cuckold story 2: queen of spades tattoo

Two – A Queen of Spades Tattoo

From the upstairs window of the house, the bedroom she shared with David, Emma looked down on to the street below. To her eye it was the usual suburban scene: a well-to-do cul-de-sac in the Home Counties; middle-class; three- and four-bedroom homes, some semi- some fully detached, all with garages. Emma stood there deep in thought, struggling to reconcile the stultifying parochial setting with who she had become. She looked around at her neighbours’ homes and wondered if any of them had behaved the same way she had.

It had been a month since the episode in the Premier Inn near Tower Bridge, four weeks and a bit since she’d given herself to the forceful, dynamic black man. She hadn’t allowed David near her in the time since. The experience had altered her.

Emma was dressed ready to go. Had been for an hour.

David had left for work at the usual time of half-past-six. If anyone had seen him they wouldn’t recognise any difference in him at all. Outwardly they were the same couple, no sign of the change between them. He set off in the Audi at the same time every weekday morning, returned home a few minutes before six in the evening. They did the same run to Asda and Sainsbury’s on Thursdays night. Emma spent Tuesday and Friday afternoons as usual, volunteering in the Age UK charity shop in the precinct. The weekend just past they had visited Emma’s mother in Derbyshire. There were evenings in the pub, quiz nights; a meal in the Indian restaurant. Nobody would guess from the way they behaved that the relationship between Emma and David was fundamentally changed.

At the window Emma sighed and considered lighting a cigarette, then decided against it – Nathaniel didn’t approve. She squirmed with anticipation, eager to see him, to hear his voice and smell his unique scent – the simple <i>maleness</i> of him. But Emma was also dubious about the day ahead, still harboured misgivings at what she was doing.

Then she saw the car and everything was suddenly all right.

Philip drove south. Emma sat beside him in the big silver Mercedes as they made their way down the A1. At South Mimms Philip took the slip road on to the M25. They moved east from the approximate twelve o’clock position of the orbital motorway, using the road only as far as the M11 junction at roughly one o’clock. There they continued south until the motorway seemed to peter out, the signs showing place names that Emma was oddly familiar with but which she had never before visited. At a roundabout choked with traffic, a petrol station to the left, Philip eased the car across several lanes, drifting across as they followed the roundabout’s curve, amid the chaos. Philip took a line leading to the A12 towards East London. Emma recognised the pyramid top of Canary Wharf, the light blinking at the pointed apex in the distance as, with a jolt of surprise, she realised that it was the Olympic site sliding by on her left. She was in Stratford – run down despite the extensive construction project of the 2012 games, a busy, anonymous concrete jungle where, beyond the tinted safety of the Mercedes windows, red double-decker buses belched diesel fumes and people avoided eye contact.

“Is this it?” asked Emma when Philip pulled over to the kerb. They were in a quiet street, a blank-faced, much-tagged block of crumbling maisonettes in front of the car.

Emma wasn’t impressed. This wasn’t what she was used to. She didn’t like the look of patchy grass, cracked pavement with weeds sprouting up everywhere, wheelie-bins on their sides, graffiti emblazoned walls and a palpable air of menace. To her it felt like a setting for some gritty police drama on television – drug dealers, prostitutes and violence.

“Yeah,” Philip drawled. “This is the place.”

Emma hesitated when Philip climbed out of the car, reluctant to leave the security of her cocoon. She wondered what the hell she had let herself in for.

But, with some trepidation, following an impatient hand gesture from Philip, she got out and stood there, eyes wide as she tried to look everywhere at once.

“Aren’t you going to lock the car?” Emma asked as Philip sauntered away towards one of the blocks.

“No need for that,” Philip replied. “Nobody round here will bother. They know who we are.”

Emma glanced at the car and then looked around once more, took in the seediness of her surroundings and decided she didn’t want to know the reason for Philip’s confidence regarding the safety and security of what had to be sixty thousand pounds worth of German engineering in such a place. She turned her attention to Philip just in time to see him disappear through a doorway.

“Wait,” Emma called, hurrying in Philip’s wake.

