I was finally able to retire from my elementary school teaching job in my late 50s and devote my time to other activities. I had expected a more active retirement with my husband, Donald, but that was not to be. He is 12 years older than me, and although he had been a vigorous and active man early in our marriage, he had not taken care of himself over the years. By the time I retired, he was overweight, sedentary, and impotent. I didn’t mind that last affliction so much. We had enjoyed an active, though not spectacular, sex life in our early years together, producing three fine sons, now all grown and starting families of their own.

My joy at the prospect of being a grandmother replaced any regret over the lack of a sex life at this stage in our marriage. My husband could not use medications like Viagra to reinvigorate our sex life, as his medical condition and the complications that would result prevented that option. He also depends on a CPAP machine to sleep at night due to sleep apnea. The noise keeps me awake, so I've slept in a spare bedroom on the ground floor for several years, while he sleeps upstairs in the primary bedroom. Climbing the stairs is his only exercise.

I have maintained a commitment to fitness all my life, in contrast to my husband. I enjoy walks with a couple of my girlfriends and work out with weights at a fitness center at least twice a week. My doctor alerted me to the risk of age-related muscle loss and I've appreciated the strength and vitality it has added to my life. I feel and look many years younger than my actual age. Even though I have no intimate partner I still have a frustratingly STRONG sex drive. I consign myself to masturbating a few times a week at bed time and it helps me fall asleep and reduce stress overall.

Menopause did nothing to reduce my desire or my arousal functions. When I encounter a particularly good-looking man who flirts with me, I have no difficulty feeling sufficiently lubricated to take him on, though I never let things go that far. One of my girlfriends who I walk with has also gone through menopause but has lost all desire and function 'down there' as she puts it. She complains that her husband still wants sex with her but she has simply refused to continue their sex life. He is a good-looking guy. What a waste. I'd fuck him in a heartbeat, but he is a faithful husband and the few times I have flirted with him, it's gone nowhere.

This past month a new, younger employee joined the library where I volunteer several days per week. He is single, in his 30's, tall, handsome, fit, well-dressed and somewhat bookish looking, with glasses. He supervises all the volunteers, including me. He is a black man, named Jamal. He wears his hair in a medium-length dreadlock style, that looks quite intriguing to the rest of us white, middle-aged, all-female volunteer staff. His habit of wearing bowties and nicely tailored clothes contributes to his nerdy, bookish demeanor. He belongs in a library or a bookstore.

Over the course of a few weeks, I realized Jamal was paying me more attention than he had originally. He would gently compliment my appearance as well as my work ethic and expressed surprise that I was a grandmother nearly 60 years old. I figured this was just mock surprise to compliment my youthful appearance. But I did like it. Most of the compliments I receive at the library are from the 70- to 80-year-old elderly male patrons who regard anyone my age as a young 'babe'.

I became intrigued by Jamal's attention and fantasized about what it might be like to have an affair with a young, virile, black man, something I had never thought of before now. At bed time I would occasionally use my laptop to peruse porn sites to spice up my self-pleasuring routine. Now I started to look at sites that featured young black men having sex with older white women like myself. I was unaware there was a whole genre of porn devoted to 'milfs' and 'gilfs' being satisfied by young black men. I would have extremely powerful and repeated orgasms masturbating after just a few minutes’ worth of these videos. I had no trouble visualizing Jamal taking me just like one of these videos. I also visited sites containing the personal narratives of women recounting their affairs with young black men.

A common thread in both the visual and written accounts that thrilled me was the topic of size. Yes, the size of the cocks on these young black men was thrilling to contemplate. I imagined what it must be like to have such a long, hard, thick member thrust into me repeatedly. My only sexual experiences had been with my husband's average cock and that had always seemed enough. These images and descriptions seemed to be from an imaginary world I would never visit in real life.

