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Thank You Ch. 1

By: Stardog Champion



Lydia Benson's head pounded, stomach groaned and feet throbbed as she eased her 1999 Beamer into her brand new 3 car garage. Switching the engine off as she clicked the garage door closed behind her, Lydia slowly accepted the dreams of grandeur she had fixated over in her 20's of marrying a rich doctor and leading a life of nonstop traveling, shopping and 3pm dates for tea with her friends were now just naive delusions of youth.

She had married a doctor, a damn good one in fact. Her husband, Jefferey, was one of the most respected Vascular surgeons in the state of Maryland, but with that came a lot of other headaches. Unfortunately, Lydia loved her husband and the fact that she could count the number of weekends they had actually spent together over 18 years of marriage on her two hands, caused her a great deal of frustration and detachment.

Jefferey Benson had succeeded at everything he had every tried in life. Marrying the homecoming queen, becoming a well respected surgeon and providing enough security that his family would never have problems sleeping tight at night.

For Lydia however, the daughter of working class parents, she could never quite get use to the sedentary life expected of most rich housewives. She had gotten her degree in Public Administration while Jefferey was immersed in Medical School and had worked with countless dozens of charities while her husband ascended the heights of his chosen profession.

No matter how good a life of endless shopping sprees and afternoon gab sessions sounded, the reality was that Lydia Benson felt more vital and important helping others. Even though she didn't need to do it, she wanted to. While her husband was busy saving lives, she took great pride in making the lives of those who were alive, just a little better.

On days like today however, Lydia thought to herself that she would much rather be at the beauty salon trading gossip with the girls than dying to get in the house to soak her throbbing feet.

An 8am church breakfast followed by an 11am progress speech to the Baltimore Chapter of the United Way, then an appearance at a local charity golf tournament and finally a 2 hour session for her husband doing fundraising for the American Heart Association had left Lydia Benson longing, at least temporarily, for the life of a spoiled doctor's wife.

Slumping into the house with her purse around her shoulder, a heavy bag of groceries in one arm and her two briefcases in the other, Lydia dropped everything with a thud on the kitchen counter, kicked off her painful heels, grabbed the mail the maid had left on the end table and headed upstairs for a long, hot bath.

* * * * *

Comfortably dipped deep down in the antique gold-rimmed tub full of bubbles, Lydia lazily thumbed through some of the accumulated mail. The first thing to catch her eye was a travel brochure with several pictures of glorious Hawaiian sunsets and images of newlyweds having breakfast in Paris.

"God, I could use a vacation," Lydia moaned dejectedly, enjoying the feeling of the hot oily water soaking her tired bones.

Lost in the myriad of junk mail and bills, a postcard sized letter caught the bathing woman's attention. Flipping it over, Lydia's eyebrows arched when she saw the handwritten University of Maryland-Baltimore County return address in the corner.

"What's this," Lydia whispered, trying to think of anyone the family knew who was going to UMBC.

Curious, even a little nervous about its content, Lydia dropped the other pieces of mail on the floor beside the tub and opened the small letter addressed to the Benson family... 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Benson, 

You don't know me, but your family has had a profound effect on my life. Several years ago, while I was a child growing up in Kenya, my family was supported by donations given to us by our church. 

After some research, I found that my church back home and yours here in Maryland are connected. I wanted to pay your family a special 'thank you' for donating the money, food and clothing that literally helped save my family's life. Your donations also enabled me to keep attending school and by the grace of God, helped me secure a scholarship to an American university. 

I am currently enrolled at UMBC and I felt it neccessary to share my gratitude for playing no small role in my opportunity to have a better life for myself and for my family. 

God Bless You, 

Kwame Noel

A warm feeling of accomplishment filled Lydia Benson as she read and re-read the lovely show of appreciation. The stresses and frustrations of her busy day quickly drifted away as the realization that the charity work she and her husband did actually made a difference in real peoples' lives. The long hours of pressing the flesh and enduring rubber chicken dinners wasn't what it was all about, it was about the people that the money they raised helped. And in the letter in her hands, at that moment, Lydia held the currency of that success.

Lydia simply couldn't wait to show Jefferey the letter the first chance she got to show him that her time really wasn't being wasted, that she really was vital.

Glowing outwardly, Lydia pulled herself out of the tub, feeling as good about herself as she had in months. Drying her body off with one of the large thick white towels hanging beside the tub, Lydia couldn't help but playfully look at the fogged up mirror on the wall.

Wipping the condensation away with her towel, Lydia could see that the warm water and luxurious bubbles had left her petite body glistening as if it had been polished from head to toe.

"You look 10 years younger than you did an hour ago," the 41 year old woman thought to herself as she dried off. 

Easing up to the sink, Lydia grabbed a brush and started gently combing out her sexily matted dark blonde hair until it rested in a long straight mane down to her bare shoulders.

Gracefully cupping her breasts with the towel to dry them off, Lydia couldn't help but notice how her nipples had hardened as she watched herself in the mirror.

Making an internal note to thank Jefferey for the tanning bed he had bought for the house, Lydia surveyed every inch of her richly golden body, satisfied that she didn't have a single tan line anywhere on her five foot two frame.

Lost in her silly fixation over her body and her rare indulgence in bursting self esteem, Lydia was a little shocked to hear her husband call to her from downstairs.

"What's he doing home already?" Lydia asked to herself in the mirror, the countless possibilities of what the night could hold riffling through her empowered psyche.

Feeling frisky, Lydia reached for her thigh length terrycloth robe and dabbed on some makeup as she conjured up mentally what special dinner she could fix for Jefferey and what special dessert she could create as well.

Checking her appearance one last time, Lydia opened the bathroom door, allowing the steam trapped inside to billow out seductively behind her as she descended to spiral staircase to greet her husband.

"Hi Jefferey," Lydia purred slyly as she walked into the living room where her husband was briskly gathering some paperwork.

Slinking up behind her busy husband, Lydia wrapped her thin arms around his belly and kissed him on the back of the neck.

"Hi Honey," Lydia sighed. "Glad you're home early..I thought I'd make us a special dinner... maybe you can go downstairs and pick out a bottle of wine from the cellar. Just a nice quiet night..just you and me..how about it?"

"Sounds great Honey..I'd love to," Jefferey replied back to his wife, loving the way her wet lips and clean body felt against his. "But..the reason I'm home so early is that I've got to catch a flight to Cleveland."

"Huh... Cleveland," Lydia moaned, thinking she didn't hear her husband right.

"Yeah... I'm sorry Baby. A couple of the doctors from John Hopkins are going to assist with a transplant surgery tomorrow," Jefferey relied, genuinely sad he was leaving his wife in a lurch but also showing positive joy in the opportunity to reach a pinnacle in his career. "This is going to make national news..the hospital said CNN will have a few of the doctors on tomorrow after the surgery. Isn't that great!!"

Lydia felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. While she was extremely pleased for her husband to be getting this type of national acclaim, she couldn't help feeling a little selfish in her disappointment that her perfect night alone with Jefferey was ruined.

The situation now changed, Lydia didn't even feel it was the right time or place to share the exquisitely touching letter from the African boy that had wrote to say how much he appreciated the Bensons' help through the church. It almost seemed anti-climatic to share that after her husband groundbreaking transplant news and a potential spot on Larry King.

"Well Honey..that's... fantastic," Lydia added with as much fake vigor as she could. "Besides..we can have dinner anytime and it will give me a chance to brag to all my friends that my husband is on national TV. Let me go upstairs and get a couple of days worth of clothes together for you... How many days should I pack for?"

"I'll probably be gone at least four days, but here's the cool part Honey," Jefferey started, "the hospital is paying my whole way and since it's such a special occasion, they are springing for everyone's family as well."

Lydia's eyes immediately brightened as the opportunity to get away for a while was offered to her on a silver platter.

"I'm so backed up right now though, Jefferey," Lydia huffed disappointedly, pointing to the two large briefcases full of work waiting on the sofa. "Maybe I can join you there on Friday... but right now I just have too many commitments to take care of."

* * * * *

As Lydia finished packing a few things for her husband, she came across the slightly wet letter that the young man from Kenya had sent. Lydia instantly felt the urge to read its contents again, its simple words again soothing her and making her feel valued. Lydia quickly put the letter down and covered it with a towel however, when Jefferey burst into the bathroom to collect a few toiletries for the trip.

"I gotta go..Larry's waiting outside. We are going to take his car to the airport," Jefferey Benson matter of factly said as he streaked through the bedroom to grab the last of his things. "I love you Lydia... I'll call you sometime tomorrow."

Mechanically reaching out to give Jefferey a peck on the cheek as he rushed by, Lydia waved and wished him luck as he headed out the front door.

Heading back up to her room, Lydia sat on the edge of her freshly made bed and allowed the emptiness of the house to surround her. Looking out the window and seeing that twilight was falling on Baltimore, after such grand plans minutes earlier, Lydia didn't have a clue what to do with a whole night just to herself.

* * * * *

Hating the headaches that generally went with it, Lydia had pretty much given up drinking years earlier until the only hard alcohol she touched was during the occasional party or dinner outing.

It was clear then that tonight was a special occasion for Lydia when she found herself sitting in Jefferey's study, with the liquor cabinet open, searching for just the right 'pick me up'. She finally settled for a Vodka on the rocks.

"If you're gonna do it..do it right," Lydia said as she toasted herself, feeling strangely giddy as the sounds of the ice cubes swirling around the chilled glass clinked and cracked together in the otherwise silent room.

Lydia contemplated calling up a few of her friends to pass the time or maybe going through the couple's extensive movie collection to find a film to lose herself in, but each time Lydia thought about getting up, she ended up pouring herself another stiff drink.

As the vaguely distant and unfamiliar feelings of a buzz descended upon Lydia's brain cells, the lonely woman jumped up from her chair and switched on the CD player, filling the house with the sounds of Mozart as she floated like a butterfly from room to room.

