He readily confessed that he watched "lots and lots" of interracial porn, and, that the idea of interracial sex was the most exciting thing he could i...agine. I was both surprised, as well as excited to hear that; and Robert wasn't the first white guy I'd been aware of that felt that way.So, since he had been so open and truthful with me about his tastes in interracial porn, I felt it necessary to tell him that though I liked him, I had no intention of not seeing black guys as well; and he. I walk around the house with the minimal covering, no underwear, and if it rains, (I go out to the postbox to collect the paper), well the wet look with my skimpy covering revealing the voluptuousness of my womanly curves as the wet thin covering clings, my reason for doing so is because I know I am being watched, and even as there has been no contact between us, there is a sort of pretense that we dont know the other is there, so I linger on the morning I know he is, especially the wet. Just as before, a pair of nylon stockings was at the foot of the bed. I went in to examine them. This time there was no girdle, only the stockings and my mother’s skirt. I picked the stockings up from the bed to look at them. They were a shade commonly referred to in the 60s and early 70s as cinnamon. The stockings were ultra sheer with reinforced toes and nude heels. As I tried to look at them better I realized that my mother had tied them together in the center of their length and the knot. She leant forward and grabbed my dick, pulling it and me, up between Joy’s legs, and tried to direct it into Joy. But I had to reposition myself, as although Joy was up off the mattress and lying on Ivan, it was still an awkward angle and there were two other sets of legs to negotiate around. I finally managed to slide into her, but wound up with my back arched and my head sitting on Marcia’s shoulder. Not a bad place to be, but I had lost a good bit of my view, the bonus was that Marcia now.