Freedom Ch. 1

I know it's wrong to celebrate someone's death, but Michael was a complete and utter ass. I spent twenty-two years being the good little housewife while he played the letch. He fucked anything with a twat... except for me. Our only son was a true accident; he came home thinking it was one of his mistress' hovels. Serves the bastard right. Now that he's gone, Dave and I can finally live our lives with freedom. Dave lives in New Orleans and is perfectly happy there. I sold that monstrous place in L.A. and moved to Blacksburg, Virginia.

I was there a full three weeks before it finally sunk in. I could actually experience the rest of life now. Bar hopping. Flirting without having to be some model of society. I could actually live my live as I wanted to live it. My only problem was where to start. The bars in the city were mostly college hangouts. Definitely not the place for a fifty-seven year old recently widowed white woman to start living her live safely. After three months I was about ready to settle down and be a spinster. Then came Rakim.

I remember the day his family moved next door. Most of my neighborhood was white middle class and totally spooked by the prospect of a black couple moving onto the street. When it became clear that it was a MIXED couple... he black and she white... they were really up in arms. The second day they were there, they invited over everyone in the neighborhood.

I will always remember that day. I was in my living room watching an early morning sci-fi movie when the doorbell rang. I went to the door, asking who was there.

"Rakim Waller. We just moved in next door and I wanted to invite you over to a backyard grill party we're having tonight."

I opened the door and stood facing a very handsome black male. Handsome and definitely much more mature than his face let on. Even with the goatee it was clear that he could easily break hearts and necks. I knew the look well; he was a survivor and a loner. But he'd made it. There was too much tenderness in his rich, earth-brown eyes. Even the small gold hoop earring said he was more than he appeared. Simple. Dangerous. Sexy as hell.

OK. I was horny. I'd woken up craving a good cum. Several, actually. As usual, I wanted to finish my coffee before satisfying myself, but Rakim's intrusion caught me before I'd boiled the water. My plan formed instantly. Smiling, I invited him inside for a cup of coffee.

I watched as a shadow flowed over his face. Like liquid nothing, only more silent. His features melted into the darkness, becoming more defined as they faded away. Here was the soul of a survivor. What had he seen in his scant years on this world? I wondered if my son ever had that look. I wanted nothing more than to hold him in my arms and let him know that everything would be just fine. The shadow faded, but not my lust or the lingering motherly instincts. I stepped aside to let him in.

* * * *

He sipped his coffee quietly. I could feel his mind wander over every detail. He was not used to common decency. Being of mixed heritage was probably very difficult for him. Even so he was polite without being sickening. We talked about the move, his new home, his old friends. Here is where he began to show even more signs of being world wise. His words were short and well chosen. I know of no less than twelve politicians who could take lessons from Rakim.

My eyes roamed over his movements, absorbing every twitch and subtle shift. At first he seemed to move like a teenager in the presence of an elder. Then, ever so slowly, it looked as if he were... comfortable. I looked into his eyes and saw the most playful look possible. Somehow he knew exactly what was about to happen to him... and was giving me clearance. How cute.

"So. You're interested in computers?"

"I build them. or used to before moving here."

"This is a college town. You'll have more than your fair share of clients. And I'd like to be your first."

He smiled that same playful smile. It fit him much better than the dark, brooding look he wore earlier. I motioned for him to follow me. He rose. And I have to describe his movements. On the surface it was nothing spectacular. HE just stood up. I've spent my entire life observing people. High society people move how they think. Heavy thoughts... slow movements. Up to no good... carefully orchestrated movements. Rakim stood. Just stoop. Open. Honest. Real. Even as he waited the three breaths for me to show him to my computer he never made any movement that was not open and honest. He moved with the fluid grace of someone that knew what they were doing and did not care who else was aware.

We went upstairs to my bedroom. Stepping aside, I let him in... the first non-family male to have that distinction. He stopped at the doorway, let his eyes... and only his eyes... move about my room, then walked over to my computer. We began discussing what the damn thing had been doing. I was pleased that he spoke to me like a person and not another idiot who'd bought a computer from a television add and didn't know the first thing about the technology. He even managed to get me to laugh at my own mistakes without realizing it. Rakim was a perfect gentleman. It was also very apparent that he was more mature than most his age. More mature and infinitely more... well...

