Flint Jiménez was... she was big and wide and dark, from Biloxi originally. She had an army haircut, but a very lovely voice. I met her on a blind date about three years ago, in a Chinese restaurant that lasted all of six months, in a troubled strip mall where six months is a little above par. My friend Charles worked as a fry cook in the place where she cooked.

She was wearing men's clothing, a royal blue polo shirt and chinos, but she had on the loveliest perfume I'd ever smelled, all rose and fruit, and I kept getting distracted by the shape of her breasts, good-sized, larger than I'd ever want to have, and very round, unrestrained behind her shirt. I could make out her nipples, very large. I wasn't wearing a bra either, but it didn't seem as daring as the way she went without. She was the kind of woman women like to be held down and fingerbanged by, two thick fingers ramming away while she makes eye contact and tells you to come, but the sort of woman that desperately wants a little tenderness, to be gently eaten out, to snuggle, to be your girlfriend.

At first the date went badly. She kept a cigarette over her ear and kept talking awkwardly about and old girlfriend. She would only call her Chica... it was the only Spanish word I would ever hear her say--she spoke without an accent, and from everything she said, her parents had probably been born here, if probably not their parents. Chica had been beyond femme: Flint never said this, but I gathered it from the way she talked about Chica's dark, long hair, with a breathy tone in her voice as though she pictured the wind in that hair, or pictured it draped across her face in the act. Chica wore a skirt, she said. I don't know if she meant always, or a certain skirt, or what. Chica had been engaged to a preacher... everything about the preacher was an appearance, not a fact. She would say he seemed nice, that he seemed to have money, that he looked like a prince in a storybook.

"But Chica only liked men in the evening. In the morning, at the restaurant, she would come to me and we'd take our cigarette break to... have some fun in the walk-in," Flint said. "Sunday morning she'd visit me after church. Saturday she'd say she was going to a friend's house, and come running to me. Melisa del Rio... Melisa del Rio hadn't been friends with Chica in a thousand years. She was someone that the preacher had met once and would probably never meet again, and that was good enough. A Catholic who moved to New Orleans, or something. I was fine being Melisa. But it did hurt when she would tell me Saturday about the preacher getting his thing wet on Friday, like it had anything to do with me, like it had anything to do with what we had."

Around then, she realized I looked uncomfortable. I hadn't done much talking.

"So... do you like kids?"

"I love them, but I would never want to have one. I... I want to have gas in the car and food on the table, you know?"

The change in her voice was amazing. "Jesus, I know!" she said, and laughed.

I laughed too, and for the first time, things didn't seem so awkward.

"Cars?" she asked.

"I know nothing about them."

"God, what a relief. Me neither, but everyone expects me to know how to fix their goddamned radiator. I feel like I'm always wearing Dickies'!"

"I wish someone would mistake me for a person with skills."

She laughed uproariously. "So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Have skills?"

My face turned bright red.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come on like that! I'm always too fucking fast."

I looked up at her. I had been staring at my plate and avoiding eye contact after she had said that. I looked her in the eye. She had this genuine look, like your aunt when she asks you why you've lost weight.

I grinned. I looked at her nipple, blatantly enough that she could see me looking, then licked my lips. I hadn't worn any lipstick, which was good, because I licked my lips hard.

The first time we fucked was in the backseat of my car behind the public library, around eleven two nights after our date. She stripped, showing me some very nice abs and thighs that I would love to die between. She fingerfucked herself for a second and then took out one of the strapless dildoes that were new and popular, that had just been sitting in her purse. It was a long, smooth pink silicone cock with a part at the back shaped like a plug, that goes up into your cunt far enough that you can fuck with it, if you happen to be blessed with a tight pocket. I wasn't, and for some reason it surprised me a little to see that this big woman with long lips and a mountain of hair was tight enough to use it well.

"Lube it for me, mommy," I said, trying out the word "mommy" for the first time, and the last time but one, handing her KY Jelly.

She sat forward in the seat, with her feet on the floor. She lubed it and made a motion like she was jacking it off to get it hard. It must have rubbed her clit because she inhaled sensuously and sighed. I crouched over her. I pulled her head back and kissed her on the lips, then with my tongue. I had one hand on the headrest behind her, and slowly, I lowered my ass onto the shaft, taking my hand from her hair to guide the thing in.