Lydia finally found herself back upstairs in her room, needing to take the inevitable bathroom break that always came when she drank. Sitting on the toilet, Lydia saw the letter from Kwame partially hidden under a towel on the sink beside her. Reaching for it, Lydia remembered the boy saying something about being enrolled at UMBC.

As the staggering blonde made her way back down the steps to mix drink number five, Lydia remembered the UMBC student directory she kept in the house for several fundraising activities she had helped the school with in the recent past.

"That's what I'll do," Lydia hummed. "That was such a sweet thing for that boy to do..the least I can do is thank him for his letter."

Once she found the phone book, Lydia thumbed through the directory until she came across the name of Kwame Noel, Freshman exchange student from Kenya.

"That's it," Lydia said between sips of her Smirnoff. "That's the same address..and there's his number. He is real! Hell..it's too late though..I'll call him tomorrow."

If Lydia had the presence of a mirror beside her at that moment, she would have seen the pale skin on her face and neck noticeably blushed from a combination of alcohol and shy appreciation. She would have also seen the way her nipples visibly protruded through her loose fitting tee-shirt, another unsightly effect of booze when she overindulged.

"Time to go to bed," Lydia said to herself as lethargy overtook her.

* * * * *

Sleep didn't come easily for Lydia Benson that night. Laying at the cusp of sleep several times, she just couldn't seem to get herself to fall over the edge and enjoy the pleasures of a good night's rest.

Lydia knew she had lied slightly to her husband about the extent of how busy she'd be for the next few days. While she did have a ton of little errands to attend to in the coming days, she didn't have anything so pressing that she couldn't have delayed it for an opportunity to join Jefferey in Cleveland.

Perhaps Lydia's failure to fall asleep could be traced to the fact that she didn't have anything pressing first thing in the morning to wake her from bed like she usually did. That, and the issues still burning between her thighs from what he had internally planned on doing with her husband, kept Lydia's body and mind from succumbing to sleep. Looking over at the green digital light of the alarm clock on the nightstand, Lydia saw that it said 11:13pm. 

"Only 12 minutes since the last time you looked," Lydia bitterly reminded herself.

With the overflowing desires still in her body from what she had planned on doing with her husband, Lydia frustratingly accepted the only course of action to relieve her built up sexual angst.

Allowing her right hand to disappear underneath the luxurious down comforter covering her body, Lydia gently drifted her fingertips down her warm skin until they brushed up against the familiar wet, rubbery lips of her steaming vagina.

Shutting her eyes tight, Lydia tried her best to conjure up any hint of an erotic thought she could, to hasten her guilty act of wantonness. A multitude of shadowy images flashed through Lydia's mind like a bad silent movie as she traced the pouting lips of her pussy with her middle and index finger.

The image of her husband drifted in and out of Lydia's visual field, but considering the night she had been put through, Jefferey was the last thing she wanted to think about.

Lydia then tried conjuring the images of several of the men she had encountered during the past day's travels. The first and most enticing vision Lydia could come up with was that of Brian Muldavy, the golf pro at the country club where Lydia had spent a few hours helping out with a charity round.

Even in the dark reaches of her fantasy life, Lydia still struggled with her conscience however. Even though Brian Muldavy was the perfect specimen in every way, Lydia couldn't help but picture Brian's lovely wife, Katrina, who also helped Lydia frequently with charitable endeavors. To top it off, Katrina Muldavy was a sweetheart as well and each time Lydia thought of Brian in a sexual way, the disapproving image of Katrina reared its ugly head.

"I can't do that..let's see who else I can do," Lydia snipped to herself, continuing to frig her pussy until just the right idea came along.

Her sexual self esteem now trolling the depths of her imagination, Lydia even thought for a fleeting moment about her pastor at the church. Roland Dudley was such a sweet and kind man. One that put anyone at ease the moment he walked into the room, and frankly, Lydia considered the 60 year old pastor a pseudo father figure.

Shaking her head bitterly to the side, disgusted at herself for even having that brief indecent thought, Lydia immediately removed her right hand from her crotch and rolled over to go to sleep.

"I can't even do that right," Lydia fumed out loud, not knowing whether to laugh or cry from her curious dilemma. 

"Maybe I'll flip on the TV for a while..maybe it'll help me settle down," Lydia whispered in the dark as she drunkenly reached for the remote beside the bed.

Flipping on the TV, Lydia realized she was too late to catch the late local news and ended up wandering up and down the dial, just the same way she always scolded her husband for when he couldn't find anything of interest to watch.

Surfing through the scourge of late night comedy, re-runs and infomercials, Lydia was dashed with a dose of irony when a commercial for "Save the Children" came on and she couldn't help sneaking a peek over at the young Kenyan boy's letter she had got in the mail earlier.

Watching Sally Struther's chubby face fill the screen, Lydia's drunken tongue lashed the ex TV-star. "If that fat old Struthers woman would share some of her meal money with those kids, no one in the world would go hungry tonight!" 

Sitting up briskly in bed, Lydia switched the lamp beside the bed on, the lightbulb illuminating both in reality and symbolically, showing that she had an idea.

Reaching over and grabbing the UMBC student directory along with her cordless, Lydia started to dial the exchange student's listed number before her conscience could step in.

The first ring sounded in Lydia's ear at the same moment she looked over at the digital clock to see that it was 5 minutes to 12.

"What are you doing calling a complete stranger at midnight?" she asked herself dazedly.

Feeling her palms instantly become sweaty, Lydia vacillated for a brief moment over hanging the phone up as the second ring sounded. Just as she brought her right hand up to click off the connection, a deep male voice on the other end said, "Hello."

"Ahh..haa..hello," was all Lydia could muster for a few agonizingly awkward seconds.

She could hear the man on the other end breathing as he patiently waited for Lydia to continue.

"Is... ahhh... Kw... Kwame there?" Lydia finally spat out softly, assuming the husky voice on the other end was, in fact, the kind boy that had mailed her the 'thank you' note.

"No," the voice quickly replied. "He's out with a few friends..he should be home anytime though. Can I take a mess...,"the young man started to answer before Lydia anxiously interrupted.

"Ahh..no..that's OK... I'll ahh..try back later," Lydia answered nervously, hanging up before the word 'later' was even out of her mouth.

Her heart pounding from definite embarrassment, Lydia sat the phone back down on the table beside her and sunk back down into bed. "What in the Hell have I done?"

Switching the lamp off, so that she was once again bathed in near darkness, Lydia felt her blood pumping through every square inch of her body as she rested numbly under the dim, flickering white light of the television at the foot of the bed, desperately wanting to sink into the mattress and disappear from sight.


Thank You Ch. 1



"God, you are such a dunce!" Lydia roughly scolded herself, wondering what Kwame's roommate must be thinking of her for calling at such a late hour.

"He's not thinking anything," Lydia more rational voice spoke up. "They're college students..their phones ring off the hook all night."

Noticing that her TV was still on, Lydia fished her hand down beside her until she was able to wrap her fingers around the remote. Effortlessly pressing the power off, the room went completely dark as she realized she was in the same predicament now as she started the night, aroused and alone.

When Lydia dropped the long, rectangular black remote on the top of her lap, the thick piece of dark plastic landed right above her aroused genitalia. A rapid flash of sensation ripped like a shockwave through Lydia's prone body as the device's light weight seemed to grow in intensity, pressing down on the part of her, that Lydia simply couldn't ignore.

Frozen on her back, Lydia allowed the hand held remote to sit on her lap for a minute or so until she could feel its weight seem to increase on top of her swollen vagina.

Turning her head to the left, Lydia closed her eyes even tighter. "You're still warm down there!", a voice from deep within her body reminded her.

"Just go to sleep... now," Lydia rational voice immediately replied.

When Lydia's left hand drifted down from the top of her body and came to rest at her side, the remote control drifted down with it. Lydia could almost hear the eerily real sounds of her pussy yelling, "No... bring it back," when she removed the rectangular instrument from the top of her crotch.

Her eyes still closed, Lydia felt as if she was absolving herself from any wrongdoing or guilt related to what she was contemplating, by not actually seeing it happen.

When her left hand disappeared under the covers, it was because she felt a chill on her skin. When her hand brought the remote control with it under the sheets, it was because Lydia didn't want to lose it in the covers or roll over the device in the middle of the night and break it.

When she eased the hand held up onto her lap, it was because she wanted it close to her so that when she woke up the next morning, she wouldn't have to grasp and hunt for it to switch on Katie Couric.

What happened next, Lydia Benson had absolutely no excuse for.

* * * * *

Five minutes later, despite the fact that the Benson bedroom was bathed in complete darkness, the lightshow exploding behind Lydia's closed eyes sparkled like Independence Day.

If the 41 year old married woman were to have opened her eyes to see the harrowing sight of her awkward masturbation, she would have seen the protruding bulge of the television's remote push the bedsheets above her crotch up, in a tentlike arch.

As the blunt bottom end of the phallic plastic device sneakily traced the flowering edges of Lydia's vagina, the guiltily lust filled woman edged the 2 inch wide piece of hard black plastic into her buzzing pink quim.

Rotating her slim hips in quick circles under the covers, Lydia bit her bottom lip and grabbed the soft inside of her thigh with her free hand as she carried through with her desperate stab at relief.

When the textured ridges of the bottom row of small channel buttons grazed across the burning inner folds of Lydia's pussy, an involuntary yelp gushed out of her throat as her body corkscrewed under the covers.

A wave of nonstop visual images flashed inside the darkness of Lydia's mind as the euphoria of her pent-up sexuality bled to the surface.

Spreading her knees apart under the sheets, Lydia positioned the embedded remote directly over entrance of her cunt and pushed the shiny, smooth instrument straight into her now gaping womanhood, as far as it could go.

"AHHH... MA... GAWWDDDD," Lydia barked huskily, forcing her body to do things she never thought capable during the light of day.

