

As I touched her pussy after removing her adult hair I made love to it with my mouth and fingers. I noticed the reaction to what I hoped would be thought to be an accident; my little finger "accidentally" pierced her butt hole, just for a second. That would be for later I thought to myself.

As I continued to give her oral pleasure as she began to move but not as in passion but concern, care and love. She moved down to me and began her own oral ministrations on what was a very hard cock. I worked in earnest as she did the same to me.

I felt him shiver as my mouth closed over his cock. I had not done this before but I wanted to give him pleasure. Yes I know that he got great pleasure from making love to me but this was different for me and for him. He was moving but not with harsh pressure, he was trying to be gentle. I nipped at him and giggled, he did the same by flicking my engorged clit and he giggled. No, we did not hurt each other, and it was erotic and funny at the same time. I never knew that sex was funny and I laughed again.

But soon we were back into the throws of passion and I could feel his cock growing in my mouth and I knew that he was going to cum as I had just done a few seconds before. It was time to decide and I decided that I wanted him inside of me. I wanted his fluids to enter my mouth and into my stomach and from there to every cell in my body. I intended to be his and have him enter every cell of my body. I drank deeply of his seed as he had done mine first and later mine and his combined.

We turned to face each other kissing deeply and tasting the results of the others loving. He held and again professed his love, I was content as we slept.

It must have been around five o'clock when we woke at the same time. There was no talk this time, just passion. I was already hard and she was already wet. She pulled me onto her and was waiting for my entry and I did not disappoint. We joined lips to lips, tongues entwined as our hips joined our lower parts. Our legs and arms followed in the joining.

"I am going to give you a baby now" I told her.

She told me that this time I would not be getting her pregnant. When I asked why she just smiled and told me I had already gotten her pregnant last night. I told her we would keep practicing until I was sure and then still continue until I could no longer get hard. She giggled then went into a screaming orgasm with me right with her.

This time we did not go to sleep, we passed out from exhaustion.

Still touching we woke together. We smiled and laughed and kissed, morning breath was not a problem and we both smelled of pussy and cum.

Laughing we went to take a shower together. Somewhere during the night she had lost her hat, she did not keep it on, I said with a smile. Modesty was a thing of the past for my Ester. She finished first and taking the towel walked out to the bedroom as I started to finish. I had laid out tooth brushes for both of us but I had to shave and the rest of it. It was then that my world almost came to an end.

I just finished my shower, the first time in my life to shower with a man. I loved the way he cleaned my body for me and I did the same for him. We would make love again very soon. Maybe next time it would be in the bath together. That would be nice I thought.

As I walked out of the bathroom I was struck by the bedroom. Franklin was a widower but this was a woman's bedroom. It was strange that he would have a woman's bedroom. There was even a vanity with a small bench seat, beautifully embroidered. Why would a man need this?

Something was wrong. I moved the closet and opened the door and saw women's clothes in the closet. Silk blouses, pants, skirts, dresses; not a lot but enough to know a woman lived here.

Then I opened the dresser drawer and found women's underwear. Not any underwear but silk and sexy, there was even a Victoria's Secret receipt.

I fell to my knees, I was physically ill. I was barely able to stop from throwing up. I held my hand to my mouth and had to bite my own hand to stop my crying sounds from filling the room, as my tears flowed down my face. I gave everything to him. I made love with him, to him. I let him make a fool of me in front of the ladies in my church. I believed him when he said he loved me and I told him I loved him and I did, I do. How could he do this to me? Why would he do this to me? Well he is not going to get away with it!

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