Sometimes My Mind Wanders
I’m often asked if my stories are true, and I have to giggle to myself because they’re just products of my active imagination. It would be fun, but I’ve never come close to what happens in my stories. It’s just fantasy. Having said that, the following is 100% real and how it happens for me fairly regularly. Enjoy.
I got up with my husband, Craig, around 6 a.m., and made coffee and turned on the TV. I sipped coffee with French vanilla creamer and a little sugar, watched the news on NBC, perused my social media accounts and watched Tik Tok videos while Craig got ready for work. I kissed my husband goodbye around eight and returned to the couch, the news and my phone. I added in a visit to xHamster to my early morning activities and scrolled a bit, getting aroused and letting my mind wander. I contemplated whether I wanted to have a little solo fun on the living room couch or get my day going, and since it was early and I enjoy having a little fun throughout the day while sneaking peeks at naughty images on my phone, I opted to skip touching myself for the time being. I instead headed upstairs to shower and get ready for my day of gardening, running errands, a workout at the gym and whatever else I wanted to get done. Such is the life of a white suburban housewife.
After a nice long hot shower, I emerged from the steamy bathroom with a soft white terrycloth towel wrapped around my body and another around my head to dry my hair. It was still early but the sun was up, and I could hear the sounds of life coming from outside. We live a bit in the country and have some privacy and a little space, but I could still hear sounds of activity close by like a lawn mower or perhaps a leaf blower and the the occasional sounds of a large vehicle backing up from some construction taking place not too far away.
I went to the window to take look and parted the white plantation blinds to look out from the second floor bedroom. I could see Jerry, our pool guy standing at the bed of his late model Chevy pickup. Jerry was an older white man who owned his own pool cleaning company who we’d used for the last few years. The back of his truck was filled with pool supplies and the tailgate to was down. He was busy doing something I couldn’t quite make out, so I turned to head into the bathroom to start on my hair and makeup when my eye caught movement from the corner of my eye.
Standing at the pool edge was a younger black guy, perhaps in his mid to late 20s, skimming the surface of the pool with a net, scooping up leaves that had blown into the water. He had closely cropped hair, a dark complexion, and a muscular build, as if he might have been an athlete of some kind. Being in Texas, I imagined he was a football player in his youth, and while his aspirations of going pro hadn’t panned out, he’d kept his physique and visited the gym regularly and now worked for Jerry. I had no idea if that was accurate, but it’s the story I made up in my mind as I looked him over. He wore a blue short-sleeved t-shirt that clung to his torso and showed off his build and a pair of shorts and high top tennis shoes. He was sweating in the Texas heat and it showed as the sweat absorbed into his shirt on his chest, down the middle of his back and under his arms.
As I watched him work while peeking through the slats in the plantation shutters and still wrapped in my two towels, my mind began to wander, as will often happen. I imagined him shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of tight jeans and no belt. I imagined myself sitting poolside in one of our chaise lounges, wearing one of my skimpy beach vacation bikinis, sipping a glass of red wine while I pretended to read a book, but using my large sunglasses to hide the fact that I was watching him work on the pool a mere twenty feet away. As I imagined watching his muscle fibers in his shoulders and chest move and his hard abs flex as he worked, I began to get aroused.
I continued to watch him from my bedroom. I knew he couldn’t see me because we had some new tinted screens that helped to block the oppressive Texas afternoon sun, but still, I closed the blinds just a bit more, dropped the towel around my body to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed and spread my legs slightly, still wearing the towel around my head. Soon all sorts of dirty thoughts began to flash in my head as I let my imagination run wild. I watched him work in real time, and in my head I imagined sitting in that chaise lounge, looking his body up and down, a sheen of sweat covering his body, making his dark skin glisten in the sun. I imagined him across the pool, watching me put oil all over my body to get a good tan and seeing a bulge growing down his pant leg. Without even knowing it my hand had moved between my legs and I was rubbing myself as I secretly watched him from our second floor bedroom. I was incredibly wet as imagined different scenarios playing out in my head.
I imagined that suddenly he looked up, sweaty and shirtless, and could see me touching myself. I was no longer peeking through the blinds in secret, but instead the blinds were pulled open and then window was up and he could see in the bedroom completely. I thought about him staring at me while he unbuttoned his jeans and extracted a massive black cock which his proceeded to stroke.
