This story has been released as a full-length novella, ‘Black Annie‘, on Amazon Kindle/Kindle Unlimited.
Chapter One
Anne Cleaves collected her daughter’s dance mat and stored it in the trunk at the foot of the bed. She hummed along to the radio as she tidied up on a grey, overcast Wednesday morning. Anne’s eleven-year-old twins, Charlotte and Jeremy, were at school, and her husband, Andrew, was toiling away at a medium-sized brokerage company based in London.
She blew a strand of hair from her face and wondered about lunch, then, maybe a start on the garage? Despite her pleas or nagging, depending on one’s point of view, Andrew kept putting off the promised clear-out.
Janet, her friend and neighbour across the street, had a half-sized skip in her driveway and invited Anne to use it, ‘but don’t go mad!’
Anne was thirty-six and married for thirteen years, with friends and family close by. She would never have classed herself as a looker. Shoulder-length brown hair framed an attractive but largely unremarkable face, save a wide and generous mouth—Anne secretly imagined it made her look like Angelina Jolie. She stood 5’6” with a trim figure despite having two children. Yes, her breasts had lost some bounce, and her hips were a tad on the broad side these days, but she did aerobics twice a week and looking after two children—three if you counted Andrew—kept her active and busy.
She and Andrew rubbed along; neither was especially romantic or passionate. Their sex life was like that of any married couple with thirteen years and two children in tow. Perfunctory at worst and on holiday, at least mildly spicy.
Anne entered the garage, flicked on the dim light and set to work with determination. Boxes of junk, old magazines, brochures, a six-week subscription to ‘model railways of Britain’, even a few old girlie magazines from a decade ago—who buys magazines these days, she wondered with a smile. It was like a bygone age. Most items ended up in Janet’s skip. After an hour, she had made a satisfactory dent and left to freshen up and collect the kids from school.
That evening, she made a point of telling Andrew she had started on the garage. Andrew berated himself for ‘letting the side down’ and for her initiative in using Janet’s skip.
“And I found your porn,” added Anne.
Andrew looked blank. He was sandy-haired, cultivating an expanding waistline and two years older than his wife. “Porn?”
“Yes, porn. Young ladies with no clothes on, baring all for the world to see. Rattle, no Razzle magazine.”
“Good God, yes, I did have a few. Don’t tell me you threw them out!”
“Of course—not. Didn’t think Janet would welcome porn in her skip. What if the bag split open! She would die of embarrassment!”
Andrew chucked. “Good. They are a nostalgic reminder of your pregnancy. They kept me company while you were—” He stopped and sighed. Me and my big mouth!
“So, just to clarify. While I was waddling around the size of a house, you thought it would be a good idea to buy a few porn magazines to entertain yourself with nubile naked girls?”
“I wouldn’t call it porn, dear. Harmless smut.”
“Oh, silly me! That’s all right then!” Anne detached herself from the sofa. “I’m going to get a bath. And if you think you were getting lucky tonight, then think again!”
Andrew kept his head down. Never argue with a lady when she is mad at you. It will only make things worse. This was a motto that Andrew had lived by and stood him in good stead. He would buy some flowers tomorrow. That would do the trick.
Chapter Two
Flowers were not necessary. Anne wasn’t especially mad at Andrew. Her pregnancy had been difficult, given she was carrying twins, but her husband distracting himself with pictures of nude girls in cheesy poses was not the worst crime. She was mildly irked but wasn’t going to make a big deal of it.
Pausing for a break from the garage clear-out, Anne peeled off her rubber gloves and settled into the rickety garden chair that she had debated putting in the skip. The magazines were sitting on the shelf where she had left them. She picked one up and leafed through it. I wonder what possesses a girl to display themselves like this? Money, I guess. The readers’ wives’ section was more titillating. At least they looked real. And they got a whole £10! Money was clearly not a motivation for Mandy from Bristol. She was a plump lass and seemed to be enjoying the attention.
She picked up another magazine. This issue featured a ‘one for the ladies’ section, and, my goodness, the ladies of Britain were being short-changed! Andrew was hardly an Adonis, but he didn’t compare unfavourably – oh my! Anne’s eyes widened. Ken from London certainly bumped up the quality! A cheeky grin, buff and mid-thirties, maybe older, and the man was packing! None of the men were erect, but Ken was still impressive. He was also very black, which, for Anne, added to the exotic allure.
Anne hadn’t seen too many naked men in her adult life. Two exes, her husband and the occasional hook-up in her college days. Physically, they were all much of a muchness. Anne enjoyed sex, but more as a recreational activity than a consuming need, yet Ken lit a tiny spark of curiosity.
