I scowled, not like the view at all. They had always been little, hardly a handful, even for my small hands. If Frank saw me completely nude, I wondered what he would think. He'd chuckle. I turned my back to the mirror as I peered over my shoulder to observe. My butt's cheeks had lost some of their firmness from all those years before, and they had become somewhat sagging, similar to how my little breasts had become. My despair worsened as I turned around and took in my whole frontal perspective. My crotch was overrun with a thick matting of fine red hair, and I had a gut to my belly that may have protruded a few inches. I grinned, thinking that at least I hadn't yet become grey. I entered the shower, washed my body, and groaned rather dejectedly as I experienced the dreaded tingling feeling in my loins.

Oh, my, I wish it would end. I had a shower, dried myself, put on a sweatsuit, and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He arrived and grinned at me as I removed the hot cakes off the grill. As we ate quiet, we exchanged our customary greetings. He was doing it again, casting looks. I was perplexed as to why having determined there was nothing to gaze at after giving myself a once-over in the bathroom mirror. After saying "bye," he left to go to work. I only had two days of work a week, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so I just performed housework. After vacuuming, dusting, and doing a load of laundry, I sat down and began reading a Good Housekeeping magazine. I did pretend to read. My thoughts had returned to what my groin was requesting. I finally set it down and sat there for a moment before ascending the stairs. I made a move toward Frank's chamber but halted. There was nothing remarkable about the door being wide open. I entered and walked over to the dresser. As I moved into my bedroom, I opened the second drawer, took the magazine out, and shut the drawer. I opened the magazine while sitting on my bed with my back against the headboard. As I took in the scene, more photos made me flush. The black guy in all six photos, which all feature the same blond from the cover, is posed differently. A tale appeared as I flipped the page. I began reading it and realized that it was written from a male's perspective. The story described how the black man enticed and got his way with a white lady.

As I read it, I was captivated by how well it described everything. I mean all of it. After finishing the narrative, I set it aside, closed my eyes, and began to think about Frank. I felt burning, so I touched myself for the first time by lowering my hand inside my underwear. Yes, for the first time. At least not intentionally; I had never toyed with myself. When I was about eleven, I did, and my mother found me. She reprimanded me and told me I shouldn't rub myself there. Mom never gave a reason. A surge of pleasure raced over me as I moved my finger over my clit, making me grin. I tried it again naturally because it felt nice. It took me about two or three seconds to realize it was me after hearing someone scream after three massages. It was the strongest orgasm I had ever had, and it was my first self-induced one. My body was trembling as I gradually descended from my ecstasy, and my chest rose and fell as I caught my breath. To think that reading about someone having sex had aided in my journey there astounded me.

As I took the magazine back up and turned the page, there was another article with photographs of another guy, a white man, doing a black lady. I kept my hand tucked inside my underwear the whole time. The details of their sexual activities were just as vivid, and as I read where she came from, I did too. I clenched my eyes tight and felt a hard come wash over me again, wishing I was having sex with a guy. After all that stimulation, I slept out and didn't wake up for around an hour. It was almost three o'clock when I finally opened my eyes and realized the time. Frank's porno was carefully placed back where I had discovered it, and I rose on shaky knees to put it back in his dresser drawer. I grinned as I walked out of his room and resumed my daily activities. Naturally, I quickly felt guilty, which slowed me down. Up until I put my fingers close to my face and smelled my delicious sex. Yes, I grinned as I recalled how comfortable my masturbation session had been. As soon as he arrived home from work, I immediately felt better and prepared supper for us. We ate together once he got home, and I noticed that he was again staring at me very oddly.

Naturally, I was joyous since I felt youthful, renewed, somewhat lonely and yet craved male company. At dinnertime, I decided to purchase it at that point. I didn't know how, but as I grinned at Frank, I was certain I knew who. That evening, I remained silent when I sat with him in the living room to watch a baseball game. Later, lying in bed, I attempted to formulate a strategy. I mean, I had never previously done this. My late spouse had been the only one to seduce me my whole life. And I was thinking about the issue of how to approach it. I had no idea what day it was Tuesday since I had left for work just after breakfast. On Wednesday, nothing changed, but an idea had emerged. What better way to learn how to accomplish this than by observing my prey? I grinned, anticipating Thursday. I bathed and prepared breakfast for him on Thursday morning when I got out of bed. I then walked up to his bedroom once he was out the door and was certain he was gone for the day. In search of hints, I searched through his wardrobe. I grinned when I discovered six other magazines besides the one from the previous day. All of them had covers like the original, and one even had the label MILF. When I discovered that it stood for "Moms I'd Like to Fuck," it made me laugh. I questioned if he had that in mind for me. Was he looking to conquer me as one of his victims? I had already begun to hope so. I placed the magazines back, except one, and went to my bedroom to relax. When I eventually got up to do some chores, I had a grin and felt a little lighter on my feet. Is that the worst that sex can do to you? If that's the case, God, I was craving more! However, I was still unsure about how to proceed. He seemed to be drawn to older ladies and any white lady. Heck, ANY WOMAN, as I'm a typical American boy! However, how should I approach this? How can I draw his attention to me more?

But then it dawned on me. Maybe he has already. the glances he gave me the day before after a night with a more senior lady. Did it give him any ideas? I grinned as I considered how he was observing my physique. I was dressed, but nothing so exposing that he could see my body. It ended there. 'Revealing,' that term. What if I were to wear something that exposed more of my body? Of course, while I sat there and thought about this, I had nothing on to reveal anything. He entered the house via the garage when he got home at his customary 5:30. I had supper ready as we got down to dine and was grinning. As we were eating, I told him I would go shopping this evening after supper. Without saying anything, he just grinned. I know, shopping. What stores are there? I started driving the fifty miles to the Dayton Mall. I spent three hours shopping and came away with a few outfits, skirts, underwear, and two-piece swimwear. I was beaming as I continued on my way home, looking forward to wearing some of these ensembles around the house.

I did not wear pyjamas that night for the first time, perhaps since birth. In its place, I donned a baby blue one-piece dress with a brassier that forced the little breasts I had up and together and hardly covered my fanny or privates. I first scowled when I saw all those pubes protruding from the sides of the clothing when I looked in the mirror. I pulled it off and then shaved my crotch in the restroom. I shaved the whole damned thing, so it wasn't a trim. I recalled reading about the man's liking of a shaved crotch in one of the articles in his magazines. I grinned, thinking Frank would do the same. After finishing and taking a shower, I put it back on; then, I went to bed. And the next morning, I took my brand-new short robe and put it on, tying it barely in front. He could see what I was wearing beneath since it was frontally gaping and exposing my body. I continued downstairs and got my breakfast going. He quickly arrived at the table and said, "What we having this morning, Doris?" I turned around and grinned, adding, "I thought omelets with ham and cheese would be delicious." Oh, the expression of utter amazement on his face as I whirled back around, my robe falling open. He was having difficulty not gazing below my neckline as I approached him with his supper once I had it ready. I do think I have the boy's attention, yes. Do you want milk? I inquired as I got back to the stove. "Yes, please," he answered.