She was probably mid-twenties, and her bottle blonde shoulder length hair was gleaming from an obviously very recent brushing and her attractive, hear... shaped face was fully made up with pale pink lip gloss, blusher and a light blue eye shadow. That day she was wearing very tight white jeans that hugged her rounded hips and thighs and a long pale sky blue, shirt blouse with the collar turned up and the top buttons open to expose her impressive cleavage. As I followed her into the house I. Creepy and too eager, she thought. She ordered another drink and was considering making it her last. She remembered why she hated bars. “You don’t want the martinis here. They taste like paint-stripper,” a voice from next to her said. She shifted her body towards the deep voice and found herself looking at a young man. Nineteen, maybe twenty. But not a boy, that was certain. His eyes were clear, bright, intelligent. A beautiful suit, well cut for his athletic body. Well groomed, unlike almost. Every once in a while, he would get so horny, so desperate to experience his fantasy he would stay up all night just stroking himself and looking at porn, desperate to feel . . . it. He had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he was never going experience his dream come true. What was his dirty little secret? What thoughts tormented him? You see Edwards ultimate fantasy was to become the complete strapon slut of a sexy Black woman. To have her take control, to use him and to fuck him. Mom insisted that I try this first and if it fails maybe she would. We found an ad that mom liked, "57 year old woman looking for supplement to husband. No games, condoms a must, no drama, I have a nice body you should too." I told mom she was too old, then mom said that she was too. I sent an email and waited hoping to get no reply so that I could finally bust one my mom. Then I got a response and was to meet her at the coffee shop. Her name was Linda and we had sent pictures so we knew who.