I thought about standing in front of him by the pool, running my hands over his hard, sweaty muscular body. Moving my hands along his pronounced six pack and his strong broad shoulders. I imagined him towering over me as I felt his chest and wrapped my hands around him to feel the muscles in his back, realizing that he could take whatever he wanted from me. And of course I imagined tracing my hand along the absolutely magnificent length of his hard cock begging to be freed from his jeans.
I imagined him at poolside again, offering to put oil on me to make sure I got a good even tan all over. I thought of him removing my bikini and his big, rough, warm hands all over my body. Rubbing oil all over, covering me good and getting me all slick. Squeezing my big boobs and massaging the oil between my legs.
I imagined sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge as he stood over me. He unbuttoned his tight jeans to extract his huge cock, and I squeeze an excessive amount of oil into my hand and rub my hands together before wrapping them both around his cock and sliding them up and down on his lead pipe of a cock.
I imagined touching myself from the bedroom and getting lost in my fantasies and opening my eyes to a sound in the bedroom and discovering he’d come into the house and was watching me. I thought about him walking toward me and ripping the towel off and having his way with me roughly right there on our bed.
I think about him out there working hard, all sweaty and hot. I imagine taking a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade out to him, which I’ve never made in my life. I walk out, wearing the same towel as if I’d just come out of the shower. This time I imagine no towel on my head, my hair still damp from the shower. I walk out and call him over and pour him a glass of lemonade. He smiles as he looks down at me, standing over two feet taller than me, never taking his eyes off me while he takes a sip. Then he pulls the towel off me and tosses it aside and stands there looking at my body. I’m ashamed. Embarrassed. Scared. But he doesn’t seem to care as he wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me and sits me on the patio table. He puts his hands on my knees and pushes my legs open. I look up at him as he smiles again while he unzips his pants and pulls his hard cock out. He doesn’t hesitate at all and begins pushing inside me. Stretching me. Pushing in deeper. In and out. I moan as his cock intoxicates me. He pushes me onto my back on the table and grabs my ankles and pulls my legs apart wide and pushes in hard and deep. It hurts. But it hurts so good. Like I’ve never felt. Soon the table is wobbling under us and I wonder if it will hold from the absolute hard pounding he’s giving me. His sweat running down his chest, dripping from his face onto me as he focuses on his new job at hand. His heavy black balls making slapping noises as they smack against my ass with each hard thrust. Finally he’s as deep inside as he can go, and he wraps a hand around my neck as he grunts with each thrust. And I explode. Wave after wave of glorious orgasm as I cum on his huge, hard, thick black cock. Suddenly I’m thankful we live in the country because I’m screaming with both pain and pleasure. Begging him for more. My legs spread wide, knees up by my ears, my hands gripping his hard ass, pulling him in deep until he throws his head back and erupts inside me. I can feel him flooding me. Filing me with his forbidden cum.
And I really did cum still sitting on the edge of the bed watching him from my window. I’d gone from rubbing my clit to sliding two fingers inside, furiously pumping them. Back and forth. Using two hands at times, one to rub and the others inside until I gave myself a glorious orgasm. Out of breath and highly satisfied, I grabbed my towel and jumped back into the shower to refresh myself and wash off the sweat. I got dressed and headed out, excited about the day ahead and looking forward to playing some more. Maybe it would be a day of more solo fun in a gym bathroom stall in the locker room or maybe in my car in the parking lot of some store while shopping. Neither would be a first. Maybe I’d go home and get online and look at porn and give myself another orgasm before my husband got home. Maybe he’d end up reaping the benefits of my mood, and we’d have hot sex that night…assuming I could hold out and not exhaust myself through the day with my solo exploits.
Since then Jerry has come back alone several times, and I haven’t seen the black guy since. Trust me, I’ve looked. I never even learned his name, but I’ve taken full advantage of my fantasies. My dirty mind is filled with thoughts just like the pool guy…a stranger at the grocery store, an auto mechanic, a waiter serving my husband and I at a nice restaurant, and on and on. It comes and goes. Sometimes it’s all I think of all day for days at a time. Other times it’s weeks before the urge hits me and overwhelms me. I just never know what will trigger it and when. But it certainly is fun.
