Sitting over a coffee in town with some girlfriends, my phone pinged with a series of incoming messages. Suspecting I knew the source, and after a suitable pause, I made the excuse that I need to visit the toilet. Locking myself in a cubicle, I opened the phone. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it was from him. “You should take some time out, and go shopping for something to wear when we meet. Let your imagination run wild,” it read, ending with a wink emoji.

The second message gave an address. The third made my face flush as I read it. “Meet me here tomorrow. Will let you know when. I was thinking hot chocolate rather than coffee. I know how much you crave chocolate x”

I re-joined my friends, my stomach flipping with a mix of longing and anxiety. I must be strong, think of my marriage, and tell him it had been a one-off and terrible mistake. But, the feeling of him inside me, taking me. I needed more; much more. He was right: I craved his beautiful black cock.

We gradually drifted away from the coffee shop. Checking I was alone, I made my way to a couple of shops I would never normally have dreamt go into. Blushing and stammering with more than a little embarrassment, but helped by some charming shop assistants who must be used to this, I selected an outfit. Racing home, I hid it somewhere my husband would never think of going, before heading off to collect the children from school.

“Diana sounds nice,” James smiled, indicating at my phone, which I had left on the kitchen island whilst making breakfast the next day. Fighting back the panic, I reached for it and saw a message from “Diana” displayed on the Home Screen.

“Be here for 1pm. I will have something delicious for you to eat x”

I almost fainted with relief at his discretion. But I also felt an ache in my loins when I considered the underlying message.

The morning rush over, and the house empty, I went upstairs to get ready. My mind raced between conflicting emotions whilst showering and drying myself. Then, retrieving the outfit from its hiding place, I dressed whilst lost in a mix of anticipation and angst. Placing the shoes that went with the outfit in a bag, I slipped on some trainers that were more suitable for driving, and a long, padded, coat that fell to just above my ankles. Locking the front door, I jumped into the four-by-four and for the short drive to his place.

Using the code Dion had given me to gain access to the underground car park beneath the apartment block he lived in, I found the numbered space. Texting to say I had arrived, I entered the lift and pressed the button for his floor. My heart was in my mouth; pulse racing, and that tingle growing between my thighs. Caught between conflicting urges, I watched the lift climb until it reached his floor. As the door opened, I saw there were only two flats and a spacious entrance area. Clearly, the life of a recently retired professional footballer was more than comfortable.

At the moment I reached his flat, the door opened by Dion, dressed in shorts and a tight-fitting T shirt. He ushered me in with a welcoming smile. “Interesting choice of outfit,” he chuckled, “not quite what I had in mind when I messaged you.”

“Patience is a virtue,” I pouted; “can I use your bathroom?” Sweeping his arm in the direction I should take, he led me through a large and expensively furnished flat. Alone in the beautifully appointed bathroom, I divested myself of the long coat, and replaced my tatty trainers with a pair of four-inch stilettos. Brushing my hair through and checking my make-up, I took a deep breath and stepped back out.

Dion looked-up as I entered, and whistled appreciatively. As he leant back on the settee, I stood nervously before him in matching black lingerie set, consisting of bra, suspender belt, and thong.

The open cup bra was underwired, and made from delicate lace with scalloped edging. A lace trim sat across my otherwise exposed breasts. The front of the matching thong was a panel of glossy material, edged with the same lace trim. Two elasticated straps ran round to the string that ran between my peach-like buttocks.

The suspender belt was fastened at the back with a hook and eye, and decorated with gorgeous lace trim, with stiffened boning at the front and at the top of the suspender straps. Attached were a pair of scalloped lace-topped, sheer black stockings.

“Clara, you are a very naughty girl,” Dion growled, pulling his ebony member free. Drinking me in with his gaze, he saw the conflicted emotions cross my face.

“What is it, beautiful lady?”

“I’m…” I stammered, blushing at the compliment.

“Yes?”

“A happily married woman,” I finished the sentence, involuntarily biting my lip.

“And yet, you want this,” he confirmed, seeing my eyes drawn to his length, which, even in its flaccid state, was impressive.

“I need this; I want you,” I whispered, almost inaudibly.

“Then crawl to me, Clara; come and satisfy that craving,” he insisted, spreading his legs and leaning back.

Dropping obediently onto all-fours, I prowled across the thick carpet, my eyes on his member. Dion smiled, removing his tight t-shirt and casting it aside; the sight of his muscular ebony torso increasing the butterflies in my stomach as I inched my way between his legs.

Lifting Dion’s still semi flaccid length, I placed my left hand underneath it, feeling the dead weight against my palm. He inhaled with arousal when I ran the tip of my index finger around the sensitive urethral opening. Circling the top of the glans, I watched his manhood stiffen and grow on my palm, as blood coursed through it.

“Worship it,” he groaned softly, eyes alight with lust. Looking up at him, I nodded submissively and leant forward. Placing pale fingertips on the ebony muscle of his upper thighs, I ran my tongue over Dion’s scrotum. Eyes on him, I traced around each of the heavy balls, and then up to the base of his shaft.

Marking his cock with my pink lipstick, I brushed gentle kisses all the way up his veiny length. Reaching the glans, I ran the tip of my tongue lightly over his frenulum, causing Dion to wince with pleasure, and his manhood to twitch uncontrollably.

Maintaining eye-contact, I dropped my lips over the head of his member. Then, breathing through my nose, I applied suction to the spongy mass, whilst moving the flat of my tongue side-to-side against its underside. “Fuck,” Dion sighed, his toes curling into the pile of the luxurious carpet.