Also, the various acts and positions were also things missing in my marriage for a long time. My husband never 'went down' on me for oral sex despite some urging on my part early in our marriage. He considered it 'disgusting' and 'unpleasant' so I gave up trying to entice him in that direction. But the women I saw online and whose stories I read were consistently ecstatic about the joys of oral sex with their young partners. And some of those tongues were longer and thicker than my husband's cock! Also, my husband was not capable of some of the bedroom gymnastics of these videos. Missionary or me on top was pretty much it, especially the latter as he declined in health so that even missionary sex became a chore for him. I could get off by riding him and moving my clit over his pubic bone, but as he gained weight and flab, even that method lost stimulation. And his erections became weaker and shorter in duration over time as his circulation declined with his overall health so that we both ended up unfulfilled and frustrated with sex. I could sometimes get him to climax by stroking his dick, and I even went down on him until even that evoked little or no response. He was not very good at fingering me to orgasm--just not coordinated enough or clued into my cues to know how fast or slow to go, how many fingers to jam into me or how much pressure to apply at the right moment to get me off.

I maintained a cordial and professional demeanor at work so Jamal would never suspect I harbored such erotic fantasies about him. And aside from his compliments, he never did or said anything that would even hint at sexual innuendo. But one day an incident occurred that caused me some embarrassment. I was trying to lift a box of books off a cart to place on a higher shelf in our back-room storage area, away from the public. I did not realize Jamal was behind me and he noticed me struggling momentarily to lift the box.

"Here, let me help you." He came up behind me and effortlessly lifted the box up the rest of the way, his arms beside mine and his hands covering mine and his torso pressed against my backside for a few moments. There was no mistaking the hard cock I felt pressed against my ass, even though it was a fleeting sensation. I felt an immediate rush of warmth between my legs that always signaled the first stirring of sexual arousal for me. His obvious erection and closeness did not shock me as much as my own reaction. I made no attempt to pull away or say anything. In fact, I even pressed back against his cock, subtly but noticeably, at least to me. He gave no sign he noticed, but it increased my arousal. I could feel the first sign of wetness between my legs as the warmth and blood flow in my crotch skyrocketed.

"Thank you, Jamal. I appreciate the help." I hope he did not detect the slight shakiness in my voice caused by a moment of heavy breathing. I hurriedly moved on to other tasks and composed myself quickly. I avoided further close contact with Jamal that day and he acted like the incident had not happened. Maybe I had just blown an innocent moment into something it was not. I sure hoped so.

But that moment supercharged my sex fantasies for the next few nights. I imagined being alone somewhere with Jamal. He would come up behind me, and without a word, rapidly unzip my skirt, roughly pull it down past my hips to the floor, as I willingly and quickly stepped out of the skirt he would tear my already soaking panties off and fuck me from behind as he held my breasts in a vice grip and kissed the back of my neck. His vigorous thrusts would nearly lift me off the floor with each upward drive of his hips and thighs against me. I could almost feel every bulging vein of his hot, wet cock slamming into me and hear his balls slapping against my naked ass. The fantasy would end with a full body-shaking orgasm as his cock exploded inside me with a series of pulsating jets of semen filling me up so much that the excess cum came flowing out of me, running down the inside of my thighs all the way to my ankles.

The best part of my fantasy was that I no longer had to guess about the possible dimensions of Jamal's cock. I now knew his cock was as formidable as any I had seen or read about online. I could get wet just thinking about it. And I did not feel guilty about my fantasies since that was all they were, pure fantasy. It would never happen for real.

One day, Jamal asked if it would be ok to text or email me about books and authors I enjoyed. He noted that we seemed to have similar tastes in reading and he would appreciate getting to know about other authors and books to read that I recommended. I already shared book titles and favorite authors with my girlfriends but I had never shared the same with men I knew, mostly because none of the men I knew were interested in the books that my girlfriends and I read.

But his suggestion was innocent enough and my slightly naughty side took over as I agreed to the idea. As it turned out he is very much a fan of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters, and similar authors like me so we occasionally exchanged texts or emails. There was no suggestion of anything out of line or sexual in any way. It was slightly reassuring that our occasional online exchanges were totally innocent. I could have my fantasies and still have an appropriate relationship with my boss.

Late one evening, Jamal texted me. I was already in my bed reading my latest book when my muted phone vibrated slightly to alert me to an incoming text. Only one of my girlfriends would normally contact me this late, so I was surprised to see that it was an incoming text from Jamal. I was about to ignore the text and respond in the morning in my own good time. But I was curious about why he would contact me this late, so I looked at the message.

