A WhatsApp message alert appeared on the car’s touchscreen. Despite the fact it purported to be from my friend, Diana, my pulse quickened with the understanding that was the pseudonym Dion had chosen to conceal his identity when sending me messages. “Diana is chatty this morning,” James remarked, when a further three message alerts drifted across the screen in short succession.
“Probably arrangements for the next girls’ night,” I suggested to my husband in what I hoped was an appropriately nonchalant tone; an air of nonchalance entirely at odds with the shiver of anticipation that ran through me. The rest of the short journey seemed an agony of waiting to be able to open and read his messages.
Once home, and with the food shop put away, I muttered something about going to the toilet. With the door safely closed, I read through my lover’s messages. Scrolling through some initial banalities, designed to keep up the pretence the message was from Diana, my stomach lurched at the real meaning. “I’ve been thinking about that deepest desire of yours. It’s all arranged. Providing of course, you actually want to fulfil it. And we both know you do, don’t we.”
My heart raced and a feeling of mild panic came over me. Why on earth had I told him? It was bad enough I was having an affair, betraying my sweet, kind husband. It was bad enough that my waking moments were filled with thoughts of my gorgeous black lover: images of him skilfully taking me over and over again; and an overwhelming desire for him; an almost insatiable urge to be with him and to worship his magnificent ebony cock. All of that was bad enough. But this?
I read the next message, which suggested a girls’ night on Thursday, with a time and the outline of an evening that would not be taking place, but which provided the justification for me to use.
The third message left my heart in my mouth. “Antonia and I are so excited about Thursday x” The look Dion and his fellow football professional, Anthony, had shared as we watched the game now made complete sense. Like Dion, Anthony was a tall, handsome, utterly charming, black athlete. And, of course, the thought of other similarities had crossed my mind. But reality was different. Wasn’t it? My mind raced as I debated with myself. There were so many reasons simply to say no. They would understand. I couldn’t; could I? And, yet…
I was still debating with myself, torn between prudence and desire, guilt and almost unbearable arousal, as I walked on unsteady legs down the sixth-floor corridor of the five-star hotel. My heart racing, I stopped outside room 6010 and pressed the door buzzer, my eyes nervously scanning up and down the corridor.
After what seemed an eternity, during which I became almost frantic with fear of being discovered, the door was opened by a smiling Dion, who ushered me into a spacious suite. The two men stood in silent appraisal, dressed only in white cotton robes. “You look gorgeous, Clara,” Dion nodded appreciatively, taking in the gold metallic cocktail dress, with spaghetti straps and flattering cross bust. The stretch bandage fabric of the bodycon cut moulded to the curves of my body and ran down to mid-thigh.
I stood in silence. My heart racing; my chest rising and falling; my mouth dry; my body alive with nervous anticipation. In a corner of my mind, a voice urged me to bolt for the door. “Are you sure this is what you want, Clara,” he murmured in a gentle and reassuring tone, whilst the two athletic men closed around me.
“I do, but, I…,” I stammered, looking up at Dion’s handsome face with a mixture of trepidation and longing. Butterflies were dancing in the pit of my stomach, and the normal feelings of guilt and exquisite anticipation were even more acute than on previous occasions. The affair with Dion was one thing; this was a step beyond.
“James can’t give you what you need, what you desire, what you yearn for. And you do yearn for it, don’t you, Clara; it fills your waking thoughts, driving out all the constraints and expectations of your suburban lifestyle,” he suggested, as the zip on the back of my dress was worked free and the shimmering garment eased from my quivering body.
“Yes,” I whispered in a shaky voice thick with anticipation and lust, as he kissed lightly down my neck and languidly caressed my body. Standing close behind me, Anthony removed the transparent sheer mesh bralette, with its flocked bow pattern and ruffle trim detailing.
“Tell me, tell us, what it is you crave,” Dion murmured, cupping my firm breasts, and idly run a solitary dark finger along the sensitive underside and over the smooth downy flesh of each pliant globe.
“This,” I breathed, feeling his fingertip circling over one of my jutting nipples. A tremor running through me at Dion’s touch, I felt his friend tease the transparent mesh thong over my pert buttocks and slide the gossamer thin lace down the length of my shapely legs.
“Your husband doesn’t arouse you like this,” Dion enquired, whilst both of them applied an almost unbearable lightness of touch to every inch of my tremulant frame.
