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Housewife looks for love...and more.
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It was already eight twenty-five and the twins were not ready. If they didn't leave in five minutes they would be late for school.....again! She screamed up the stairs for them to hurry.

Although it was raining hard she managed to get the pair of ten year-olds to class on time. I always seem to be rushing these days she thought as she made her way to the old part of town and Sanger's Food Market. She preferred Sanger's to the new super stores, it was less crowded, friendlier and their produce and meat were always excellent. The other small stores along Chestnut Street were more to her taste also and she often browsed through them either before or after Sanger's.

The windshield wipers slapped in tune to the music on the radio as she pulled into the parking lot. She recognized the song and sang along to the classic, 'Question', by The Moody Blues....

'I'm looking for someone to change my life....

'I'm looking for a miracle in my life'....

She turned off the engine and stared blindly through the windshield and took stock of her life. Thirty-four years old, a husband she hardly sees or knows anymore and the twins she raises virtually as a single parent. Something had been lost. I'm sure we loved each other once she thought. Now, lovemaking was reduced to an infrequent quicky under the covers that left her far from satisfied.

"I need a miracle in my life," she murmured to herself and slammed the car door.

As she crossed the parking lot the lines from the song ran through her mind over and over. I do need to change my life and it probably would take a miracle she mused.

She had learned to satisfy herself with vibrators and dildos but longed for a passionate man to make unbridled, wild love to her and bring her to climax - something Jim hadn't done in years. Quite by accident she had discovered internet pornography and liked girl-on-girl sex but most of all she enjoyed watching black men with white women and would often sit at the computer and masturbate with one of her toys. There was one video that she particularly liked and had saved it in her favourites list. She thought she resembled the woman and the man was very well endowed. The part she liked most was a close-up of the man's penis thrusting in and out of the woman, cream coating the black shaft and running down onto her anus as she screamed from one climax to another, white hands clutching black buttocks. I would love to be that woman, will it ever happen to me she'd daydream and sink the vibrator onto high.

Standing in line at the checkout she suddenly remembered she had forgotten to pick up fruit; her thoughts were still on her life. She made her way to the produce aisle and filled the plastic bag with six oranges. As she turned to place the bag in the cart it slipped from her hand and the fruit rolled all over the floor. She bent down to pick them up and saw a sneaker-clad foot step onto one and crush it.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologised and looked up at a tall, attractive black man in his early forties.

"No problem," he replied, "let me help you."

He stooped and picked up a couple of the wayward oranges and handed them to her with cupped hands. She took them and as their hands touched she felt a rush of excitement. Embarrassed, she thanked him and gave a weak smile.

"You're very welcome, anytime," he said and flashed a dazzling smile.

She felt very flushed at the checkout and wondered if her face was as red as the beetroots in her cart. Her heart raced as she drove home and after hurriedly putting the groceries away, she masturbated with a black dildo while watching her video. As an orgasm overtook her she closed her eyes and imagined it was the 'orange man' making love to her.

All week she thought of the black man and when Jim climbed on top of her on Sunday evening she tried to pretend it was him but her husband was so pedantic she never neared climax. Jim satisfied himself then rolled over and fell asleep. She lay there with tears welling in her eyes and sang to herself, 'I'm looking for someone to change my life....I'm looking for a miracle in my life,' then she turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

Walking into Sanger's on Thursday she was filled with excitement at the prospect of seeing the black man again but her intellect told her the chances were against it, after all, she had never seen him in the three years she had shopped at the market. She was waiting in line at the deli counter checking off the last two items on her list with a feeling of disappointment when a voice behind her said, "No oranges this week?"

She spun around, "Er...O...yes...no...I mean yes, they are buried at the bottom of the cart, no chance of them ending up on the floor this time," she said laughing and feeling herself flush.

"I'm Andy, Andy Farrell.

"Laura Markham," she answered, shaking his hand and she feeling a tingle again.

They stood in line together making small talk and were served simultaneously by the deli staff.

"Could I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"No thank you," she replied, regretting it immediately.

"An orange juice perhaps?" he said with a grin.

They laughed and she heard herself saying, "Well, orange juice, how can I refuse." She felt excited and nervous; "I'm looking for..." tumbled through her mind.

He helped her stow the groceries in the mini van and suggested The Town Café, a little ways down Chestnut Street. It was a couple of hours before the place would fill with the lunch crowd and they found a booth easy enough. He was new in town he said, a fireman, single and enjoyed painting. He had purchased a small house just off Chestnut that had a sunroom perfect for his hobby. She told him about Jim and the kids and wondered if he picked up on her sadness and the availability she felt as she looked across the table. She wanted to be naked with this man and warmth spread between her legs....could this my miracle she asked herself.