Pulling away to breathe, I looked up at Dion; a long string of saliva and pre-cum running from my bruised lips to the tip of his member. Smiling wickedly, I dropped back down onto his bulbous head, swallowing the viscous thread.

“You dirty bitch,” he groaned, watching me stretch my mouth wide around his shaft and begin to run my lips up and down his thick black meat. Gagging softly, I raked my fingernails over his muscular upper thighs in time with each bobbing motion.

His breathing shallow now, Dion reached forward to brush the hair back from my face; pulling it tight with hands either side of my head, as I sank deeper onto his throbbing cock. I could hear his breathing note change and feel his muscles flexing as he struggled not to cum. "Fuck, I’m close,” he moaned, as I bobbed up and down with greater urgency.

“Ngghhhhhh,” the handsome black man groaned, tensing and pushing forward into my mouth; his member twitching and flexing between my lips, sending ropes of sticky cum onto my tongue and against the back my throat. His strong hands holding me against his pelvis, I had no choice but to swallow his mess as I struggled for air.

Spent, his muscles relaxing, he released me from the vice-like grip. Pulling from his glistening cock, I looked up at Dion with a trail of slobber and cum stretching down from my mouth to my chin. Panting and eyes watering, I wiped it away with the back of my left hand. “Fuck, that is hot,” he growled in a low, satisfied tone.

Leaving me to recover, he padded over to the kitchen; muscles rippling under his glistening ebony skin. “If only your friends could see you now,” he observed approvingly, handing me a glass of ice-cold mineral water. Drinking some, I nodded my thanks. Taking the glass and setting it down on a low glass table, he took my hand and, raising me up, ushered me to the master bedroom.

Taking me in his powerful arms, Dion kissed me deeply; his tongue exploring my mouth, whilst deft fingers unhooked the open cup bra. Letting it fall to the carpeted floor, he released my firm boobs; his dark fingers gliding across the milky white flesh, causing me to moan softly in his mouth. My arousal heightened as he stroked the soft downy skin, running a fingertip along the sensitive underside of each mound of flesh, before circling over my rock-hard nipples.

His tongue gliding over mine, Dion moved a hand down over my taut tummy and slipped it into the lace-trimmed thong. I almost came on the spot when he explored along my pouting folds, and then, without hesitation, slid a finger deep inside me. Moving his other hand down onto my bum, he pulled me forward onto his finger. Tongues entwined, I let out a series of muffled gasps as he began to toy me.

Releasing from the kiss, he locked eyes with me. Slipping a second finger into my pussy, Dion watched my mouth fall open as he stretched me. “Do you like my fingers deep inside you, Clara,” he purred, increasing the pace of his invasions. Barely able to focus, I simply nodded.

“Does James fuck you with his fingers, or does he think that’s too dirty for his sweet, innocent, wife,” Dion muttered, watching my reaction to him taking me roughly with his hand. Arms clutching him for support, my public arch heaving, I sobbed and shook my head in response.

“But the truth is you are a filthy girl who craves my black cock. Isn’t that so, Clara,” he growled, working me with an almost frenetic intensity.

“It’s all I can think about,” I whimpered; shame and longing etched on my face at the truth in his words, my body responding wantonly to his treatment.

“Oh God, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” I wailed, writhing on his hand; the feeling growing within me, until it was overwhelming. Fingers scratching at his broad, muscled, back, my head lolling onto his shoulders, I let out a high cry of release; my whole lower body in spasm against his vigorous hand movements.

He slowed and then stopped, holding his fingers inside me, as slumped against him. Then, whilst I struggled to compose myself, Dion threw me face down on the bed. Pulling my thong off, he tossed it aside. Whilst I lay there flushed and breathless from the orgasm, he slowly kissed his way up from the small of my back and along my spine, until his body was covering mine. Pinned between him and the mattress, I felt Dion position himself against my mound.

His lips brushed gently over the nape of my neck, whilst he reached for my wrists and held them firmly against the cool white cotton bedsheet. Then, with exquisite suddenness, he parted my labia with the head of his cock and pushed himself home. We moaned in unison as his rampant hardness filled me completely.

“You want to be dominated like this, Clara,” Dion whispered, his breath hot on my ear.

“Please,” I begged, entirely at his mercy; his body pressing me into the mattress, his hands on my wrists, and his thick cock stretching and filling my tight pussy. Releasing my wrists, he placed his hands either side of me and lifted slightly, locking his elbows. He held the position, with back arched and pelvis pushing his manhood even deeper into me. I whimpered as it touched my cervix.

Then, slowly at first, he began to mount me. My moans soon turned into squeals; lying prone on the bed, my hips were positioned for him to bear down into me with each hard, deep thrust. Whilst utterly dominated, I loved the closeness of him as he rode me skilfully. Fingers grasping at the bedsheet, eyes wide, I babbled incoherently; my second, almost unbearably intense, climax crashed over me.

Barely able to think, I suddenly became aware of Dion’s tempo changing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck; gonna cum inside you, Clara,” he warned; his thighs tensing against my buttocks as he buried his cock deep into me and flooded my womb with his semen.

Slowly disentangling, he flopped into his back, next to me on the bed; both staring at the ceiling whilst recovering. “You are so sexy when you cum,” Dion whispered in my ear, breaking the silence. I blushed at the thought of how easily I submitted to him, and how much I wanted there to be a next time.

“So,” he continued, with a grin, “what’s your darkest desire…” I blushed even deeper red; and, eventually, after some further gentle encouragement, revealed all in a haltering tone.

“Oh, Clara; you really are a naughty, naughty girl,” he winked.