“No, he doesn’t,” I admitted in a halting voice, feeling a dark hand cup my pale, shaven mound. His eyes fixing me with a mesmerising stare, my lover ran along my glistening labia and pressed firmly against the hard nub of my clit. My fingers resting lightly on his toned shoulders, I gasped, pressing the most intimate part of me against his hand.
“It’s all you can think about, isn’t it, Clara,” Dion nodded, taking a plump breast with his other hand and lifting it gently. “In all your waking moments: when you are with family and friends; when you are at the gym, or shopping, or on the school run; and, most of all, when you lie next to your husband in bed at night. It’s like a constant ache,” he murmured, eyes looking deep into mine. Then, dropping his head, he ran his mouth across the pliant flesh, his tongue lapping at the swollen nipple, whilst Anthony swept my hair aside and planted kisses across the nape of my neck; his fingers running lightly over my shoulders and upper arms.
“Yes,” I nodded, biting my lip and feeling the shame and yearning burn inside me. The two men stepped back from me. Ridding themselves of the robes, they moved slowly to the large queen-sized bed, my eyes travelling with them.
“Come to us, little lady; come and worship our cocks,” he smiled confidently, as he and Anthony reclined languidly against the headboard, their toned black bodies stretched out on the crisp white sheets.
My pulse racing, I dropped onto the end of the bed, and prowled on all fours towards the two men; their enormous members rising proud. Positioned between them, I traced manicured fingers up over their muscular thighs. “Try the fresh meat first, Clara,” Dion offered encouragingly, when I looked up uncertainly.
Almost mesmerised by its size, I placed the palm of my hand against Anthony’s cock, pushing it back gently so that I could sink beneath it and tease my wet tongue slowly along the length of his perineum. I heard him flinch audibly; the muscles in his thighs and buttocks clenching involuntarily when I repeated the action, whilst scraping nails over the inside of his upper thighs.
Reaching across and searching out Dion’s manhood, I closed slender fingers around its dark girth and began to stroke him as my tongue slithered its way up the veiny underside of his friend’s shaft. “Your cock is beautiful,” I murmured, planting kisses on the spongy mass. The handsome footballer groaned with appreciation, watching my lips make their way down the length of his ebony pole. Wrapping porcelain fingers around his shaft, and with my other hand tight around Dion’s meaty girth, I began to stroke both men in unison.
Holding Dion’s gaze, I parted my pink gloss-painted lips and took one of Anthony’s heavy balls into my warm mouth. My small hands gliding up and down their rampant manhoods, I fondled the egg-shaped sphere with my tongue, moving the testicle around inside its hairy pouch. “Dirty girl,” the black footballer growled in admiration, watching me take the other globe between my lips.
“Climb onto me, Clara,” Dion demanded, spreading his muscular thighs and leaning nonchalantly against the large pillow. With a look of submissive obedience, I released the two cocks I had been stroking and raised myself to straddle him. Reaching down with eager fingers, I grasped his straining muscle and pulled the engorged crown towards my glistening mound. My breathing shallow with arousal, I looked down at my lover and slowly eased myself onto him.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” I hissed when his fat head parted the folds of my slick labia and plunged into the soft flesh of my tight tunnel. “So good inside me,” I groaned, sinking down and spearing myself on his massive pole.
“Needy, filthy, slut,” he sighed, his hands sliding over my thighs and hips, and on up to my ripe breasts. Cupping a milky white mound of flesh with one hand, Dion ran the other up and curled it around my throat. “You have an insatiable desire for black cock, don’t you, my little slut,” he murmured, his fingers firm around my trachea.
“It’s all I can think of,” I whispered hoarsely, wiggling my hips and grinding my sensitive clit against his pubic bone. “Your beautiful black cock filling me, fucking me, making me lose my mind,” I nodded, biting my lip; the muscles of my pussy clenched around his manhood.
“W
e are going to send you home to your husband filled with our cum,” he confirmed, releasing his grip on my throat and running his hands down my flanks and onto my hips.
My mind filled with mortification and longing at the sheer immorality of Dion’s words, I leant forward, my hands resting on his muscular shoulders. I looked deep into my lover’s dark eyes. Longing won. “Please, please, make me cum on your beautiful black cocks,” I begged, rotating my hips around on his lap and gasping at the pressure it put on my hard nub.
“Ride me,” he demanded. Nodding, I raised myself slightly, before slamming myself back down, crashing my swollen clit against his public bone and burying him to the hilt inside my quivering sex.