A slim, very pretty woman with straight hair in platinum-blonde bob that fell to the line of her jaw opened a door at Philip’s knock.

“Hiya,” she said, trilling a greeting as bright as her smile. “You must be Emma, I’m Tia … It’s good to meet you.”

Emma blinked, stunned by this jewel in a dung heap. She took in the spaghetti strapped crop-top, flat midriff with a glint of jewellery at the navel, and a denim skirt which was little more than a belt. Surprised, Emma dimly registered the woman to be slightly younger than herself – late twenties, early thirties she estimated.

She shook Tia’s proffered hand in an automatic gesture before the blonde stepped back and invited her and Philip across the threshold.

“Come in,” Tia offered, turning away to walk into the house.

Emma found herself standing there, Philip waiting behind, waiting as Emma gawped at the woman’s long legs, pert, round buttocks and swaying hips.

“Come on in!” Tia called, spurring Emma into movement.

Emma stepped inside. Philip followed and shut the door behind him.

Emma looked around, stunned by the contrast. The inside of the flat was impressive: walls painted in pastel shades, modern furniture in the living room, a huge television – one of the biggest Emma had ever seen – mounted on a bracket, surround sound speakers, a BOSE music system. Someone had spent money on the place.

Nathaniel lounged on a low two-seater sofa. He grinned up at Emma. “Welcome,” he said, gesturing with wide arms as though inviting Emma to comment on the décor.

“I thought we’d be at a hotel,” Emma said. “Like the other times.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “This place is better,” he said. “More private than a hotel. I wanna move your education along a little.”

Emma blinked. “What do you mean?” she asked.

The flat wasn’t what she had expected. On the two occasions she and Nathaniel and Philip had met since their first encounter, they had done so at a Premier Inn near Stevanage. Emma had been unable to resist the temptation of illicit, incredible sex with two black men and had continued the affair, making contact – as Nathaniel had somehow known she would – via the email address on the shared computer at home.

So why were they in this house? What was Tia doing there?

Nathaniel smirked and winked. “You’ll see,” he replied in response to Emma’s question. “All in good time. We got things cooking today.”

Emma shivered, a delicious thrill of fear and anticipation tickling her spine with feathery fingers. Her stomach flipped. She could feel, despite her misgivings and the strangeness of her surroundings, a dribble of arousal siping from her. She felt safe with Nathaniel and Philip. Trusted them. Regardless of their menacing demeanour, Emma sensed that she was safe with the two men. All she had to do was play the game.

“You met Tia.” Nathaniel said.

Emma nodded. “Yes.”

“You like her? You think she’s pretty?”

A shrug from Emma. “I suppose,” she said, putting on a front despite the slow realisation of where Nathaniel was leading.

“You wanna watch her suck Philip’s cock?”

Emma gave a gasp at the casual lewdness of Nathaniel’s suggestion. Lust, already simmering, bubbled like hot milk on a stove. The thought of Philip’s long, dark cock in the platinum blonde’s mouth made Emma squirm.

“She’s dirty,” Nathaniel added. He chuckled and shook his head. “She’s a very pretty girl, an angel to look at…” He paused and grinned at Tia as she walked toward him at his signal. “But the mouth on her…” Nathaniel rolled his eyes, his hand sliding along Tia’s leg, up towards the hem of her very brief skirt. “She’s noisy. Mouthy. Likes to tell everyone what she wants and how good it is when she gets it. Don’t you, Tia?” Nathaniel looked up at the woman as his hand went higher.

“I can’t help it,” Tia replied. “Black cock makes me so fucking horny…”

Distracted as she was, desire clenching a fist in her guts, her pussy oiling, Emma had a vague sense of Tia’s accent. She recognised something regional, an accent from one of the old soaps on television. Definitely North of England, most likely Liverpool, she decided as Tia continued.

“…I love sucking black cock. I love it when you boys fuck me.” She smirked and eyed Emma, her expression a challenge. The look was a dare. Tia was testing the newcomer.

“So go and suck Philip’s dick,” Nathaniel said to Tia. He waved a hand dismissively, fingers flicking towards Philip.