It had been so long since Lydia had allowed herself the joy of release, the numbing power her arousal had upon her completely took her by surprise. Slapping her thighs together like a animal trap being sprung, the plastic remote jabbed between her vaginal lips was rammed in to the hilt, causing Lydia's back to launch off the flannel sheets, leaving her entire body weight supported on her hips and stringy blonde hair.

"UHH... UHHHH... UUHHHHHHHHH... GGGAAAAWWWDDDDDDD... AAAHHHHHHH," Lydia yelped out shamelessly, sounding as if she was floating over the edge of a waterfall.

Knowing she had the house to herself, Lydia allowed her lust go completely unchecked as she filled every corner, crack and crevice in the $300,000 home with the sounds of her unbridled release, screaming in a high pitched shriek, sounding as if she were a teenage girl experiencing an orgasm for the very first time.

* * * * *

Blindly pulling the blunt instrument she had used to ravage herself with free from its oily sheath, Lydia cautiously sat it down on the nightstand to her left and soon drifted off to sleep from delirious exhaustion.

"Damn Jefferey... did you ever missed out," Lydia smiled to herself as sleep overtook her, feeling a little sorry that her husband missed such a rare and fleeting opportunity.

To Be Continued... 

* * *

Thanks for reading



Thank You Ch. 2



Lydia had to trace her memory all the way back to last year's trip to the Bay for the last time she didn't feel the need to set the alarm clock on a weekday morning. With her husband usually up and out the door by 6 am, the ability to lay uninterrupted in bed until 11 o' clock rarely came.

It was a good thing Lydia Benson had the luxury to do that because, as she rested in a lump under the covers, she knew even before she opened her eyes to peek out, she was in the midst of her first serious hangover in nearly a decade.

When Lydia finally swung her feet off the edge of the bed and tried raising herself up, the cobweb-like taste in her mouth and the distant tingling in her extremities made her quickly realize that she was going to have a difficult time accomplishing any of substance for a while.

Feeling every bit of her 41 years of age, Lydia limped out of bed and started the slow trek to the bathroom. As she grazed the side of the nightstand on her way up, she accidentally knocked off the remote control that was resting on the edge. Instinctively, Lydia reached down to pick it up but as soon as her back bent, the haze of dizziness that followed told her to stay standing up. Looking down at the innocent piece of black plastic on the floor, the foggy memory of what she had done with the thing before she went to sleep caused her to disgustedly turn her head as she resumed her arduous trip to the safety of a hot shower.

After dragging herself into the tub and pulling the shower curtain secure, Lydia allowed the soothing water to have its way with her for nearly 15 minutes. Once she finally pulled herself out of the invigorating cascade, Lydia's next goal was to get the raw, bitter taste of the vodka's residue out of her mouth. Swirling mouthwash around her throat for almost a minute, Lydia finally spit it down the sink and looked into the fogged up mirror in front of her to assess the damage.

"UUGGGGHHH," was all Lydia managed to groan as she began the formidable task of making herself presentable.

After slipping on the loosest fitting sweater and leggings she could, a haggard but slowly improving Lydia decided to make a quick trip to Starbucks to get some caffeine to juice herself up as she planned out the course of the rest of the day.

* * * * *

Sitting alone in a corner booth, sipping gently at her steaming cappuccino, Lydia decided the first thing on her agenda should be crafting a simple reply to the Kenyan boy that had sent her and Jefferey the kind letter of appreciation.

After getting the words, "Dear Kwame," down on her flowery pink stationary, Lydia found herself stuck over what to write next.

She didn't think a simple "Thank You" was nearly good enough to express her joy over receiving the letter. On the other hand, Lydia's head still throbbed and pulsed too much from her lingering hangover to come up with anything creative and fitting enough to explain her appreciation to the young boy. 

Lydia decided to shelve the barely started reply for the moment and shoved it back into her purse until she could come up with something more suitable to mail back to the exchange student.

Being the church treasurer, Lydia looked at her watch and decided her next stop for the afternoon would be to swing by the church so she could catch up on some accumulated accounting work.

* * * * *

Lydia couldn't help but feel a little weird walking into her church with the stubborn remnants of her hangover still dancing through her body. After hearing some of the gossip about other members of the parish however, Lydia figured a little overindulgence with the bottle was way down the list of indiscretions and she walked through those stained glass doors, burdened with only a modest amount of shame.

As Lydia sat down at her makeshift desk to organize a few financial statements, she made small talk with two older ladies that were milling about.

"Are you and Jefferey coming to the Thursday night social tomorrow night, Lydia?" one of the elderly women, Patrice, asked.

"Ahhh..." Lydia replied, without looking up from her figures. "I haven't even really thought about it Patrice...Jefferey's out of town on business...I don't guess I have anything else planned."

"Reverend Dudley is bringing in an associate of his to speak about warding off temptation and vice," Myrtle, the other older woman, offered sanctimoniously, as if she sarcastically thought many in the church's flock needed to hear what the speaker had to say.

"We could ALL use a little help with that Myrtle," Lydia answered, looking up at the sour older woman as if to say, "don't throw rocks..." 

Looking down at the kinder older woman, Lydia said," Yeah Patrice...mark me down...I'll be there...it'll give me a chance to socialize with a few of the folks I haven't seen in a while...Jefferey's always in such a hurry to leave after the speaker finishes."

Lydia dropped her head and went back to work as the two older ladies shuffled off to another part of the church. Fiddling with her pencil, thankful not to have anymore distractions, a bullet of an idea burst through the haze of Lydia's slowly subsiding malaise.

"Humm...Church meeting tomorrow night...Jeff's out of town...I don't have any other plans...I wonder if what's his name...yeah Kwame...if Kwame would like to come down," Lydia coyly wondered to herself as she tapped her pencil led on the desk. "Why not invite him down to meet a few of us...that's much better than a postcard and this way everyone in the church can get the same feeling of accomplishment as I did when I got his letter."

The first thing Lydia Benson did when she returned home, an hour or so later, was look Kwame's number back up, and this time he was actually in his dorm room when she called.

After a little shy hemming and hawing, the young Kenyan boy tentatively accepted Lydia's open invitation to come down and sit in with the members of Lydia's church as well as the opportunity to eat some home cooked food at the pot luck buffet afterwards.

* * * * *

What Lydia Benson saw when she turned her head towards the back of the church nearly took her breath away. 

Hearing several members of her congregation behind her audibly gasp when they saw Kwame walk into the room, Lydia instantly felt two inches tall because of the awkwardness the exchange student must of felt when he walked through the church doors.

A smooth, dark black face in a sea of white, the 18 year old boy took four steps inside the room before Lydia and her welcoming party met him in the center aisle.

"You must be Kwame," Lydia exclaimed, offering her slightly shaking hand to the Kenyan student, who in return shook it. 

The contrast between the two couldn't be more apparent. The lanky but broad shouldered teenager was easily a foot taller than the 5 foot 2 inch, 41 year old woman. He was also as dark skinned as anyone Lydia had ever met before and the sheer texture and color of his hand gripping hers was as vivid and striking as anything she had even seen.

"I'm Lydia...Lydia Benson," she gushed proudly. "Welcome to our church!"

Even though Lydia had informed several of her closer friends in the church that a special guest might be coming, the sight of a young black man standing passively in front of the churches doors, smiling nervously and shaking hands with several members of the parish was quite a surreal scene.

After leading Kwame around the room, introducing him to as many people as possible along with explaining the wonderful reason why she had invited him, everyone took their seats for the sermon that finally ended at a quarter till 9.

At the conclusion of the speech, the now starving churchgoers crowded around the buffet table set up by several of the ladies who had each brought a covered dish.

"Eat up, Kwame," a few of the ladies chided, noticing the lack of bulk on his tall frame.

"This is the first real food I've had since I got off the plane from Kenya," Kwame added sweetly in his thick, broken English. "Thank You!"

Kwame Noel must have uttered the words, "Thank You" at least a dozen times during his stay at the church and he was such a hit that several of the parish members begged him to go to the front of the room and say a few words.

Unable to fend off the jovial offers, the 18 year old college Freshman finally relented and went up to the banquet room podium even though he didn't have a clue what he was going to say.

Watching the shy, almost gangly young man take his place behind the microphone, Lydia felt a strange, almost tangible sense of accomplishment as Kwame made a brief but heartfelt and eloquent statement.

Feeling genuine concern for how difficult the setting was and how out of place he must have felt, Lydia was struck by Kwame's natural poise. "He seems like the son of a business man instead of a peasant," she couldn't help thinking to herself.

When the church filled with the pleasant sounds of shouts and applause as Kwame headed back to his place beside Lydia, Mrs. Benson internally bubbled with pride, realizing she was the one responsible for bringing such a find to the congregation's meeting.

* * * * *

Once most everyone had said their goodbye's and filed out of the dining area, Lydia looked over at Kwame and saw the obvious haggard, just been put through the washer, look in his dark eyes.

"Wasn't expecting anything quite like that," Kwame beamed with exhausted pride.

"You were great," Lydia immediately replied. Looking at her watch, she added, "Looks like we should probably be getting out of here...its getting late."

"Yes Ma'am...I think the last bus back to campus comes by here at 10 o'clock...and its a really long walk back to the dorm from here," Kwame huffed matter-of-factly.

"Nonsense," Lydia burst out passionately. "You are not taking a city bus back to campus...I'm parked right outside...I know UMBC's campus like the back of my hand...and please...call me Lydia...OK?" the 41 year old church treasurer offered in a motherly tone. 

Kwame certainly didn't mind the offer. Riding the city buses or walking the streets of Baltimore after dark were two things he had found out weren't the best of ideas.

Smiling broadly, Kwame gladly accepted Lydia's offer, "That would be wonderful, thank you very much."

* * * * *

Sitting behind the wheel of her silver BMW, streaking through the Baltimore night, Lydia couldn't help but notice Kwame's curious posture when she looked over at the young man in the passenger seat.

