Written by Bev

14 Dec 2010

A few of weeks ago I told of my first meeting, almost a year ago, with Steve aka “Tall Stranger”. Over the year I’ve thought of that night often. My husband Andy told me the night after that he was turned on by the thought of me with another and I played along in fantasy land with him over the next few months. Our sex lives brightened considerably. But then the fantasies ran dry – and we reverted to sex no more than monthly.

A couple of weeks back Andy arrived home and announced that he had business in London on 9th / 10th December and that it was an opportunity for us to take a long weekend break down there. Our daughter is at University in London and it would give us the chance to see her and perhaps do some Christmas shopping, maybe take in a show. I gave the idea a resounding “Yes please Darling.” It would be great to see Louise and I love shopping!

Later that evening we were sat watching television and I turned it off, went over to the sofa where Andy lay (the same sofa on which Steve had shagged my brains out), cuddled up beside him and said, “Imagine …………” and told him of Steve’s visit amidst the snow storm having driven off the road.

We made love on the sofa, later in the kitchen and Andy woke me at four in the morning for a third session. Afterwards I lay across his chest and asked him, “Would you really like it if I shagged somebody else?”

“As long as you at least told me all about it.”

“Would you want to meet them?”

“Before, after or during?”


“I’d love to meet them if it allowed me to watch and perhaps join in if that was what you both wanted. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” I said smiling into his chest. I was plotting. Nervously. “You are absolutely sure?” I asked.

“It would be a dream come true Bev.”

The next day I took all the courage I possess in both hands – and called Steve. We chattered as if long lost friends and then he asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m going to be in London in a couple of weeks and wondered if you fancied meeting up?”

“I’d love to Bev. What are you doing down here?”

“Seeing my daughter and doing some Christmas shopping – and seeing you!”

“When suits you?”

“We arrive on 9th and come back to Yorkshire on 13th. Would Friday 10th suit you?”

“That’s great – my wife’s in the States on business from 6th for a week, so the weekend works for me just as well. Up to you.”

“Let’s make it a date then – say mid morning Friday at Le Meridien Piccadilly. And bring your swimming trunks.”

We travelled down on the morning of 9th arriving just before one at the hotel. We checked in and I couldn’t believe how nice the hotel was. Andy explained he was charging expenses to his client which would cover half the hotel bill and one of the train fares. At least I could spend on the shopping I was planning without conscience! Over lunch we discussed the plans for the next few days – “Shopping this afternoon, back here for your beauticians appointment at 5.30 – we’re meeting Louise for supper at 7.30 in Chinatown. Tomorrow I’ll need to be off to work early as I want to be back with you for an early lunch before I take you off to a matinee performance of Cinderella at the Royal Opera House. We’ll then have the weekend to ourselves before leaving on Monday.”

“That’s wonderful. When did you decide to take me to the Opera you sweet man?”

“I know you love opera, so it’s just my way of spoiling you.”

I had butterflies in my tummy. I excused myself and went to the Ladies where I sent Steve a text suggesting Saturday would be more convenient – if it was OK with him. I applied some make up and went back to join Andy and we headed for Oxford Street.

Like most women, I love shopping. Andy spoilt me – a couple of new outfits – one the obligatory “little black dress” which is lovely, knee length with little shoulder straps, all silk – I can tart it up or play it classy. And a creamy-green two piece skirt / jacket which is “smart casual”. I had it in mind to visit Anne Summers – which we did and I bought some new undies which Andy approved – then he took me off to Agent Provocateur on Broadwick Street. He treated me to a luxurious set of black panties, bra, suspender belt and stockings. We visited many other shops, I managed to get a new handbag and winter coat while Andy was happy with a new wax jacket. I felt guilty and spoilt. And still hadn’t a clue what to get Louise or our son for Christmas. I’d quiz Louise over supper.

We headed back to the hotel, collected our bags from the concierge and headed to our room. It was massive, had a luxurious bathroom and a balcony. I quickly changed and headed for the beauticians room in the Spa. Can’t say I enjoyed my wax but at least I was silky smooth for seeing Steve on Saturday. I hoped – I still hadn’t heard back from him. I called him on my way back to our room and he was fine with Saturday, much to my relief. Although I was struggling to work out how I would orchestrate things. I hadn’t told Steve that Andy would be around – nor Andy that I was about to make his dream a reality. Selfishly I planned Friday so that I could bottle it and have Steve to myself only telling Andy about it all later if I felt brave enough.

Back in our room I showered and Andy had me try on my various purchases. He insisted that I wore the AP undies with the black silk dress. God I felt sexy. My figure was flattered by the clingy nature of the silk and to anyone looking closely, it would be obvious that I was wearing stockings and suspenders. If it was cold, my nipples would be fairly obvious as well! With the two piece I wore white shear undies from AS with white hold-ups, a white silk blouse and decided that it would be fitting for the theatre being a matinee. The fashion show was in danger of making us late for supper with Louise, so I quickly threw on a pair of jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket and we were off.

