THE BLACK CLUB By Throne
I like to go out and have a few drinks. That's why I was at The Spot, a clean, not too well lit place I enjoy visiting. Standing at the bar, letting that first shot and beer combination work on me, I noticed them coming in the door. There was some smoky jazz playing on the sound system and it seemed like it was there as a soundtrack for the way this woman walked. She had on a tight blue dress that showed off her legs and was cut low in the front to advertise her attractive, rather large bust. Her hips swayed sexily, and she sort of rolled her shoulders, which made that outstanding rack shift side to side, not much but enough to catch your eyes. Another thing that impressed me was that she was white. Like most of the people at The Spot, I'm Black. Not that we're prejudiced or anything, especially in the case of a woman as lovely as that.
Trailing behind her was a wimpy guy, a touch shorter than her, slender, and wearing a stupid plaid sportcoat. He was upset and saying something to her. As they got closer I could hear what her honeyed voice was telling him in response.
"We're just here for one drink, all right?" she snipped. "One of the girls at work said this place is nice. I don't know why you have to be such a fuss about everything."
"I told you. We could have gone to The Astoria."
The A? I'd heard of that place. Snob City. And the people there WERE prejudiced. This was getting interesting. The woman, whose blond hair almost reached her shoulders before it was turned under, spotted me and didn't look away. I don't always get positive reactions like that. Maybe it's because I'm six foot three and built like a football lineman. Also, my face is kind of, well, let's be polite and call it 'rugged'. Anyway, she came straight toward me and, with the guy starting to turn red, sat her pretty ass on the bar stool next to mine. I wasn't complaining.
He sat on her other side and the bartender came over. Sam is a heavyset, middle-aged guy, and he's half owner of the place. He wasn't about to chase away a couple of new customers. He gave them a smile and asked what they'd like. She ordered a vodka martini and then, before the guy could speak, said that he would just have giner ale.
"You know, dear, that alcohol doesn't agree with you. Remember our wedding reception three weeks ago?"
"I got a little carried away."
"And got too drunk to perform your husbandly duties." He got redder still and I could see he was bottling up whatever he really wanted to say. This was turning into a promising scene. She turned her heart-shaped face toward me and smiled. I nodded politely, trying not to stare at her cleavage. The drinks came and she sipped hers, while hubby was obviously in a hurry to empty his glass and leave. He had a twenty on the bar and Sam left their change there. I asked for another beer and when Sam brought it the wife pushed her husband's change toward him. Sam's eyes moved over all three of us before he took what was owed him.
I picked up my glass and held it up to her. "Thank you, Miss."
The husband was visibly unhappy. I had heard about situations like this before. Women who aren't pleased with some weakling they married and want to try something more exciting -- and bigger, if you know what I mean -- and darker. But she was doing it right in front of him, if that's what she was actually doing, or maybe she was just trying to drive him to anger or desperation.
So what next? She kept lingering over her drink and he had already drained his. He was fidgeting and drumming his fingers on the bar. I didn't want to let this one get away so I nonchalantly made a comment.
I said, "I like the music in here." As if on cue, the sax player we were listening to took a short solo and the woman tilted up her chin to listen thoughtfully.
After the rest of the band came back in she told me, "You have good taste in music. And clothes." She ran two fingers over the front of my leather jacket. "I like that in a man."
Her husband hissed, "Mara, we really should go."
"Why? You don't have to go to work tomorrow." She had turned her head to address him but now she swiveled back toward me as she added, "We have all night."
Okay, that was a definite come on. Maybe she just wanted to tease and leave, but I was enjoying the game enough to stay in. The game and the view. Now I did let my eyes stay on her cleavage. She pushed back her shoulders as if to invite even more attention.
She turned to her husband again. "Billy, didn't you say in the car that you needed to use the little boys' room?"
He grumbled something and headed for the Men's. She smiled at me and rolled her eyes.
"Newlyweds, huh?" I offered.