It was a spark that grew over the next few weeks until one Tuesday morning, with nothing much better to do, Anne decided to satisfy her curiosity. Pulling out her tablet, she debated what to put and then, somewhat self-consciously, typed in ‘black men and big dicks’.
A minute or so later, Anne wandered dazed and confused in a world of big black cocks. Forty minutes later, she closed the browser, made a cup of strong tea, and tried to process what she had just seen and read.
Anne’s emotional response to the images and the testimonies from women, mainly white middle-aged women like herself, was one of wonder and fascination. Could these women be that aroused through relations with a black man? One video clip caught her imagination—a compilation of white women orgasming with black men. The muscle-clenching spasms of the women were shocking, arousing and disturbing in equal measure. It was as if they were having a fit and babbling in tongues. Could a man induce that reaction? Anne was sceptical.
Anne put the matter aside and began to prep the evening meal. Once done, she picked up an old favourite of hers, a romance, but for once, the familiar scenes did not hit the spot. It seemed tame in comparison to what was out there in the real world. How could she explore this world, and should she? Like any woman, Anne was aware of the allure of the forbidden, but she was a practical woman with no experience at dabbling in sexual affairs outside of her marriage. She sat there mulling things over, then noticed the time.
Oh God! Hurriedly, Anne grabbed her car keys and went to pick the children up from school. Parked up, she smiled as she saw her daughter and then her son laughing. They climbed into the back seat, Charlotte leaning over for a kiss.
I’m a mother above all else. And I have a good man as a husband. Enough of these flights of fancy. This is the real world. My world.
Chapter Three
A month passed, and aside from two minor lapses, Anne had pushed her ‘flights of fancy’ to the back of her mind. A brief and forgettable bout of lovemaking brought the issue to the fore. Andrew had clambered on top and pleasured her with an absence of zeal and attention that lowered the bar to new depths. A two-minute snack pot would have still been cooking by the time Andrew climaxed inside her. Seriously, what was the point?
“You could go down on me, you know,” Anne muttered as he turned over.
“What?”
“Well, you’ve got off! Ever thought about me?”
“Yes, but you’re all sort of sticky down there.”
“Well, it’s your sticky stuff, and I can wipe—oh, never mind!”
To his credit, Andrew could hear the frustration and dissatisfaction in his wife’s voice. “I hear you,” he said and waited.
Anne sat up, her annoyance dissipating. “I don’t want to bitch, it’s just a bit more va-va-voom wouldn’t go amiss. I mean, did you enjoy it? Or was it like having a quick wank—and why are you smiling?”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
“That’s your response. A joke?”
“No. I hear you. And yes, I do enjoy it, but I accept it was a bit by the numbers. On the other hand, we’ve been married for thirteen years and been together longer, and I guess we have lost our mojo.”
Anne took his hand. “Not just me thinking it then,” she smiled.
“Of course not. We’re a middle-aged married couple—a faithful married couple at that. Maybe us still wanting to make love is the point to start from and look to improve it from there. Take the positive.”
“Yes, yes!” Anne kissed him. “How?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. I’m not the most adventurous man. Role-playing makes me giggle, and we are not swinging. It’s embarrassing.”
“Pretty sure our friends are not the type!”
“They are not! And strangers? Ewww.”
A thought occurred to Anne. “Do you ever talk about this with your friends or colleagues? At work, down the pub?”
“What? Sex?”
“Yes, and your wives.”
“No, not really.”
“Not really?”
“No, okay. Remember Ken and Julie? Ken did show Gary and me some holiday pics.” Andrew reddened.
“Of Julie topless?”
“Yes.”
“She has great boobs. Big boobs.”
Andrew made a non-committal sound.
“I’ve gone topless. Everyone goes topless on holiday. Did you ever show my pics to your Neanderthal mates?” Anne’s smile took the sting out of her words.
“No.”
“Why? My boobs not up to Julie’s standard.”
“You see, this is why we should never have these conversations. I don’t because I didn’t take any pics, and if I had, I wouldn’t show them because I knew you would hate it. And men do check out your boobs.”
“They do? On holiday?”
“Yes. All men spend pool and beach holidays checking out boobs, and men check out your boobs. I’ve seen them do it. Sometimes they notice I’m noticing them noticing—you know what I mean—and we do the unspoken man thing, and I nod to say it’s okay.”
“You give men permission to check out my boobs?”
“Yes, and your arse. You have a great arse.”
“Andrew!”
“And I’m not apologising for it either, okay?”
Anne nodded.
“Can I get some sleep now?”
Anne nodded again. After a few minutes, she said: “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Giving men permission to check out my boobs.”