We were back in our room just after midnight. All Andy wanted was sleep as he would be up early and had a lot to cram in before we went to the theatre. Just after seven he kissed me and wished me a pleasant morning as he left for his client’s offices. When I eventually emerged from the sack I went down to the Spa and had a look around. There was a hair salon so I had them straighten my hair, back to the room, nail varnish and make-up on and into my cloths. Half an hour before I expected Andy, my mobile rang. It was my darling husband telling me he was at a factory in Brighton and had no chance of making the opera. As I was starting to get annoyed with him, there was a knock at the door. I told Andy to hold on and open the door to a well dressed medium height black man. He introduced himself as Barry – I interrupted him and lifted the ‘phone to my ear and Andy explained that Barry worked for his client and had been sent along to take me to ROH, and that I should relax and go enjoy “Cinderella”. I calmed down, hung up and introduced myself to Barry. “I’m here straight from the office Bev, would you mind if I leave my briefcase in your room?”

“No, not at all Barry. I hope you like dance and opera or you’re in for a miserable afternoon.” He put his brief case on the large desk beneath an equally large mirror. He was checking his tie as I looked up.

“I love opera” he said in a very English accent. “Let’s go and have some lunch – I have a taxi waiting.” Like the gent he sounded, he helped me on with my coat and we were off. Over lunch Barry was good company and my angst at Andy evaporated. I relaxed and looked forward to the opera. And it was wonderful – not that you want to read my critique of the performance! Barry took me for a drink in a little bar a few minutes walk from ROH, then into a cab and back to the hotel. He was just paying the cabby when my ‘phone rang – it was Andy. He’d be leaving Brighton within the hour – it was now approaching six – and he reckoned on being back at the hotel between eight and half past.

Barry took me arm as we entered the foyer of the hotel, “What’s wrong Bev?”

“Nothing – Andy’s going to be another couple of hours,” I informed him.

“Do you want to go and get something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry yet – that was a big lunch.”

“A drink then?”

“No, I just want to go up to the room and relax.”

We went up in the lift to our room. No words passed between us, a sort of uneasy tension in the air for the first time in the day. I put the pass card in the slot and Barry pushed the door open. He went in. “Look Barry, I’m sorry. I have had a really nice afternoon and I am really grateful to you for being such a gallant companion. Would you like a drink before you go?”

“That would be nice, my treat – why don’t I order from room service and we can just relax in here?”

“Great idea!”

I was on the balcony having a smoke when there was a knock at the door – Barry opened it and took the bottle of champagne and two glasses on the tray. A loud “pop” signified the opening of the bottle. He poured and came onto the balcony with two glasses. By the time we had finished the bottle, which didn’t take long, and I’d had another couple of cigarettes, I must admit to being a little squiffy and was starting to feel cold. We went into the room. I was looking in the mirror applying some lippy when Barry came up behind me. He helped me off with my coat, throwing it on the chair. Looking at me in the mirror, his arms came around me and he bend down saying, “Don’t move” and then kissed my neck. “You are the most beautiful white woman I have ever spent time with,” he gushed. I smiled, never having spent any time with a black man before. He then helped me out of my jacket, throwing it on top of my coat. “You look cold,” he smiled at me in the mirror, his large black hands moving over my tummy over my blouse and up to my boobs. He cupped them – and they were very much on display through the thin material of my bra and blouse. I closed my eyes and moaned as he lips found mine. He smelt musty but boy could he kiss! His hands slid down to my skirt and he edged it up, an inch at a time looking at me in the mirror all the while. As the hem line reached just above my stocking tops, he moaned and thrust his hips into my bottom and I could feel his manhood poking my cheek. The skirt kept rising and once the crotch of my panties was visible, his hand moved over my pubic mound and down to my pussy. His finger on my clit, moving slowly and gently soon had me wanting. I reached behind me and felt his cock through his trousers.

“Time to get you out of these wet cloths” he said. He sat on the end of the bed and pulled my panties down around my ankles, undid my skirt which slid down to the floor. I leant on his shoulder as I stepped out of them. He stood and motioned for me to lie on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. With his back to me, he straddled me and ran his hands up the inside of my stocking clad thighs. As his hand reached my bald pussy, he gently opened my labia. “So pink, so wet” he said. I then felt his finger inside me, thrusting and squelching as his other hand worked on my hot button. “Do you want some black dick?”

“What do you think?” I stammered.

“Beg for it Bev.” I did. “You better get down here on your knees and lick him into shape then” he said, reaching for my hand to help me off the bed. He stood side ways on to the end of the bed removing his jacket, tie and shirt and watched me in the mirror as I fumbled with his belt, eventually pulling his trousers and pants down. I was shocked at the size of his weapon. It must have been eight inches but it was the girth that shook me. I was just able to get the head of it in my mouth, his large balls dangling beneath occasionally hitting me on the chin as I desperately tried to take more of him in my mouth. “You think that little pink pussy is going to take this beast Bev?”