I stood behind him, my breasts pressed against the nape of his neck. Rakim seemed to not even noticed... until I noticed a slight increase in the pressure being applied to my flesh. He knew they were there. He knew I was trying to seduce him. And he was going to make me work for it. Not a problem. Actually made the game more interesting.

I would point to something on the monitor, leaning over him. I breathed on his neck and finally got a reaction. Rakim growled, a deep, resonating, primal sound that made me want him even more. Age called him boy or child. That sound... he was a man. Strong. Caring. Somehow I knew he would be a good father and loving husband. Here was the creature Michael played at being. And he was black! Bedding Rakim would be a slap in the face to that racist fuck.

Smiling, I sat in his lap. The instant I was down I felt it. His hardon pulsed between his surprisingly sturdy legs. He even turned around so that I could get comfortable. And I did... after grinding my ass into his lap. I felt rather than heard the rumble of pleasure as it slid into my body. One hand slid around my waist as Rakim continued to coach me on my computer. His voice was just over a whisper... and his breath slid over the nape of my neck. I wanted to skip the seduction right then and there, but I also wanted this to be a royal fuck session. I wanted cock. his cock. In me. Hard. Powerful.

"Before I show you about the internet, mind if I stop by my house and let dad know where I am and catch grub? I promise to be right back." His eyes completed his words. He wanted to see how far this was going to go, but he was NOT about to risk the wrath of his parents.

"I'll leave the front door open, Rakim. And please... call me Helen. I've been Mrs. Whitecloud for too long." He chuckled softly as I rose. He eventually left, but I took every opportunity to touch his virile young body. I watched as he walked the short distance to his home, hungrily waiting for his return.

* * * *

* * * *

I was in the kitchen, still in my bathrobe, when I heard him enter. First came that clear, deep, powerful yet youthful voice. I told him where I was, then listened for the lock to engage. It did. I smiled.

"Sorry for the delay..."

"Not a problem, Rakim. What did you eat?"

"Turkey and Swiss on wheat. My usual," he chuckled. So innocent sounding. Where was that shadow stalker I saw before?

"Oh. My father thought I should bring this. It's an external drive for storage."

"Storage? Of what?"

"Backup..." I saw his eyes twinkle. A dark twinkle, but no malice lay in it or the act. It was... odd.

"Backup?"

"Yeah," he muttered. This time there was something else in his voice. "Makes it easy to repair any future damage. Would you like me to show you how it works?"

I smiled, chuckling softly. If that device was his father's idea I owed him a very large thank you. "Of course, Rakim."

I lead him back into my bedroom, closing the door behind him. He shrugged out of the denim jacket he wore. My eyes locked on it, amazed that even in the Summer heat he wore something so... heavy.

"I like pockets," he said. He was watching me. I turned to face him. I was only partially correct. His eyes were walking over the entire room. Taking in everything.

He sat down in front of the monitor and began speaking about the internet. I sat down in his lap and listened to his wonderful voice. It was alive. Full of the wonders of youth and the wisdom of experience. My eyes fell on the portable device, unconnected, as it lay on the computer desk. Neatly arranged. I sighed and snuggled into his arms, which immediately slid around my waist.

"How long have you been..."

"I was married for twenty-two years. Widowed for about five months. Moved here because I like the atmosphere. Quiet. Peaceful. And I love the mountains."

"Yeah. Dad always had a thing for fresh air in his lungs. Never really adapted to city life. I was raised in the city. This is my first time in a place so... open."

"Do you like it?"

"So far," he muttered happily. His hands rubbed lazy circles across my belly.

All I could do was laugh softly. I'd opened the door and damn if he didn't make me pay for it. I kissed him gently on the cheek, speaking with my eyes. His face was soft. Tender. Yet those eyes. It always came down to his eyes. They were always open. I could read his soul... if I had a good translation. Which I intended to get... in due time.

"Mind if I change?"

"Shall I leave?" Playful again. I shrugged. Standing, I untied the garment and let it fall to the floor.

