“Come on, you two, we are going to be late for school,” I called upstairs as they brushed their teeth. Normal school day morning: running late; house in chaos; children can’t find their homework; husband focused on getting himself to the train on time.

Finally, I had both children strapped into the back seat of the 4x4 and on the way through the traffic for the fifteen-minute drive to the school. Due to meet for lunch with a girlfriend who I hadn’t seen for quite some time, I had dressed in a cream cashmere polo neck that was tight across the swell of my breasts, a black, brown and cream houndstooth wool miniskirt, and suede knee-length Spanish riding boots. Over the polo neck, I had put on a tan suede jacket, cut short to the waist, and with zips on the sleeves.

At the next red light, I checked my make-up in the rear-view mirror. Aged thirty-six, gym fit, with long blond hair and English rose looks, I smiled in quiet satisfaction. “You’ll do, girl,” I thought to myself, before being brought back to reality by the argument over a toy that had broken out in the back of the car.

Arriving outside the school, I corralled the children, and their coats and bags, and walked the two of them into the playground. Coming the other way was an athletic and really rather gorgeous coloured man, who evidently had just dropped off a little boy, who stood waving goodbye at him. Passing me, he smiled appraisingly. My heart missed a beat.

Having said goodbye to my two, I stood for a while chatting with Sophie, one of the other mothers. I positioned myself so I could see the man, who by now was leaning casually against the side of a black Mercedes CLE sports car. He was regarding me with obvious interest; his body language exuding confidence and dominance. Continuing to talk, I cast a series of surreptitious glances at him. Catching his eye inadvertently, I looked away. I was just a fraction too late, and a knowing grin crossed his face.

“Stop it, Clara,” I thought to myself, blushing, “you’re being ridiculous.” Fortunately, I was distracted by one of the teachers bearing a large object made of cardboard, which vaguely resembled a castle. Apparently, it had been made by my eldest, and I was being asked to take it home. Doing my best to look sincere when thanking his teacher, I said goodbye to Sophie and carried it, along with everything else, back to the BMW.

Reaching for my keys, one knee under the castle, I managed to drop everything with a resounding crash. “Shit,” I cried with exasperation, bending over to pick things up.

“Day going well, then,” an amused male voice asked from behind me. I looked over my shoulder, to see him regarding me. Or more specifically, taking a long and calculating look at my legs and bum. “Let me help,” he grinned, moving forwards and scooping some of the items from the ground.

“That’s so kind,” I replied, trying to regain composure, “I’m Clara, by the way.”

“Dion. Great to meet you, Clara. My ex normally has Trent. But she is away on business, so I said I would do the school run this week,” he explained, helping me load the castle into the boot.

“God, he is gorgeous,” I thought, sneaking a look at his toned physique, whilst he told me a little more about his background. Tall, athletic, and extremely handsome, he radiated alpha male from every pore. A thrill ran through my body, and I could feel an almost unbearable tingle between my legs. The thought of him naked and hard suddenly entered my head. I tried to desperately wrench my thoughts back to anything but him. And failed. This was wrong, so wrong…

“Do you fancy a coffee,” he asked, deep brown eyes on mine, radiating seductive charm; “I know a great farm shop about fifteen minutes away.”

“Say no; say no; say no” a voice inside my head screamed. But a contrary and more strident voice, amplified by that tingle between my legs, drowned it out.

“Well, I’m free until lunch; so, yes, that would be great,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. And failing yet again.

We headed off in convoy for the farm shop. All the way, a conflict played out in my head. A sense of anticipation; almost knowing, indeed willing, what was going to happen. A loud voice telling me to turn the 4x4 around and head home. I tried to focus on James, our marriage, lunch with Sophie, on anything that would distract me from the ache between my legs and the growing hardness of my nipples. But images of being taken by Dion’s black muscled body drowned everything else out.

Arriving at the farm shop, Dion swung across the strangely deserted car park and pulled into the furthest corner, at the back of the shop building and shaded by tall trees. “Oh God, this really is going to happen,” I told myself, reversing my 4x4 in next to his sports car.

Stepping down from my car, we stood within touching distance. Meeting his almost hypnotic gaze, a shiver ran down my spine. “I forgot it is closed on Mondays,” he shrugged with a wry smile, breaking the silence.

“But we both know we aren’t here for the coffee,” he murmured, pushing a strand of long blond hair behind my ear.

“Do we,” I responded softly, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and fear. The sensible side of my brain was screaming for me to take this last chance to walk away.

“We do,” he nodded, calm but determined eyes on mine; gently tracing a finger along my jawline, before lightly pulling at my plump bottom lip.

“Please; we should stop; this is wrong,” I remonstrated with the limited remaining willpower I could muster, as he pulled me closer to him. But my body was betraying me too; my nipples were rock hard, my tummy was fluttering, my labia was lubricating, and my breathing was shallow.

“You want me. Right here. Right now. I can see your arousal; I can feel your heat,” he purred, a hand running across the cashmere of my polo neck, tracing slow circles over the swell of my firm breasts, before moving down under the wool of my miniskirt.

