DIANA'S TALES: STUDENT AID PT. 01

All characters are 18 or older. This story was written in collaboration with Diana R. The story starts a little slow as it builds the story, but it gets there. This story features a relationship between an adulterous older white female (53 yo) and a young black man (18 yo). If that doesn't appeal to you, then please save yourself the aggravation. If it does appeal to you, we hope you enjoy.
******
"Diana, I need your help," Marie pleaded on the phone. "We worked together for over 30 years. Look, you know I wouldn't call you if there was another way. I know you're retired, but you've got connections with some of our wealthy and most generous alumni. Your husband works with some of them. You've got extra pull I just don't have. Please, can't you just make some calls?"
I was skeptical, but Marie was a good friend, and she wouldn't reach out to me unless it was a dire situation. We had worked together for decades as guidance counselors at the community college, although I retired about a year ago. I'm still only 53, but my husband makes a good living, and we could afford for me to retire, although my husband still works. For him, the work sustains and fuels him. For me, the prospect of working until I couldn't enjoy my retirement just wasn't appealing, so I quit about a year ago and have enjoyed pursuing all the interests and hobbies I never had time for previously.
"Okay, explain it to me again," I said, trying to be patient.
"His name's Dion Gooden. He's an African American kid from Douglass High School on the southeast side of town. Lived there his whole life, and you know how rough it is down there. He's 18, just graduated high school this spring. Dion's a real hard luck case. His dad is in prison, and his mom is a bad addict. He's been in and out of foster homes the past 5 years, but he's aged out of that system, so now he's on his own. He wants to take classes and get an associate's, but he needs some help."
"Can't he just take out student loans or get a Pell grant?" I pointed out.
"He could, but he's working two minimum wage jobs just to afford a car and a place to stay. You know how crazy rent has gone the past few years, and he's got some debts he needs to pay back -- "
"So, he doesn't know how to manage his money, and he wants to be bailed out," I countered.
"I don't think it's like that. He's racked up some medical bills, and he ran into the wrong car. The car damage was his fault, but his insurance didn't cover the full cost on the other side, so he's stuck with the extra costs. He took on a second part time job in his senior year, and his grades suffered, and there's no way he can keep on top of college classes while working 70 hours of manual labor a week. But I've met him, and I really think he just needs a break. He's a good kid, but he's shy. You've got a way with coming through for some of these kids. Do you think you can help him? Just talk to him, and you'll see what I mean."
I sighed loudly on the phone. "Can you lay the guilt trip on any thicker?" I asked.
Marie knew I couldn't pass a hard luck case without helping. It's part of the reason I became a guidance counselor in the first place. I always loved helping people, and watching kids go from lost to finding a purpose in their lives was always incredibly rewarding. If it wasn't for the administrative bureaucracy, I might even still be working, but the incessant red tape became frustrating and made the job damn near impossible at times.
"I can set up a meeting," Marie offered. "After you meet him, I'm sure you'll want to help."
"So, he's in a catch-22," I said, processing all the information Marie had given. "Take out the loans, and he doesn't have time for class anyway, and he'll probably flunk out and be on the hook, for the loans. If he stops working, he can get loans and take classes, but he can't afford a place to stay. What exactly is it that you think I can do?"
"I don't know. Just work your magic," Marie said brightly.
"My magic. Yeah, just let me grab my witch's broomstick and book of spells," I joked.
"I don't know. You always seem to figure something out. I'm sure you will here, too."
I sighed one last time as I wondered what I was getting myself into.
*****
A week later, I walked into a cafe to meet Dion. Marie had provided his contact info, and, after a few phone calls and texts, he agreed to meet on Tuesday afternoon at a café close to campus. As I stepped through the door, I saw a young black man, about 5'11" and 175 pounds waiting nervously at a table. He was the only black person in the café, and his eyes studied me, seemingly trying to figure out if I might be his appointment.
"Hi, I'm Diana," I said with a warm smile as I extended my hand.
"Uh, I'm Dion. It's nice to meet you," he answered. He shook my hand, but his voice was soft and lacked any confidence or conviction.
I took a seat with him at a small round table, and we ordered some coffees. He had dark features and looked strong and clean cut. His curly hair was cut short by a razor, and he looked freshly shaved. He dressed in nice slacks and a polo shirt. I couldn't discern if this was his normal attire, or if he dressed especially for this occasion.
"So, Marie tells me you want to go to college," I began.
"Yes, ma'am. I'd like that. I like criminal justice. I'd like to get a degree so I can work in that field."
"Why criminal justice?" I asked, trying to gauge how serious was his pursuit.
"Well, I think it's interesting. And where I come from, sometimes life is tough. A lot of gangs, a lot of drugs, and I seen a lot of my friends end up on the wrong end of a gun or knife when they didn't do nothing wrong. I want to do my part to try to clean up those streets and make it a safe place to live."
His voice gained confidence as he spoke. It was clear he'd given a lot of thought to his aspirations and that those goals filled him with purpose.
"So, what do you need to do to make that happen?" I followed up.
"That's what I don't understand. The college costs ain't a big deal. I know I can get a Pell grant. That's the easy part, but short of free room and board, I don't see how. These two jobs I'm working got me running around like crazy all week. I ain't got no time to take classes. I'll do the work; I ain't afraid of that. But rent ain't cheap, you know. I need my car to get to work and to class. I ran into someone a year ago, messed up some rich dude's ride. My insurance only covered part of the damage. I'm still on the hook for the rest, so I'm paying through the nose on car insurance and still paying that dude off. And I got sickle cell, so I'm in the hospital about once a year, and now I'm paying that note, too. It's just bills, bills, bills. This whole adulting thing ain't no joke."
Marie was right. This kid had some tough breaks and a huge hole to climb out of. Nothing is impossible, but most people have a short period in their lives after high school to try to get set on their feet. The whole key to life is to have a skill set. Whether you get a degree, a certification, or make/ sell something, you have to have a special skill or talent to get ahead in life. If you don't get set on a good path in young adulthood, it can be hard to recover as marriage and kids come into the picture. Some people do make something of their lives, but many don't because it's a thousand times harder, and Dion seemed to have the deck stacked against him through little fault of his own.
"Isn't there someone who can help you out? An aunt or uncle? A brother, sister, or cousin? Grandparent?" I pointed out.
Dion shook his head. "My pop's in prison. I never even met my grandparents on his side. God knows where my mom is. Ain't seen her in 4 years. God knows my grandparents on my mom's side. He's got them up in heaven with him. I'm the oldest. My brothers and sisters are still in foster care. I got a cousin, but she's shacked up with a druggie. Ain't no one else. So, you tell me what options I have?"
