“Oh…my…God,” Amelia gasped, a hand flying to her mouth with the shock of realisation.

My heart dropped like a stone. A choking sensation seized my throat and there was a loud ringing in my ears as the panic of discovery hit me. A look, a hesitation for a fraction of a second too long, a shift in my body language, all had given me away when she made an off-hand comment about how amazing Dion must be in bed.

“Oh…my…God, Clara,” Amelia repeated. And then, with a conspiratorial wink, she placed a hand over my own and added, “You lucky cow!”

The next ten minutes were a flurry of demands for details, pleading for and receiving reassurance over absolute discretion, and musings on my luck in being the regular recipient of Dion’s attention. By the end of the conversation over another glass of wine, I had calmed down, recovered my equilibrium, and was reassured Amelia would keep the secret. Not least, because she then revealed her own desires.

“God, I have fantasised for years about being fucked senseless by a well-hung black man,” my friend admitted wistfully. She looked at me for a moment as if appraising my likely response, before, almost apologetically, blurting out, “I don’t suppose Dion could introduce me to one of his friends?”

My mind turned immediately to Dion’s fellow football professional, Anthony. Like Dion, Anthony was a tall, handsome, black athlete. And from personal experience, I knew he was even better endowed than my lover. “If you really are sure, Hun, then I think I know just the man.”

Her response was immediate and enthusiastically grateful. I breathed a further sigh of relief, knowing there was no way Amelia could reveal my affair now.

Messaging Diana, the pseudonym Dion had chosen to conceal his identity when sending me messages, I explained Amelia was extremely keen to meet Antonia, and perhaps the four of us could go for a girls’ night out. In an amused response, Diana confirmed the two of them would enjoy that immensely, and suggested meeting in a nightclub a discreet distance away.

With Amelia’s husband away on business, we met at her house, changed, and then took an Uber to the club. We giggled and chatted during the drive. All the time, the feeling of nervous excitement grew, and my mind raced between conflicting emotions of guilt and lust. In contrast, Amelia appeared free of any anxiety, and consumed with nervous anticipation.

Arriving, we were met on the door by Chris, the manager, who ushered us past the queue. The deep beat of the music reverberated loudly as we made our way towards some stairs at the rear of the crowded main area of the club.

Amelia looked stunning in a figure-skimming A-line red dress. The draped cowl neckline was anchored with gold-tone hardware; the low-cut front revealed the deep cleavage of her heavy breasts, and the open back was cut so low as to draw the eye towards the delights of her curvaceous hips and bum.

I walked next to her in an ivory stretchy glittered mesh mini dress, adorned with sparkling silver bead embellishments that caught the light. The bodycon silhouette clung to every inch of my curves, with the scoop neckline and fixed rouleau shoulder straps exposing my elegant shoulder blades and more than hinting at the swell of my firm boobs. With it, I was wearing an ivory lace half cup strapless bra and matching ivory lace thong.

Chris led us up the stairs, and into a discreet private room. As the door closed behind us, the almost overwhelming throb from the dance floor was deadened and a sense of warm seclusion enveloped us. Lounging on a spacious u-shaped sofa were Dion and Anthony, both dressed in open necked shirts and suits.

Having introduced Amelia to both men, we broke the ice over some champagne. It was clear she and Anthony got on well from the outset, and the attraction was evident. After some time, we went downstairs to dance. I scanned the dance floor, looking anxiously for anyone I knew.

“Relax,” Dion murmured reassuringly in my ear. “I chose this place carefully.”

As my sweep of the room confirmed that my anxiety was unfounded, he gyrated against me in time with the music, his gently swelling member pressing against my abdomen, and his fingers moved down my back and over my pert bum. Looking over to Amelia, my eyes widened; she was grinding wantonly against Anthony, whose large black hands were groping her arse.

When we finally returned, flushed with exertion and heightened arousal, to the private room, Chris appeared with a fresh bottle of champagne. He nodded knowingly when Dion asked not to be disturbed. Amelia caught my eye, her face alight with nervous excitement.