“C’mon, Phil,” Tia said. She threw a final glance at Emma. “Get it out. Let’s put on a bit of a show for our guest.”

When Emma felt something touch her fingers she glanced down. Nathaniel’s hand had touched hers.

“Sit down next to me,” he said, patting the leather seat next to him. “Come on. Sit down. Let’s watch.”

Emma sat, back upright, knees together, unnerved by the situation. She didn’t know how she felt about sharing the men with another woman. Emma was most definitely jealous.

She heard Nathaniel chuckle as she stared at the couple in the centre of the room.

“Relax,” Nathaniel crooned.

Emma jumped at the touch of his hand on her leg.

“Watch and learn,” he added.

“Don’t you like it?” Tia asked Emma as she knelt in front of Philip and unzipped the fly of his jeans. She hauled forth the long dark length and stroked it, her eyes on Emma. “I fucking love it.” Tia’s hand worked slowly. “I fucking love black cock. They’re so fucking big!”

Emma sucked a breath in through her nose when Tia’s tongue flicked over the head of Philip’s cock.

The man groaned and Tia giggled.

“I mean, just <i>look</i> at this big fucker.” Tia’s used both hands against the chocolate length. Then she held it still and popped her lips around the pale dome. Her cheeks dipped inwards, concave as she sucked.

Emma sighed and squirmed, heat flaring between her legs. “Oh God,” she moaned, captivated by what she saw. It was her own live sex show, and she liked it.

Nathaniel lifted his buttocks from the seat and, arched awkwardly, hips thrust up while he yanked the loose Adidas tracksuit bottoms to his thighs.

Emma glanced at Nathaniel’s cock and automatically leaned in close, her fingers closing around the girth of that appendage as she continued to stare at Tia and Philip.

“Yeah,” groaned Nathaniel, “stroke my dick. Watch that bitch suck.”

“Kiss me,” Emma sighed. She offered her mouth to her lover, one hand caressing him while she wriggled about and hauled her underwear down with her free hand. She yanked the hem of her skirt up with an impatient grunt, sliding a finger between her labia as she sucked at Nathaniel’s tongue.

“Look at you,” Tia giggled. “It didn’t take you long to get in the party mood.”

Emma broke away and looked up at Tia, on her feet by that time, the blonde standing there with a hand on one hip, head canted towards her shoulder. Philip was next to Tia, one of her hands jacking his cock.

“Can I lick your pussy?” asked Tia, her eyes slits.

And, before Emma could answer, as Philip ragged himself out of his clothes, while Nathaniel chuckled, the blonde dropped to her knees and eased Emma’s legs apart.

Caught by surprise – this was a first for her – but with her libido revving, Emma gulped and stared down to where Tia’s fingers held her wide open.

“Get behind me, Phil,” said Tia, her voice thick and dark. “Fuck me doggy. Fuck me with that big fucking cock while I lick pussy.”

Sprawled across the sofa, her torso laid across Nathaniel, his cock in her immobile fist, Emma groaned and let Tia have her.

The blonde’s tongue slid through Emma’s slit from anus to clitoris, flicking over the taut nub while she slid the tip of her forefinger around the opening to Emma’s body.

“Oh fuck,” Emma heard Tia grunt, and when she looked down across Tia’s back she saw Philip kneeling there, fingers digging into the blonde’s hips.

It was obvious from the look on Philip’s face and the long, low groan coming out of Tia that Philip was easing his length into her body. At the sight and sound of two people fucking Emma experienced a sudden desperate urge to have her own pussy filled with dark meat.

“This is wonderful,” Emma mumbled. She dragged her eyes from Tia’s face down between her legs and, swivelling her gaze, stared up at Nathaniel. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she breathed.

“This is just the beginning,” Nathaniel replied. “We got all day for it.” His fingers touched Emma’s chin as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. In the second before their lips touched, a moment or two prior to Nathaniel’s tongue invaded her mouth, while Tia lapped at Emma’s clit and fingered her opening, with Philip grunting and thrusting, Nathaniel added, “And there’s more to come. In a little while … There’s a surprise coming for you.”

