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Constance May was a full-figured lady of color. As a young girl she had attended church every Sunday and had then married a hard-working young man who attended her church. She was nineteen and she bore him a son and then a daughter. She grew up having faith in a divine creator, and that through the love of a husband and children she could live a good life and earn God’s mercy on earth as well as in heaven. But her husband left her for someone else, someone younger and her children now lived their own lives and she felt like a good shoe missing its pair.

In her life Constance had only ever made love with only two men. One had been, naturally, her husband, Jesse senior. The other had been her little secret, a sometimes guilty one, sometimes not. For her first lover, at the tender age of only eighteen years of age, had been a tall slim white boy, who worked in a hardware store run near to where she lived with her parents. If her parents had known, for it was the 1960s after all, she would have been sternly rebuked and forced to stop seeing him.

It would have angered her brothers and parents to know that the tousled blonde boy who everyone recognized from the store had been the first to savor sweet innocent Constance as a woman. She knew that black men would disparage white men and play on the presumed stereotype that only a black male had a large penis. She daren’t contradict this stereotype that she knew was false first hand from making love with her sweet cherished blonde lover.

It had hurt at first when he had broken her hymen, but he was patient and gentle and tender with her. He had carried her across the threshold from child to womanhood upon a bed of kisses and he had made the pain vanish with a spell and the magic of his love and ardor for her. He made her feel special, he made her feel like she was the only one in the world. What did she care that he wasn’t black, that he belonged to the “wrong” community? In his arms, with him touching her as a lover does, softly kissing her neck and breasts and then her lips again, she knew for him, she was not just a body to conquer but a mind to light and inspire. And this he did and she could never forget him.

She remembered weeping soft, bitter tears when she decided to break it off with him. She told him she had met someone else and she regretted the look of pain in his eyes as he understood what she was telling him. And it had all been a lie. A terrible destructive lie. There had been no other. But, fearing that their relationship would be discovered, she had cold feet as it were and decided she could not risk her family for love.

But where were they now? She had lost her mother many years ago and her father followed a few years later. Now, her husband too had vanished from her life and her children were infrequent presences and apparitions in her all-too-predictable existence. At night, sometimes, her thoughts would return to haunt her. She wished she had taken that chance and had opposed her parents and anyone else for that matter. If only she could Betturkey go back in time, she would defy them all and she knew all too painfully well that what, at the time, had seemed impossible, dating a white man, was being done in fact by other women and men and now it was very common tom see mixed race couples together.

The hour had come and gone and with it that chance of happiness life had held out to her almost as a dare or a test. She had played safe and lost. She had chosen duty over instinct. If only she had

taken that other road, the path led by the heart, the left-hand way, observing the inner voice of the light within. She would have lived another life and just maybe with a man who loved her and only her and who would be at her side even now. Instead she lived alone and went home to no-one. She had a cat called Vera and that was her life, job, home and feed the cat that sprang from her lazy slumber as the key turned and the door opened.

But past was past and you can’t bring it back whatever you do. Constance looked at herself in the mirror. Her confidence was low. She hadn’t quite given up and went to dances and met and talked to men, but they all seemed like men with no great virtue or sincerity. She didn’t want to settle for someone else who had been disappointed the way she herself had been. She wanted that old spark back, that flaming love and passion. The men she met were weary, cynical at times. They wanted a wife to look after them and order their home if not their lives.

Life has a funny way of repeating itself. Almost as if the universe is run by numbers and equations, that imply, for convenience sake, repletion. Constance began to notice a nice, handsome young man in the florist. He was shy and blonde with beautiful blue eyes. His hair was short and he was working when she visited to buy some flowers. Every so often when she had some extra money to spend, she would buy some red and white roses and take them to the cemetery to give colour to her parents’ grave.

She would chat to him in a casual, friendly way as she always did to everyone. But he was much younger than her, maybe twenty years of age. Still, she was aware that he made her think of her first lover Tom. She found herself visiting the shop more often and spending a little more than she really could afford. In the shop sometimes she would blush and hoped desperately that he didn’t notice. At home she blushed more at the thought of her blushing.

“Oh Constance!”, she spoke out to the audience of only her cat and her folks in heaven. “There no fool like an old fool and that’s for sure!”, she added with her usually self-scolding manner. The cat looked up for a moment from cleaning its long, stretched-out leg, then resumed its endless chore, which it seemed however to be enjoying in not-so-secret pleasure.

Constance began to feel that the attention was not entirely one-way. Whenever she entertained such a thought, she blushed as red as beetroot it seemed to her and she wouldn’t leave Betturkey Giriş the house until she was satisfied, with thorough checks in the mirror, that her normal color had returned. Still she couldn’t keep away from the florist shop or the young man.