Putting my glass on the low table and taking me in his arms, Dion kissed his way gently over my earlobes and down my neck. I sighed, stroking the well-defined muscles on his arms and chest. As his lips met mine and his tongue explored my mouth, Dion slipped the rouleau shoulder straps from my shoulders and eased the ivory mess dress down. Deft fingers released the hooks on the half cup strapless bra, which fell away to reveal the pale mounds of soft flesh. My sighs turned into moans as Dion’s ebony fingers ran along the underside of a boob and then circled over my hardening nipple.

My eyes were drawn to the couple next to us on the sofa. Amelia was leaning back, her heavy milky white boobs exposed and legs akimbo, eyes closed and moaning loudly. I could see her thighs quivering as Anthony plunged dark fingers deep into her already sopping mound and sucked hard on her prominent areolae.

My own arousal intensified watching my friend being toyed hard. My gaze remained fixed on her whilst Dion traced down over my taut stomach. His tongue flicking gently but insistently over my rock-hard nipple, the ex-footballer slipped his hand into my ivory lace thong. I stifled a sob when his fingers explored along my puffy labia, parting the lips and locating my clitoris.

Teeth biting on my nipple, Dion began making little circles around my hard nub, before pressing firmly against its sensitive tip. I let out a series of muffled gasps, hips moving in response to his fingers.

My eyes were fixed on Amelia; head lolling back, she was chanting, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, oh fuck, yesss,” whilst grinding herself on Anthony’s hand, riding the wave of her climax.

“Look at your friend; not quite the perfect housewife now, is she,” Dion murmured in my ear, sliding his middle finger between my slick folds. “The truth is both of you are filthy sluts who crave black cock. Isn’t that so, Clara,” he continued, curling the finger up against my g-spot.

“It’s all I can think about,” I murmured in agreement, biting my lip and cupping the soft pliant flesh of my full breasts. “Your magnificent black cock stretching me until I scream your name.”

"Your husband can’t make you scream his name, can he." Dion smiled triumphantly, slipping a second finger inside me and increasing the pace with which he was working me.

I sobbed and shook my head in response, shame and longing in my eyes. “That perfect black cock. Filling me, fucking me, making me cum so hard,” I whispered, feeling my body respond to his fingers. And then, hands clutching at his shoulders, I lost control, my pubic arch heaving, my mouth hanging open, the orgasm pulsing through my core.

Leaning against Dion and slowly recovering my equilibrium, I watched Amelia, balanced on her high heels, her thong discarded and the dress like a red belt around her waist. She was looking up at Anthony, who was unbuckling himself and tugging his trousers and boxers down.

“Time to worship my cock, slut,” he grinned.

Licking her lips, my friend reached forward and touched the thick ebony shaft. “Fuck, it is enormous,” Amelia gasped, mesmerised by its sheer size. Anthony inhaled and held his breath for a moment, watching the married woman run a fingernail around the sensitive urethral opening, then circle over the top of his glans.

Her eyes wide with lustful wonder at the size of him, she pushed his rampant girth back and sank beneath it.

“Oh, you dirty bitch,” Anthony groaned, when she teased her tongue slowly along the length of his perineum, tracing around each of the heavy balls and up the underside of his throbbing shaft. “If only your husband could see you now.”

“I think you should get down on your knees next to your friend.” Dion smiled, pulling down his trousers and unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his muscular ebony torso. Nodding, I stood and made a show of teasing my dress over my hips and allowing it to fall to the floor. Stepping out from it, I slipped off the lace thong and dropped obediently to my knees between his legs.

“I love your cock," I whispered, planting soft kisses up his thick veiny shaft and marking the dark skin with my pink lipstick. Glancing up at the satisfied look of pleasure on Dion's face, I closed delicate white fingers around the dark meat and slowly began to stroke him.

“Oh, baby, you were born to worship my black cock,” he sighed, watching me take one of his of hairy balls in my mouth and fondle the testicle with my tongue. The diamonds on the ring my husband had given me glinted as my small hand ran smoothly up and down the length of my lover’s huge cock. I released the testicle with a plop and took the other globe between my pink painted lips.

Nodding submissively, and continuing to stroke him with a wedding ring adorned hand, I ran my tongue lightly over his frenulum. Watching Dion flinch, the muscles in his thighs and buttocks clenching when I repeated the motion, I parted my lips and took the spongy mass of his glans between them.