"Girlfriend?"
Dion scoffed. "I wish. Can't even afford to take care of myself."
"It's okay," I conceded. "Having a girlfriend to split rent with might help. It can also distract you from classes. I've seen way too many kids let their schoolwork slip for some girl. How about a roommate?"
"I've got a roommate, and that's just a small piece of what I owe, anyway. Look, I want this. I don't see how right now, but if there's a way, I'll do it. I just can't be working in grease pits and mopping floors the rest of my life. But I'll do what I got to do to get there."
"Okay, look. I can't promise anything, but let me make some calls," I told him. "Give me your work info. I want to check in with them. If they vouch for you, I know some people who often donate to the college. Maybe I can arrange for room/ board in place of scholarship. Now if I can get that arranged, you've got to promise to earn it. I'm sticking my neck out for you; don't make me regret it," I warned him sternly.
Dion's eyes bled with gratitude. "You won't regret it," he promised, his eyes nearly tearing up. "If I got a place to stay, I can just work one part time job to cover my other bills. I promise you, if you can get me that deal, I'll make good on it."
I smiled, admiring his determination as he pushed across a slip of paper with his current job info. "Okay. Give me about a week. Let me see what I can shake loose," I told him.
******
First, I checked up with Dion's employers. One employer was a breakfast diner, and the other was a janitorial service, and both vouched for him, saying he was a reliable employee who didn't cause any trouble.
I called Marie and had her send me a copy of his high school transcript, and I talked to his high school guidance counselors. Again, no red flags, and everything indicated he was just a hard luck case who needed a break in life. In fact, he was a good student, who probably could've gotten into 4-year colleges if he had the money. His story pulled at my heartstrings. He was dealt a crappy hand and had every reason to throw in the towel. So many other kids in his situation either went for the allure of the street life or submitted to a lifetime of menial existence, and I was resolved to at least give him a chance in life.
I was acquaintances with some of the larger college donors, and I contacted them if they could help, but all of them passed. I reached out to Section 8 to see if they could help him get subsidized housing, but the wait list was so long, it would take years to process his request. He probably wouldn't qualify, anyway, since he had no kids and had income from two jobs.
There was one last ditch option that I had intentionally avoided, but I didn't see any other way. My husband was away on business, but I called him and told him about Dion's case. I recapped his whole story from his time in foster care to his more recent struggles with medical bills and debts with no family to help.
"God damn it, Diana, he's not our problem. Why do we have to help?" he complained.
"Honey, his life is at a make or break point. He didn't have parents like we did. It's a miracle he's gotten as far as he has. Most kids with his trauma and abandonment, they've got demons they can't overcome. He's still fighting to get somewhere and do something with his life. I'm afraid he'll be lost if we don't step in."
"So, what are you suggesting exactly?" he demanded to know.
I took a deep breath before I let the words come out. "I'm suggesting he stay with us for a while."
My husband burst in mock laughter. "And what if it doesn't work out? What if he's a nightmare? If he steals stuff. Plays loud music at all hours. Makes a mess of the house. Throws wild parties. Invites over unsavory friends. Has a girlfriend that basically moves in with him. Or if he refuses to ever move out. What then?"
"I'll set ground rules. I'll be responsible for all that, and you can blame me if I'm wrong about him. But I'm telling you, he's a good kid. We won't have any of those issues. Look, you're away over half the time on business, anyway. You'll hardly ever even see him."
"I don't know Diana. " He paused for a long moment, his breathing the only sound coming across the line as he considered my proposal. "Fine, do it your way, but, if anything goes wrong, this is all on you. I don't want anything to do with it."
I exhaled deeply as I hung up the phone. My husband clearly wasn't thrilled with the prospect of taking in Dion, but he relented in the end, and now my body shook with the prospect of that reality. I was sure taking Dion in was the right thing to do, but I knew it also played into my own greatest weakness. Taking in Dion was playing with fire with regards to my own predilections.
I was widowed by my first husband over a decade ago, which partly led to my decision to retire early. After his death, I realized that life was too short, so I resolved to live life to the fullest. I remarried a few years back, and my husband is a dear, but he's frequently away from home on business, sometimes for weeks at a time. He provides well for us, but I realized after marriage that I was often left alone in the house. I traveled with him on a few of his business trips, but he's a workaholic, often pulling 12-hour days, so I was left mostly waiting around a hotel suite in a strange city for him to come back. After a few of those trips, I opted to at least wait for him in the comfort of my own home. That said, even when he's home, he still routinely works 12-hour days, so I'm left on my own a lot anyway.
I've at least managed to keep myself in shape, watching what I eat and exercising regularly. I keep my auburn hair short, although, at 53, some greys are creeping in. I play with myself a lot, but I still find myself making excuses to stray from time to time. I figure my own physical affairs just counterbalance his emotional abandonment, so it all works out even in the end. Besides, what you don't know can't hurt you, I've reasoned.
That said, I knew inviting Dion, a young man, to live in our house would play into all my worst temptations. I love my husband, but he is a few years older than me, and his work schedule doesn't leave time for staying in shape. Having a young strong man in the house would be nice, although I wondered if Dion would have any interest in an older woman like myself. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have some eye candy in the house and give me something to think about while I masturbate.
Despite my own hesitancy, I knew I was talking myself into inviting Dion to stay with us. In my heart, I knew it was the right thing to do, but I also knew I was opening Pandora's Box. Nevertheless, I made up my mind and decided to accept the consequences, come what may.
*****
A week later, Dion and I were sitting at the same table again in the same cafe near campus.
"So, what now? Did you find some help?" Dion eagerly asked.
"I called a lot of people, and not a one was able to help," I started to explain.
"I knew it!" he muttered in obvious frustration.
"No, no wait," I tried to reassure him. "I don't give up that easy, and neither should you. None of them was willing to help, but maybe there's another option."
Dion's ears perked up, although he appeared skeptical. He sat, his brows raised and his eyes laser focused as he waited for me to elaborate.
"Look, this may sound strange," I continued to explain, "but you can move in with my husband and myself. We have a furnished basement. There's already a bed and a bathroom down there. Usually it's for guests, but it's yours if you want it. It's a walk out-basement, so you can have some privacy. You can stay, rent free, and we'll feed you. That way, you don't have to worry about housing costs. Then Marie can help you with the Pell Grant for tuition costs, and then you just need to work enough to cover your other debts."
