A big statement I know, but I've been told I'm pretty good. After a few non-starts, I received a message from a black girl in her twenties, and after ... photo exchange (she was hot) and a bit of chat, I asked if she'd be comfortable coming over. She was! So we exchanged details, along with my address so that she could give it to a friend for safety and after a few false alarms (things happened) she was on her way. Arriving at my door in a long sexy coat, she gave me no clue what she was wearing. ”“I agree,” Jerry responded. “”I don’t know what it is but you do feel different, you feel freer.”“Actually, I noticed that when we met up those few times in the cafe and I was trying to chat you up that you used to rub your rings with your thumb. It was almost as if you needed to remind yourself that you were a married woman and belonged to someone else,” Ian told her.Jerry smiled. “It’s all psychological then?”“That’s why I asked you not to wear them this weekend,” Ian said. “I knew that you. It always made me squeal if I didn't see it coming or giggle when I did.I think he did it where the Black guys could see sometimes and they would laugh or snicker but I didn't care at all. I think the white guys knew because they looked at me in disgust sometimes. Anyway I didn't care.The next few weeks were wonderful! He would come over 2 or 3 times a week during the week, sometime after work, sometimes after the bar and I was always ready to please him when he did. I think he liked the times. Feeling a little revived Daddy dried off and put on his robe and a pair of slippers and headed for the kitchen.Daddy grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went out onto the porch, settling into a lounge. It was a mild crystal clear night; the sky was filled with stars. With no homes facing theirs, and the wooded lot to one side it gave a sense of seclusion, even if neighbors were mere yards away. This late at night, there was no noise of traffic echoing off the roads nearby, only the sound.