I got up with my husband, Craig, around 6 a.m., and made coffee and turned on the TV. I sipped coffee with French vanilla creamer and a little sugar, watched the news on NBC, perused my social media accounts and watched Tik Tok videos while Craig got ready for work. I kissed my husband goodbye around eight and returned to the couch, the news and my phone. I added in a visit to xHamster to my early morning activities and scrolled a bit, getting aroused and letting my mind wander. I contemplated whether I wanted to have a little solo fun on the living room couch or get my day going, and since it was early and I enjoy having a little fun throughout the day while sneaking peeks at naughty images on my phone, I opted to skip touching myself for the time being. I instead headed upstairs to shower and get ready for my day of gardening, running errands, a workout at the gym and whatever else I wanted to get done. Such is the life of a white suburban housewife.
After a nice long hot shower, I emerged from the steamy bathroom with a soft white terrycloth towel wrapped around my body and another around my head to dry my hair. It was still early but the sun was up, and I could hear the sounds of life coming from outside. We live a bit in the country and have some privacy and a little space, but I could still hear sounds of activity close by like a lawn mower or perhaps a leaf blower and the the occasional sounds of a large vehicle backing up from some construction taking place not too far away.
I went to the window to take look and parted the white plantation blinds to look out from the second floor bedroom. I could see Jerry, our pool guy standing at the bed of his late model Chevy pickup. Jerry was an older white man who owned his own pool cleaning company who we’d used for the last few years. The back of his truck was filled with pool supplies and the tailgate to was down. He was busy doing something I couldn’t quite make out, so I turned to head into the bathroom to start on my hair and makeup when my eye caught movement from the corner of my eye.
Standing at the pool edge was a younger black guy, perhaps in his mid to late 20s, skimming the surface of the pool with a net, scooping up leaves that had blown into the water. He had closely cropped hair, a dark complexion, and a muscular build, as if he might have been an athlete of some kind. Being in Texas, I imagined he was a football player in his youth, and while his aspirations of going pro hadn’t panned out, he’d kept his physique and visited the gym regularly and now worked for Jerry. I had no idea if that was accurate, but it’s the story I made up in my mind as I looked him over. He wore a blue short-sleeved t-shirt that clung to his torso and showed off his build and a pair of shorts and high top tennis shoes. He was sweating in the Texas heat and it showed as the sweat absorbed into his shirt on his chest, down the middle of his back and under his arms.
As I watched him work while peeking through the slats in the plantation shutters and still wrapped in my two towels, my mind began to wander, as will often happen. I imagined him shirtless and barefoot, wearing a pair of tight jeans and no belt. I imagined myself sitting poolside in one of our chaise lounges, wearing one of my skimpy beach vacation bikinis, sipping a glass of red wine while I pretended to read a book, but using my large sunglasses to hide the fact that I was watching him work on the pool a mere twenty feet away. As I imagined watching his muscle fibers in his shoulders and chest move and his hard abs flex as he worked, I began to get aroused.
I continued to watch him from my bedroom. I knew he couldn’t see me because we had some new tinted screens that helped to block the oppressive Texas afternoon sun, but still, I closed the blinds just a bit more, dropped the towel around my body to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed and spread my legs slightly, still wearing the towel around my head. Soon all sorts of dirty thoughts began to flash in my head as I let my imagination run wild. I watched him work in real time, and in my head I imagined sitting in that chaise lounge, looking his body up and down, a sheen of sweat covering his body, making his dark skin glisten in the sun. I imagined him across the pool, watching me put oil all over my body to get a good tan and seeing a bulge growing down his pant leg. Without even knowing it my hand had moved between my legs and I was rubbing myself as I secretly watched him from our second floor bedroom. I was incredibly wet as imagined different scenarios playing out in my head.
I imagined that suddenly he looked up, sweaty and shirtless, and could see me touching myself. I was no longer peeking through the blinds in secret, but instead the blinds were pulled open and then window was up and he could see in the bedroom completely. I thought about him staring at me while he unbuttoned his jeans and extracted a massive black cock which his proceeded to stroke.