"Yeah," she sighed. "But Billy boy there isn't exactly a love god. I did better when I was dating." Her hand fell onto my thigh, pretty high up. "I wouldn't mind getting back to that again."
"It's a shame you're not alone, Mara. My place is right across the street."
"I might as well be alone. Mister...?"
"Just call me Turk."
"In fact, I'm going to fix it so I am alone, Turk. Just watch."
When he came back she made a show of ordering herself a second martini. After he had paid she slid his change over in front of her.
She told him, cool as anything, "I'm enjoying myself. I know you need to check the computer at home to see if Jameson got back to you. Right?"
"Yes. We'll have to leave."
"I said I'm having fun. You really have to learn to listen, Billy." She sounded like she was talking to a dull child. "Go home, check your e-mail, and then come back."
"But that'd take, like, over an hour."
"You're right. Leave a couple more twenties on the bar."
His face went through about a half dozen changes, none of them pleasant, and then he backed down. Out came two more bills that he laid wordlessly in front of her, on top of what she'd already taken possession of. He took a final look around, avoiding eye contact with me, and then headed for the door, in a hurry, not wanting to leave her there too long. Not wanting to leave her alone with me.
Mara chuckled. I ordered another shot and she paid. Then her hand settled on my knee and rubbed gently.
"So," she said. "Are we going to sit here until Billy gets back or buy a bottle and visit your place?"
"Let's go with the bottle," I said.
She selected the good stuff and gave me a questioning look. I gave her a thumbs up, she paid, and we left. Across the street and up one flight of stairs, we were at my door.
"Listen," I said, taking her arm in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it easily. "If you're just mad at your husband for something, I think you already made your point. I mean, he completely wussed out when you told him what to do. We don't have to go any further."
"You're a real gentleman," she said and smiled up at me. Then she closed her eyes and parted her full lips slightly. "I hope you're not a gentleman all the time."
I answered that by lowering my mouth to hers and giving her a long passionate kiss. When she kissed me back our tongues met and slid over each other. I was getting aroused. As soon as we were inside, trying not to appear too eager, I went to the kitchen, opened that expensive bottle, and made us each a drink. She said she wanted hers strong. Then she walked around with the glass in her hand until she found my bedroom. Mara went in and sat on the edge of the bed. Her foot came up and she dangled one high heel seductively. I slowly began to unbutton my shirt. She stood, turned away from me, and I unzipped her, admiring the unblemished softness of her back. I lightly brushed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Then I reached around and cupped her breasts with my hands. She twisted her head around and we kissed again. I was half hard, so I pressed my erection against her shapely ass. She responded by grinding against me. No, she didn't want a gentleman.
That's when we began undressing each other hungrily. Soon we were on the bed. I peeled down her high-cut panties and dropped them on the floor. We had our hands all over each other. I bit her neck and then her breasts, not caring that I was leavling marks. Our lips were locked together again when her cell phone rang. She reached over to the bedside table and fished it out of her bag. When she saw the caller's ID she smirked and opened the phone.
"Hello, Billy." Her voice was thick with arousal. "Did you hear from him? No? Well don't hurry back for me. I'm at Turk's place. Yeah, the guy I sat next to. And Billy, remember how I told you at home that I was sick of you being such a dud in bed? And that all the guys I dated before were way better hung and could last more than your two minute record? We'll, instead of ditching you like I said I might, I'm just going to get what I need elsewhere. Like here in Turk's bed. If you want a divorce I'll give it to you. I wouldn't mind having half of everything you've got. But you know your boss doesn't want people working for him who have messy lives. He thinks it looks bad. If I made a stink, he might let you go. Do you want that, Billy? An expensive divorce, followed by either losing your job or never getting a promotion? I didn't think so." She snickered, not covering the phone with her hand, wanting him to hear it. "So let's stick with my original plan. You come back to that club later. I'll need some extra time here. And when you pick me up it'll be the first time since before we got hitched that I'll have been satisfied. We won't be having sex anymore, Billy, but if you're good and don't gripe about me getting what I need from somebody else, I might give you an occasional hand job. Okay?"