For the next few miles, Lydia alternated her focus back and forth from the road to Kwame, who was still restless beside her. Not wanting the young African student to feel as if he were a lab experiment by the way she was silently watching him, Lydia tried her best to make as much small talk as she could as she drove him home.

"I think you were a big hit at the meeting tonight...it really filled everyone, including myself, with a great feeling of appreciation for all the work we do...to see that it really does make a difference," Lydia honestly offered.

That comment brought a smile to Kwame's youthful face as he shifted his gaze towards Lydia in the driver's seat. 

"It has certainly been an enlightening night for me as well," Kwame continued, trying to stretch his long legs in the floorboard. "This is the first time I've ever been in a BMW."

"Really," Lydia replied, glad a conversation between the two strangers had been initiated. "Its a nice car...I could take it or leave it though. My husband Jefferey seems to like it...he always feels like he has to keep pace with his friends at the country club."

As her flip and snobbish comments about her attitude concerning the family's car hung in the air, Lydia immediately felt shallow for the way the words came out. Realizing Kwame probably hadn't even seen a BMW in person until he arrived in the States, she felt sorry for the way her seemingly innocuous comments sounded.

Looking over at Kwame to see if there was any hint of hurt in the way the statement was taken, Lydia was very relieved to see there was still a serene expression on his onyx like face. Tracing her eyes down the length of his seated body however, Lydia could see Kwame was still awkwardly fidgeting with his legs.

"If you need some leg room...you can ease the seat back some Kwame...there's a button on your right, "Lydia offered the 6 foot 2 inch young man, assuming that was the reason for his obvious discomfort.

"Nah Lydia...I've got plenty of room...I ahh...its just...ahh...I kind of should have used the bathroom before we left the church...no hurry though," Kwame replied meekly.

Realizing she could use a pitstop as well, Lydia decided to get off the next offramp. They were closer, by about 4 miles, to Benson's house than they were to the UMBC campus.

"I didn't want to say anything," Lydia told Kwame with a touch of embarrassment, "But I've kinda got to go to. Tell you what...to save us both the agony of having to hold it until we get across town, and so we don't have to take a chance on getting killed at one of these 7-11's, my house is just about a mile from here...why don't we just stop by there real quick?"

"Sounds real good to me," Kwame quickly came back, sighing with relief.

Glancing down at the clock, Lydia saw that it was almost 10:15. "It'll be nearly midnight before I get back from dropping him off...I guess there goes calling Jefferey tonight...and there goes another good night's sleep too," Lydia told herself ruefully, as the familiar drowsiness that descended on her at that time of the evening started to set in.

Trying her best to hold a yawn in, Lydia glanced over at Kwame once again and couldn't help but notice his wide eyed, wondrous gaze as he watched the seemingly nonstop array of 200,000 - 500,000 dollar homes whiz by at 45 mph as they neared the Benson homestead.

"WOW...is this really where you live?" Kwame exclaimed as Lydia wheeled her Beamer into the dark house's driveway.

"Yep," Lydia answered proudly, knowing just how much hard work went into making her home what it was. 

"Its a mansion," Kwame continued.

"Well...not quite," Lydia smiled, looking over at Kwame and seeing that he was still visibly rubbing his legs together. "We'll be inside in less than a minute...I just have to enter the security code, unlock the door and we are in."

Once inside, Lydia switched on the living room light allowing the immaculately kept house to fill with vivid color. A quick sigh of admiration burst from Kwame's lips when he saw his surroundings. "What a beautiful room," he gleamed as Lydia pointed him towards the spiral staircase.

"Just go right up the steps and to your right...its the second door you come to. I'd let you use the bathroom down here but we have to get the plumber in to fix it," Lydia offered kindly. "Take your time...I can hold it for a few seconds."

Watching Kwame disappear up the steps, Lydia felt even more shallow after seeing the young African boy's wondrous reaction to the ritzy layout of the Benson house. Lydia felt an odd need to share with the poor young man her own hardscrabble upbringing and how it took a lot of work to achieve such a fine life. Each time however she thought about explaining the "American Dream" to him, Lydia knew she would inevitably come across as condescending.

Listening to the sounds of Kwame's heavy footsteps pass overhead, it struck Lydia just how empty and quiet the house was. Even though she had heard Jefferey walk upstairs many times, the young man up there now was easily 4 inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than her husband.

Not even realizing that a rash of goosebumps had raised over her shoulders and back, Lydia rubbed her dry lips together, tempted to make a quick trip to her husband's liquor cabinet, just as she had done the night before. Without even taking one step in that direction however, Lydia's consciously reminded herself that she still had to drive the 18 year old boy home. 

Hearing Kwame's footsteps come to rest directly above her in the upstairs bathroom, Lydia literally shivered when she heard his pounding urine stream collide with the water in the bowl. 

"Damn," Lydia thought, as she paced the spacious living room. "He must have had to go really bad... it sounds like a racehorse peeing up there."

Feeling her feet beneath her throb from being in high heels for over 5 straight hours, Lydia made a quick internal note to change into a more comfortable pair of shoes when she went upstairs.

"Why do I even think I can wear these things anymore?" Lydia asked herself as she turned to make her way up the steps, assuming Kwame would be finished with his business in a matter of seconds.

Without thinking twice, Lydia started up the carpeted staircase for her turn to pee. As she rounded the last turn however, about 4 steps from the top, Lydia suddenly realized Kwame hadn't closed the door to the bathroom completely.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Lydia instantly bowed her head and waited for the young man to finish. "He just must have been in a hurry to get in there...no big deal," Lydia told herself as she waited, twirling her gold necklace between her fingers to pass the time.

Standing there with her arms folded and eyes glued on the floor for several seconds, when the sounds of the toilet's whoosh roared through the silent house, Lydia instinctively looked up.

When Lydia cast her gaze upwards, the first thing to catch her eyes was the mirrored light from the crack in the bathroom door reflecting in the glass of a picture frame on the other side of the hall.

Even though the slightly distorted image was reversed, Lydia could clearly see Kwame still standing at the commode, his limp penis hanging down at a grotesquely vivid length from the opening in his pants, as he shook its heavy girth like a fat hose to get all the urine out of it.

A vocal "GAAAAAA", escaped Lydia's lips before she was able to get her hands up to cover her mouth. Stunned, her brain desperately signaled her neck muscles to turn away from what she was seeing in the reflection but her temporary paralysis held.

Tettering as she stood there on the edge of the step, Lydia face was flushed from the sight of the unbelievable club-like appendage hanging from the boy's dress pants.

When Kwame nonchalantly lifted his manhood and shoved it back into his slacks, zipping his pants up quickly behind it, Lydia had to flail her arms out to balance herself from falling as her heels dipped off the edge of the step.

By the time Kwame had washed his hands in the sink, dried them off and prepared to exit the bathroom, Lydia had regained enough composure to stand her ground and wait for the teenager to call down and say he was done.

Lydia pulled her quivering hands away from her mouth and patted her chest reassuringly as she forced her weak legs to climb the remaining stairs. Trying to paint an expression of assumed confidence on her face, Lydia lifted her eyes when she sensed Kwame's presence at the top of the steps.

"God...I feel better," Kwame sighed when he saw Lydia round the last spiral of the staircase.

"I'll just be a second in there myself...K...K...Kwame...tell you what...there is a TV either downstairs in the den or right down there in the bedroom...the maid always watches it in there...you're welcome to. Just make yourself at home," Lydia offered with shaken kindness as she passed the towering black boy and disappeared into the bathroom.

Closing the door behind her, Lydia collapsed backwards and let the door support her weight for a few moments as she collected her breath. "Get that out of your mind...right now, "Lydia angrily told herself, but in the classic case of telling somebody not to think about a pink elephant, the vision of the 18 year old's penis hanging down lewdly in his hand, would not leave the shuddering 41 year old churchgoing woman alone.




Thank You Ch. 2



Teetering over to the toilet in her high heels, Lydia lifted her dress and sat down for nearly 5 minutes, trying to calm herself down.

* * * * *

Once Lydia felt she was composed enough to pull her dress back up and confront what awaited her for the rest of the night, the stunned married woman flushed the commode, washed her hands and splashed some cold water on her cheeks. Looking at her face in the mirror, Lydia couldn't believe how shell-shocked she had gotten by the accidental sight.

"Grow up Lydia," she told herself. "You're 41 years old for goodness sakes...you've seen plenty of... those!"

Yet, as the relentless image of Kwame dangling manhood replayed in her mind, Lydia knew deep down, she hadn't ever seen anything quite like that before.

Putting on her most confident face, Lydia bounded out of the bathroom and casually made her way down the hall towards her bedroom where the young exchange student was perched on the side of the Benson's bed, lazily flipping channels on the remote.

Flinching slightly when he saw Lydia walk into her own bedroom, Kwame started to stand up as he smiled and thanked the older woman for a chance to see what premium cable had to offer.

"Oh... don't get up on the count of me," Lydia told Kwame, as she made a beeline for her walk-in closet. "I'm still gonna be a second or two...go ahead and watch for a while...I have just got to find a more comfortable pair of shoes to put on...I'll be right back."

Holding her breath, Lydia's mind was a complete vaporlock as she passed by Kwame on the bed until she reached the safety of her huge closet. Sucking in a series of deep breaths, the first thing to cross Lydia's mind was a horrible realization. The image of Kwame sitting there on the edge of the mattress flipping TV channels with the remote caused Lydia's temples to pound.

"OH NO," Lydia mouthed out loud, remembering where that TV changer had been two nights earlier. "God... the smell... he must... oh... no... shi... uummm... dammmittt... maybe he won't notice...geezzzusss!"

Fighting to kick her heels off as the awful realization flashed like blazing neon in her head, Lydia tried her best to stabilize her focus to find a comfortable pair of shoes so she could farrot Kwame back home.