Andrew sighed. “Women!”
Chapter Four
The previous night’s conversation had put a spring in Anne’s step. Andrew acknowledging his shortcomings had helped, and Anne was honest enough to realise she had shortcomings, too. Did she make the necessary effort to excite Andrew? He said he liked it when she talked ‘dirty’, yet Anne rarely did unless annoyed and certainly never to titillate him. It would embarrass her if she tried.
And that was their problem. Both were too conventional, and each wanted the other to take the lead. That needed to change. The kids were going to be sent off to their grandparents, and she and Andrew were going to have a frank and open conversation.
In the meantime, Anne was going to look at naked black men, read racy stories about black men pleasuring middle-aged white women and jolly well enjoy herself while doing so!
****
Andrew was nervous. Opening himself emotionally was not his cup of tea. Anne took his hand and patted it.
“I know you aren’t comfortable, so I’ll go first. One of us has to take a chance, and I guess it’s going to be me.” Because if we carry on like this, it could jeopardise our marriage!
“Okay.” Relief washed through Andrew’s face.
“First, I liked how you permit men to check me out. It’s sort of primitive caveman stuff.”
“Well, it’s a pool in Tenerife, but yeah, I get a kick out of it. She be my woman! Look, but don’t touch! Ugg!”
“Second, I’ve been enjoying some porn recently.”
“You what?” Andrew was stunned.
“Porn, racy stories. That sort of thing.”
“But you hate porn. It’s demeaning, degrading, dehumanising—lots of ‘de’ words!”
“Well, yes. It is. But I never actually looked before, and I found something I enjoy that, you know, excites me.”
“Wow, I mean, wow!”
“Your turn.”
“Hang on, what porn exactly? And—” he stopped. “Bloody hell, I’ve got a hard-on!”
“You have! Oh my god,” Anne giggled. This was going well! “Show me.”
“What now? Just whip it out?”
“Yes. I have seen it before.”
“But – “
“Stand up!”
Andrew rose to his feet.
Anne took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. “Now, show me your cock!”
“Oh, gawd!” Andrew pulled down his zip and released his cock. It was iron-hard.
“Come here!”
Andrew shuffled over.
“Not bad, not bad at all.” It didn’t compete with some of the black cocks Anne had been visually devouring and imagining, but Andrew packed reasonable heat. A good five inches. Taking inspiration from some of the recent literature she had been reading. Anne pulled up her skirt and settled back on the couch.
“I want to get to your knees, and when I expose my pussy,” Anne had been practising ‘dirty talk’, “you will wank your dick for me.”
“Yes, yes,” Andrew panted.
Anne’s heart was racing six to the dozen! She hooked her knickers to one side and exposed herself. God, I am wet! “Now wank!”
“Yes—er—yes, madam.” Andrew began stroking himself, picking up steam as his wife teased her pussy with her fingers, even licking her juices at one point. It was all too much, and Andrew spilt his seed on their expensive imported rug.
“You, dirty boy!”
“Sorry!” Andrew dug out a tissue and wiped up his mess. With a shy smile, he crawled to the wastebasket and then crawled back. In the meantime, Anne had covered herself and was beaming at him.
“That was fun! I had no idea I was going to do that!” she laughed.
“Fun? That was bloody awesome!”
Chapter Five
Anne made some tea after the glow had subsided. They were sitting in the kitchen, and Andrew returned to the porn. “What has been exciting you, then?”
“Before I answer that, do you like porn? Bearing in mind the magazines I found.”
“Yeah, I guess certain things do interest me.”
“Like what? This time, you go first.”
“Okay, we’ll take those magazines. The bit I really like is the reader’s wives, real women getting their kit off for men to look at and not just for money either.”
“A bit like you enjoy showing me off by the pool.”
“I guess it all ties in with that, yes. Normal women been dirty and sexy. Amateur stuff. You?”
“Your magazines again. One for the ladies, and there was one guy who stood out. He was really big and black, and that caught my interest, so I’ve been looking at others and reading stories about black guys and white women, and it really gets me going in a way I can’t explain. Like your tummy is all twisted, and you can’t breathe.” Anne stopped, conscious that she was getting carried away. “So, what do you think?”
“What do I think? You’re getting off on naked black men and them fucking women like you! What do fucking reckon I think!” he yelled.
Anne flushed. “I listened to you respectfully! The least you can do is the same for me!”
“I didn’t say I got all hot and bothered about fucking other women!”
“Well, you could have!”
“I didn’t, though, did I!”
“Do you want to?”
“No, not really! Okay, have I ever fantasised about being with another woman? Sometimes, yes!”