I thought about standing in front of him by the pool, running my hands over his hard, sweaty muscular body. Moving my hands along his pronounced six pack and his strong broad shoulders. I imagined him towering over me as I felt his chest and wrapped my hands around him to feel the muscles in his back, realizing that he could take whatever he wanted from me. And of course I imagined tracing my hand along the absolutely magnificent length of his hard cock begging to be freed from his jeans.
I imagined him at poolside again, offering to put oil on me to make sure I got a good even tan all over. I thought of him removing my bikini and his big, rough, warm hands all over my body. Rubbing oil all over, covering me good and getting me all slick. Squeezing my big boobs and massaging the oil between my legs.
I imagined sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge as he stood over me. He unbuttoned his tight jeans to extract his huge cock, and I squeeze an excessive amount of oil into my hand and rub my hands together before wrapping them both around his cock and sliding them up and down on his lead pipe of a cock.
I imagined touching myself from the bedroom and getting lost in my fantasies and opening my eyes to a sound in the bedroom and discovering he’d come into the house and was watching me. I thought about him walking toward me and ripping the towel off and having his way with me roughly right there on our bed.
I think about him out there working hard, all sweaty and hot. I imagine taking a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade out to him, which I’ve never made in my life. I walk out, wearing the same towel as if I’d just come out of the shower. This time I imagine no towel on my head, my hair still damp from the shower. I walk out and call him over and pour him a glass of lemonade. He smiles as he looks down at me, standing over two feet taller than me, never taking his eyes off me while he takes a sip. Then he pulls the towel off me and tosses it aside and stands there looking at my body. I’m ashamed. Embarrassed. Scared. But he doesn’t seem to care as he wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me and sits me on the patio table. He puts his hands on my knees and pushes my legs open. I look up at him as he smiles again while he unzips his pants and pulls his hard cock out. He doesn’t hesitate at all and begins pushing inside me. Stretching me. Pushing in deeper. In and out. I moan as his cock intoxicates me. He pushes me onto my back on the table and grabs my ankles and pulls my legs apart wide and pushes in hard and deep. It hurts. But it hurts so good. Like I’ve never felt. Soon the table is wobbling under us and I wonder if it will hold from the absolute hard pounding he’s giving me. His sweat running down his chest, dripping from his face onto me as he focuses on his new job at hand. His heavy black balls making slapping noises as they smack against my ass with each hard thrust. Finally he’s as deep inside as he can go, and he wraps a hand around my neck as he grunts with each thrust. And I explode. Wave after wave of glorious orgasm as I cum on his huge, hard, thick black cock. Suddenly I’m thankful we live in the country because I’m screaming with both pain and pleasure. Begging him for more. My legs spread wide, knees up by my ears, my hands gripping his hard ass, pulling him in deep until he throws his head back and erupts inside me. I can feel him flooding me. Filing me with his forbidden cum.
And I really did cum still sitting on the edge of the bed watching him from my window. I’d gone from rubbing my clit to sliding two fingers inside, furiously pumping them. Back and forth. Using two hands at times, one to rub and the others inside until I gave myself a glorious orgasm. Out of breath and highly satisfied, I grabbed my towel and jumped back into the shower to refresh myself and wash off the sweat. I got dressed and headed out, excited about the day ahead and looking forward to playing some more. Maybe it would be a day of more solo fun in a gym bathroom stall in the locker room or maybe in my car in the parking lot of some store while shopping. Neither would be a first. Maybe I’d go home and get online and look at porn and give myself another orgasm before my husband got home. Maybe he’d end up reaping the benefits of my mood, and we’d have hot sex that night…assuming I could hold out and not exhaust myself through the day with my solo exploits.
Since then Jerry has come back alone several times, and I haven’t seen the black guy since. Trust me, I’ve looked. I never even learned his name, but I’ve taken full advantage of my fantasies. My dirty mind is filled with thoughts just like the pool guy…a stranger at the grocery store, an auto mechanic, a waiter serving my husband and I at a nice restaurant, and on and on. It comes and goes. Sometimes it’s all I think of all day for days at a time. Other times it’s weeks before the urge hits me and overwhelms me. I just never know what will trigger it and when. But it certainly is fun.
1 year ago