To my left, Anthony’s hands were firm on the back of Amelia’s head, as he repeatedly and forcefully pushed himself deep into her throat. Eyes watering and mascara running, small pale hands placed flat against the black muscle of his thighs, my friend was making gagging noises as the footballer fucked her face.

Incredibly turned on by the treatment Amelia was receiving so willingly, I eagerly worked Dion with my mouth and hand, bobbing up and down on his shaft, swirling my tongue around the domed head on each upstroke, and running my fist along the shaft in time with the movement of my lips.

Suddenly, Dion pulled me from his glistening member. “Fuck, that is hot." He winked, indicating Amelia. Heaving for breath, mascara streaked down her cheeks, and a long string of slobber and precum running from her bruised lips, she was being pushed down into position on the sofa.

Rising, Dion pulled me to my feet. With a confident grin on his handsome face, he lifted me effortlessly and threw me onto the sofa. Landing next to my friend, I felt Dion’s strong arms pull me towards him, spreading my shapely legs wide.

Staring up in anticipation at the enormous, muscular, men looming over us, Amelia and I grasped each other’s hands. Turning her head towards me, my friend watched Dion place his hands under my inner thighs.

Lips parted slightly, eyes hooded with desire, I nodded submissively. With a look of acknowledgment, and holding my legs high, he pressed himself forward. I let out a whimper when the bulbous glans parted the folds of my glistening labia. Dion held himself there for a moment, and then began to slide further into me. Amelia watched my eyes widen and my mouth form a perfect O as each thrust of his huge cock stretched my tight vaginal canal.

Suddenly, Amelia’s grip on my fingers tightened, her eyes widened with astonishment, and she emitted an anguished sob in response to Anthony driving his rock-hard manhood deep into her sopping quim. “Oh, my fucking God, babe, his cock is so fucking big inside me,” she whimpered, almost in disbelief.

“Is this what you wanted, you needy slut,” Anthony taunted as he found his rhythm, muscles rippling under his ebony skin with the effort of taking Amelia so hard.

“God, yes; so much better than my husband could ever be,” my friend wailed, wrapping long legs around his waist and synchronising the movement of her hips and pelvis with his.

As Amelia and I lay side-by-side on the sofa, Dion took me with slow, deliberate, and determined movements of his hips. My back arched, I emitted a series of almost desperate sobs every time he pressed fully home and held himself at the full extension of his hips, before slowly easing back through vaginal muscles that were contracting around his thick veiny girth.

Anthony was taking Amelia to the accompaniment of deep guttural grunts; the air filled with the slap of ebony flesh against her pale curvaceous body, which rippled with each slam of his hips. “Don't you dare fucking stop,” Amelia hissed, her pendulous breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts. “I want you to ruin me with that huge black cock,” she begged, her fingernails digging into my hand.

"Fuck, fuck, oh my fucking, fucking, God," Amelia screamed, spasming on Anthony’s ebony manhood as he continued to pound her relentlessly through the waves of her orgasm. Moments later, hands hard on her hips and with an animal cry, Anthony pumped streams of hot semen deep into her married pussy.

“Please use me just like that,” I sobbed, almost beside myself with the combination of Dion’s ministrations and the sight and sounds of Amelia being fucked so hard. Gripping my flanks, Dion responded by repeatedly crashing his pubic bone hard against my swollen clit, burying himself to the hilt inside my quivering mound.

"Cum with me; please cum with me; fill me with your black seed,” I whimpered, my manicured nails raking his chest, desperate for the climax and for his cum. A look of dominant satisfaction on his face, Dion drove his huge black cock into me, pounding my body with deep, almost frantic thrusts.

I let out a high cry of release, my body trembling and my pussy convulsing around Dion’s invading black meat. Simultaneously, gripping my thighs tight and letting out a strangled, “Fucckkkk,” my lover pulsed long ropes of his sticky mess deep inside me.

Having slowly recovered, we drank the rest of the champagne whilst dressing and, in Amelia and my cases, making ourselves look vaguely respectable. Having thanked Dion and Anthony for what was, by any stretch of the imagination, a memorable night, Chris led us out of a discreet side door and into a waiting Uber.

“Oh my God, Clara,” Amelia giggled, “that was insane.” Then with a wistful look out of the window, she mused, “I wonder if Anthony wants to introduce me to a few more of his friends.”