My Best Friend, Max

I was sitting at home, alone, watching MTV like I always do. The house felt empty. No kids, no boyfriend. My only company was Max, my Doberman-Rotweiller mix. He is pretty much a happy-go-lucky dog, the kind that would rather lick a person to death than bite them. Max is about 90 pounds, which makes playing with him rather annoying sometimes. When he gets the energy to play he can really throw his weight around, and while he doesn’t try to, every now and then he ends up knocking someone down and hurting them – startling them at the very least.

David had been gone for almost two weeks now. His truck-driving job had been keeping him away longer than usual. The kids were with their grandmother. Summertime always drew them to their grandmother’s neighborhood where there were more kids their age to play with. They would go for a week at a time, at least once per month over the summer months. That left me at home with David, usually, and we never failed to take full advantage of that free time. But David was gone now and we were both unsure of when he was going to be home again. He promised it would be within the next week, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up.

On occassion I had gone to clubs in the last couple of weeks. Sitting around the house alone was driving me nuts, especially on my days off. During the day I don the hat of an interior designer. But in the afternoon to evening hours, when I’m alone at home, I go insane. Watching TV just doesn’t cut it after a while. The local club scene is very active with everything from techno to goth. And, of course, there are lots of guys always looking to get with the girls.

I’m a slight black woman: 31, 5’2″, 110 pounds, 38C breasts, a tight ass and nice hips. Not bad for a mother of four. I had the fortune of having all my children by the time I was 26. That gave me the last five years to work my figure back into what I wanted it to be. I always enjoyed making David’s head spin when he came home from work by wearing something sexy and different that accentuated my body. He, of course, was always eager to accept my sexual invitations later that night.

In the last week I was out clubbing I had met a guy named Tory. He was a gorgeous man, 24 – at least that’s what he told me – with a beautifully sculpted body. I had managed to get his attention and had flirted with him both on and off the dance floor. Lately, I had found myself imagining what it would be like to feel him on top of me, inside me, kissing me, sexing me. The way I felt around him, in afterthought, was like a high school girl, skiddish, flirtatious, curious. Sometimes I got butterflies just being around him and close to him on the dance floor. I’ve always liked white men; most of them seem to treat a woman better than any black man I’ve ever had experience with. Tory was just the way I liked my men.

Now I was watching MTV. As my mind drifted to my georgeous man, I really wasn’t watching TV at all. Watching the dancers in the music videos just reminded me of being so close to him. I imagined myself as one of the female dancers in one of the videos. A couple of times, when the male dancer would get close to me, it was my Tory and I would shudder as he breathed hotly on my neck or caress my supple body. Soon enough I found I was sitting on the sofa so wet that I had to get up to go change my clothes.

All the time I was watching the videos and dreaming of my Tory I had failed to notice Max. He was sitting off to the side of me when I finally decided to get up and change. There was what appeared to be a silly grin on his face as he looked at me with tongue out, panting. Max was leaning heavily on the front of the sofa with his body and looking at me while his tongue lolled lazily out of the side of his mouth.