Just as she was about to reach up on the shelf for a different pair of shoes, Lydia caught a side profile view of her body in the full length mirror at the back of the closet. Tired of having to hold her breath for the past 6 hours in the tight blouse and skirt she had decided to wear out for the evening, Lydia decided to do a quick wardrobe change as well, while Kwame was occupied watching TV.

In no hurry to confront the teenager and see if his expression showed he knew what was lacing the handle of the remote in his hands, Lydia peeled off her blouse and skirt and dropped them into the dirty clothes hamper beside her. 

Standing in the privacy of her walk-in closet, in nothing but her brassiere and girdle, Lydia saw the pair of jeans and sweater she wanted to wear laying on the floor where she had taken them off a few days earlier. Seeing the tennis shoe box resting at the top of the shelf that would go perfectly with the jeans, Lydia sighed, knowing at least she'd be more comfortable for the quick trip to run Kwame home.

Trying her best to shove the reality of what was now most likely coating the young man's channel surfing hand, Lydia strained on her tippie-toes as she attempted to reach the box of shoes several feet above her.

Just as Lydia was able to dig her cheery red fingernails into the side of the glossy cardboard box and start pulling the tennis shoes down to her, the side of the shoebox tipped the box beside of it, which in turn tipped another and another until the chain reaction caused dozens of pairs of footwear to rain down heavily on top of the stunned, half naked woman.

Shrieking loudly when the scattered pairs of flats, pumps, sandals and slippers started pouring down on her shoulders and head, Lydia felt embarrassed and helpless as she became buried to the knees in her own designer footwear collection.

* * * * *

Sitting on the edge of Lydia and Jefferey's bed, scanning through the nearly 150 channels the Benson's DBS system had to offer, Kwame fidgeted with his nose, trying to figure out what the vaguely sweet and sour fragrance was that wafted around him was.

When he heard the shuffling thuds and female shrieks from Lydia's closet suddenly jar his attention, Kwame instinctively lunged off the side of the bed to see what had happened.

The sounds of Lydia's high pitched voice buzzed in Kwame's ears as he neared the entrance of the closet. Thinking the older woman had fallen, when Kwame turned the corner and innocently looked inside, he was relieved to find that Lydia was still safely perched on her feet. 

As he took in the oddly humorous sight of dozens of mismatched pairs of shoes scattered in every direction around Lydia's body, gradually the rest of the picture in front of Kwame came into sharper focus. 

"Jesus God," the Kenyan teenager mouthed, seeing the white woman standing there in stunned silence, wearing nothing but a lacy white brassiere and a knee length, cream colored girdle.

As a normal and curious 18 year old, Kwame Noel had seen his fair share of naked women in the various magazines that got passed around. He had also fucked several of the girls from his neighborhood back in Kenya, and since his arrival in the States, he had hooked up with two of the other African exchange students he had met at UMBC. But the sheer disbelief of standing directly in front of a wealthy married woman, who was twice his age, was something completely off the charts for the young man.

* * * * *

The gravity of what was happening didn't register in Lydia's head until her eyes wearily dropped to the floor in embarrassment and she saw the tube-like bulge straining the front of Kwame's dress slacks. Pulling her arms closer to her bosom, Lydia awkwardly tried covering her near nakedness, in the process causing even more shoes to fall off her shoulders and down to the floor.

Sensing Lydia's unsteadiness and totally confused and numb himself, Kwame started backing out of the closet even though he never allowed his eyes to detach from the sight of the nearly naked woman in front of him.

Subconsciously feeling the fabric covering his groin strain outwards from his shameful erection, Kwame instantly lowered his hands down to his crotch in an attempt to cover the evidence of his arousal.

All that gesture ended up doing however was drawing more attention to the protruding front of his pants. Lydia's eyes widened and the erect buds of her large nipples poked noticeably out from the front of her satiny brassiere as she fixated on the young man's growing genitalia.

* * * * *

Ever since his plane touched down at Dulles International Airport back in August, bringing Kwame from Nairobi to America to start college, he had grown accustomed to, and often energized by, the strange vibes he picked up from American women's stares.

Like a kid in a candy store, Kwame was nervously enthralled with the 'walking on eggshells' posture that the women he met, young and old, had whenever he went out on his daily travels. He was so far out of his natural comfort zone however, that he never gave a thought to acting on his hormonal temptations, satisfied in quenching his teenage lust for those untouchable objects with his hand whenever he felt the built up need for release.

What he was currently staring at now, a half naked and married white woman standing face to face with him in her bedroom closet, was something simply to mind-blowing to be real.

Even though Kwame's rational mind was totally off balance, his animal instincts were working perfectly. The tangible scent of Lydia Benson's fear and fascination flooded Kwame's primal radar as the happily married woman openly stared at his hidden manhood as if she had seen a ghost.

Half naked and fixated on the African teenager, Lydia looked as if she had been turned to stone as she watched Kwame take several steps backwards even though he kept his eyes shamelessly trained directly on her body.

Sensing he was about to politely excuse himself from the awkward situation and allow Lydia the much needed time and privacy to gather herself, for a reason she would never understand or forgive herself for, Lydia weakly blurted out the word, "Stop".

A lingering shroud of silence filled the cluttered closet as the two people from completely different worlds and cultures, stared at each other with a connection of primal curiosity.

* * * * *

Seeing the woman's blue eyes well with tears, Kwame was torn between his genuine concern for Lydia's confused mental state and his own libidinal curiosities. Raised to respect his elders and to fully appreciate the institution of family, the last thing Kwame wanted to do, in light of all the Benson's had done for him, was to enable Lydia to be unfaithful to her husband. On the other hand, the sight of a nearly naked woman standing only a few feet in front of him, nearly paralyzed with fixation on his body caused every nerve ending in Kwame's rock solid body to sizzle with potent lust.

Torn between exiting stage left to give Lydia some space or striking while the sliver of opportunity was there, Kwame simply stood his ground and watched where Lydia's eyes latched upon.

"Do you want to see it?" Kwame asked with blunt innocence as he lewdly tapped the ridge growing inside his slacks.

Feeling his body rumble like an engine when Lydia's head tilted up and down, Kwame nervously took a few steps forward, wrapping his long black fingers into his zipper as he neared the spot where Lydia was standing.

Nimbly forcing the zipper down, Kwame blindly reached into the hole and dug out his half erect endowment, letting it spill free from his fly with a meaty thud against his thigh.

Watching it swing like thick ebony pendulum from his crotch, Lydia shivered intensely as the young boy proudly displayed his manhood for her to see.

"Do you want to see me rub it?" Kwame asked pointedly, shivering a little himself when he saw Lydia shake her head up and down once again.

His dark fiery eyes burning a hole through Lydia's pale, exposed body, Kwame flexed his fingers and wrapped his soft meaty grip around his huge, uncircumcised penis, massaging it to its full, ungodly length.

Kwame could see Lydia's pupils dilate like blue marbles inside their sockets until his rapidly blood filling cock was as long as Lydia's forearm and as thick as a can of Coke.

Taking another step towards the petite blonde, Kwame kept his prick tightly wedged in his palm as he dutifully kicked several of the shoeboxes out of the way so that he could get closer to Lydia's quivering body.

As Kwame nudged away the heap of fallen shoes surrounding the older woman, the young exchange student got a clear of the Lydia's pantyhose clad legs, watching intently as her knees knocked together in unadulterated understanding of what was forthcoming.

Once Kwame was within arms length of Lydia's frozen frame, it was as if the young African boy possessed some sort of mystical or religious power, causing the happily married woman to meekly drop to her knees, bowing in hushed splendor at the feet of the now cocksure teenager.

Standing with his legs spread wide above the starry eyed blonde, knowing everything he had ever lusted for in his short life was about to come true, Kwame felt a coursing sense of power, that he never thought was possible, rage through his body. Watching the way Lydia Benson's icy face stared at his manhood with glazed disbelief, Kwame brazenly rolled it between his fingers until he saw the first drop of saliva seep out of the side of Lydia's mouth and dribble straight down her chin.

"She doesn't even know what to do with the thing," Kwame laughed to himself as Lydia's lack of sexual confidence bleed through.

Gently patting his left hand down on top of Lydia's head, Kwame petted the woman's angelic blonde locks as if she were a good dog at his feet. Swinging his mammoth cock towards Lydia's cheek with his right hand, Kwame's 11 and a half inch girth came out of Lydia's blind spot and smacked her hard, causing the married woman's face to quiver under his virile presence. Snaking the head of his jet black erection over her ear and through the right side of Lydia's hair, Kwame got goosebumps feeling Lydia's warm breath on his genitals as she whimpered for air.

Massaging Lydia messily strewn hair for several moments, Kwame finally decided to see if the married woman at his feet was actually ready to cross the line of fidelity. Rocking his hips back slightly, Kwame swung his crotch around so that it was positioned right in front of Lydia's face.

As the tangible weight of Kwame's phallic spear bounced and bobbed in front of Lydia's stunned eyes, the Kenyan teenager grabbed his pride and joy by its trunk like base end aimed it for the oval target of Lydia's small mouth.

Just as Lydia played her hand, parting her lips slightly in a clear show that she wanted to accept the boy's cock into her mouth, something teasingly evil snapped inside Kwame's mind and he pulled his cock back at the last moment, causing Lydia to grasp nothing but thin air with her mouth.

Feeling a sadistic sense of satisfaction warm his body when he saw Lydia wantonly open her mouth only to grasp air, Kwame knew that the older woman had surrendered to him completely.

Reaching down with his rock solid arms, Kwame wrapped his hands tenderly around Lydia's bowing torso. Gently scooping the petite woman up into his clutches, Kwame turned with Lydia's shaking body in his arms, to make his way out to the Benson's marital bed... 

To Be Continued...



Thank You Ch. 3



Still fully clothed himself, Kwame gracefully carried Lydia's girdle and brassiere clad body out of the closet and gently led her over to the crisply made bed in the center of the Benson's lavish bedroom.