"What kind of painting?" Laura inquired.

"Oils mainly and I like to sketch in charcoal."

"I took Art History at university for two years before dropping out to get married. I'd like to see your work sometime."

"Sure, as long as you're not too critical, I'm strictly an amateur. How about now, my house is only a block and a half from here."

"No, really, I can't. I need to get the groceries home before the meat spoils, it's quite warm out."

"Of course, I'm sorry, some other time. Are you free tomorrow, I'm on the night shift for a month and I don't sleep much during daylight? I would appreciate your opinion and your face has beautiful bone structure, I would like to sketch you if you don't mind."

She felt herself blush, it had been a long time since she had received such a compliment and thought for a few moments before responding.

"Tomorrow's fine and the sketch is fine also, thank you."

"Good, shall we say nine-thirty here at the cafe?"

"Nine-thirty, see you tomorrow."

Laura drove home much faster than normal, her panties were wet with arousal and she longed for the feel of her black dildo. Foods that required refrigeration were quickly sorted and put away, the rest were left on the kitchen counter. She stripped off in the bedroom and took her dildo out of a dresser draw. Her climax was powerful and she lay on the bed for several minutes with it deep inside her. There was still doubt in her mind, was Andy just looking for a friend, he knew she was married; she had made no attempt to hide that. Was she reading far too much into their conversations because she desired this man or, did he have intentions of seducing her...she hoped it was the latter.

The following morning she rose early, prepared breakfast and lunches for the twins. After dropping the kids off at school she hurried home in an excited daze. She showered and selected her underwear, a half-cup bra in mauve with an abstract flower motif and a matching thong. Not bad she whispered to the reflection in the mirror. Her breasts were full with no hint of sagging; a slim waist gave way to nicely shaped hips and a shapely bottom. Next she chose a long, loose, summer skirt and a sleeveless top that showed just enough cleavage to be interesting.

At nine-seventeen, the Town Café was not too busy and she scanned the room for anyone she knew. Seeing no one, she found a booth and ordered an orange juice and bran muffin. Her heart missed a beat each time the café door opened and she reminded herself to calm down, maybe nothing was going to happen...maybe he wouldn't show up...called out to a fire or other emergency. Her thoughts rambled as she picked at her muffin, too nervous to enjoy it and then he walked through the door. He spotted her immediately, smiled and joined her in the booth.

He ordered a large grapefruit juice and they exchanged pleasantries. He mentioned that the night had been quiet at the fire station and he had been able to sleep for a while. Upon arriving home at six-thirty he had arranged some of his art for her critique and hoped she wouldn't be too severe. She laughed and replied that any critic worth their salt must give an honest appraisal, regardless of how devastating it might be to the artist. They finished their drinks and he said, "Ready to destroy the starving artist?"

I'm ready to do something to you she thought and slid out of the booth leaving her muffin uneaten on the table. A scene flashed through her mind of a black cock covered in vaginal juices thrusting into her...the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

It was a short walk to the well-kept bungalow he called home. He led her through to the sunroom where about a dozen of his works were displayed. The sunroom stretched across the entire back of the house, the studio comprised half the space while in the other half there was a small breakfast table with two chairs, two armchairs, TV, stereo and a drinks cabinet. It was the room he spent most of his free time in she guessed, whether painting or relaxing.

She studied the canvases and was struck by their competence, they really were very good and suggested he approach the Tyler-Sebastian Gallery in town, she knew Graham Tyler well and would have a word with him.

Andy seemed embarrassed by her praise and kind offer of help and thanked her. He showed her some charcoal sketches and asked if she would pose for him now. She said she would be delighted and he directed her to one of the chairs at the breakfast table. He took his pad and charcoal, sat about six feet from her and began to sketch.

He worked quickly, glancing up frequently and within a few minutes he was finished.

It was beautifully done but also captured loneliness, especially her eyes and tears welled as she stared at her likeness.

He stood behind her and she felt the gentle caress of his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her head back to look at him and he bent and kissed her on the lips. Nothing was said, nothing needed to be said. He moved in front of her and held out his hand, she took it and he led her into the bedroom.

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Hornydevil47Hornydevil47about 2 months ago

For a short story it was bloody good. Thank you. Mel B known as Hornydevil47

billytimebillytimeover 12 years ago
do another one

you need to keep writing about this. add another chapter or two.

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