I heard his weak agreement and then a sniffling sob. Well, it sounded like he had earned what he was getting. Mara closed the phone and started to give me what I had earned, which was a hell of a lot more than the handjob her husband might or might not eventually get. She was all over me. That was fair, because I was all over her. We went at it like a couple of sex maniacs and made it last for over an hour. She came four times and I shot my load into her twice. We were both beat when it was all over. In a warm afterglow we finished our neglected drinks and then took an unhurried shower -- together. She kept touching my cock, which is as big as the rest of me.
We finally went back to The Spot. Billy boy was sitting at the bar looking disconsolate. We sat on either side of him, penning him in. Mara went over what she had said before and made him agree to it all once more. She didn't keep her voice down, so Sam and a few drinkers also heard it. There was a Black girl, a pretty lady named Teena who I know, and when she listened in she couldn't help laughing out loud at the poor jerk of a cuckold. He knew better than to respond.
When they left Mara gave me a long wet kiss, right in front of Billy, who was plainly hating what he saw. When he didn't protest she slipped past him and strolled out, hips swinging. I grabbed him by the arm.
"You treat her right," I told him sternly. "Otherwise you're going to be dealing with me, and you don't want that. Right?"
"Y... yes, Sir," he managed to get out, his expression fearful.
Then he hurried after her. A few nights later Mara called the club and left her cell number with Sam. Since then we've seen each other at least twice a week for trips to my bed. She always makes Billy bring her, leaves him there with orders that he's not to drink anything but ginger ale, and tells him to tip generously. The last time we were having sex she called Billy from my bed to let him listen to us. That got her extra excited and she was better than ever.
We really like each other and she wants to keep our dates going as long as it works for both of us. That should be a really long time. She tells me over and over how much she loves that big black club between my legs. And I'm happy to keep on using it on her sweet pussy.
Too bad for Billy boy.
Viewed: 19120 Times!
I like to go out and have a few drinks. That's why I was at The Spot, a clean, not too well lit place I enjoy visiting. Standing at the bar, letting that first shot and beer combination work on me, I noticed them coming in the door. There was some smoky jazz playing on the sound system and it seemed like it was there as a soundtrack for the way this woman walked. She had on a tight blue dress that showed off her legs and was cut low in the front to advertise her attractive, rather large bust. Her hips swayed sexily, and she sort of rolled her shoulders, which made that outstanding rack shift side to side, not much but enough to catch your eyes. Another thing that impressed me was that she was white. Like most of the people at The Spot, I'm Black. Not that we're prejudiced or anything, especially in the case of a woman as lovely as that.
Trailing behind her was a wimpy guy, a touch shorter than her, slender, and wearing a stupid plaid sportcoat. He was upset and saying something to her. As they got closer I could hear what her honeyed voice was telling him in response.
"We're just here for one drink, all right?" she snipped. "One of the girls at work said this place is nice. I don't know why you have to be such a fuss about everything."
"I told you. We could have gone to The Astoria."
The A? I'd heard of that place. Snob City. And the people there WERE prejudiced. This was getting interesting. The woman, whose blond hair almost reached her shoulders before it was turned under, spotted me and didn't look away. I don't always get positive reactions like that. Maybe it's because I'm six foot three and built like a football lineman. Also, my face is kind of, well, let's be polite and call it 'rugged'. Anyway, she came straight toward me and, with the guy starting to turn red, sat her pretty ass on the bar stool next to mine. I wasn't complaining.
He sat on her other side and the bartender came over. Sam is a heavyset, middle-aged guy, and he's half owner of the place. He wasn't about to chase away a couple of new customers. He gave them a smile and asked what they'd like. She ordered a vodka martini and then, before the guy could speak, said that he would just have giner ale.
"You know, dear, that alcohol doesn't agree with you. Remember our wedding reception three weeks ago?"
"I got a little carried away."