"What are you reading tonight, Mrs. C?" He habitually used my last initial as his shorthand reference to me. I didn’t mind that informal term of address. It recognized my marital status and the low probability that we would engage in an affair no matter what fantasies I entertained. I was reading a cheap romance novel, the kind sometimes referred to as a "bodice-ripper", the cover adorned with the ridiculous artwork of an impossibly handsome and dashing hero passionately embracing the beautiful heroine. They were an occasional guilty pleasure of mine as I normally gravitated to the classics for bedtime reading. I knew Jamal would be amused to know I was reading a piece of commercial trash instead of the more sophisticated fare we both enjoyed.

"You won't believe what I'm reading. I will have to show you," I texted back. I decided to text a pic of myself with the cover of the crappy book clearly visible, as I wanted to get his humorous reaction to my low-brow reading material for tonight. For some reason, exchanging messages late at night with Jamal gave me a nice tingling sensation between my legs, and I could feel my nipples hardening at the thought of my fantasy lover communicating with me, even if it was over a mundane topic like reading material. I lined up the selfie carefully so it included my face with a slightly wicked grin as well as my lap where the book was visible, and clicked the photo. I had forgotten to turn off the flash, which startled me slightly. But quickly hit the "send" button anyway without reviewing the result. I hardly cared about a perfect pic this time of night, especially without any makeup or my hair in place.

There seemed to be an inordinate delay waiting for his reply, but I could tell he was typing a text as the little dancing dots on the screen indicated a message was soon coming. But I was a bit confused by the response.

"Mrs. C, you are one sexy lady. THANK YOU SO MUCH!"

What the heck is he talking about I wondered? I immediately went to my photo gallery, where I could see the outgoing photo I had just sent. I could only gasp in horror at the image I had sent! I was wearing a somewhat sheer, but quite modest nightgown, but the additional exposure of the flash had rendered my otherwise opaque gown totally transparent! I was basically topless! I had sent Jamal a picture of my bare breasts and hard nipples fully exposed! OH.MY.GOD!

My heart was beating like a sledgehammer. I started to type a response to Jamal explaining that the photo was totally unintentional, not a blatant 'sexting' attempt or an invitation for an affair! But before I could finish typing, I heard the 'bloop' sound of another incoming message.

"This is what your pic did for me."

Then a picture popped up on my screen that made me gasp in even greater shock. There was Jamal grinning mischievously, but in the immediate foreground his hand was around his very large, very stiff cock! His large hand barely concealed less than half the length of his massive shaft and the ends of his fingers just barely reached each other around the base of it! It was every bit as thick and long as I had imagined from that moment in the store room! Not only that, it was clearly glistening in the half-light of his dimly lit bedroom, the pre-cum juices were flowing freely already. There was no comparison with my husband's cock. My husband could easily cover his own erection in a single pathetic hand. Jamal could not possibly cover this huge cock even if he put both of his large hands around it.

The tingling in my crotch turned into a throbbing heatwave of desire. And I was not just wet, I was flooding. If we had been in the same bed instead of miles apart, I would have had no choice but to give Jamal's massive cock free rein with my aching pussy right now.

I jammed my hand into my soaking wet panties, and as I began stroking myself, another 'bloop' sounded and another image popped up on my screen. This time it was a brief video he recorded. I was transfixed by the sight of him stroking his cock, every bulging vein pulsing with anticipation of an impending explosion. My own stroking sped up involuntarily to match his action. I could not look away as I heard him utter a deep groan and watched as a jet of semen shot out of his cock, followed by another, and another, and another until a mass of the sticky white fluid was flowing down his cock and over his hand. And then the video ended. I was breathless. I had no problem imagining that mass of hot semen shooting deep into my throbbing womb. My own orgasm quickly overwhelmed me as I watched that spectacle of his eruption. I had not experienced such an intense sexual arousal in years. I could not imagine what it would be like if Jamal and I were actually together. In the same room. In the same bed. I was feeling even more aroused just thinking of it.

Another text from Jamal. "Still there?"

"Yes." I replied.

"Alone?"

"Almost. My husband's asleep upstairs. I sleep in the guest bedroom downstairs."

"Hmm. That's convenient. But messed up. If I was married to you, I'd be in your bed and in your pussy EVERY NIGHT!"

I was getting even more wet at the very thought of him coming into my bedroom, tearing off my nightie and my panties and fucking me with that huge cock.