Holding Lydia securly in his strong, lean arms, Kwame could feel the velvety smooth softness of the older woman's undergarments against his skin and the sweet, intoxicating smell of her perfume as it wafted around him.

Nuzzling Lydia on the shoulder with his wet lips, Kwame took in the beautiful sight of the white woman's skin as it contrasted vividly against his black hands. Allowing his face to disappear inside Lydia's blonde mane of hair, Kwame came to a stop with his conquest in his arms, right above her own marital bed.

Lowering her down gently, Kwame eased his forearms out from underneath Lydia's back, allowing the speechless wife to lay flat on top of her cushy comforter. Taking two steps back to survey the unreal situation, Kwame slipped his slightly trembling fingers around the top button of his dress shirt.

Kwame steadily undressed at the foot of the bed, doing his best to act as cool as possible as he soaked in the illicit sight of Lydia laying helplessly there. Allowing his gaze to take in some of the adornments decorating the Benson's bedroom wall, Kwame couldn't help but feel like a thief in the night seeing the dozens of pictures of Lydia's friends and family smiling down. It felt a little eerie to Kwame as he prepared to fuck Lydia with several pictures of her husband on each side, his eyes in the pictures seemingly locked on the bed in the center of the room, watching with a 'say cheese' smile on his face as his wife silently beckoned another man onto their marital bed to fuck her.

Dropping his now crinkled white dress shirt to the floor, Kwame undid his belt, unzipped his slacks and stepped out of them one leg at a time. Standing above Lydia now in nothing but his white boxer shorts, Kwame started to wrap his thumbs in the elastic band the strip them off but decided to hold that off for a few more moments.

"I've got all night," Kwame whispered to himself as he eased one knee up onto the mattress and brushed his warm fingertips across the bare flesh of Lydia's arm, causing the married woman to flinch from his touch. Sliding his hand off of Lydia's arm and easing it steadily underneath her back, Kwame found the metal hooks of the blonde's brassiere and blindly began undoing them, one at a time.

Kwame's dick hardened the instant the last clasp came free from Lydia's constrictive undergarment. Hearing the older woman exhale as he lifted the body hugging shaper free over her arms, Kwame's adrenaline level boiled over when Lydia's 34C breasts spilled free from their cups and bounced invitingly down across her chest.

"UMMM...perfect," Kwame groaned, taking both his palms and placing them down on top of Lydia's womanly swells.

With his hands on a white woman's bosom for the first time in his life, Kwame hungrily kneaded his fingers into the 41 year old woman's titflesh as he reminded himself that there were still a few hidden treasures he still had left to uncover.

Keeping his left hand glued to Lydia's cleavage, Kwame inched his right hand down Lydia's waistline and proceeded to do what he had only imagined. Digging his fingers into the top of Lydia's crisp, cream colored girdle, Kwame whispered down to Lydia, telling her to lift her ass slightly so that he could finish what he had started.

With the married woman's small firm asscheeks now raised off the mattress, Kwame immediately took advantage of the opportunity and rolled Lydia's girdle, hose and underwear all the way down her slim white legs.

Kwame's youthful face illuminated vividly when the sight of Lydia's golden pubic fleece came into view and the way her tender pink vaginal lips peeked ever so slightly out from her curly blonde V. Feeling his cock become painfully engorged in his boxer shorts, all Kwame could think about doing was impaling Lydia Benson to the hilt with it.

Kwame never took his eyes off the white woman's prized cunt as he pulled her various undergarments down her thighs, over her knees and finally off her ankles, until he was able to drop Lydia's silky underwear on the floor next to his own discarded clothes.

With Lydia completely stripped, Kwame stood tall at the foot of the bed, committing the woman's bare image to memory before setting in to do what he had longed to for years.

Leaning down, Kwame pressed each of his hands down beside Lydia's knees and grazed his palms along the outline of her body. First exploring the contours of Lydia's thighs, Kwame eased his fingertips over Lydia's waistline, along the sides of her belly and up underneath Lydia's ticklish underarms.

Finally wrapping his grip around Lydia's milky white shoulders, Kwame clutched her upper torso tightly, using her body as an anchor as he pulled himself all the way up on the bed beside her naked body.

Lowering his thick lips down to the dainty pink oval of Lydia's mouth, Kwame's insides fizzed when he felt Lydia's warm breath seep into his lungs.

Squeezing his lips forcefully against Lydia's, Kwame blindly allowed his hands to roam over the married woman's shoulders, breasts and stomach. After sharing a lingering, deep soulful kiss with the previously untouchable older woman, Kwame gently weaned his lips away from Lydia's and listened to the sound of the white woman's gasps for air when the friction was broken.

Rubbing his smooth black hands through Lydia's straight blonde hair, Kwame eased his lips down onto the nape of Mrs. Benson's neck, biting the soft flesh tenderly as the salty, perfume laced essence of her skin filled is senses. Feeling the older woman turn to jelly from his lurid advances, Kwame furtively pulled Lydia closer with his viselike grip as his mouth descended her shaking body.

Slithering his long tongue over Lydia's collarbone, Kwame drifted it across the paralyzed woman's pale chest as his razor stubbled chin caused goosebumps to raise visibly on her ample womanhood.

Kwame stretched both his hands outwards, to each side of Lydia, so he could support his weight as his mouth worked lower. Spreading his lips wide, the young exchange student planted a fervent kiss on the upper part of Lydia's jiggling bosom.

Even though she was happily married, Lydia's had somehow given complete control of her body and spirit to the aggressive teenager. Feeling Kwame's tongue wetly swirl and spin over her tingling breasts, she let out an audible gasp when she finally felt his teeth gently bite down on her painfully erect nipples, bringing several tears of deprived pleasure to the older woman's ocean blue eyes. With every inch Kwame's face drifted down Lydia's torso, her well of liquid arousal boiling internally grew in intensity. 

As the young man's supercharged tongue dove off the tips of Lydia's nipples and bathed her soft white belly, the faint memory of the odor he sensed while he was watching tv earlier, clicked in his head.

"That's what that smell was," Kwame said to himself wondrously, noticing that the same smell coating the hand he had used the channel changer with was the same as the heated scent wafting out of Lydia's steaming cunt.

Feeling Lydia's belly quiver under his roaming lips, Kwame opened his eyes wide and honed in on the inviting target of the older woman's golden treasure.

* * * * *

Married faithfully to the same man for almost 20 years, it had been since her casually rambunctious college days during the late 70's, that a man, other than Jefferey, had touched her intimately. Having grown so accustomed to the familiar contours of Jefferey's touch on her skin, each movement Kwame made with his mouth and hands on her flesh brought a totally new and wondrous reaction to Lydia's soul.

As the African exchange student's mouth drifted down her body, Lydia could feel the residue of his electric kisses slip hotly over the crease of her navel and then flick deliberately over her slim waistline, knowing exactly where the black teenager was heading next.

Lydia literally screamed out loud on the bed ,as if a raging fireball had exploded in her nervous system, when Kwame's carving tongue parted the outer folds of her long ignored pussy and disappeared inside her buttery slit. Lydia's short legs jerked spastically off the covers and flailed out to each side as if someone had attached jumper cables to the core of her sexuality.

* * * * *

In his 18 years of life, young Kwame Noel had never put his mouth to a woman's genitalia. Oral sex was something that was taboo in his native culture and the few women he had been with since his arrival in the States, once they got a good look at what God had endowed him with, somehow the buildup of exploring each other's body fully got lost along the way.

The prize he was currently staring at now however, as his tongue dabbed, darted and swam through it, was something that he simply couldn't resist. Lydia Benson's pussy was the symbol of everything sexually pure and deprived from him over his brief life, but provided with this rare opportunity to experience it, Kwame was determined to get as close to it as humanly possible.

As the pungent nectar of the married woman's vagina dribbled down his throat, Kwame could feel his entire face moisten from the oily patch he had pressed his lips up against. Having never eaten pussy before, Kwame had no clue if what he was doing was correct but he instinctively gathered from the way Lydia bucked and writhed under the sensation of his lips, tongue and teeth working her over, that he was holding his own.

Kwame could also feel the aroused monster in his pants brutishly bulge the constraints of his boxer shorts as he ate Lydia Benson's blonde pussy. Knowing he had the woman for as long as he wanted her, Kwame decided to pull his mouth away from her snatch so that he wouldn't waste his stored up seminal fluid all over himself and the bottom of the bed.

His mouth now saturated with Lydia's guilty nectar, Kwame drew back and sized up the situation as he methodically rolled his boxer shorts down his sinewy legs, allowing his fully engorged spear to swing freely for the first time of the night.

Massaging the heaviness of his manhood with his left hand as he lewdly stared down at Lydia on the bed, Kwame tapped his balls reassuredly, letting his aroused genitals know relief was coming soon.

Edging his right knee up onto the bed beside Lydia, Kwame gracefully sauntered up to the lithe white woman's head, still fondling himself as he decided what to do next.

With his right knee planted firmly beside Lydia's ear, Kwame dropped his fleshy appendage like a phallic missile, right on top of her drooling lips.

Watching as Lydia's face flinched when the solid weight of Kwame's dong drilled it, the black teenager patiently surveyed Lydia's reaction until he saw her mouth try to open and accept it in. Seeing the older woman's lips part, Kwame pulled his cock back, just like in the closet, before Lydia could grasp it in her mouth, leaving her clutching nothing but thin air once again. Hearing the prone woman gasp with disappointed frustration, Kwame inched his pride back down to her mouth, painting her high cheekbones with the initial drops of precum that had already seeped out.

Almost taunting Lydia now with his cock, Kwame raised it slightly and pressed it hard into the softness of her cheek.

"You want it...Huh...do you want to suck my dick Lydia?" Kwame asked with a soft hiss.

Lydia simply shook her head up and down, giving her silent approval.

