A white man breeds a black woman after flirting at work

When I first met Stephen, I was love struck. He was exactly the type of guy I would always fantasize about, but never have the courage to date. A tall, blonde, older white man of about 60 would never be an acceptable guy for me to date seriously. My family would never approve their smart 30 year old daughter wasting her promising career as a black lawyer on a guy who in all honesty would be a hindrance to her freedom.

Stephen was also a lawyer at the same firm, but in a separate division, on another floor where most of the senior staff had their offices. He was easily over 6 feet tall and his golden blonde hair was kept long and often fell into his brown eyes. Those eyes were the first thing I noticed about him. I had been sitting near him in a large meeting via teleconference with a sister office in Dallas Texas, when I felt like I was being watched. I looked up to see Stephen smoothing his hair to the side and our eyes locked. The gaze we became trapped in felt like it lasted minutes, and as far as I’m concerned, it did. His eyes set me on fire, and it was at that moment that I became attuned to his movements and began to hope that he desired me as much as I wanted him to.

Here in Canada, interracial relationships are pretty common, and really not a big deal. I’ve dated Asian guys, Spanish guys, and even a Swede (one brave summer while traveling abroad), and never had any issues with the fact that we came from different backgrounds. The exception of course was that they were all the same age more or less. My fantasy of being with a much older man has always remained hidden, out of fear of rejection, or some other devastating complication.

After that incident with Stephen in the meeting, I began to dress a little sexier around the office when I knew he would be around. At first it was just to tease him, then after a few extremely flirtatious interactions with him, I began to dress exclusively in ways than would have me ready for him if I got the chance. One particularly scintillating interaction was a stolen moment in a stairwell. I took the stairs hoping for a minute to myself. I had been thinking about sex while sitting in my cubicle and I needed to refocus and meditate…then I ran into Stephen.

At that moment all that I could think about was a deep, hot desire for him to fuck me. I needed his cock buried inside of me, and to punish me for being such a bad girl and wearing those sexy outfits to tease him. I imagined that he had a long and thick cock, because his height and overall size seemed to dictate that he would be packing serious meat. I didn’t care that he was twice my age at all, in fact the idea only served to turn me on more.

It was as though Stephen could hear my thoughts. He took one giant step toward me and gathered me in his arms.

“Are you looking for me?” he said as his hand caressed my face. I stood motionless, unable to come up with a response…so I leaned in and kissed him.

His lips answered my kiss by parting slightly and I took that as my cue to slip my pink tongue past his lips to show him that I wanted more. So much more.

Stephen backed me up against the wall of the stairwell and I felt my knees go weak. His large frame pressed against my body and I could feel his hard member through his pants and against my midsection. His strong muscular hands held my arms tight like one of those old fashioned kisses from the Humphrey Bogart Era, but much hotter and more interracial.

We broke our kiss after a little while to come up for air. I couldn’t believe that I was so lucky to have my crush like me back, and be able to make out with this super gorgeous older man. I felt like I was 15 years old at that moment.

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