Tia’s face was tilted towards the ceiling, her eyes squeezed closed. Her mouth hung open as she groaned her pleasure, Philip behind her, his own head rolling.

Emma was rubbing herself by that time, a climax bubbling as she stared at Tia’s twisted features.

“You’re going to come?” breathed Emma.

Tia’s eyes opened at the question. She blinked, bleary eyes focussing all of a sudden.

“Yeah,” the woman groaned. “I’m gonna come. I’m so fucking horny.”

Somehow, during their brief joining, while Philip thrust and probed at Tia’s body, the blonde’s skimpy tank-top had slipped. Emma saw Tia’s fake tits that, despite being manufactured, swung and wobbled like the real thing. They were full and round, slightly oversized in relation to the girl’s slight frame, an effect that caught the eye and made men salivate. Pink nipples stuck up from tight coins of their areola, the teats an obvious indicator of Tia’s arousal.

“You’re gorgeous,” Emma mumbled. “So lovely.”

“Told you,” Nathaniel said, with his arm around Emma’s shoulder. His thick cock lay across his abdomen, neglected by Emma as she watched in awe, her own desire hot and bubbling between her legs. “Tia’s an angel to look at but she’s a nasty bitch when she lets it go. You’ll see what I mean later.”

The question was on Emma’s lips, on the cusp of being voiced. What did Nathaniel mean – Later? And what surprise did he have in mind?

But Emma was distracted by a loud shout from Philip. She forgot all about asking Nathaniel to clarify his meaning when, with another grunt from Philip and a yelp of appreciation from Tia, the black man pulled away from the blonde’s body.

“On my arse!” Tia shouted. She twisted around, her tight waist creasing, her breasts rising as she looked back over one shoulder. “Come on my arse.”

Philip yanked at his cock, pulling it while the breath hissed out of him, his face a clench-teethed mask of intent.

Suddenly, with another yell, as his body tensed, muscles locking with the effort, viscous goo flicked out of his cock. The stuff arced high, a steep-angled parabola of jizm that, after hanging for half a second in the air at its apogee, then spattered down onto Tia’s skin. Just as that first jet landed another spurt squirted high, Philip’s yanking fist altering its course so the gloop landed on the insignificant scrap of denim that Tia had worn as a skirt, the material bunched around her waist.

Philip grunted and groaned while further gouts of semen poured out of him, the stuff raining down.

Tia yelped and squealed and smeared Philip’s outpouring over her skin, apparently delighted at being liberally covered in jizm.

“I fucking love it,” she grinned. “A man’s spunk all over me. I fucking <i>love</i> seeing a black cock coming.” She struggled to her feet, her heavy-soled platform shoes cumbersome. Then, with no regard at all for the furniture Tia walked across the room and flopped into another two-seater settee.       All scrunched up, with her back low down on the sofa, legs sprawled out in front of her, her spunk-smeared buttocks sliding over the leather, she then spread her thighs.

“Fuck me, Nathaniel,” Tia whined, eyes heavy-lidded, her expression fevered. “Stick that cock into me,” she added, pouting. “Fuck my pussy. I fucking want it. Come here and fucking smash me.”

A strange feeling came over Emma. She felt a stab of jealousy, a sharp prick that made her, for a brief moment at least, hate the other woman. Her guts curdled, a deep and corrosive emotion souring her insides as she watched Nathaniel strip out of the Adidas bottoms. She moaned when Nathaniel peeled the dark-blue vest over his head, his muscular torso revealed.

“You can’t,” Emma mumbled. “Don’t do it to her, Nathaniel. Please don’t.”

But Nathaniel just cast a contemptuous look at Emma. He sneered and said nothing, just lifted his cock in one hand and padded barefoot across the room.

“Here it comes,” Nathaniel murmured, with a hand on one of Tia’s knees.

The blonde wriggled and forced her legs wider, offering herself completely. She let out a mewl of anticipation, eyes wide, gulping as the bulb of the cock-head nudged her. Then she groaned, a low, primal growl when Nathaniel’s girth split her open, his cock filling her.