"And got too drunk to perform your husbandly duties." He got redder still and I could see he was bottling up whatever he really wanted to say. This was turning into a promising scene. She turned her heart-shaped face toward me and smiled. I nodded politely, trying not to stare at her cleavage. The drinks came and she sipped hers, while hubby was obviously in a hurry to empty his glass and leave. He had a twenty on the bar and Sam left their change there. I asked for another beer and when Sam brought it the wife pushed her husband's change toward him. Sam's eyes moved over all three of us before he took what was owed him.
I picked up my glass and held it up to her. "Thank you, Miss."
The husband was visibly unhappy. I had heard about situations like this before. Women who aren't pleased with some weakling they married and want to try something more exciting -- and bigger, if you know what I mean -- and darker. But she was doing it right in front of him, if that's what she was actually doing, or maybe she was just trying to drive him to anger or desperation.
So what next? She kept lingering over her drink and he had already drained his. He was fidgeting and drumming his fingers on the bar. I didn't want to let this one get away so I nonchalantly made a comment.
I said, "I like the music in here." As if on cue, the sax player we were listening to took a short solo and the woman tilted up her chin to listen thoughtfully.
After the rest of the band came back in she told me, "You have good taste in music. And clothes." She ran two fingers over the front of my leather jacket. "I like that in a man."
Her husband hissed, "Mara, we really should go."
"Why? You don't have to go to work tomorrow." She had turned her head to address him but now she swiveled back toward me as she added, "We have all night."
Okay, that was a definite come on. Maybe she just wanted to tease and leave, but I was enjoying the game enough to stay in. The game and the view. Now I did let my eyes stay on her cleavage. She pushed back her shoulders as if to invite even more attention.
She turned to her husband again. "Billy, didn't you say in the car that you needed to use the little boys' room?"
He grumbled something and headed for the Men's. She smiled at me and rolled her eyes.
"Newlyweds, huh?" I offered.
"Yeah," she sighed. "But Billy boy there isn't exactly a love god. I did better when I was dating." Her hand fell onto my thigh, pretty high up. "I wouldn't mind getting back to that again."
"It's a shame you're not alone, Mara. My place is right across the street."
"I might as well be alone. Mister...?"
"Just call me Turk."
"In fact, I'm going to fix it so I am alone, Turk. Just watch."
When he came back she made a show of ordering herself a second martini. After he had paid she slid his change over in front of her.
She told him, cool as anything, "I'm enjoying myself. I know you need to check the computer at home to see if Jameson got back to you. Right?"
"Yes. We'll have to leave."
"I said I'm having fun. You really have to learn to listen, Billy." She sounded like she was talking to a dull child. "Go home, check your e-mail, and then come back."
"But that'd take, like, over an hour."
"You're right. Leave a couple more twenties on the bar."
His face went through about a half dozen changes, none of them pleasant, and then he backed down. Out came two more bills that he laid wordlessly in front of her, on top of what she'd already taken possession of. He took a final look around, avoiding eye contact with me, and then headed for the door, in a hurry, not wanting to leave her there too long. Not wanting to leave her alone with me.
Mara chuckled. I ordered another shot and she paid. Then her hand settled on my knee and rubbed gently.
"So," she said. "Are we going to sit here until Billy gets back or buy a bottle and visit your place?"
"Let's go with the bottle," I said.
She selected the good stuff and gave me a questioning look. I gave her a thumbs up, she paid, and we left. Across the street and up one flight of stairs, we were at my door.
"Listen," I said, taking her arm in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it easily. "If you're just mad at your husband for something, I think you already made your point. I mean, he completely wussed out when you told him what to do. We don't have to go any further."
"You're a real gentleman," she said and smiled up at me. Then she closed her eyes and parted her full lips slightly. "I hope you're not a gentleman all the time."