“Oh my God,” I whimpered in response to the brutal jolt. Digging fingernails into his flesh, I began to grind myself against Dion’s groin; his thick cock stretching the tight muscles of my walls. I felt my body shake with each deep, hard thrust as I drove down on him. Gripping my flanks, Dion responded by pushing his hips up, driving his fat cock deeper into me. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” I sobbed, throwing my head back and riding him with determinedly rhythmic thrusts of my body; desperate for him and for climax, which I could feel boiling inside me.
Then, with a low trembling moan, I shuddered uncontrollably as the orgasm coursed through my tight little body; riding him frantically through the sheer intensity of the feeling, my pussy contracting around his shaft as I spasmed and twitched on the cock buried inside me.
Slowly, the feeling subsided and I became dimly aware of Anthony moving around behind me as I lay slumped on top of his teammate; his hands sketching down my spine and into the deep valley between the soft downy flesh of my buttocks. “Ready for more; ready for both of us,” he growled, his fingers kneading my pert arse.
“Please,” I moaned. With a nod of approval, Dion pushed his cock deep into my soaking quim, whilst Anthony placed his hands on my bum and prised the cheeks apart. Just as I felt Anthony sink down behind me, Dion clenched his arse and arched up, driving his cock forcefully into my pussy. “Oh, fuck, yes,” I wailed, mouth lolling open.
With Dion grinding against me with slow, exquisite determination, I felt his friend’s tongue explore my back passage; snaking across the rim and gently probing my sphincter. Hands keeping my pert buttocks spread, Anthony toyed my anus in time with my lover’s thrusts. I felt my sphincter widen in response to his ministration; the obscene decadence of my rectum being tongue-fucked bringing me closer to a second climax.
Almost lost in the moment, I felt the mattress shift under his bulk when Anthony rose up and positioned himself behind me. Dion slowed and held himself buried to the hilt in my constricting pussy; his body rigid beneath me and a knowing smile playing across his lips. I closed my eyes and exhaled in nervous anticipation, feeling the tip of his friend’s enormous cock teasing my tight knot.
“Oh, my God,” I whimpered, burying my head into Dion’s chest as Anthony plunged the massive domed head through my anal ring. “Oh, my fucking God; oh, my fucking God; oh, my fucking God,” I sobbed, feeling myself close around the thick girth embedded in my arse.
“This what you wanted, you filthy girl,” he grunted as I mewled and nodded frantically. My eyes didn’t leave Dion’s as the pace of their joint invasion increased. Hemmed in between the tall muscular men, firm hands kneading my heavy breasts and teasing my aching nipples, I felt jolts of almost unbearable pleasure coursing through me as they plunged into me with increasing intensity. Two huge, thick, hard black cocks deep inside me, separated only by a thin membrane.
“God, yes; use me,” I whimpered, looking up with beseeching eyes. Responding, Anthony’s hips smashed against mine, driving his huge length through my inner ring and into the depths of my arse. With a silently determined look, Dion synchronised the thrusts of his fat cock, so that both men plunged my depths simultaneously, leaving me with an almost unbearable feeling of fullness.
Any semblance of decency long gone, I let out an almost incessant series of high-pitched screams, my body rippling and trembling uncontrollably in response to the relentless pummelling. I was in a state of almost euphoric ecstasy; my nerve endings dancing with electrical sparks, and my mind almost numb with the intense pleasure of their hefty mahogany phalluses filling every inch of my delicate feminine frame.
Suddenly the pent-up feeling of release overcame me; pink-glossed lips formed into a perfect and wordless O; pupils dilated, my alabaster white body twitched and thrashed, and I dug manicured nails into ebony muscle as the climax blasted through my core and battered my already tender insides.
The wildly frantic movements of my slender body brought their cocks, already pressed tight against the thin membrane, into violent and unpredictable friction. “Give it to me; fill me with your beautiful black cum,” I pleaded in a broken, tremulous sob, begging them with barely focused eyes.
“Take my seed, Clara,” Dion growled in a low voice, his body tensing as he slammed his manhood up into me, flooding my womb with rope after rope of jism. Simultaneously, I felt Anthony grip my pliant hips and drive forward; letting out a deep, primal roar as his cock pulsed and jerked inside me, coating my anal passage with his sticky white mess.
Slumped like a rag-doll on Dion’s torso, I felt Anthony’s cock slither free from my backside, his cum seeping from my distended anal ring. Exhausted, I nestled against my lover’s toned chest, with his manhood slowly softening inside me.