His face softened as he heard my proposal and realized that my offer was legitimate.
"I - I -- I don't know what to say," he said softly.
"Listen. There's ground rules if you live with us. I see your grades, and you've got to get good grades. No loud music, no drugs, no drinking. No girlfriends staying over. Do your own dishes and laundry. Don't make a mess. Keep the basement clean. Any questions?"
Dion's face showed that he was still processing the proposal, and I waited patiently while he considered it.
Finally, he spoke, asking "How long can I stay?"
"It's a two-year degree, right?"
He nodded his head.
"Two years then," I answered with a smile. "Provided you can follow the rules. Are you in?"
"I'm in," he quickly answered.
"Good. Classes start next week. The timing is tight, but I think Marie can pull some strings to get you fully enrolled. When do you think you'll move in?" I asked.
"Is this weekend ok? I've got a co-worker at the diner. He's trying to move out of his mama's. He'd take over my lease."
"That sounds perfect. This weekend it is. Here's the address," I said as I slipped him a piece of paper. "You already have my cell phone. Just let me know what time you'll arrive. Till then, good luck."
******
Marie called me the next day, and she was excited to process Dion's paperwork to get him registered and enrolled. Then Saturday came, and Dion arrived just after lunch to move in. He drove a small older model Honda Civic hatchback, and his world of belongings fit in his car.
"Nice house you got here, Mrs. -- "
"It's Diana," I corrected him, "just call me Diana."
He got his boxes and bags moved into the basement, and then he came up to see the rest of the house.
"Where's your husband?" Dion asked. "I wanted to thank him, also."
"Oh, he's out of the house," I breezily replied. "He's a senior engineer for an oil company. He's always off setting up new sites, so he's away a lot, sometimes for weeks at a time. He won't be back for at least another week."
"Oh yeah, you mentioned that before. Must be nice for him getting to travel all around like that."
"I suppose. Leaves me home alone a lot though."
"Who's this? You got a kid?" he asked, pointing at an old family portrait hanging on the wall.
"That's Bradley. He's 20 now. Not such a kid anymore. He goes to college far away from here He has to fly home for visits, but he's been doing an internship/ co-op at a corporation near his school for the past year, so it's been a while since we've seen him."
"He's lucky to grow up with you," Dion observed, obviously struck by the opportunities our son had in life.
A silence lingered after that last line, only interrupted by the sound drifting in through the open windows of the wind rustling through the leaves.
"Alright, get settled in," I said, breaking the silence. "I'll have some dinner ready at 7 pm. You eat what I make, otherwise, you're on your own. There's snacks in the pantry. There's a TV in the den, and there's one down in the basement, too. Both have satellite and are connected to some streaming services. If there's anything else you need, let me know. Make yourself at home. Okay?"
Dion nodded his head and then headed back to the basement to unpack his things.
*****
Dion got settled in over the next few days.
He quit his job at the breakfast diner to free up his time to take classes during the day, but he kept his second janitorial job in the evenings to pay for his debt, car, gas, and insurance, although he cut back on his hours, so he'd have time to study. Since he had a friend to sublease his apartment, Dion was able to put the money he saved for next month's rent toward his tuition costs until his Pell grant came through.
He was so excited Monday morning when he left for his first classes that he came home and pored over all his new books, already trying to work ahead.
I admit it was nice having someone else in the house. With my husband away so much, a woman can get lonely. Just having someone to talk to was a pleasant change. At first, Dion kind of hid away in the basement, but, by mid-week, he became more comfortable spending time in the rest of the house. You might think that our 35-year age difference left us with little in common, but the community college gave us a shared topic, and we seemed to find a lot of other mutual interests.
He spent a lot of time in the basement shirtless, and seeing his young, strong body like that, I have to admit, he looked physically tempting. The original trepidation I felt to invite him into my home proved prophetic.
On Thursday that first week, I caught him swiping through tinder profiles on his phone.
"You cut back on work hours, and now you've got all kinds of time to go chasing girls," I teased him.
Dion just smiled sheepishly, knowing he'd been called out.
"Look, I know a man has needs, but you're only in your first week of school," I warned him. "I've seen this story before. A boy gets hung up on some sweet thing, and next thing he knows, he spends all his time chasing after her, and then school gets left behind. Now you're in college, and you're supposed to be thinking with your brain and not with that," I said as I wagged a finger at his crotch. I could swear I saw the bulge in his pants pop out in response.
"I'm sorry. I just -- I guess - before I didn't have time for a girlfriend," Dion stammered. "I didn't have time to think. I just worked and slept and worked and slept. And now I don't know. I'm sorry. You're right. I don't want to mess this up. I'm really thankful for everything you're doing for me."
"It's alright. I know it's hard," I reassured him. "I get it. I was once young, too. But I pulled a lot of strings and had to really sweet talk my husband into letting you move in. I bet on you, so please don't fail me."
We laughed about it and then sat down for dinner. Dion was starting to become more comfortable, like he was starting to feel at home, and I was happy to see that everything was working out so well.
*****
I got a call from my husband that weekend. There was trouble at another drilling site, and he had to go there to fix it, so he needed to stay another week to see them through. I was used to it by now, but it helped having Dion around, at least. We lived in a safe neighborhood, and I certainly never considered myself a helpless damsel, but the house feels big sometimes, and the emptiness and stillness at nights can fill you with fright and loneliness. Just having someone else there to bring comfort against the things that go bump in the night can make a huge difference.
I had caught Dion on Tinder, but he wasn't the only one who had desires. It was never good when my husband was out of the house for long periods. I have way too high a sex drive to be left alone for long periods of time, let alone with a virile young man in the house. Dion was constantly shirtless in the house, though I would swear he was just raised that way, and that it was a sign he felt at home. Nevertheless, I found myself staring at his physique several times, and I'd almost swear he caught me admiring him a few times. After a while, I couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't just an accident that he was always shirtless in the house, and that maybe he was even showing off to me.
During his second week, I went downstairs to call him up for dinner, and I clearly caught him unaware. I guess I should have called down or announced my presence in some way, but the tv show masked the sound of my foot steps as I descended the stairs and leaned over the railing to the sight of Dion laid out on his bed with his pants pulled down and his cock in his hands. I stopped in my tracks, transfixed by the sight of him jerking off. His cock was dark black, even darker than the rest of him, and it somehow looked dangerous in his hands, almost like a weapon. Then he caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, and, clearly embarrassed, he panicked and pulled his pants up.