"Is your husband a heavy sleeper?"

I had no idea why that was a subject of interest, but I answered anyway: "Very heavy. He uses one of those CPAP machines for sleep apnea. The steady hum not only keeps him asleep but drowns out everything else. Even sirens from fire trucks."

"Perfect. text me the code to your garage door opener and the directions to your bedroom from the inside door from your garage. I'll be in your bedroom in 15 minutes."

Wait, what? I gasped when I realized what he was planning. Coming to my house and fucking me while my husband slept blissfully and unaware just yards away from us! I was not just shocked, I was totally turned on now like I hadn't been in decades. I did not send an answer to Jamal. Instead, I crept upstairs on shaking legs to Donald's bedroom, carefully looked in and saw exactly what I was hoping for: Donald sleeping peacefully and the CPAP machine humming away reliably as ever. I quietly shut the door and crept back down the stairs. I was shivering in my sheer, short nightie and my wet panties from the cool night air and the anticipation of a violent fucking from Jamal. With equally shaky fingers, I texted Jamal the 4-digit code to the outside opener and made sure the door into the house was unlocked. Then I got back in bed and waited.

It seemed like an eternity, but was only a few minutes before I heard the gentle whirring sound of the garage door opening. Then the sound of it closing and the door into our house opening slowly and then being shut carefully and quietly. I could hear each slow, careful footstep approaching the door of my room, then stopping. I did not understand at first, but then heard him undressing: shoes, belt undone and pants and underwear taken off and dropping to the floor outside my door. Then the door opened slowly and I could make out the form of Jamal in the dim glow of my book lamp. Tall, muscular, his dreadlocked hair hanging down past his ears. No bowtie or nerdy glasses, but I could see his heavily muscled thighs and his thick, hard, long cock already erect and standing at a very high angle. I was shocked by the size of his cock. It looked as long and thick as a soda can. Could I even fit that thing inside me? The wetness between my legs became a torrent.

I could barely breathe as he came forward, pulled back the covers from me and climbed on top of me. His toned, hard body was something I hadn't felt in years. His cock pressing against my belly told me I was going to experience something way beyond what I imagined even from his pictures and video on the computer. He kissed his way from my mouth down to my panties, his tongue pressing into the lacy material, jamming against my labia and clit while his powerful hands opened my thighs for better access. My back arched involuntarily and my hips bucked up forcefully to meet his eager mouth.

"You won't be needing these ever again when you're with me." He yanked my panties, tearing them completely apart and threw them across the room. The sound of the ripping nylon fabric turned me on completely.

"I've been waiting for this moment from my first day on the job." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He had been lusting after me from the start, even before my own fantasies kicked in! He returned to ravishing my clit with his tongue and the stimulation combined with the realization that he had been planning for this from the beginning sent me totally over the edge to an incredible whole-body orgasm that seemed to go on forever.

"And when I pressed my cock into your ass in the store room and you pushed back on me, I almost came in my pants. If you hadn't hurried out of there, I would have fucked the living daylights out of you." That image turned me on even more. Now I wished he had fucked me right then, lifting my skirt, yanking my panties aside and thrusting into me from behind so hard I would have been on tiptoes until he was done with me.

This comment coincided with one, two and finally three of his large fingers being vigorously thrust into my pussy with his thumb firmly stimulating my clit and I went into another writhing, hip thrusting orgasm that made me see stars for a few moments.

"And you won't be needing this for the rest of the night." As he pulled the nightie from me and over my arms with my full cooperation. Even before my arms came down his mouth and hands were on my breasts, one of my rock-hard nipples being sucked into his mouth and my bare breasts being firmly grasped in his warm, large hands. He hadn't even fucked me yet and already I had experienced two of the most mind-blowing orgasms I could remember.

I felt the head of his cock pressing against my pussy. For some reason it was this moment I thought of my husband Donald. He was sleeping in the bedroom directly over this one, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to his sweet loving wife, the one he was totally incapable of satisfying. And that thought elevated my horniness to a stratospheric level. I was about to be fucked just feet away from my husband.

"FUCK ME! PLEASE FUCK ME!" I almost wanted Donald to hear me scream, make his way downstairs, see the pile of clothes outside my door, then peek in and see this unknown black man fucking me into oblivion.

