I realized I had seen him at the conference. He was difficult to miss. He was a tall, very very dark black man with a shaved head. He asked me to danc... in the most polite graceful way. He had an upper-class British accent with an African lilt to it. I probably would have turned him down, but his impeccable dress and elegant speech made me feel like a prig if I refused him.He danced wonderfully too, like a ballroom dancer. He seemed light on his feet and athletic. We chatted while dancing and I. His thumbs were resting on the inside of my thighs, very close to my panties. I liked what it looked like. I wished he'd move them up and touch my pussy. I knew he wouldn't. The more I felt his hands on me, the more I wanted him to feel me. I rested my hands on his. This seemed very innocence. I started rubbing the top of his hands. Just like any mother would, but I had something different in mind. I looked over at my husband. I liked the idea of my son's hands on me with my husband right. More

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