"Dinner's ready when you are," I calmly said before I turned around and headed back up the stairs. Maybe I should've been embarrassed to be silently watching him in a private moment like that, but all I could think about was the image of his cock as he jerked off.
We shared a quiet meal that night. Dion was clearly embarrassed, so he acted withdrawn, and we endured a painful awkwardness through the main course. As a guidance counselor, I was used to broaching uncomfortable subjects with people, so I sought to clear the air.
"Dion, we need to talk about what happened earlier when I walked in the basement," I started off.
His face went pale, as if he wished his body could melt and ooze back down into the basement to escape this conversation.
"I'm sorry you - " His voice trailed off, the words failing him. Having come from a broken home, it's not surprising he was so defensive and scared.
"It's alright. I'm not here to lecture you," I tried to reassure him. Dion sat dumbfounded and unmoving. "Look, I get it. We all have needs." His eyes grew as big as saucers. "It's ok. It's natural. We don't talk about it a lot, so that makes it seem weird, but it shouldn't be, right? Anyway, I already dissuaded you from having a girlfriend, so what did I expect? Everyone needs an outlet, right?"
"I don't know what to say," Dion said, his face a look of confusion.
"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to apologize. Actually, I should apologize. I didn't knock before I came down."
"You weren't offended or anything by what you saw?" he asked in disbelief.
I laughed. "You know, I've got some girlfriends that pay decent money to go to a club downtown about once a month to get a peek at what I saw a little bit ago."
Dion smiled sheepishly, and I was satisfied I had sufficiently set him at ease.
"Now how about some dessert?" I offered as I reached for the apple pie.
*****
The next day Dion and I were watching tv, and we got to talking.
I saw him wag his tongue at some young blonde thing on one of those competition reality tv shows. She was obviously cast to be eye candy.
"Is that the kind of woman you're into?" I openly asked him.
"Oh, I don't know. She's alright," he answered, probably too shy to talk over those kinds of details.
"I see what you like. Young and skinny. Can't say I blame you. She's a beauty," I agreed.
"She's pretty. I mean, you ain't so bad. For an old woman and all."
"Ouch," I winced, feigning hurt.
"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, your husband's a lucky man."
"You want to tell him that. He's been away for almost 4 weeks," I reminded him.
An obvious sexual tension hung in the air between us. Dion had an awkward shyness about him, and I found it innocently endearing.
"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"Of course, I have," he answered defensively, a little too quickly.
"How long ago?"
"Well, it wasn't anything serious. I mean, I hooked up with some girls at parties back in high school. I've been with women, if that's what you're asking."
"It must be lonely," I told him.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, growing up, you went into foster care and kind of bounced from family to family. Your mom disappeared. No stable presence in your life. No parental figure. No siblings. Then the next thing you know, you're working so much, there's no time for a relationship."
Dion just sat there in silent agreement before speaking. "It seems you're lonely, too sometimes. What with your husband away so much and all."
"It's ok. We all get lonely sometimes. I can understand why you were looking for someone on tinder. It's only natural to want some companionship," I conceded.
"So, what then?"
We sat staring across at each other. I knew my own weaknesses, and I was trying to read his face if he shared similar thoughts. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself, but I bit my lip and then decided to plow ahead.
"Can I be honest with you?" I asked.
"What you think we've been doing?" he asked incredulously.
"Do you find me attractive?" There, I'd put myself out there.
He hesitated, and I rushed to fill the silence. "I mean, I know I'm a lot older than any of the women, really girls, that you're really interested in. But if you're lonely - and I'm lonely - well, I want you to do well in school. I could -- " I swallowed hard, trying to choose my words carefully, "We could be like friends with benefits."
My proposal hung awkwardly in the air as Dion sat with a stunned look on his face. I saw him look me over, probably eyeing me sexually for the first time.
"You can say no," I continued, again trying to fill the silence. "I'm not trying to force myself on you, I just thought maybe it could be... mutually beneficial."
"So, what then?" Dion croaked, finally finding his voice, his face still in disbelief.
Now it was my turn to sheepishly grin. "Well, I have a pretty high sex drive, to be honest. You could probably fuck me any time you want. I mean, I don't do anal, so don't go there. I have limits, but I enjoy taking care of a man, and I don't mind a man taking charge of me."
"And what about your husband?" he asked.
"What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?"
Both of us were shaking in nervousness as we waded in unchartered territory.
"I mean, this is just so you can focus on school," I said, encouraged that he hadn't outright rejected me. "That way you don't need to spend all your time chasing after girls. Any time you need to get your rocks off, I can help."
"Is that so?" he asked, clearly still pondering my proposal.
Sometimes, the time for talk has passed, and it's time to act, and I decided we had reached that moment. I slid off the chair to my knees and scooted over to him until I was kneeling in front of him, looking up into his face as he sat in front of me.
My hand reached up to his crotch and massaged the bulge in his pants as my eyes held his gaze. His cock visibly stiffened as I ran my hands over him, and I knew that we had passed the point of no return.
"I like what I saw earlier. I wouldn't mind seeing it again," I said with a smile as my hands reached inside his pants.
Dion gasped as my fingers wrapped around his dick. I turned my head down to see the head of his cock sticking out of his pants. I always love the contrast of my white skin against black skin, and I started jerking him off, watching his cock grow still larger. I had both hands wrapped around his member, and I felt Dion's hand rest on top of my head and then gently guide me toward his crotch.
I opened my lips and took him into my mouth. His pubic hairs needed a trim, but his hard cock extended out so far, it wasn't really an issue, although it would keep me from deep throating him until he trimmed it. As my mouth and tongue worked the tip of his manhood, my right hand jerked off his shaft, and my left hand played with his balls.
Dion moaned softly, and it spurred me to work him even harder, trying to drive him to an orgasm. I don't know if it was his youth, maybe it'd just been a while since he had masturbated to ejaculation, or maybe I was just that damn good, but, whatever it was, he didn't last very long. After just a few minutes, his entire body stiffened, and he groaned as he shot his load. I wrapped my lips tightly around his cock, and his warm spunk shot to the back of my throat, causing me to gag slightly. As he ejaculated a couple more shots of cum, the salty taste hit my tongue, and a small string of cum stretched from my lips to the tip of his cock as I released him from my mouth.
"God damn, woman!" he exclaimed at the sight of me with his cum dripping from my lips.
"I take it you liked it," I said with a sly grin, happy with his excited reaction.