“We...can’t; I…can’t,” I stammered in a quiet voice that felt almost drowned out by the beating of my heart. This was so wrong. And yet, I knew I didn’t want him to stop. My head was spinning; the intoxicating and overwhelming feeling of lust pushing all thoughts of husband, children, family, and friends to the furthest recess of my mind.

“You’re so wet for me, Clara,” he murmured, slipping a hand into my black lace-trimmed knickers. I whimpered softly as his finger made contact with my engorged mound, moving across the lips and onto the underside of my clitoris. His dark finger remained on my hard nub, making little circles around it, sliding underneath the hood and finally rasping over its sensitive tip.

“Undo my trousers,” he instructed in an even tone. As if in a trance, I saw myself unbuckle his belt and prise open the zip with trembling fingers.

“Pull them down,” he demanded. Bending to grasp the trousers, I felt a powerful hand rest on the top of my head, guiding me down as I slid his trousers and boxers down around his boots.

Squatting on my haunches, balanced on my suede riding boots, I looked up at his rampant manhood. “Jesus,” I whispered in astonished awe, “it’s enormous.”

“Your husband can give you the big house, smart car, and expensive clothes, but he can’t give you this, Clara”, he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Now, worship my black cock.”

Slowly, almost of their own volition, my fingers reached out and tentatively touched his erection. The diamonds on the ring my husband had given me glinting in the morning sun, as manicured fingernails ran over the shaft. My face close to it, inhaling the musk of him; feeling the heat and weight of his throbbing dark meat. He caught his breath; his muscles tensing at my touch.

Glancing up at the satisfied look of pleasure on Dion’s handsome black face, I explored every veiny inch of his hardness with the tip of my pink tongue. “I love your cock,” I whispered, planting a series of soft kisses on the thick ebony shaft, working my way towards the fat head.

Curling delicate white fingers around the thick shaft, I reached under him with the other hand and cupped his heavy balls, rolling them between my thumb and forefinger. He sighed contentedly as I explored all around his low-hanging testicles with my fingers; his hands stroked my hair, watching me part my red lips and take the huge head into my warm mouth. Maintaining eye contact, I applied suction to the spongy mass.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, peeling me from his member and lifting me to my feet. “Those ruby red lips were just made to worship my cock.” Dion smiled in satisfaction, gently running a thumb over them.

“But that’s not the only way in which you want to worship my cock, is it Clara,” he continued, rucking my woollen skirt up around my waist. Eyes twinkling, he guided me back onto the bonnet of his sports car.

"You want this, don't you?" he asked, his fingers sliding my lace knickers down over my boots, before discarding it onto the muddy ground at his feet.

As I shivered with anticipation, he peeled the soft cashmere up beneath my chin. Deft fingers unceremoniously tugged at my delicate black lace push-up bra, exposing my full boobs to his hungry eyes.

“You want to feel what it's like to be with a real man,” he muttered, strong hands parting my thighs; the head of his throbbing manhood nestling up against my glistening mound.

Biting my lip, I nodded pleadingly. He towered over me, strong and tall; determined eyes locked with mine. “You want me to fuck you with my big black cock, don’t you Clara,” he smirked, teasing my engorged labia with the tip.

“Please,” I managed to whisper, feeling the bulbous head part my folds and push slowly inside me. He held himself there for a moment, and then began to slide further into me. “Ngggggghhhhhh,” I howled, eyes dilating as his monster stretched me wide open.

A mix of pain and pleasure washed over me as he pushed deep into my aching pussy. Gripping my hips, Dion took me slowly and rhythmically; each thrust penetrating slightly further, until finally, he was fully home.

I let out a small anguished cry as the head hit my cervix for the first time. A look of dominant satisfaction on his face, Dion continued to take me with the same slow rhythm for a few more strokes. Then, with a switch of pace, he began to pound me so hard that the breath was almost forced from my chest. The air was filled with my moans, the slap of ebony muscle on pale white flesh, and the thud, thud, thud, thud of my body against the thin metal of the car bonnet.

My breath shallow and fast, I could feel myself lose control as his hips slammed hard against me. The climax grew within me, until I came, sobbing with release, whilst he continued to drive into me. He paused, breathing hard, allowing me to collect myself momentarily. Then, he began to fuck me with the same relentless determination. Barely able to focus, whimpering and mewling, wave after wave of orgasm coursed through my pulsating body; my pussy clutching his cock as Dion kept ploughing me with deep thrusts.

Finally, I felt his body tense and his expression change. Gripping me firmly, and with a triumphant growl, he pulsed thick ropes of hot cum deep inside me; his thrusts slowing as he unburdened himself completely.

“You bastard; you came inside me,” I gasped in disbelief.

“You’ve been blacked, Clara, and I’ve claimed you with my seed.” He grinned, withdrawing.

Dressing, I retrieved my lace knickers from the mud. Slipping them back onto my cum-soaked crotch, I watched him retrieve my phone from the 4x4.

“Unlock it, so I can give you my number,” he indicated. Complying, I waited with a questioning look on my face. “It’s under Diana; a suitably posh white woman’s name.” He grinned, handing the phone back to me.

Sitting in my car, brushing my hair through and re-doing my make-up, the mobile pinged with a text. “Hi, sorry the farm shop was closed. Will suggest somewhere else to meet next time x”

Oh God, I wanted that next time.