"Beautiful." Never had anyone spoken that word so honestly to me. Michael said it. Three times exactly. Every time it was in a social setting and it was given as the proper response to a question. My hands, reflexively guarding my breasts and crotch, fell instantly to my side.

"ME? I think you're being too kind. This is an old woman's body. I'm too fat and..." He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement.

"I've never known a beautiful woman to admit it. And if they did, they were arrogant bitches. Pardon my French."

"None necessary. And thank you." I set about getting dressed. I heard him move, humming some tune to himself.

"What song is that?"

"Trance. Got interested in it because of my father. I think you'd like him. He's like me only more... Or that's what everyone else tells me. Not a bad thing, really. I mean... I can appreciate beauty were I see it, right?"

"Indeed. Trance... isn't that what those..."

"Raver kids. Yeah it's their groove, but it doesn't necessarily mean I'm some drugged out space monkey trying to drown out reality by staying blitzed out of my gourd and dancing to the wee hours of the morning after the morning after. Give me trance, a cold soda and I'm a happy puppy."

"You are amazing." He shrugged, smiling at me with a face that seemed to be thinking about something other than our conversation. "What are you thinking?"

"Want the truth or ya want me ta lie t'ya." His accent was definitely street, but there was more than a dose of good-ole-boy as well.

"The truth, young man," I said with mock sternness. I planted my hands on my panty-clad hips and waited for his response. He was beneath my computer desk, his legs twitching rhythmically to his mental music.

"I was thinking about how your skin would feel beneath my hands. How your lips would feel if I kissed them. I was thinking about trying to seduce you. I was thinking about how wrong it would be for me to take advantage of a woman who was, if I may say, obviously neglected by her husband."

"I think you're too young to have thoughts that deep."

"Everyone says that. Except my father. He thinks I'm just growing up faster than other eighteen-year-olds. I think he's right."

"Sounds like he's the perfect father."

"Nope. He's the perfect friend. His words. Now I think I understand. A father sometimes has to be blind. Not a friend."

He rose, his eyes locking immediately on my body. "And I'm thinking I like you better naked."

That was it. He'd returned the favor and opened the door for me. It was my turn to make him pay. I walked over to him, watching his every movement. He stood. Just stood. Waiting for what he expected. I stopped in front of him, leaned over and spoke.

"Why don't you join me. We still have lessons to go over," I whispered in his ear. The deep roar/rumble in his chest told me how successful I was. I pulled away; his eyes burned with lust. He wanted me, but was more interested in playing the game. I pulled out the chair. He sat down, offering me a seat.

Rakim taught me much. Several times I actually forgot he was holding me. Then I would feel his breath on my neck. Soft and seductive, it seemed to slither along my flesh. And it always brought my attention back to him.

"Did you have a girlfriend back in Los Angeles?"

"Nope. And I don't date black women."

"Really? Why?" I turned to face him, eventually sitting sidesaddle in his lap. His face looked much older. Wiser. Yet there was that same amused shadow.

"MOST... and remember that word... black women are used to dealing with the stereotypical black guy, which I REFUSE to be. Unless the situation calls for it. Anyhow... they spend most of their time pressing buttons. Black men have developed pre-programmed responses to this, so they are relatively safe doing this. Occasionally some guy has his wires crossed or blows a circuit. Drugs, hard day at work... the reasons... excuses... are many. But I'm not wired like the stereotype. They press buttons and I react all wrong. Even for a White Guy I act wrong. I'm patient. Understanding, and yielding to a point. Ironically I am what most black women consider the perfect man. They just don't know how to treat one. So I don't even bother. And yes... I'm speaking from experience."

The form that slid across his face... Wise. Evil. No... ruthless. Someone had hurt him. Something had tormented his dreams. I knew that look all too well. Wondering if he could have done something else. I stroked his face tenderly. The shadow scampered away as he turned to face me.

I kissed him. What could I say? He'd just given me more information about himself than he'd probably shared with anyone other than his father. Trust is a valuable thing. I know this. I understood. And I finally understood my attraction to Rakim. He was someone I could trust. With my body... and my soul.

"Think about this," he warned in a soft, tender tone. "I will have no regrets. You are a beautiful woman, and I don't give a damn about the age thing. Never have. I won't lie to you; I would love to have sex with you. But..."