"I didn't know you were a freak like that." He looked at me in shock, as if he no longer recognized the woman who had just sucked him off.
I laughed. "I think you'll be seeing a lot more of the freaky side of me."
"I look forward to it."
"I do have one request, though," I told him.
"What's that?"
"If you shave your pubic hairs, the next blow job I give will make your eyes roll to the back of your head," I promised him.
"So, let me get this straight," he said. "Anytime I feel like I want sex, you're going to let me fuck you."
I swallowed the thick glob of his cum that sat in the back of my throat. "That's the idea. I reserve the right to say no, and you'll need to respect that, but I have a pretty high sex drive. I don't think I'll be saying no that much."
"I think I'll be wanting to tear that pussy up here in a bit," Dion said matter-of-factly.
My pussy moistened as he brazenly talked about fucking me.
"I'm looking forward to it," I replied with a wink.
*****
Dion was in the den watching a basketball game on tv while I laid in bed, thinking over what I'd just done. My heart was still racing, my mind replaying my actions an hour earlier when I knelt at Dion's feet and sucked him off to orgasm. The faint taste of his cum still lingered on my tongue, and my pussy moistened as I remembered seducing him. I knew I had originally taken on the role of a matronly figure in his life while taking him in and helping him get enrolled in college. And now, in one afternoon, I had shattered that view, instantly transforming myself from a motherly object to a sex object in his eyes.
I told myself that I was just helping him focus on school and not spend all his time chasing girls, but, while there was a kernel of truth to that, I knew I had ulterior motives. Living in this house by myself for weeks at a time often left me feeling abandoned and lonely, and inviting Dion to stay gave me companionship. Having a husband who spends weeks at a time away, especially for a woman with a high sex drive, just led me to stray from time to time. I knew the minute I considered opening my home to take in Dion I wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to offer my body to him. He was young and virile, and the fact that he was black, added a taboo factor that turbo-charged my libido. My parents, like many of their generation, harbored a prejudice against black people, and, while I never shared their prejudices, I knew they would've disowned me if I dated a black man. The older I got, my attraction to the forbidden fruit of interracial sex became stronger, and black men became my greatest temptation.
The other societal taboo I found myself breaking was taking an interest in younger men as I got older. I would never engage in anything illegal, but I found young college-aged men just gaining their independence were the physically perfect mix of youth and virility. One of the nicest perks of my career as a guidance counselor was the regular contact with so many young men. There was only so much I could do without risking my job, however, I wasn't above innocent flirting with many of them. Now that I was retired, I had insecurities like any older woman about my aging body, so it was gratifying to know I could still attract the attention of a young man like Dion.
Truth be told, my husband's body just isn't as sexually appealing as a young college man's body. My husband's long work hours have left him pudgy and soft, and age has left him sometimes needing assistance from a little blue pill to get it up, which just leaves me feeling like he doesn't even find me desirable anymore. While I know I'm no longer a young woman, I work hard to maintain my figure, and it hurts to see my husband not even get a hard on when I try to seduce him.
My husband trusted me and assumed I had nothing but pure intentions in taking Dion into our home, and he would be devastated if he learned the truth. But now I had managed to bring my greatest temptation under my own roof, with my husband's knowledge nonetheless. In theory, this could work out to everyone's benefit. My husband complained about taking in Dion, but he has a big heart, and he always supported me in helping disadvantaged youth when I was a guidance counselor. For Dion, he gained a path to education and all the doors in life that a post-high school education could open. And, for me, I gained the companionship I desperately sought, as well as a way to satisfy my sexual needs.
Still, I had sucked off Dion, but he hadn't fucked me yet. He seemed more than pleased at the prospect of having me as a sex object at his disposal, but I didn't want to disappoint him. I enjoy sucking dick and pleasing a man, but the pleasure needs to be mutual. I longed to feel him inside me, to feel his cock fill my pussy and drive me to an orgasm.
I worried that he didn't take me right away after I sucked him off, but I knew he probably needed some time to recover. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if my 53-year-old body could still entice him. I worked hard to keep myself in shape, but I have greys in my auburn hair, and the wrinkles are no longer just laugh lines. There's only so much you can do to hold off the effects of time, and I knew I looked like what I was, a mature woman. Hell, some of my friends the same age or even younger are already grandparents. So, while my mouth was good enough for Dion to let me suck him off, was the rest of me good enough for him to fuck?
I went to my closet and perused through my lingerie collection and carefully selected an outfit. It wasn't much of an outfit, but that was kind of the idea. I didn't want to leave anything to chance. I selected a sheer basque that hugged tightly to my body. My tits were clearly visible through the sheer black fabric, and the bottom of the basque hung at my waist, and I decided to remain bottomless; the lips of my shaved pussy were already wet with a thin sheen of moistness. I matched the outfit with a pair of sheer black stockings that attached to clips hanging off the bottom of the basque.
I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. There was zero chance Dion could misinterpret my intentions when he saw me in this. Whereas I remained fully clothed while I sucked him off earlier, now my body was on full display, and I left nothing to his imagination.
I sat there dressed and feeling my sexiest. I was horny and ready to fuck, but I heard the play by play from the basketball game blaring from the tv in the den where Dion waited. Should I go into the den and try to force myself on him? I wondered if that would come across as too desperate, although, in that moment, I knew I was a horny and desperate woman. Still, I worried if I came on too strong that I risked alienating him. He might decide I was an obsessed, crazed woman and move back out of my house. He seemed so shy earlier, though, I couldn't help but wonder if he needed some encouragement to gain enough confidence to take me.
I decided on a middle ground between throwing myself at him and waiting for him to come find me. I pulled out the container under my bed where I kept my sex toys, and I pulled out a long black dildo. It was 8 inches of pleasure, and I stroked my fingers over it as I laid down on my bed. It was shaped realistically with a fleshy feel, from the head of the cock to the veins along the shaft and the balls at the end. I bought it several years back, and it had brought me many rounds of pleasure over the years, helping satisfy and fuel my interracial fantasies.
I slid the dildo into my mouth as deeply as I could take it, wetting the shaft with my tongue. I remembered how Dion's member felt in my mouth earlier and deeply wished he'd come and take me. The 8' dildo was a little larger than Dion, and I couldn't take the whole thing without gagging.