"I can't hear you," Kwame quickly shot back in his thick Kenyan accent.

"Yes," Lydia whispered.

"Yes...what...what ..do...you...want?" Kwame interrogated.

After a long wait, Lydia finally answered in a voice she wouldn't have recognized as her own. "Your....dick....your dick...in my mouth."

"You want to suck...my dick," Kwame mockingly replied.

"Yes," Lydia shyly swallowed.

"How bad do you want to suck it Lydia?" Kwame asked pointedly.

"Please," was all Lydia could muster as the weight of the teenager's erection bounced on the side of her blushing face.

"You better open your mouth up bigger than that then," Kwame prophetically ordered as he prepared to give the rich older woman what he had made her beg for.

Knowing he could bust his nut at any moment, Kwame knew he couldn't keep his dick inside Lydia's hot working mouth for long if he still wanted to spray a majority of his thick white seed into the married woman's womb.

As Lydia's lips encircled the black beast invading her mouth, Kwame immediately removed his hand from his heavy ball sack and covered Lydia's leaking blonde pussy with it. Knowing he had to prep Lydia's cunt if he was ever going to have a chance to get a significant length of his dick inside of her, Kwame first injected his index finger into the cock-sucking woman's crotch.

Pushing his first finger in as far as he could, swirling it around tenderly to slowly loosen her up, Kwame teasingly pulled it back out to the fingernail and added his middle finger to the mix before jamming his two fingers deep inside Lydia's tight pink tunnel.

Repeating the process until all four of his digits were drenched with Lydia's vaginal secretions, Kwame finally felt as if he had prepped the disheveled woman, as best he could, to brace her for the arrival of his vast black manhood.

* * * * *

Even though Kwame had engaged in sexual activities with nearly a dozen girls, either back home or since he arrived at college, what he was doing now with Lydia made him truly feel like a man for the first time in his life. Having a women, who was 23 years his senior, literally becoming putty in his hands, Kwame had no clue that he was making Lydia feel like a validated woman for the first time in a very long while as well.

Leaning to his left so that he was proudly perched between Lydia's spread thighs, Kwame swung his throbbing joint over Lydia's leg and pointed it directly at the frothy opening of the kind woman's pink flower.

Taking the smooth, silky length of his manhood by its base, Kwame worked his hips forward until the savage looking head of his monster was knocking at the doorstep of Lydia's long deprived pussy.

Pressing the helmet shaped head of his cock into Lydia's moist folds, Kwame watched with lustful fascination as the naked woman twitched and spasmed underneath him, appearing as if she was being prodded by hundreds of small sharp needles.

Kwame used his free hand to carefully hold Lydia's vaginal lips apart as he steadied his girth, inching his mammouth black prick into Lydia's molten hole with deliberate ease.

Sensing the complete control he had over the 41 year old married woman, Kwame proceeded to touch places inside of Mrs. Benson that no other man had ever attempted.

"Feel good?" Kwame asked in his barely discernable English.

"YESSS," Lydia immediately answered, her voice sounding like air rushing out of a balloon.

"Can you take it all in Baby...is your pussy deep enough to swallow this whole thing?" Kwame asked, knowing the answer.

"Nooo....God Nooooo," Lyda replied as if the thought of Kwame's entire stalk taking root in her cunt caused her to fear for her life. "Just give me as much as I can take...and please please please be gentle."

Crudely pushing his pelvis forward, Kwame sank a full third of his erection inside Lydia's quim and then bluntly asked the married woman how far her husband could get his dick inside of her.

A wincing expression of uncertainty rippled across Lydia's face as the semantics of Kwame's question rattled in her brain.

Sensing Lydia's confusion, Kwame held his cock in place and slowly asked her the same question over again.

"How far can your husband ram his dick inside of you Lydia?"

The sheer embarrassment of having to admit to the black teenager that her husband of 18 years could only go as far as a third of the length of Kwame's entire cock made her bite her lip and bitterly shake her head.

"Hummm," Kwame urged relentlessly.

"There," Lydia finally admitted weakly. "Right there...right where you have yours at now.

Looking down at his own groin as he held his cock steady, Kwame grinned at Lydia's admission that her husband was barely a third the size of him. He had often heard women say in magazines, and casually in social circles, that "size didn't matter" but watching the way the married woman underneath him writhed in anticipation of what he was about to give her, 18 year old Kwame knew the truth.

"Right ...there," Kwame playfully mocked. "Is that ...all?"

"Uh..huh," Lydia replied, clenching her eyes shut in shame. 

"Well I guess we have something special in store for you tonight then don't we," Kwame cockily hummed to himself.

Tapping Lydia's belly gently with his fingertips, Kwame silently warned the married woman to brace herself as he prepared to stab his cock into her pussy, further than any man before ever had.

Kwame eased his momentum backwards for a few moments to get just the right angle before slamming forward, causing every bone in Lydia's body to shudder to its foundation when his raging black missile collided with the back wall of her shocked cervix.

"OHHHH....FFFUUUU," Lydia shrieked, still not completely able to allow those filthy words to slip free from her lips.

"FUU..WHAT Lydia...SAY IT!" Kwame ordered, cruelly digging his hips in vicious circles, forcing his meaty erection to envelope every nook and cranny of the married woman's depths.

"FFFUUUCCCKKKKKK," Lydia finally relented as if a cork had been removed from her pent up sexuality.

Watching as his prideful girth disappeared inside Lydia, Kwame rammed it like a fist into her vaginal boundary. Repeatedly sliding his dick all the way back out to the head before brutally thrusting it all the way back inside Lydia, the older woman's body seemed to mutate into a quivering white mass of delirium as the young African student sexually ravaged her.

Each time Kwame would allow his cock to withdraw back out until the head would tease the entrance of her cunt, Lydia would literally sob, begging the endowed teenager to fill her once again.

"Stick it back in...pleassseeeee...stick it back in me," Lydia haggardly pleaded up to the towering black man above her.

His left hand still wedged against the outside of Lydia's pussy, his index and middle fingers doing the best they could to hold her vaginal lips apart so his cock would have unfettered access, the speed of his thrusts increased to the point where it felt to Lydia as if a runaway nuclear submarine had found its way into her honey laden snatch.

Feeling as if she was being split down the middle, Lydia could sense her extremities going numb as all the blood her body could muster rushed to her flaming genitals.

Sensing that Lydia was on the verge of losing control of her bodily functions, Kwame removed his right hand from the base of his cock and slid it underneath the woman's round white asscheeks to hold her steady as his furious fuck rhythms intensified.

With Lydia's ass now raised slightly off the mattress, Kwame firmly pressed both his knees out into the insides of Lydia's thighs, effectively forcing her legs to be pushed apart as far as they could go as he slammed his groin into hers.

A machine gun like series of shrieks and groans rapidly hiccupped from Lydia's mouth as the young man sexually overwhelmed her. Realizing her pussy was raised up into the air, providing Kwame with a clear and easy target for his relentless thrusts, a definite sense of weightlessness overtook Lydia's body as her black stud continued his ravenous assault.

As her body started convulsing from the rough pleasure it was receiving, Lydia blindly reached up with her hands and spastically cupped her shaking breasts with them, as if an earthquake was tearing through her petite body.




Thank You Ch. 3



Pressing his pelvic bone harshly down on top of Lydia's, Kwame angled his prick just right before sending it upwards inside the older woman's seething quim until its massive head collided solidly against Lydia's secret spot. Knowing he was hitting his target by the way Lydia's blue eyes shot open wide with each stabbing forward thrust, Kwame was invigorated by the first signs of sweat beading on the white woman's cleavage and brow.

Rolling his sagging balls in his left hand as he fed all the cockmeat he could into Lydia's snug cunt, Kwame seductively pulled his right hand out from underneath Lydia's rear and rubbed it over the soft warm inner flesh of her thighs, selfishly appreciating the contrast of his dark black skin skimming across the quivering woman's pale white flesh.

Knowing he could make Lydia cum now any time he wanted, Kwame maintained his frantic rhythm as he securely held Lydia's whimpering mass in his hands, loving the way his cock felt as it speared up inside the woman's belly.

* * * * *

Her eyes clenched tightly shut, Lydia Benson felt as if some invisible force was pressing her shoulders down against the mattress at the same time someone poured liquid fire into her vagina. The blinding traces of bright light exploding behind her eyelids had disorientated her to the point that she had totally shoved to the side the fact that she was a happily married wife and contributing member of society. All that mattered to Lydia, at that brief but exquisite moment, was her pussy and meeting its needy desires. Like an oncoming rumble of a train barreling down on her, Lydia felt her impending orgasm steaming down the tracks and she had no way of moving out of the way.

As if her orgasm was something tangible that she could actually reach out and touch, Lydia flapped her arms crazily above her chest as if to grasp it and pull it closer to her. Just as her fingertips seemed to grip her long awaited release, something came along like a thief in the night and stole it away for the moment.

Snapping her eyes open, Lydia cast her two flaming blue fireballs up and looked with pleading weakness at Kwame crouched above her, seeing that he had pulled his cock free to temporarily force Lydia to wait for her release.

"Please let me cum," Lydia's expression seemed to beg as the young black teenager confidently held his cock by its base, enjoying the way the older white woman was at his mercy.

Naked, in her own bed, with her legs spread unabashedly wide, Lydia clearly and bitterly understood the level of control that Kwame had taken over her. Lydia also had to face the depth of her own pent up lust and the lengths she would obviously go through to quench it.

* * * * *

Playing Lydia's pussy just like a musical instrument, Kwame had measured the woman's impending orgasm and pulled his cock back just in time to leave Lydia nothing more than a naked and begging heap underneath him. 

Safe in the knowledge of where Lydia's g-spot was located, Kwame wanted to be a little closer to the married woman when he finally did allow her the precious opportunity for release.