“There it is. You fuckin’ wanted it, you got it,” Nathaniel said, his stare locked on Emma’s face. He smirked and winked when he saw Emma gazing back at him, her lower lip between her teeth. “You love my big cock, don’t you?” he said, speaking to Tia.

Nathaniel began to move and Tia gasped.

“Tell her,” he insisted, pushing deep, purposely goading Emma by making Tia groan and sigh.

“Yes,” Tia squealed. “I fucking love it. Big cock,” she mumbled. Her arms came up and Tia pressed her palms against the back of the sofa. It was an awkward position, her back arched like a gymnast’s, but she seemed intent on forcing herself onto Nathaniel’s cock as he held himself over her, toes on the carpet, muscles in his arms bunching with effort. “I just wanna get fucked by black cock all the time. Fuck my pussy. Tear my little pussy apart with that thing.”

The obscenities poured from Tia’s mouth, a torrent of indecency at odds with the cupid’s-bow lips and angelic features. It all seemed excessive to Emma but, nevertheless, as extreme and unnecessary as Tia’s stream of profanity appeared to Emma, the sight of Nathaniel pounding into her, coupled with the foul-mouthed accompaniment had her fingers squelching around her vulva as she stared dumbstruck at the couple.

Philip slumped into the sofa. He sprawled on the seat next to Emma, naked, his cock in his fist.

“You like her?” he asked, chin nudging towards Tia and Nathaniel.

Emma nodded. “Yes,” she muttered, eyes flicking from the couple across the room to Philip’s face and back again.

“Good,” Philip said. He nodded approval, smiling as he slowly stroked his penis. “I’m pleased. I think you’re going to enjoy it today. I think you’re ready.”

Emma had a moment to wonder what she was meant to be ready for before, again, as had happened earlier on when Emma had been about to question Nathaniel over what he meant by a surprise, she was distracted.

“Come over here,” Nathaniel called. “I want you to suck this bitch off my cock.”

He was standing there, penis in hand while Tia levered herself upright, eyes shining.

“Now,” Nathaniel growled. He waggled the terrible length of dark cock at Emma. “Get over here and suck it.”

Tasting Tia on Nathaniel’s cock, sucking her off the bulbous head of the thing sent another arterial burst of lust through Emma. She was behaving like a slut, was totally lost in debauchery, and she never wanted it to end. She forgot about her white husband and their stagnant marriage. Emma’s middle-class leanings and narrow-minded principles came crashing down. This was what she wanted, sex with these people. It was unbelievable, she was sucking another woman’s pussy off a black man’s dick – it was what she was made to do, she thought. She had found her niche at last.

“You gonna fuck him?”

Emma turned to face Tia as the blonde took control of Nathaniel’s cock. “You gonna lie down and take this big fucker?” she added, her eyes gleaming a she grinned at Emma, a fist working a groan from Nathaniel. Tia licked the long shaft, her tongue going from the root to the tip. “Kiss me,” she murmured after the cock-head popped from between her lips. “Feel my tits and kiss me.”

Emma gasped into Tia’s open mouth, their tongues swirling, writhing over and over, slippery and serpentine while she squeezed the girl’s breasts.

“Let’s get naked,” Tia sighed when the kiss eventually broke. “Take your clothes off.”

A few moments later, naked, Emma felt Tia’s boobs squashing against hers as the couple kissed again.

They parted with a liquid plop, Tia’s lips sucking Emma’s tongue.

“Get on the sofa,” Nathaniel growled to Tia. “It’s time to show her what I expect from my girls.”

“What about her?” Tia asked. She threw a glance at Emma, gesturing with a flick of a wrist. “What’s she gonna do?”

“We’ll see about her later,” Nathaniel replied. There was a hint of disdain in his voice, a glint of contempt in his eye. “Show her what I expect and then we’ll see if she wants to be part of it.” He stabbed a finger at the sofa. “Get on it,” said Nathaniel, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what to expect.”