My horniness already had me on the edge before anything had even touched my pussy, and I pulled the dildo out of my mouth and placed it at the entrance to my vagina. The head of the dildo just barely touched my labia, and I already arched my back in response. I took a deep breath, and then I slid the long black phallic object inside me. A loud moan of satisfaction escaped my lips, and I pushed the entire length of the dildo inside until its balls were pressed against me. Then I held the dildo at full length inside and enjoyed the feel of its shaft filling my pussy, giving me the sexual gratification I'd been desperately seeking. I love having my clitoris stimulated, and that's still the easiest way for me to orgasm, but there's something incredibly satisfying about just having my pussy stuffed full of cock.
"Oh God," I muttered.
The door to my room was wide open, and I knew Dion was downstairs directly under me. I imagined it was already him inside me, and I closed my eyes and pinched my nipples with one hand as the other hand started pumping the dildo in and out of my pussy.
"Oh Dion," I called out.
I opened my eyes and saw the long black shaft sliding in and out of me, the dark chocolate color in stark contrast to my bald white pussy.
I was so horny, already edging, and close to an orgasm. I closed my eyes and slowly moved the dildo, wanting to enjoy the feeling of being on the cusp for longer. I was edging so hard, I was barely moving my sex toy. Any faster, and it would push me over the edge, and I desperately wanted the current feeling to last as long as I could make it.
"God, that feels so good," I called out. I'm a vocal lover, and I couldn't contain my arousal. The gasps and moans involuntarily tumbled out of my mouth. I couldn't contain myself. I didn't want to contain myself.
I spread my legs wider as I continued to slowly plunge the dildo back inside me. I'd move it an inch deeper and then wait until I was sure I could slide it another inch without pushing me to an orgasm. My pussy was so aroused, my lips felt swollen to double their size and sensitive to the slightest sensation. The curvature of the head of the dildo. The veins and musculature on the shaft as it slid in. The touch of my fingers as I worked the dildo. How the skin on my fingers felt against my pussy. The hardness of my nails lightly scraping against my labia. Just the air in the room as it blew over the wetness on my pussy. I felt everything, and everything turned me on.
I was so close to a climax; I knew I couldn't hold back much longer. And now I no longer wanted to hold back. Now I wanted to feel the sweet release, and I stared up into the white ceiling as I plunged the last 3 inches of dildo into me, knowing full well what would happen. The tip of the dildo pressed against my cervix, and it was enough to push me over the edge.
Now, I furiously pumped the dildo in and out of me as the orgasm washed over my body, determined to pump out every ounce of pleasure from my orgasm.
"Oh, my fucking God!" I screamed, the surrender to my orgasm complete. I wanted to draw out every last ounce of pleasure from the orgasm, and I bucked my hips up and down, furiously fucking the dildo as my hand held it in place, desperate to be fucked as hard and fast as possible, wanting to feel every last bit of the climax course through my body.
As I finally came down from my orgasm, my eyes drifted down, and I saw Dion standing mouth agape at the door. I can only imagine how obscene the sight of me looked with my legs splayed wildly and a large black dildo lewdly dangling out of my pussy. I could feel the large wet spot on the bedsheets under me, as I sat up and looked at him with an unashamed grin.
This was the moment I wanted. This was the moment I feared. How would Dion react? I searched his face for clues, but all I saw was shock.
"How -- how long were you standing there?" I hoarsely whispered across the room.
"A couple minutes," he stated flatly.
He was standing in the doorway, fully dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. I was suddenly fully aware of my nakedness. I left the door open, hoping he'd find me, and it had worked. He had a horny insatiable woman in front of him. Did the sight of watching me cum turn him on? Did it somehow repulse him?
"I told you earlier you could have me any time you wanted. I guess I got tired of waiting. Did you like what you saw?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.
"That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he admitted.
My heart was racing, and I moved to close the deal.
"I'm ready to be fucked right now if you're ready for me," I offered.
"You're ready?" he asked incredulously. "Looks like you're already done," he added with a laugh. "But I'm ready to hit that pussy. That's for sure."
He spoke with growing confidence and stepped forward into the room, dropping his pants on the floor as he came toward the bed. He stood on his knees on the bed as I pulled his shirt up over his head and threw it on the floor, and he was left in his boxers.
His manhood peeked out the front slit on his boxers, and my hands reached out to stroke it.
"It looks like you're happy to see me," I happily observed.
"I had no idea today would turn out like this," he said, shaking his head in disbelief while staring down at my naked body, my legs spread wide and my wet pussy inviting him to mount me. "I thought you were just a nice old lady. Now I know you're a freak. You wear this fancy lingerie just for me?"
I nodded my head as I looked intently in his eyes while I pulled down his boxers. His hard cock sprung free, bouncing hypnotically right in my face.
"You shaved," I remarked in surprise.
"You promised me a mind-blowing blow job if I did," he reminded me.
I laughed and then leaned forward and took his cock into my lips, letting the length of his shaft fill my mouth. Earlier, my dildo felt nice, but it was nothing compared to having Dion's cock, and I savored it. The feel of his cock throbbing in my mouth. The blood coursing through his veins pulsating against my lips. The taste of his pre-cum leaking out and landing on my tongue. With his pubic hair shaved off, I deep throated the entire length of his shaft, almost gagging, as my bottom lip rubbed against his balls.
Then I opened my mouth and let him fall out.
"If you play your cards right, you'll get plenty of blow jobs from me," I said with a mischievous smile. "I'd like to cum, too, though," I said as I laid back on the bed, spread my legs wider and spread my pussy lips to reveal my pink flesh for my young lover.
Dion grabbed my ankles and raised my legs up as he pulled forward. I took his cock in my hands and guided him into me.
"I've never done it without protection," he said.
"Good," I replied. "Then I know you don't have any diseases. Neither do I. I promise you'll love how a pussy feels without a condom getting in the way."
The head of his cock rested at the entrance to my pussy teasing me mercilessly.
"For the love of God," I begged him.
He laughed at my desperation, but he thrust his crotch forward, plunging his cock deep into me, and I shot up on my elbows and gasped in reaction. As I laid back down, he continued staring down at me, leering at my body. He stood with his cock buried in my pussy as his hands reached down and lowered the shoulder straps on my basque. Then he lowered my top until my titties were fully revealed.
"There, that's better," he smiled in satisfaction as he started fucking me. He ran his hands along the smooth nylon of my stockings as my legs rested on each of his shoulders.
"I like the look and feel of these," he said in amusement at my stockings. "You should wear these more often.
I appreciated the compliment, but I was in no position to answer coherently as he eagerly fucked me. Earlier, I masturbated myself to an orgasm while imagining Dion fucking me, but now he was fucking me for real, and I was in heaven. Even though he didn't seem to have a lot of experience, he found a nice rhythm, and his cock pumped me hard and deep. He was in full control of me, and I wanted him to drive me to an orgasm.
