Chapter 1

I guess it can be summed up by the old line of 'It started rather innocently.' And, well, it did. I was suffering from empty-nest syndrome. I was lonely, to say the least.

To be more precise, I was all alone out here in the country near Richmond, Indiana, living in a big, five bedroom house, and an even larger piece of land. Ten acres in all, including a nice three acre pond. Woods on the north and south side, a farmers field on the west, and the little traveled gravel road on the east. The pond, which I've always loved, was behind the house, sitting between it and the farmers field.

A rather nice, private setting. As for myself, I was in a funk. Summer was half over, and my little five-two and one-hundred and twenty pound frame was having a hard time keeping the place cleaned up, not to mention I was still working, albeit part-time, two days a week. I actually didn't need to work, not with my income from investments and all.

But, I get bored easily, hence the job, even if it was only two days a week, working in a car dealership's office. I was actually thinking of selling the place, and finding a condo in town, which is about ten miles away.

But, as I was sitting around and feeling sorry for myself, the phone rang. Picking it up, I said "Hello."

My son’s voice boomed on the other end, saying "Hi mom."

I smiled, replying "Hello dear."

We chatted for twenty minutes, but I sensed something was up, as there was that tone in his voice. I'm his mother, I know that tone. It usually means he wants a favor. And I was right, as he finally said "Listen mom, I need to ask you something."

Okay, here it comes, as I asked innocently, "What's that, Nathan?"

"Well, you remember Frank Jones?" he asked.

I laughed, "Of course I do, he was one of your strikers on your college soccer team, right?"

He laughed, "Yeah, that's him. Anyway, he's returning to Richmond to work at the State Hospital. And well, since you're all alone there, and he needs a place to stay, I thought that well, maybe you could put him up in a room for a spell."

I chuckled, thinking that this was a most unusual request. I still don't know why I replied with "Sure, why not. He can do some things around the house for me.", but I did.

Nathan replied cheerfully "Great. I'll call and tell him to call you."

I just laughed, and we said 'I love you's' and 'good-bye's' and we hung up. That evening, Frank Jones called, and we set up a time to have dinner for the next night in town at a restaurant. Well, it was a very pleasant dinner. I didn't remember too much about the young man when Nathan said his name, only that he played on the team. But I smiled when I saw him, all six-foot and one-hundred ninety pounds of his muscular racially mixed body.

Yeah, half black, his mom was white. He's actually from Cleveland, but he went to college nearby with my son, same age as Nathan and they played all four years together on the college team. By meals end, I was more than happy to invite the pleasant young mane to live under my roof. We discussed rent, and what all I would need him to do, such as mowing and building maintenance, before we finally settled on $700 per month, Now, you might think that this was a lot, but I was also offering to cook and clean for him as well. We shook on the deal.

We made arrangements for him to move in that weekend, as that would give me time to clean up a bedroom for him. So, for the next two days, I cleaned out a room down the hall from my master suite, and was looking forward to his living in my house. I also did a bit of grocery shopping, stocking my fridge and pantry with food to serve this young man.

As soon as he arrived Saturday morning, I first gave him a tour. I first gave him a controller for the garage, allowing him to park his Dodge Viper. Then, the tour of the house, starting on the first floor. Usual layout, the kitchen, dining room, large family room, a living room, a small, guest bedroom with it's own bath, and a room which my son had set up as a workout room, still with all of his equipment in there, waiting to be used. Frank smiled broadly when he saw that.

Then, upstairs I showed him his room, the first door on the right. I then showed him the other two bedrooms, and the bathroom for them, and then my suite, which has it's own bathroom.

We went back downstairs, and went out onto the back patio. He smiled when he saw the hot tub, and the small pond as well. That's when it hit me, I'll have to now where a bathing suit to use either, something I hadn't bothered with in years. Oh well, I thought, I'll just have to make do.

As he moved his belongings to his new home, I watched as I worked on cleaning the house and doing laundry. I did show him the laundry room, where he could bring his clothes when they're dirty. I was hoping he was better than my son in cleaning up after himself.

The first month went very well, and very quickly. I was enjoying his company when he wasn't working, and I was finding that I enjoyed cooking for him. And, I just smiled on those Saturday nights when he went into town on the prowl, hunting for some chickie-poo to have a go with.

