Costing me a half day’s pay, not knowing what her favorite flower was, I bought her a dozen, red, long-stemmed roses. Everyone loves red roses. If I could have afforded it, nothing more than a fantasy, I would have loved to buy her a diamond engagement ring.
I imagined myself moving to one knee and asking her to marry me. Only, she was old enough to be my mother. Yet, the fact that she was a mature, black woman with big breasts inflamed my sexual attraction to her and my passionate desire for her. I wondered if inviting me to her apartment was her way to solicit me for sex. A memory that I’ll never forget, I’d love for her to break my cherry.
Yet, starting out slow, I’d love to kiss her. I’d love to make out with her while touching and feeling her everywhere through her clothes. I’d love to slowly undress her while stopping to look at what each unbuttoned button revealed before continuing. Then, I’d love to strip her naked and touch, feel, and fondle her beautiful, black body everywhere.
When she opened her apartment door and greeted me, with nothing changing since the first time that I met her, I stared at her with my eyes bugging out of my head and my mouth hanging open. Speechless, unable to talk, I could barely breathe. I felt my other brain, the perverted brain in my cock, show me how pleased he was seeing her by erecting itself in my pants. If she wasn’t beautiful enough before the first time that I saw her at the gas station, she was even more beautiful now with her smiling at me.
Then, something that I didn’t think she’d do, she leaned forward and kissed me on my lips. Andrea kissed me. She kissed me on my lips. I couldn’t believe she kissed me. As if I was Dick Van Dyke playing Rob Petri and she was Mary Tyler Moore on the Dick Van Dyke Show, never have I been as sexually excited as I was now.
# # #
She was dressed in a tight, form fitting, black, low-cut dress that showed her big, bulbous breasts and her long, line of sexy cleavage. She wore three-inch, high heels that made her nearly as tall as me. A natural beauty, she barely wore any makeup except for red lipstick and long, false eyelashes.
As if she had just taken a bath and perfumed herself, she smelled fresh and clean. She smelled like a big bouquet of freshly picked flowers. Making me dizzy with the scent of her perfume, she smelled incredible. She smelled how a woman should smell.
I handed her the bottle of wine and the roses. While giving me that big, beautiful smile, she gracefully accepted them and took them from me. Then, she invited me inside her apartment.
“Come in,” she said. “Welcome to my home.”
It was a big and beautiful apartment with a nice view of the city. Tastefully decorated, it had a large fireplace, a white shag carpet, and a white, overstuffed couch with big, fluffy pillows everywhere. She had a wall of bookshelves that housed her law books. Afraid to touch anything, I didn’t want to break anything or make anything dirty with my hands that never looked clean enough from working at the service station.