"I know, Rakim," I said with a tender smile. His eyes flashed briefly. A warm, open look graced his features. Innocent. Caring.

I kissed his lips. Just his lips. Flesh touched flesh. Nothing could prepare me for the rush of pleasure as he returned my kiss, playfully parting his lips almost enough to let my over eager tongue dance with his. I rose, pulling free of his embrace... with a great deal of reluctance on my part.

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir."

He rose majestically. Powerfully. I watched as he slid the tee shirt off, revealing a body that fit the face. It was tone, but not overly. The muscles were prominent, but they looked proper. Strong, but proper. He sported a slight paunch, but a subtle shift betrayed the powerful muscles beneath the layer of baby fat. Next came his shorts, which fell silently to his feet.

"Huh... probably shoulda taken off my shoes first," he chuckled. I joined him, lowering myself to my knees in order to help him. Of course I was aware that my position put me in the perfect placement to see the throbbing member which created such a full bulge in his boxer-briefs. Black... like his shorts.

"Let me," I breathed. His legs trembled and I was amazed at the power they displayed. I helped him step out of his shorts, then pulled off his shoes and socks. Yet I did not stand up once finished. I... sat there.

His hands touched my hair. His touch was so tender I felt myself melting into him. I could not resist; I reached for his firm ass cheeks and nuzzled his crotch. It smelled of Man. Musky. Enticing. Rakim brushed a wisp of hair away, gingerly caressing my cheek in the movement. I moaned, opening my mouth around the cotton clad bulge.

"You husband was a fool," he growled. I pulled his boxer-briefs off, and was nearly slapped in the face by the longest, thickest piece of manhood I've ever seen outside of a pornographic magazine or movie.

"My my... we are a healthy young man," I chuckled. Then I noticed that he had no hair covering his crotch. I let one finger slide over the baby smooth surface, one eyebrow raising slightly.

"Keeps down the funk. And I like it. Everyone's got their quirks." The total freedom of his words excited me. I knew there was nothing hidden behind his words. No lies danced behind his eyes.. I took him in my hand. The power was intoxicating. My mouth hungered for a taste of a real man. On my terms. I WANTED to suck his dick, unlike the "wifely duty" I performed on that scuz bucket I called husband.

I licked the head. Salty... and hot. Instincts I never knew existed took over and I inhaled as much of him as I could.

"OH GOD!!" he hissed. I caught a glimpse of his arms as they shot out to the side, hands flexing spasmodically. Then I decided to have a bit of fun. Pulling away, I looked at him as innocently as possible given what I'd just done.

"You're going to have to teach me, Rakim. I'm still somewhat new to this."

His eyes flashed a dangerous black. It soon morphed into something I'd never seen. Playful. Stern. Commanding. He looked like a teacher. Somehow... I found this even more exciting. He was going to play the game.

"Indeed. Then I want to know one thing. What's off limits. I have a hardon and a twisted imagination. You have three holes and are willing. What is off limits."

He spoke softly. His words... commanded my attention. My lust. he gave me total control. My wants came first. it was unusual. And frightening. One word and this would end. Rakim would never mention it. HE would always be a kind soul. HE would be a true friend no matter what I said or did. And I had the power to end that with one stupid move or comment. I felt myself crying... tears of the purest joy and love. He lifted me to my feet.

"Promise me one thing. You won't..."

"I guarantee this, Helen. Unless otherwise stated, this goes no further than you and I. Not even my father will know. On my honor and that of my blood I swear this to you. I am your friend first. Always."

"I am yours, Rakim." The words came. They belonged. They were right.

"OK. But first... we need some music. This will only take a moment, especially with your fast connection to the net. No woman should be held unless there is proper background noise. Music?"

"Ok." I laughed. Just that fast he'd put everything on hold... and I was in total agreement. I wanted this to be something more than just a romp with a young stud. I turned towards the bathroom while he sat down in front of the computer. As I fixed my makeup, for some un-Godly reason, I soon hear the rhythmic beat of electronically generated music.

It was interesting watching the transformation. Rakim's body simply began to go fluid. The power was still there, but now it flowed with the music. Yet still it was clear that something was... holding him back. I frowned.

"Have you ever attended a..."