I was worried the first time he went off, not coming home until very early the next morning. But then, I realized that he wasn’t my boy, so I shouldn't be acting like his mother. It was after the fourth Saturday night of his prowling about, that I was chuckling as he made his way into the kitchen after a rough night on the town. As he sat there, I was all smiles, as he looked like shit, with me asking "So, did you have a good time last night?"

He smirked, and then he smiled, answering "Yeah, sort of."

"Same girl as last weekend?" I asked.

"No," he said, laughing "Not hardly." I looked at him funny, frowning I suppose, as he then explained, "Some lady hit up on me. Old enough to be my mother, I'm sure."

I was shocked, and intrigued, as I answered with "Oh really?"

He laughed as I laid a plate of food in front of him, saying "Yeah. God was she wild."

I just giggled, and shook my head, and after eating and cleaning up the breakfast meal, I went on doing my usual routine. And as usual, on Sunday mornings I head off to the grocery, as Frank does the yard work. But, something was bugging me. Frank did it with an older woman. How old? Why did she do it? How could she enjoy it with a much younger man?

As for my sexual experience, my late Ron was my only lover, the only man that I've slept with, and the last time was close to twenty years ago, just before he was killed. That's how I first came into money, a great wrongful death settlement, and the life insurance settlement, both of which I invested. I guess you could say it was like winning the lottery, which is rather funny, considering three years later, I won that as well. Seven point five million to be exact, once taxes were taken out. How you think I was able to afford to send Nathan to a private college?

Anyway, I started asking myself, did I miss sex? No, not really. There really wasn't much to miss. Or was there? I did miss the warmth of a body next to mine, at least for a while

But I got over that. I've heard and read about women that miss having sex, and how other women enjoy sex more than I could ever imagine. I guess this morning, I started wondering what I was missing. It sort of started an evolution in my thinking of sex, wondering what it would be like to have it again.

I was home by noon, and for lunch I made sandwiches. I found that he didn't expect much for lunch on Sunday's, just some cold cuts and bread, and he was happy. He also played in a soccer league, and their games were Sunday afternoons, so as like the past few Sundays, he was done mowing in the morning, ate his lunch, then was off to play soccer.

I was alone all Sunday afternoon, giving my mind more time to wander. I went to cleaning up the house, even entering his bedroom and dusting it. He is a good kid, keeping his room picked up, and I smiled, as I left his room, and headed for the laundry room. I had done a load the previous night, but as yet, had not put them away.

I gathered a stack of his clothes, and went on upstairs with them, back to his room. I normally don't put his clothes away, but today I did. Opening the top drawer, I found his socks and underwear, and I quickly put them away. The second drawer, I had some t-shirts, and I was putting them in, when I saw it.

The edge of a magazine. I reached in, and pulled it out, seeing the picture of a nude and very busty blond on the cover, with a big, black man, his very long penis shoved deep inside of her. I was rather embarrassed, as I shoved it back down under his shirts, and closed the door, then I quickly put the rest of his clothes away, and left the room, my mind racing.

I went to my bedroom, and closing the door, I laid down on my bed, and started thinking. Damn, Frank has porn in his room! Of course, what could I do? I mean, he wasn't my son, he was a renter. I guess I could confront him about it, tell him that I didn't want it in my house.

But, would that be fair? Then, I started thinking about his latest conquest. Did she enjoy it? Why? Is he good? I sat up, thinking enough of this nonsense, as I decided I needed a dip in the hot tub. I stripped down and pulled out my swimsuit, then I grabbed a towel and went out onto the patio and climbed into the hot water. I smiled, as I turned the jets on, enjoying the water swirling around me. And I felt a hunger within, but I was unable to figure out what it was that I desired.

I thought back to Ron. I smiled, recalling our first date. I was a naive young lady, secluded from the realities from life. I worked for my father in his insurance business as a secretary. The year was nineteen-seventy-eight, I was twenty-seven, a few weeks shy of my twenty-eighth birthday.

I had never dated, and had always turned the boys down. Being a girl of the sixties, I just wasn't attracted to the free-love culture that was running rampant. Of course, daddy shielded me from all that, really. I went to a private, all-girls school, and no college after wards, as mom had died and I went straight to work for my father.

I was never that close to my mother, and my father? Well, we never really talked. For ten years, I worked for him, until Ron came along. I was surprised when Ron asked my dad if it was okay to ask me for a date. And I was even more surprised when dad said it was up to me.