My hands reached up to his chest and then reached around back to feel his ass. He was built solid, and his body was firm to my touch.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," I warned him.
Dion laughed. "Oh, I think I know exactly what I'm doing to you."
Without the support and form the basque gave my tits, they bounced around as Dion continued to ride me. I saw his eyes fixated on my titties as they bounced this way and that while he fucked me.
"Oh, my fucking God," I screamed, arching my back, as my pussy stirred in arousal.
"God damn, you're a horny woman!" Dion exclaimed.
"Just fuck me. Just fuck me, please!" I begged him.
He started pounding me just a little faster and harder, and my arousal intensified. I was so wet and approaching an orgasm. My breath became labored, and I laid my head back down on my pillow, resigned to not fight the impending climax. Earlier I had wanted to ride the edge of an orgasm as long as possible, but now I just wanted to feel the release, the explosion. I wanted to feel my own orgasm. I wanted to feel Dion cum inside me and have it dripping out of my pussy.
I wanted him to mark his territory on me, to cum in my pussy, and claim me as his. In that moment, I belonged to him, and my hands gripped the sheets, my fingers dug in tightly, and I just concentrated on his cock as it drove in and out of me. Every inch of his young manhood brought me pleasure as it pumped in and out. His cock was throbbing and driving me quickly over the edge.
"I'm gonna cum, baby, I'm gonna cum!" I cried.
"You want me to cum inside you?" Dion asked.
"Yes, oh God, yes!" I shouted.
Was I replying to Dion's question or answering in reaction to my impending orgasm? It was probably a bit of both. Dion had me close, and he knew it.
"I want to watch you cum," he said coolly, as he stared down into my face.
I closed my eyes and focused on my orgasm. I was so aroused, I came after just a few more thrusts of his cock. Wordless moans and cursing fell from my lips. My body was electrified as the orgasm took hold, and I shuddered in response. My hands reached up to pinch my nipples as the orgasm crested, and I felt my pussy muscles spasming, and then they tightened around Dion's cock, and he grunted loudly as he thrust his cock one last time, impaling himself balls deep into me as he unloaded his seed deep into my vagina.
I opened my eyes to the sight of Dion still towering over me, my stockinged legs still resting on either shoulder. His cock was quickly softening inside, but my body was still shaking after my orgasm. I was still trying to catch my breath; my tits gently rose and fell with my deep breaths as I recovered.
"So now that you've had me. Do we have a deal? I'll be your fuck toy, and you focus on school?" I asked, my breath still labored.
"I think I could get used to this," he answered.
"So can I," I assured him. "it's going to be a fun school year."
******
Recap
Part 1 -- Diana, a 53-year-old married retired white female takes in Dion, a black 18-year-old recent high school graduate, into her home to help him afford to go to college. After moving in, they soon begin an affair while Diana's husband is out of the house and away on business.
******
My husband warily eyed Dion during dinner. He arrived home yesterday, tired and grumpy from working for almost a month on an oil industry site start-up project that was not going well. Last night he fumed privately in our room as we were going to bed about allowing Dion to move in. I reminded him kindly that he left it to my discretion to invite Dion into our home, and I informed him of all the conditions Dion had to follow under our roof. I admit, it must've been a big change for my husband to come home and find a new person living under our roof. That said, I know my husband well enough to know that he was just blowing off steam and that Dion wasn't really the source of his frustration. His anger had a lot more to do with his work stress and nothing to do with anything Dion beyond his existence. Still, he never voiced his frustrations about Dion directly to him. Dion was, as my husband often reminded me, my problem.
Dion, for his part, was reticent around my husband. My husband wasn't hostile to him, but he wasn't outgoing either, and I'm sure the fact that Dion and I were having an affair made it awkward for Dion. It was one thing when we were the only ones in the house while we carried on the affair, but my husband probably didn't seem real to him at first. And now that my husband was here in the flesh, it put our affair in a whole new light, and Dion was noticeably shy around me, as well. He mostly stayed in the basement and avoided my husband in those first few days.
My husband icy façade started to thaw after he saw that Dion really was an okay kid. Dion was gone for most of the day in classes, and then he worked his part time job in the evenings, and my husband always appreciated someone willingly to work hard toward a goal. By the end of the week, my husband was calling up Dion for dinner and trying to make small talk with him to make him feel more invited and comfortable in our home. Dion noticeably relaxed, feeling more welcome in our home again, although he still seemed to avoid eye contact and talking with me.
I, myself was happy, of course, to finally have my husband home again, but it was obvious that the dynamics of my affair with Dion had changed. Before my husband came home, we had a mutually beneficial agreement where he'd focus on his studies and not go chasing girls, and he could use me to relieve his sexual needs without all the effort and drama that goes into skirt chasing. Ostensibly, I was sacrificing my body to give him a better chance for collegiate success, although, if I'm being honest, I knew my motives were much more selfish than altruistic.
I had started dressing up nicer around the house after starting my affair, wanting to keep myself presentable and desirable for Dion. I continued doing so after my husband came home, and he took notice of the change one night.
"I noticed you're dressing up around the house," he said wryly, "not just lying around in sweat suits."
"Oh, I just figured I should try to look nice for you," I quickly replied. "I didn't want you to forget about me after being away for so long," I said with a wink.
"Luckily, Dion's only 18," my husband continued. "I'm sure he's chasing after some college girls. He can't appreciate a fine, older woman like yourself. But I certainly can."
I laughed uncomfortably as he came onto me that night, and we made love. He's a good man, and I knew he needed some stress relief himself. I was sex starved myself with Dion becoming more withdrawn, so I welcomed the attention. My husband is a good man, and I want to be a good wife and please him but making love to him only reminded me what I wasn't getting from Dion anymore. I ran my hands over my husband's body, and all I could think about was how much firmer Dion's arms and legs felt in comparison. My husband's skin was leathery and wrinkled, becoming worn over the years, whereas I remember marveling at how smooth Dion's skin felt to the touch. I suppose I shouldn't be one to complain; I'm no spring chicken myself, but if given a choice, who would choose a body ravaged by time over one still basking in a youthful glow? They say beauty is only skin deep, but in a purely physical relationship, skin deep is all that counts, anyway.
