Torrie's Year - Sex Stories

Torrie's Year

... wore to the party two weeks prior. It a black dress, coming down to her knees, thick straps, a hint of cleavage. "You look great, mom," Eddie complimented her, clearing his throat, attempting not to stare. Even though her dress was by no means very revealing, he was not accustomed to seeing her dressed like this. Torrie smiled back at him, sitting on his lap, she truly liked that he had an innocent crush on her. She thought it was sweet. "Thank you," She said kissing his forehead. "Remember, mommy is going out with some friends," Torrie lied. "I'll see you in the morning!" Torrie peeped in on her husband. John was watching baseball in the living room. She told him something similar, except there was no hug or kiss goodbye. Torrie knew what she was doing was dangerous, she knew it could turn out badly. Sitting at traffic lights, getting closer and closer to her destination, taking in the changing surroundings, she began to get nervous. She was driving to a nightclub in an area that was predominately black. She was alone and fought pangs of foolishness for making this choice. She drove on, the thoughts and thrills of meeting another black man kept her going. Torrie stood along at the bar, shyly observing her surroundings, trying to remain calm. After a few minutes, she started feeling a bit self-conscious, mixed with relief. There were many white women there in varying ages from college age to 40s. She saw no black women. She saw no white men. This brought about relief that ...

... she wasn't alone. The self-conscious feelings kicked in when she saw what the other white women were wearing. Their dresses were, short, tight, sexy, risqué, and nothing like what she was wearing. Just as she was about to order a drink, she was interrupted. Turning around to see who tapped her on her shoulder, her eyes once again widened in shock, her neck arching to look up at a tall, very wide and bulky, black man. Torrie didn't know what to say, instead opting to smile awkwardly. His shoulders were extremely broad, he was wearing a black suit, red shirt with black tie; rings adorned his fingers, a gold watch on his wrist, and he smelled amazing. "Hi," he leaned down to whisper in her ear. Torrie cleared her throat, "Hi." "Care to dance?" He asked. Torrie nodded, gulping nervously, taking his huge arm out onto the dance floor. Her heart was racing, "Wow, I've been here less than 10 minutes," she thought to herself, following the mountainous man. The club was crowded, humid, loud, but something about it Torrie found sexy. She was shy at first, dancing conservatively with this man, whose name she hadn't yet learned. She peered around the dance floor, her nervousness and feelings of being out of place finding their way to her brain once more. One black man near her had picked up his white dance partner. She was straddling him, her feet locked behind him as he thrust upward. Another couple featured the woman bending all the way over, rubbing her butt against her man's crotch. ...