Yes, my first date. It was a pleasant affair, dinner, a movie, and then he brought me home. For every night for three weeks, Ron would take me out, same thing each time. On my birthday, a few weeks later, he proposed, just like that. Heck, we hadn't even kissed yet! Don't get me wrong, he was good looking. He stood well over six foot in height, and built solid. A lot like Frank. Now why did I compare those two like that?

We married the following year, and yes, I saved my virginity for our wedding night. Was it good? Yeah, I guess so. Ron was gentle, as he undressed me slowly, taking his time, making me anticipate it, so to speak. His mouth, and his hands, I remember his hands the most, as they caressed my soft skin, my delicate, small breasts, and my sex.

Oh yes, most definitely my sex. He was experienced, I knew that, but of course, I never asked how he learned, as he made sure I was ready to receive him that first time. Yes, it was good, thinking back now, as he did pleasure me for most of our wedding night, as well as the rest of our honeymoon.

Did he make me orgasm? Of course, as I remembered the first time he went down on me, his tongue working it's magic, as he explored my sex with it.

But, there was the problem. Yes, he did make me cum, but I never really enjoyed it. It was the same thing, go down on me, make me cum, and very wet, then enter me and deposit his load deep inside of me. I never got off on intercourse, not that he ever tried to do that.

And once I was pregnant with Nathan, we stopped having sex, only resuming a few months after Nathan was born. And as for me giving oral to Ron, that rarely happened. I guess I came to the belief that sex was bland. And, I was unbelieving of others that enjoyed it. Maybe I thought it was wrong to enjoy it so much, that to enjoy it made you into a slut. As you can guess, I would soon change my tune.

Frank got home not long after I was out of the hot tub and into some regular clothes. I made a pot roast for dinner, and as we ate, I noticed it. The glances. A few times, I would catch him looking at me, a strange look on his face, as he would be looking at me.

Not at my face, but at my body. I suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable, as I fidgeted about during the rest of the meal. He must have picked up on this, as he stopped looking, and he lifted his face and smiled at me. I smiled back, and finished my meal.

As I went about taking care of cleaning up, he said he was going to shower and then get into the hot tub. I didn't think anything of it, as I went to work in the kitchen. Ten minutes later, I heard him go through the patio doors in the dining room, and out onto the deck.

I lifted up my head, as I was at the sink, and looked out. And there he was, wearing just his swim trunks, which hung down almost to his knees. But as he climbed into the tub, I saw the front of his shorts, sticking out a ways, where his erect cock was making a tent. I gasped, seeing how far out it pushed the fabric, thinking that it must be damn near ten inches.

My Ron, he was about eight, and thin. and I wondered how big this kid is. I felt it, the hunger again. I shuddered, telling myself that he's way too young. Yeah, I now knew what that hunger was. A hunger of lust. I had not had it in years, save for the rare occasions when I initiated sex with Ron. Or have I?

I was confused. My emotions weren't stable, and I wasn't sure what to do. I finished the kitchen, and went and watched the television. And when Frank came back into the room after his soak, I smiled at him, and he at me, before he turned and went up to his room. I wondered if he was going to read his porn, as I felt a warmness in my crotch.

Damn, now where did that come from? I crossed my legs, hoping that it would help. It didn't. Frank came back down, and sat in the recliner, as he watched the movie I had on, not saying anything. He was dressed in a shirt and a pair of gym shorts. I sat there looking at him out of the corner of my eye, admiring his physique.

And the more I admired, the more I felt warm, my tummy turning in knots, and an itching in my crotch. An hour of this, and I got up, saying "Well, I think I'll go on to bed."

He said "Good night." as I went on up the stairs. I entered my bedroom, and changed into my pajama's, then I crawled underneath my covers. I sighed, confused and a bit unhappy. What was I wanting? I knew what I was wanting, but my conscious was telling me that this was forbidden.

My loins were telling me otherwise, as I could feel a fire down there, intensifying as I laid there, thinking about the sight of his large muscular chocolate colored skin, and thinking about this afternoon, when I found his magazine.

The cover with the busty blond, and the big, coal black cock slammed into her birthing hole. I had a hard time getting to sleep, as I laid there, wondering what to do, as I felt more uncomfortable each passing minute as I felt the longing in my crotch. A longing to be used.

The alarm went off on Monday morning, usual time, but I was far from my usual self. I slept little, as I dragged myself up out of bed, and went into my bathroom. I stripped down, and before I started the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. My red hair hung down in large, natural curls to my shoulders. I sighed, seeing the streaks of gray here and there, as I turned to get a profile of myself. I cupped my breasts.