“So, what’s the difference? I think you’re being unreasonable about this.”
“What if I am! I love you! I don’t like the idea of you diddling yourself over strapping black blokes with huge cocks! Fucks sake!” Andrew stood up. “I’m off.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know!” Andrew wanted to storm out of the house, but had no idea where to go. “I need some space.”
“Fine! I’ll be in our bedroom.”
****
Anne was upset and annoyed by Andrew’s outburst—and after I acted like the dirty tramp for him! She blew her nose and finally noticed Andrew standing at the door.
“Yes?” she said coolly.
“I’m sorry.” He came over and put his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “I was taken aback and jealous and took it as an attack on my manhood.”
“Why? It’s only a silly fantasy. I don’t even know any black men!”
“Not entirely reassuring to hear that,” he smiled.
Anne covered his hand with hers. “I’m not going to cheat, dear. It isn’t in me.”
“I should hope it isn’t! There would be no room for me!”
“Silly!” Anne took it as a good sign that he was willing to joke about it.
“At least we now know something about each other, and that is progress. Thank you for the wickedly exciting show you put on,” he added.
“I was a terrible tramp, wasn’t I?” Anne giggled.
“No, you were a great tramp!
While their sex life didn’t dramatically improve over the next month or so, given real-life demands on their time, especially Andrew’s, it did make them aware of each other’s interests. Anne started to dress a shade more provocatively, showing a bit more leg, a display of cleavage for an unsuspecting waiter or bar customer to enjoy. Andrew would be excited if Anne got a hit, a lingering glance or a smile of appreciation, and both enjoyed the frisson of it all.
Andrew, in turn, would (reluctantly) indulge Anne’s interest in black men by whispering shocking deeds of his imaginary wife and her uncontrollable lusts. There was a whole ‘lost in the African jungle’ scenario that Anne particularly enjoyed. This, along with Anne’s discreet bullet vibrator in Andrew’s dexterous hands, meant each was getting something, and both were content with the effort the other was making.
Until Andrew, like all men, took it a step too far.
Chapter Six
It was Andrew’s Firm’s Christmas party. Colleagues, wives, husbands and friends celebrated with alcohol, food and a dance. It was a swanky affair. Waiters bustled around tables, a four-piece band was warming up, and Anne had dressed daringly at Andrew’s insistence.
Colleagues had noticed, and eyebrows were raised. A friend of one colleague, Carl, openly leered at her boobs. Andrew, for his part, thoroughly enjoyed seeing a stranger drooling over his ‘wife’s tits’.
Anne, too, was enjoying the party atmosphere and the attention. It was Christmas, the evening was fun, and what’s the harm in a bit of leering? Except Carl was keen to take his leering somewhere more private. Anne declined and reported back to Andrew, who made the fateful error of suggesting Anne play along a little.
“You want him to grope me?” She hissed, wondering how much Andrew had drunk.
“No, not grope, good Lord, no, just tease, maybe a bit touchy-feely.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, why not! It’s kind of hot!” Carl was an inch or two shorter than Anne, in his forties and with a noticeable paunch. He was also very white—halibut fish white. Carl was not a threat in Andrew’s head.
Anne was on her third wine and mulled it over. It would be hot to lead the guy on for a bit “You sure about the mother of your children acting the tart?”
“For an evening at a party, sure,” he grinned.
It didn’t take long for Carl to come sniffing around again. Andrew was grinning across the room, and Anne, feeling very risqué, allowed herself to be shepherded by Carl towards the door.
“Where are we going?” she demurred with a touch of husk in her voice.
“Somewhere a little bit more private,” he smirked, sweat beading his brow.
The function hall was a maze of corridors outside, and it was with a shriek that Anne felt Carl press his hand on her arse.
“Carl! I’m a married woman!”
“And I’m a married man” he nuzzled Anne’s neck and squeezed her arse again.
“Ow! No! Get off of me!” Anne pushed him away. She was annoyed. It had ceased to be fun.
“Dirty prick tease!” he grunted.
“No, I’m not! I’ve just had a bit too much to drink. I would like to go back!” she added firmly.
“Think the lady has spoken,” a rumbling voice cut through them.
Anne looked around to see a security guard, a big man—she guessed about fifty—with a heavy-set face and a shiny, domed head. He was also very black.
Carl was on the verge of telling the guard where to go, but thought better of it. He shrugged, turned on his heel, and walked off without a backward glance.
Anne scowled after him. She was mad at Carl, a little mad at Andrew and with herself. “Thanks. I appreciate the intervention.”
“No worries. Want me to walk you back to the main hall?”