I was in total sensory overload now. My hypersensitive nipples being sucked into Jamal's greedy mouth, his cock slowly filling me up and making full contact with my clit while I conjured that image of my husband being cuckolded was overwhelming. Jamal began gradually increasing the tempo of his thrusts. I wrapped my legs around him, my crossed ankles holding onto his firm ass. Each time he pulled back from a thrust my ass lifted from the bed with my pussy tightly clenching him. Each time we came back down his cock pushed deeper and harder and the bed creaked and groaned from the force of our fucking. Jamal was grunting with every thrust, his face a mask of ecstasy. I moaned uncontrollably with a pleasure I had not felt in years. How could Donald not hear this commotion? I no longer cared if he did. In fact, if he did suddenly walk in on us, it would trigger my best orgasm ever.

The next orgasm was coming fast. I could feel an invisible, taut wire running from my pussy to the base of my brain, getting tighter, with each thrust until I couldn't hold it any longer and it snapped with a violent suddenness even I hadn't expected. My heels dug hard into Jamal's ass involuntarily as my pussy contracted intensely and repeatedly around his cock. It hit me in several gradually decreasing waves until I was utterly spent and Jamal slowly released me from his grasp. I laid back, legs apart, my hands limp at my sides, gasping for breath. Jamal slowly pulled out his cock, as the last inch pulled out, still stiff, it sprang upright catapulting a mini-shower of my own juices onto my belly. He hadn't even cum yet!

I was certain I was done for the night. But Jamal had other ideas. He was up on his knees, placing both his hands firmly around my narrow waist. Before I knew what was happening, he had turned me over onto my stomach, then grabbed two of the pillows and placed them directly under my tummy. I suddenly realized what he was about to do as he used his right hand to hold my waist firmly in place and the other to guide his cock into me from behind. Until this moment I had not noticed how curved his cock really was, but there was no ignoring it as he pushed into its full depth and I felt the electric charge of my G-spot being stimulated to maximum effect. The very first thrust instantly forced me up on all fours, my arms and legs trembling with each slow, purposeful thrust. Like before, his tempo gradually increased, but this time it was different, He was clearly losing control of his own body as his orgasm began to rise within him.

For a moment, I felt Jamal's entire body go rigid as if he were experiencing a seizure, and his cock became even harder for several more thrusts--that was all my G-spot could take--I shuddered through another orgasm as my arms and legs buckled under me and I collapsed on the bed, the exact moment Jamal exploded inside of me. I could feel each throbbing shot of cum into my womb: one, two, three distinct bursts of very warm semen that not only filled me completely, but flooded back out of me, down into a damp pool between my legs as Jamal lay on top me, both of us panting to regain our breath. He finally lifted himself off me, his spent cock pulling out and releasing an even greater flood of cum onto the bed. Never in my life had I been filled with such an overwhelming amount of semen. I'll be spending the morning washing sheets I thought to myself.

I glanced at the bedside clock. It was getting close to the time Donald would be awake and coming downstairs. I got up to gather Jamal's clothing outside my door. As I rapidly gathered up the clothes, my bare feet stepped into a pool of sticky liquid on the floor. I looked down and knew exactly what it was: a fresh puddle of cum, still warm. And there was only one possible source. Donald.

He had been right there. Watching. Right to the end when Jamal took me from behind and we collapsed in mutual ecstasy. And he had been totally stimulated by our display. So much so that he had jerked off feverishly at the sight of us, to the point of a very sizeable ejaculation. He must have panicked when I got up to get Jamal's clothes and hurried back upstairs without even attempting to clean up the results! I realized our sex life had just been rejuvenated in a most unique manner. I didn't say anything to Jamal about my discovery.

"Something wrong, Mrs. C?"

"No, nothing at all, Jamal. In fact, I think we'll be making these visits a regular feature of our relationship from now on if that's ok with you."

Jamal took me by the hand, closed the door gently and led me back to the bed. He stood behind me as I placed my hands on the bed and leaned forward. He was already quite hard again. His hands were cupped firmly around my breasts. I was more than ready for everything from now on. Knowing Donald would be watching and listening, fully aroused and vicariously enjoying our coupling only increased by anticipation of future sessions with Jamal.