And Dion was black. I know a person's color shouldn't matter, and I don't let it influence how I treat anyone in life whether it be strangers or friends. But we all have our private proclivities, our kinks. For some people, it could be hair color like blondes or redheads, or it could be a sexy accent like eastern European or British, but for me, there's something I find incredibly attractive about other skin colors. My husband's pasty white body just doesn't hold the same allure as the contrast of Dion's dark skin against mine. And given the history of racism, there's still a taboo factor, even though I'm glad to see that interracial relationships no longer raise eyebrows like it did in my youth. Does my kink perpetuate racist tropes and stereotypes? I don't know. Maybe it does, but I figure if everything is consensual, then what is the harm?
But I laid awake that night. I laid next to my husband, and even though he had just fucked me, and his cum was dripping out of my pussy, all I could think about was the young black man sleeping in the basement below, wishing that it'd been him instead.
******
The next day, my husband was at work in his local office, and I finally confronted Dion about our relationship while he was home for a few hours between classes. I went down the stairs to the basement where Dion stayed, and I found him seated at a desk, diligently studying.
"Dion, can we talk for a few minutes?"
He turned around, and I saw the apprehension in his eyes. My years as a guidance counselor gave me a wealth of experience in reading people's body language and tone, which often helped me get to the root cause of behaviors. People's frustrations often manifested itself in other areas. In my experience, 90% of the time student issues could be traced back to drugs, alcohol abuse, or relationship drama (girlfriends or family).
I saw Dion's nervousness, and I tried to calm him down. "It's alright. I just want to talk," I reassured him.
He slowly pushed his chair back from his desk and turned around to face me. "Alright, what is there to talk about?" he wanted to know.
I started slowly, choosing my words carefully. "It seems that you've been avoiding me lately."
"I -- it's complicated," Dion started to explain after taking a deep breath. I could tell he was also carefully choosing his words. "Ever since your husband got back, I just -- I feel guilty. I mean, you're his wife, and I'm staying in his house. You and me - it seems so - disrespectful."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. But where does that leave you? I mean, are you back to swiping left and right on tinder?"
Dion threw his head back in a hearty laugh. "I've been tempted. Haven't gone back there just yet."
"What my husband doesn't know won't hurt him," I countered.
"Don't you feel guilty about what you're doing?"
"Like you said -- it's complicated. But my offer still stands. I still want you to succeed in school, and -- "
"You make it sound like you offering to spread your legs is some great act of charity," Dion said in cutting me off. "It seems to me like you just want some dick up in your pussy."
I blushed at his brazenness. "I'd like to think our affair was mutually beneficial and pleasurable."
"You're a sly one. And a lot of fun." Then he doubled over and screamed in frustration before composing himself and continuing. "Ok, truth be told, I want to tap that pussy again. But I also don't want to mess up this chance at college. So, what happens if I don't sleep with you? Will you kick me out?"
"Nothing bad would happen," I assured him. "I promised you a home for college, and as long as you adhere to the original conditions I set, you're more than welcome to stay here. I may just have to provide my own pleasure again like that first time when you walked in on me," I said, reminding him of the first time I seduced him.
With that, I got up and started to make my way up the stairs, although I stopped and turned around halfway up.
"If you ever change your mind," I told Dion, "I'll be waiting for you." I purposefully swung my ass like a pendulum as I walked up the stairs, and I looked back and caught him checking me out, to which he sheepishly looked away. At least if he didn't come back to me, I'd know it wasn't for lack of trying.
******
My husband and Dion grew closer over the next few weeks. The next thing I knew, they were going out every weekend. From car shows to baseball and basketball games, they were always out and about. They'd come home at night after a long day going about, eating out at whatever sports bar, and bragging about their day's adventure.
I hadn't seen my husband act like this in years and years. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if he just missed our son that badly. Brandon had been out of the house a few years by now, and it left us as empty nesters, which was a big change for both of us. Or maybe it was a second chance for him to be a father. With all the hours he put in at the office, he missed a lot of Brandon's games, plays, and recitals growing up, so maybe this was his way of atoning. Whatever it was, my husband clearly relished taking on a patriarchal role in Dion's life and sharing all the traditional manly interests with him.
For Dion, he gained the father figure always missing from his life. My husband took him fishing and deer hunting for the first time in his life. You could see the excitement in his eyes at finally experiencing father/ son type bonding. After all the years suffering through parents who abandoned him and getting shuttled through the foster system, Dion soaked up all the attention and drank it all in.
I know I should've been happy to see my husband and Dion bond so easily, yet I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Somehow, I felt like a third wheel, left out of so much of their activities. On weekends, I was left alone. I'd visit my girlfriends, and we'd go out for lunch and gossip like old hens, but I also spent a lot of weekends alone.
Given my high sex drive, I ended up spending a lot of afternoons lying around naked with my plethora of toys. I'd run the gamut of my toys from vibrators to dildos to ben-wa balls. I'd take my big, black dildo and pretend it was Dion, just like I did the first time I seduced him. I made myself cum repeatedly, and yet, I never felt fully satisfied. I longed for the touch of a man. I longed to feel Dion inside me again. Still, I couldn't help but worry that maybe age really was catching up with me and, maybe Dion had his fun with me and no longer found me attractive.
I wasn't above giving Dion little reminders of what he was missing out on, though. On weekdays, I always wore a dress or skirt that was above the knees and often without panties. I'd find opportunities to flash Dion. Bras are always so restrictive, so I never wear them at home, and I'd wear loose tops, finding ways to bend over in front of him and giving him clear views down my top. I caught him staring at my goods on more than a few occasions.
Maybe it was desperation or denial. Maybe it was just my vanity or insecurity. I wanted the validation, to know that Dion still found me attractive. I know men are dogs, and I could've put myself out there and found another lover, but I had already seduced Dion once, and it was Dion I wanted a relationship with again.
I think I could even accept it if I lost him to some young hussy. I know I'm no spring chicken, so I don't necessarily expect to win a beauty contest against some young thing, although what I now lack in youth, I'd like to think I make up for in experience. But that didn't matter because that wasn't the case, at all. It's like Dion abandoned me for a man. And not just any man, but my own husband. The indignity of it all.
As close as Dion and my husband became, I also saw the grind starting to get to Dion. As the semester wore along and final exams loomed, Dion spent more and more time studying. I saw him struggling with some of the subjects, and the workload seemed to almost overwhelm him. He still worked part time, and I could tell he was struggling to keep up in some of his classes.
Per the conditions I set for him to live with us, he shared his grades with me, and he was actually doing well, on track to get all A's and B's in his classes, but he was burning the midnight oil to keep up, and I saw the lack of slee