“Yes. Thanks.” She peered at his name tag. ‘Jerome.”
“This way.” They retraced their steps in silence.
“That was just a misunderstanding,” said Anne finally.
“Huh-huh.”
“I’m married.”
“Huh-huh.”
“Bit too much to drink.”
“It’s Christmas, people have a skinful, get frisky. It happens.”
“Not to me usually.”
“Why not? You’re a fine-looking woman. Your husband needs to keep a better eye on you.”
“Thanks.” Anne felt a warm glow at the compliment. She stole a glance at Jerome. Bit older and rougher than the men she had imagined. She fanned herself with her hand. God, it’s getting warm in here!
“No worries.”
“Can we go somewhere?” Anne blurted out.
Jerome stopped and turned to her. “Somewhere?”
“I don’t want to go back just yet.”
“Why?”
God, he is maddening! “Because, because—” Anne lunged forward and kissed him. Jerome’s mouth was lush yet hard, and his stubble scratched her chin.
“Oh god!” Anne felt herself being propelled down the corridor to her left. Then, she was jammed into a closet. A janitor’s space. His tongue invaded her mouth, and her left breast was in his grip.
“You want a present from black Santa, Missy?” he grinned. A gold tooth glinted as he pushed her legs open with his body.
“Anne, my name is Anne!” she gasped.
“Well, ain’t that a pretty name!” He pressed his lips to hers, his tongue almost down her throat, and her breast was pulled clear of her bra; he switched attention, sucking and biting on her titty.
“Oh God, oh God! What are you doing to me!” Anne’s pussy was throbbing. Calloused fingers pushed her panties aside and plundered her wetness. “Oh fuck! That feels so good!” She scrambled for his cock. My God, it’s huge! Thick and veiny to the touch, warm and vibrant in her hand. With a grunt, Jerome speared into Anne and fucked her against the shelf unit. The discomfort in accommodating him was quickly overwhelmed by the pulsations spreading from her pussy. His hand groped her arse and fingered her tight hole.
“Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh, God, that feels so good in me!” Anne hopped and bounced, trying to squeeze all of his cock inside her.
“You like old Jerome’s black stick in your tight married cunt, eh?” He teased, biting her titty again and varying the pace.
“Yes, YES! Never felt—so fucking goo-OOD!”
“Hubby’s dick never gonna feel the same again, eh?”
“No, yes, God no…oh fucking hell, my pussy is so stretched!!” Anne gave a choking sob and orgasmed in a drooling puddle.
As if on cue, Jerome emptied his balls into Anne’s pussy. His seed filled and warmed her. It was a glorious sensation as if he was hosing her insides, painting her womb with cum.
Jerome kept Anne upright. She was trembling and limp in his arms. Juices dripped from her onto the floor. She kissed Jerome tenderly and breathed a heartfelt, “Thank you. That was wonderful!”
“Pleasure was all mine.” He grabbed some paper towel and wiped himself and Anne. His touch was gentle as he cleaned her. “Better get you to the ladies where you can attend to yourself. You’ll be leaking cum for a while, so stuff tissues in your knickers.”
Anne nodded, happy to follow his lead. He poked his head outside and marched Anne towards the nearest restroom. He pushed her inside. “Get yourself fixed up and back to hubby.”
“Can I see you again?” Anne clung to him; desperation splashed across her face.
“Lady, come morning, you’ll look at your family and regret the hell out of this. If you don’t, then you’ve got problems.”
“I guess. Please!” Anne whimpered.
Jerome shrugged. “You can contact me here. Ring the switchboard and ask for security and Jerome Caine.” He swatted her on the arse. “Now in there and sort yourself out!”
Anne took some time to freshen herself up before returning to her table. Andrew jumped up, looking concerned. “Where have you been? Carl came back, and you were nowhere to be seen!”
“Sorry, been in the ladies.” Anne took a big slug of wine.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I brushed Carl off, then got a bit lost, then felt a bit woozy. Luckily, I found a ladies and splashed some water on my face. I feel better now.”
“You do look flushed.”
“I’ll be okay. Too much drink. I miss anything?”
“No, what happened with Carl? He didn’t look happy.”
“Nothing happened. Which is why he isn’t happy,” Anne smiled.
“Fair enough. Fancy a dance? Slow numbers soon.”
“Sure.”
Andrew led his wife to the floor and held her tight as the slow numbers began playing. “Love you, and Merry Christmas!” he whispered.
“Love you too.” Anne clung to her husband and prayed the tissues stuffed in her knickers didn’t fall out as they danced…
This story continues in the Novella ‘Black Annie’ available on Amazon Kindle/Kindle Unlimited.