One afternoon, as the rain poured down outside, she went into the little florist shop. Jake was there. She blushed mightily to see he had taken off his shirt from being caught in the rain. Constance stammered and apologized for entering. He told her not to be silly and laughed. She knew she had betrayed herself a little. A little part of her didn’t care. Constance felt her confidence pick up suddenly from nowhere like a sudden gust of wind or breeze that carried her on now to say something to the boy she had never quite imagined herself capable.

“Oh my,” she began somewhat timidly, “if I were a little younger I would hope you would have the courage to ask me out!”, she finished and with some resolution in her voice and laughing a little nervously. Jake looked at her and smiled a knowing smile. He had never been with a black lady and really wanted to do so and truth be told, he liked older buxom women.

“What if I told you that you were beautiful now?” he blurted out with an expectant, vacillating smile. Outside the rain hammered against the window as if nature herself were conspiring to lock away these two together. Constance had to sit down and she felt a little faint and just emitted a weary whimsical laugh.

“I would be most flattered!”, she laughed. He approached her hesitantly at first , but her smile spurred him on. He offered her his hand and without knowing quite why she took it. Her body became as light as a feather and her heart steadied as did her nerve. The room fell dark and he took her by the hand over to the door and she thought he was leading her outside and that she was being played a cruel trick upon and would find herself outside the shop window just like her poor cat.

But no, this was no nasty cruel prank of a young man young enough to be her son. He took her over with him, as if afraid to let her go, like she would disappear in a puff of smoke, to the door of the shop. He changed the sign that said open to closed. Constance’s heart missed a beat as she suddenly became aware of what was happening to her. She was being led by her hand up stairs to be alone with this young man. She knew he was about to make love to her and her body raged inside with pent-up desire and unspent passion. He led her with quickening step on up the winding stairs until they came to a landing. She felt his hand grip her tightly and she squeezed back and they were together now in a secret understanding of what they were about to do, indeed what they must now do, in some strange mysterious way.

He opened a door and they slipped inside and the rain still fell onto the glass windows of the little shop. Suddenly he could wait no more and seizing his chance and the moment he kissed the dark lady on her mouth and she returned his kiss. Betturkey Güncel Giriş He was already half naked and he moved her toward the bed, with its pink pillows and purple sheets. She kicked off shoes as he loosened her bra. He pulled at her clothes and she at his and soon he stood naked before her, his cock erect and ready for her. She too was ready as she cried out to him to fuck her.

“Fuck me!” she begged and she almost covered her mouth in shame. She thought of her husband and her first lover and now looked at the young man who kissed her breasts, placing his hands quickly in various intimate places. Then he did something no man had ever done. He dropped to his knees and stuck his tongue deep inside her delicious vagina. It felt so good and she realized she had missed out on much these years gone by.

The young man was enjoying eating her pussy and she loved the feelings and rapid sensations rising from her body. His tongue darted in and out and all across her pussy and she knew she wanted him inside her. He got up and offered her his hard white cock, which she accepted in her mouth as he played, squeezing her large breasts. He was not the boy of her dreams. He was not the lost love of her life. But she needed this affirmation in her life right now and she embraced what life had brought her now with utter abandon.

She sucked his cock now like a hungry slut as he ate her cunt. As she sucked she moaned with pleasure as outside the rain still harried the people on their daily rounds. His young hard penis tirelessly thrust inside her mouth and she struggled to keep up, but keep up she did. She wanted him inside her pussy and told him so. She lay back, her chest panting, catching her breath, as he positioned his cock at her vagina and taking her like it was the umpteenth time of doing, he fucked her into howls of delight.

He took her with long thrusts that stretched her wide and she pushed her legs wide apart in an act of submission. With his hands on the bed beside her the young man fucked and fucked her like a gigolo satisfying his client. He took her on her back and on her knees until finally, without warning , he unloaded himself deep into her. She felt his warm semen flood inside her, impregnating her womb. But this was just the beginning of their time together.

Over many months they made love many times and Constance didn’t feel quite so lonely when she went home to greet her cat, because she had just mad love to a young man who wanted her and made love to her and opened new horizons. He was young and potent and he could come two or three times in a couple of hours quite easily and he often did. Constance returned home, her florist boy’s come deep in her ass and cunt.

She let him have his wicked little way and enjoyed being a little wicked herself. She had followed the right hand way and had found only loneliness and disappointment. The left hand way of following your instinct had led to a late flowering of passion in life. It was no cure-all, but it was something and it had restored her confidence and faith in life to some extent. She was happy, she had moved on, she knew there were other men out there, young men even, who would gladly make love to her. And with this thought, going home to just her old cat didn’t seem quite so much of a worry any more.

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