Blessed with his massive endowment, Kwame was able to keep his cock wedged inside Lydia's cunt, even as he lifted his body forwards and laid down directly beside Lydia on the pillow. It felt as if Kwame's erection had corkscrewed inside Lydia's sex as he took it back in his hand and aimed it at precisely the angle he wanted it to go.

With his new position beside Lydia established, the litany of possibilities roared through the teenager's mind as he pinched his fingertips into Lydia's thighs, forcing her to cock her leg into the air so that he'd have unhindered access to the woman's steaming vagina.

Pressing his lips into the softness of Lydia's matted blonde hair, Kwame couldn't resist kissing the writhing woman on the neck as she silently begged for him to finish her off.

Kwame bite his front teeth gently down on Lydia's right earlobe as he veered his hips off the blanket below. With his thrusting angle just right, Kwame roughly gasped into Lydia's ear as his black meaty penis found itself back home inside the woman's blistering womb. 

Literally jerking Lydia's body into the air with every upwards stab he made, Kwame could clearly hear the air rasping in and out of Lydia's mouth each time his sledgehammer like cockhead found the target of Lydia's most sensitive spot, on the roof of her cunt.

"Oh yeah...you like that dontcha," Kwame hissed, seeing up close how flushed Lydia's cheeks became when he talked to her in that way.

Looking over Lydia's shoulder for a brief moment, Kwame surveyed several of the Benson's wedding photos sitting on the nightstand. Filling with a great deal of selfish satisfaction, feeling the married woman writhe out loud from his virile assault, Kwame was left to wonder ,when if ever, Lydia Benson had experienced anything like what was happening to her body and mind now.

Roaming his strong hands all over Lydia's thighs, belly and thrashing titties, Kwame could feel a strange pressure brewing inside of the beautiful blonde beside him.

* * * * *

Even though her back was prone on the mattress and her legs were spread wildly in the air, bracketing her sweaty and quaking body, Lydia honestly felt as if she had been turned upside down on a runaway Ferris wheel as Kwame used her body for the sole purpose of his primal conquest.

Lydia's tendons and joints felt like popcorn kernels in hot grease as the blinding assault taking place on her pussy only intensified. Feeling Kwame's hot breath vibrate against her eardrum, Lydia could sense that her internal thermometer was about to boil over.

"URRRGGHH...UUURRGGGHHH...UUURRGGHHHH," Lydia snorted recklessly as Kwame prodded her body, just like a jockey would, forcing his racehorse down the homestretch.

As the solid muscles of Kwame's upper thighs rammed the bottom of Lydia's soft rounded asscheeks, the young African student felt as if he had injected his cock into a pool of liquid mercury. Repeatedly sending his granite like slab of lust as far as he could inside Lydia's rubbery womb, he nearly shuddered when the first shockwaves of Lydia's orgasm shattered the silence of the Benson's bedroom. 

Searing out of her pores, as if a bestial entity had tore through her skin, Lydia's long denied lust burst out of the shell of her being as the maddening cascade of sexual attention from the black teenager relentlessly scorched her.

"GGGOOODDDDDDDDD," Lydia hollered out, crying in Kwame's arms as if she was a freshly delivered baby.

Humping back at the young exchange student with all the adrenaline she had, Lydia felt every inch of her body, inside and out, turn to Jello when Kwame's pistoning penis shattered like a cut firehose, sending what jism he still had left swimming in his balls racing into her frantically clutching cunt.

* * * * *

After the brutal display of thrashing and screaming was done and a pall of silence once again settled over the Benson house, Lydia and Kwame's intertwined bodies gave the impression that a sweaty zebra had decided to take a nap on the now cluttered bed.

Kissing Lydia softly on the cheek as he playfully explored the sensitive contours of the woman's body, Kwame watched as his deflating cock spilled free from Lyida's womb as if she had birthed a fat lump of shiny black onyx.

Kwame wrapped his hand around the greasy length and let the pasty mixture of their seminal fluids lubricate his palm as he stared longingly at Lydia's contented face.

Feeling his half erect dick still buzz with traces of life, Kwame rubbed it harder and harder until he felt it growing in his hand. Desperate to milk the fleeting opportunity for all it was worth, Kwame planted one last urgent kiss on Lydia's neck before scooting his naked body up the bed so that his cum-saturated crotch was resting right beside Lydia's flushed cheeks.

Taking a firm grip of his re-energized meaty club, Kwame couldn't help but think it looked like a lazy snake dancing in front of Lydia's pale face. Gently rubbing its sticky head across Lydia's quivering lips, Kwame could gradually feel the power coursing through it increase to the point where it needed stimulation again.

"Stick your tongue out Lydia...come on...taste what you and I made," Kwame taunted sweetly in his thick Kenyan accent. "You can't close your eyes to it forever...open them up and look real close at what made you cum."

Kwame lewdly tapped his hardening cock across Lydia's lips, cheeks, and chin until the older woman finally opened her eyes slightly and looked down with disbelief at the nearly foot long black thing smacking her face.

"Look at it Lydia...its filthy...you need to clean it off," Kwame ordered as he smiled down approvingly.

* * * * *

Lydia could feel the young African man's hands lovingly rub her hair as her head rested heavily on his muscular thigh. Smelling the pungent salty mix of seminal and vaginal fluids coating the teenager's huge cock hanging on her chin, Lydia complied fully with Kwame's order to open her mouth and cleanse his throbbing manhood.

Too exhausted to utter more than anything than a spasming groan, Lydia grimaced as she parted her lips and closed her mouth around the head of the black teenager's veiny monster. "That's good Lydia...now wash down every inch of it," she heard Kwame moan down to her over the blood rushing in her ears. 

With a clear and formidable task now laid out in front of her, Lydia closed her eyes once again and pressed her face deep into Kwame's crotch, helpless but to follow every direction the Kenyan exchange student gave her.

"OHHH YEAHHH," Kwame approvingly whispered down to Lydia as he watched the way her jaws detached to ungodly proportions as she gagged herself on his sloppy erection.

Twisting the older woman's soft blonde hair around his black fingers, Kwame simply rested his head back against the headboard and watched Lydia bathe his cum-covered cock with her lips and tongue.

Spreading his feet apart slightly, making himself completely at home on the Benson's bed, Kwame playfully rocked Lydia's head in his hand as she dutifully followed his orders.

"All of it Lydia...your pussy's the reason its so sloppy...its up to you to clean it off, Baby. That's right...lick it all the way down to the base...get that cum out of my pubs and went you get back up to the top Lydia...swirl that tongue around the foreskin until its completely clean."

The fist-like bulge of Kwame's cock strained the insides of Lydia's cheeks as she gobbled down as much of his girth as she could. Hearing Lydia's raspy breaths vibrate out of her nostrils, Kwame gently placed his hand on Lydia's soft chin to steady it as he slid his entire cock down the exhausted woman's gullet.

"Open your eyes Lydia...you need to see what you're doing. Lick it again from the top and slowly work your mouth all the way down," Kwame moaned peacefully as the white woman on his jock tried her best.

* * * * *

Lydia worked her tongue as if she had put 10 gumballs in her mouth and her tastebuds had gone numb from the sticky mixture she had ingested off of Kwame's majestic black spear.

Thankful to hear Kwame's order to remove the length of cock from her mouth, Lydia let it slip free from her lips as hurriedly sucked in a fresh dose of oxygen.

Re-fortified, Lydia nudged out the tip of her tongue and traced Kwame's fleshy foreskin in several circles until the gentle pressure of his fingertips on her scalp insisted on her lowering her bathing swaths all the way down the rigid, foot-long length of the shaft.

Once she had reached the base of his manhood and the curly pubs lining the bottom tickled her slimy chin, Lydia quickly slid her tongue back up to the top, repeating the process over and over until she and Kwame could both see his cock take on a glossy, waxed shine from the saliva cleansing Lydia had given it.

Feeling the vinaigrette of their collective cum tingle in her belly, Lydia could feel a strange and all-consuming desire burn in the pit of her stomach as she continued washing Kwame's cock with her tongue.

Like a hungry cat tired of playing with its prey, Lydia lost all pretense and decency about the situation and brazenly reached up with both hands, taking Kwame's fully gorged arousal in between her lips once again and shoved the upper third of it inside her churning and sucking mouth.

Stunned and speechless from Lydia's sudden show of naked aggression, all Kwame could do was lay there and let the white woman unleash a lifetime of pent up sexual urges on the nearly 12 inch long black jewel hanging between his muscular legs.

"OHH...SHHIITTT!!" Kwame finally moaned out loud as Lydia's face contorted wildly on top of his crotch. Feeling the older woman's thumbs and fingers dig into his groin as if she was having a conniption, Kwame's hips began jerking off the mattress with blinding, face-fucking force.

When Lydia started priming the base of Kwame's endowment with her soft massaging hands, the young African student's spine started to shiver and his balls started to throb as what juice he still had left swimming around his testicles started to rise like boiling magma.

"God Damn Lydia...I'M GONNA CUMMMMMM," Kwame cringed madly, thrashing around the bed as if it had been set on fire, as the married white woman feverishly slurped at his second potent orgasm.

It seemed as if Lydia's body, the epitome of the conservative wife of wealthy means had totally transformed in front of Kwame into nothing more than a wanton, cockhungry slut. Feeling the young man's jism sizzle across her tongue as her teeth continued to graze the tight velvety black skin of his penis, Lydia arched her tongue out as far as it could go and frantically licked the thick throbbing vein that ran along the underside of Kwame's cock, leaving his six foot two inch body shivering joyously on the bed.

* * * * *

The stealth of predawn provided the cover for Lydia as she drove Kwame cross town, back to his dorm. As the first hints of sunrise teased the Baltimore Horizon, both saw clearly that a new day was about to begin. Each knew, as well, that they had to get disappear back to their own lives, thankful for the brief but explosive peek into how the other side lived and loved.

- The End -

* * * * * *

Thanks A Lot For Reading