April 3, 2002

Today I decided I would meet the guy I've been e-mailing and chatting with for the past six months. He's been wanting to meet me for a while, and even with all the things you hear about meeting people off the Internet being dangerous, I know I can take care of myself. He seems like a real genuine guy.

His screen name is Maestro 112, and he says his real name is Dylan Marcus. He sent me a pic of himself and when I saw it, I almost creamed my panties right then. He has an in-credibly muscular body - he's lean, but not skinny. He had a headful of wavy sandy-colored hair and electric blue eyes, and a heart-stopping smile with a deep cleft in his chin. God, he's sexy.

He asked me to return the favor, so I sent him a pic of myself. He e-mailed me that he had the hots for girls with long dark hair, dark eyes, and smooth, coffee-colored skin, like me.

Dylan said he lives down on the river, in a small, neat house with a wraparound porch with a set of steps out back onto his dock onto the river. He says he has a boat, too, and we could go out in the boat to the island down the river when we get together.

Although it's tempting, I think we should meet in the coffee shop down the street from my apartment building. It's a public place with plenty of people around, so although I'm not scared, that might be best at first.

A few nights ago, I dreamed about fucking Dylan's brains out. It was incredible. I woke up with my nightgown drenched in sweat, and my panties clear soakled through with my juices. I had to get up and change into a clean nightgown and panties, then on an impulse, I decided not to wash the panties.

Dylan had e-mailed me his post office box number, so I put the leopard-print silky bikinis in a manila envelope, addressed it to him and walked outisde to put it in my mailbox and put the flag up so the mailman would be sure to get it.

Dylan e-mailed me two days later, saying that he loved the look and scent of my panties. He said he held them to his face and breathed the scent of my black, beautiful pussy while he jacked himself off. He said then he moved his panties down to his cock and came all over them. He said he couldn't wait to meet me so he could shoot his hot cum all over my pretty little panties while I'm wearing them.

I'm trying to choose an outfit to wear to meet Dylan in. It's a toss-up between my dark green silk jumpsuit, or my white capri pants and red-and-white striped sweater. Or maybe I should wear a something a little dressier. I have a pair of white linen slacks and a peach cashmere sweater - the outfit is conservative and classy. Dylan might appre-ciate that.

Yeah, that outift's a good idea. I'll wear that. With my lace thongs. No matter what I wore, I knew I would wear my white lace thongs.

I'm so excited! I can't wait to meet Dylan.

I wonder what a white man's cock would feel like in my little black pussy.

Until later, Carolyn

April 5, 2002

I met Dylan yesterday!

He is just as sexy as his pic. I sat at a corner table in the coffee shop, waiting for him. I saw him walk in at exactly 11:30, the time we agreed on.

I set down the cappuccino I'd been sipping and simply waited for him to come to me.

He looked around and when his eyes met mine, a slow smile spread across his face. He knew he'd found who he was looking for.

He walked over to my table and said, "Carolyn... Miss Brown Sugar?"

I nodded and said, "Maestro. Dylan, right?"

He nodded and pulled out a chair and signaled the waitress. She came over and leaned forward so her pink uniform gaped open enough to show her tits.

I felt jealousy rip through me. I don't know why I was so jealous - it's not like Dylan's my boyfriend or anything.

He ordered a latte and a biscotti, then leaned back in his chair and studied me with those intense blue eyes.