"Anal?" she asked, in that voice like a purring jungle cat. I got the sudden impression that this thirty-something lesbian had never fucked a woman in the ass before. By this time the slippery dildo was deeper in me than I usually let a man go in that direction, and I felt very full. I shifted my weight to the big woman's lap and wrapped my legs around her, then got my arms up under her arms and put both my hands behind her head.

"Yes, Ma'am," I said in a voice she'd never heard, my schoolgirl voice. "I hope that's alright and that you don't have to punish me," I whispered in her ear as I started wiggling my ass forward and backward to fuck both of us with the dildo. I realized that maybe BDSM wasn't in her wheelhouse, and I blushed with my cheek touching hers. I was sweating, conscious that I would begin to stink. With my arms under hers, I realized that she was sweating too.

"I won't punish you," she purred, "unless you really want me to."

I felt a thrill in my chest. I had found either a fellow sinner, or someone ready to be converted. "Yes, Ma'am. I want to be punished like a bad girl tonight," I moaned. Can we go to my place?"

"Yes, little bit. You've been very bad and I want to give you what you deserve," she said, digging into that last word. I realized that her voice reminded me of a teacher I'd had in middle school. I also knew she'd punished someone before.

I ground and ground on her cock, rubbing my clit against her belly, and soon she was grunting too, unh unh unh, and she came before I could. I got off her and she insisted on licking me to orgasm. She didn't achieve it, but no woman ever has ever gotten me off on her first try, and very few ever learn it. I felt so wanted when I realized this woman, this senior lesbian, actually liked the taste of my cunt.

I drove her home without getting dressed. We put on shirts and pants and walked up to my apartment.

"What punishment do you think you deserve tonight, little missy?" she asked me.

"Please, ma'am, an enema."

"What the fu-- what's that?"

"It's where you squirt water up my butt and make me hold it. It's for constipation but it's my very favorite punishment," I said, putting on the schoolgirl again.

She thought about this for a moment, and then slowly, those lips that I'd kissed, some of the prettiest I'd ever kissed, began to draw into a smile.

Sitting on the toilet, she bent me across her knees and, with the squeeze-bottle I'd filled and brought to her, she very firmly and quickly filled me with warm, soapy water. In a way, I felt like it was her first, firm and large.

"Now, how long are you supposed to hold it?"

"For five minutes, ma'am," I said, like I was reporting a mathematical fact. I went over and put my nose on the wall and clenched my ass-cheeks. To my surprise, I could hear her get up, open the toilet lid, and take a piss with me in the room. It wasn't the first time a woman had pissed in view of me, but she was oddly comfortable and non-sexual about it.

She flushed, got up, walked over to me, and put her chest and stomach to my back. She stuck fingers in my mouth. "Bad little girls get what they deserve, don't they?"

"Yes, ma'am," I tried to say with fingers pulling on my cheek. There, in the standing position, she gently humped my ass and made it a little more difficult to hold. I was beginning to cramp up-- the soap I had used when making my punishment was a very nice castile. Finally, she went out and fixed herself something to drink. I hadn't offered, but I guess she must have gotten some of my cheap brandy or something, because she came back swirling something in a glass and sipping it. She looked at her phone. "Time's up, little missy."

Sitting on the toilet, I expelled while she watched approvingly, and afterwards we showered. It was nearly 2:00.

After that, she fucked me with her hand on my bed and managed it, with the way her thumb kept gently bumping my clit. Second time's a charm, huh?

Lying in a sweaty mess on the bed, she asked me to suck her nipples. I got on top of her and laid down with her leg between mind. Her left nipple was so dark and hard that I chose it, and for the first time in my adult life, I put a nipple in my mouth. She squeezed her left breast a little, and to my surprise, a stream of liquid tickled the roof of my mouth. It tasted... I can't tell you. It would be a violation to her if I did. I didn't understand why she was lactating, but I... I enjoyed it. I don't normally enjoy being infantilized, but there was something so peaceful about collapsing post-orgasm into this woman, nearly a stranger, and suckling like a baby. I did not drink much of her milk, but later I've wished I could have sucked her dry. I would never seek out someone to nurse me, but if Flint stood there in my doorway right now and told me that she needed someone to breastfeed, I would be wet in seconds.

I had to drive her home after that, and as I let her off at a modest little house in the avenues at about 3:30 in the morning, she whispered "if I can think of something to tell my wife, I'll see you again."

I understood. "Chica?" I asked.

"Sometimes the bad guy wins. And sometimes a big girl like me can be a man in the evening."

"Goodbye, mommy," I said, very quietly. We kissed, passionately, deeply, briefly.

I never saw her again.