“Fucking right it is!” I said with little conviction. I’d resorted to wanking his cock whilst licking it. He reached for his jacket and pulled out a condom, giving it to me to put on. “You do it” I told him, fearful I’d rip it getting it onto such a thick prick.

He positioned me on all fours on the bed, stood at the bottom of the bed and entered me. Slowly but I thought I’d burst. Inch by inch he thrust further and further inside me until he was giving me it all. I’ve never felt so full! Slowly the pain evaporated and the pleasure began. He pulled out and hand me on my back. This was better – his pubic bone was nicely grinding my clit and it wasn’t long before I felt an almighty orgasm building. He stopped and decided we should try doggy style again, with me facing the mirror. He wanted to see my face as he entered me he said. There was pain written on my face as he lashed his weapon between my lips, but it didn’t last long and we were back in the groove. I was flush with excitement and effort – not sure I liked looking at myself in the mirror. Again I was approaching orgasm and again he pulled out. “Turn over” he said “And if you want to come this time talk to me, tell me how much you like my black dick”. My head was over the end of the bed – with eyes open I saw an upside down me, long hair trailing on the floor, bright red face and neck, proud erect nipples on my small boobed chest. I closed my eyes and enjoyed what Barry was doing to me. Our groins grinding together, approaching a gut wrenching orgasm I cried out words to the effect of fuck me you black bastard, give me that beautiful black dick, then I was lost in my own world of pleasure, crying out in ecstasy, my pussy pulsating and gushing. Spent, we lay for a moment or two – then I asked “What about you?”

Barry pulled out of me, removed the condom, instructing me “I want your pretty white face covered in black spunk”. We knelt on the bed, side ways on to the mirror. He was wanking his cock as I licked his helmet. He was fondling one of my boobs with his free hand as I felt the first splat of spunk in my mouth. He seemed to come copiously and for a long time. My face was covered, my hair was dripping it. We lay for a moment or two and I excused myself to go and tidy up. When I came out of the bathroom wearing a hotel dressing gown and white stockings Barry was dressed. He kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for a lovely time, picked up his brief case and left.

I put the kettle on but before it had boiled the door opened and in walked Andy. “Hello Bev darling. How’s your day been?

“Wonderful thank you.”

He came over to me and kissed me. “You look hot” he said and cuddled me close. Head in my hair, he sniffed, held me at arms length, smiled and asked, “So what have you been doing today?”

“You know because you bought the tickets Andy.”

He opened my dressing gown. “You dressed for me?” he asked seeing the stockings. “I’ll just be a minute” he said and deposited cloths on the floor on the way to the bathroom. I went onto the balcony to cool down and have a smoke. I felt his arms around me, wearing a hotel bathrobe like mine, fresh from the shower. “You hungry? He asked.

“Yes. What do you fancy?” I replied in the hope of escaping the inevitable. I would be happy to have sex with Andy but I didn’t want him to suspect Barry had just been with me. Why, I don’t know as I know it wouldn’t have been a problem. And Steve was coming round tomorrow and I still hadn’t broken the news to Andy.

“Room Service – you choose from the menu. I fancy an omelette” he said.

We ordered and ate, sat on the bed and talked. It was nice. Andy slipped his hand beneath my dressing gown and fondled my boob. “I just need the loo” I excused myself. My pussy was still wet and swollen from the pounding Barry had given her. I came back to bed and snuggled up to Andy’s chest. “Shall we watch TV? One of those naughty films?” he smiled.

“If you like” I smiled back.

“I’ve got a DVD I think we’ll enjoy – better than the soft stuff you get in British hotels” he said. He jumped out of bed, rummaged in his coat pocket, found the disc and popped it into the DVD player. It started to run, all a bit fuzzy. We were out of our dressing gowns – although Andy insisted I keep on my white stockings – my head on his chest, fondling the stiffest willy I’d seen him with for some time, his hand on my breast, fingers fondling my nipples. The film ran but I couldn’t see it – Andy had rolled over, his dick in my mouth and his tongue on my pussy. “What have you been up to today?” he asked between licks.

“Why are you asking me again, I’ve told you twice!” I said a little annoyed.

“Your pussy looks used and your clit is hyper-sensitive like after we’ve been making love for a couple of hours.” He switched position, cuddled me onto his chest and suggested we watch the film. I looked from him to the TV …. “You fucking bastard!!!!!” I shouted.

It was me and Barry. He’d had some hidden camera in his brief case, sat on the desk below the mirror. And what’s more – Andy had paid him!

We argued for an hour or more – I was humiliated, frankly for having been caught fibbing – Andy was happily turned on but frustrated by my refusal, on principle, to have anything to do with his hard cock. After a restless night we were up and breakfasted for ten. Steve was due in half an hour. I changed into my swimming costume and robe suggesting to Andy he might like to join me for a swim. As we passed reception I slipped them a note for Steve telling him I was in the pool and to come and join me.

Now I’ll post this – and tell you what happened next later ……..