I answered that by lowering my mouth to hers and giving her a long passionate kiss. When she kissed me back our tongues met and slid over each other. I was getting aroused. As soon as we were inside, trying not to appear too eager, I went to the kitchen, opened that expensive bottle, and made us each a drink. She said she wanted hers strong. Then she walked around with the glass in her hand until she found my bedroom. Mara went in and sat on the edge of the bed. Her foot came up and she dangled one high heel seductively. I slowly began to unbutton my shirt. She stood, turned away from me, and I unzipped her, admiring the unblemished softness of her back. I lightly brushed aside her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Then I reached around and cupped her breasts with my hands. She twisted her head around and we kissed again. I was half hard, so I pressed my erection against her shapely ass. She responded by grinding against me. No, she didn't want a gentleman.
That's when we began undressing each other hungrily. Soon we were on the bed. I peeled down her high-cut panties and dropped them on the floor. We had our hands all over each other. I bit her neck and then her breasts, not caring that I was leavling marks. Our lips were locked together again when her cell phone rang. She reached over to the bedside table and fished it out of her bag. When she saw the caller's ID she smirked and opened the phone.
"Hello, Billy." Her voice was thick with arousal. "Did you hear from him? No? Well don't hurry back for me. I'm at Turk's place. Yeah, the guy I sat next to. And Billy, remember how I told you at home that I was sick of you being such a dud in bed? And that all the guys I dated before were way better hung and could last more than your two minute record? We'll, instead of ditching you like I said I might, I'm just going to get what I need elsewhere. Like here in Turk's bed. If you want a divorce I'll give it to you. I wouldn't mind having half of everything you've got. But you know your boss doesn't want people working for him who have messy lives. He thinks it looks bad. If I made a stink, he might let you go. Do you want that, Billy? An expensive divorce, followed by either losing your job or never getting a promotion? I didn't think so." She snickered, not covering the phone with her hand, wanting him to hear it. "So let's stick with my original plan. You come back to that club later. I'll need some extra time here. And when you pick me up it'll be the first time since before we got hitched that I'll have been satisfied. We won't be having sex anymore, Billy, but if you're good and don't gripe about me getting what I need from somebody else, I might give you an occasional hand job. Okay?"
I heard his weak agreement and then a sniffling sob. Well, it sounded like he had earned what he was getting. Mara closed the phone and started to give me what I had earned, which was a hell of a lot more than the handjob her husband might or might not eventually get. She was all over me. That was fair, because I was all over her. We went at it like a couple of sex maniacs and made it last for over an hour. She came four times and I shot my load into her twice. We were both beat when it was all over. In a warm afterglow we finished our neglected drinks and then took an unhurried shower -- together. She kept touching my cock, which is as big as the rest of me.
We finally went back to The Spot. Billy boy was sitting at the bar looking disconsolate. We sat on either side of him, penning him in. Mara went over what she had said before and made him agree to it all once more. She didn't keep her voice down, so Sam and a few drinkers also heard it. There was a Black girl, a pretty lady named Teena who I know, and when she listened in she couldn't help laughing out loud at the poor jerk of a cuckold. He knew better than to respond.
When they left Mara gave me a long wet kiss, right in front of Billy, who was plainly hating what he saw. When he didn't protest she slipped past him and strolled out, hips swinging. I grabbed him by the arm.
"You treat her right," I told him sternly. "Otherwise you're going to be dealing with me, and you don't want that. Right?"
"Y... yes, Sir," he managed to get out, his expression fearful.
Then he hurried after her. A few nights later Mara called the club and left her cell number with Sam. Since then we've seen each other at least twice a week for trips to my bed. She always makes Billy bring her, leaves him there with orders that he's not to drink anything but ginger ale, and tells him to tip generously. The last time we were having sex she called Billy from my bed to let him listen to us. That got her extra excited and she was better than ever.
We really like each other and she wants to keep our dates going as long as it works for both of us. That should be a really long time. She tells me over and over how much she loves that big black club between my legs. And I'm happy to keep on using it on her sweet pussy.
Too bad for Billy boy.
Viewed: 19120 Times!