The sight and sounds coming from the pair made Emma reach between her legs. Watching Tia and Nathaniel was so sexy, seeing the woman’s face distorted with such pleasure made her desperate for her own release. Emma could still feel the jealousy burning like acid, but she rubbed herself and ignored the emotion, jaw slack as Nathanial’s muscles work as he fucked into Tia.

Several minutes later, while Emma groaned and sobbed and rubbed her clit, fingers sliding into her pussy, Nathaniel thrust deep into Tia and bellowed out he was coming.

“Take it,” Nathaniel snarled, pushing deeper. “Take it all.”

Nathaniel’s climax had come after a period of high-pitched and very excited exhortation from Tia. The woman had laid there and accepted the onslaught, her pussy uptilted, hands clawing at Nathaniel’s broad back and bunching buttocks, continuously urging him to fuck harder, deeper, faster.

“Fuck my tight pussy,” Tia had gasped. Fuck me with that gorgeous black cock. Let it go. Come inside me. Give me all of it. I wanna feel you come inside me.”

“You want my come?” Nathaniel had grunted, probing deep. “You want me to come in you?”

“I do, I fucking do!” Tia yelped. “Flood me with it.”

And it seemed to Emma that’s exactly what Nathaniel did. The man thrust several times, punctuating each lunge with a bestial grunt. Then he appeared to pause, simply holding himself over the woman spread under him.

“Fuck,” he spat. “I’m doing it.”

“Oh God,” moaned Emma when she looked at Nathaniel’s hanging balls, Tia’s body tight around the shaft of his cock, the root of the thing pulsing. It was obvious to Emma, as she rubbed herself to orgasm, that the pulse she could see was proof that Tia’s insides were being bathed with semen.

Is that what Nathaniel meant by what he expected his girls to do? Was it a requirement that she too would be expected to take the black man’s seed? That was the way it had gone during their first encounter, both men had squirted Emma full of their ejaculate. So, she wondered, what was different about what had happened then to what she was witnessing now?

Then, as her climax burst, the violence of her orgasm a reaction to the idea that suddenly occurred to her, Emma realised that Tia had taken Nathaniel’s spunk completely unprotected. There was no contraception: no condom and no birth control pill, nothing at all to stop Nathaniel’s sperm from finding a target in Tia’s fecund body. Even as she came, the climax boiling inside her, as Emma staggered backwards and collapsed onto the sofa, Philip sitting there grinning, Emma recalled something Nathaniel had said the afternoon she had first met him. In the hotel, with Nathaniel’s cock inside her, as he held her up and her husband watched the black man fuck her, Nathaniel had said: <i>We’re gonna</i> own <i>this white bitch</i>.

Emma turned her face to Philip. She saw him through the haze of her climax – lean, his long legs in front of him while he stroked his length, his eyes on her. Philip’s gaze roved over her naked skin. Emma could feel the intense stare on her breasts, could sense the desire coming off him.

“Please,” Emma whined. She squirmed on the settee, twisting so she could lift one leg, spreading her thighs as she lay back and offered herself. “Fuck me, Philip,” she added on a sigh. “Fuck me and come inside me. Do it to me just like Nathaniel did to Tia.”

Tia squatted over the toilet and pissed a stream into the water below. She splayed her labia and leaned forward, watching while Emma danced and squirmed, waiting her turn.

“God,” Tia said, tearing several sheets of tissue from the roll. “How much spunk did he give me?”

She stood up and turned, operating the lever to flush the toilet.

“What’s that?” asked Emma as she squeezed past Tia and sat down to relieve herself.

Tia swivelled at the waist, craning to examine her right buttock, fingers stretching the taut flesh.

“Oh,” she replied, “the tattoo?”

“Yes,” said Emma, her water tinkling into the bowl. “Oh God,” she added, breathing a sigh of relief. “I needed that.”

“It’s a Queen of Spades tattoo,” Tia said, answering Emma’s question. “You wanna look?”

Before she could respond Emma found herself looking at one half of Tia’s heart-shaped derrière, blinking at the dark silhouette of a playing-card spade indelibly imprinted upon its curve. To Emma’s mind it was quite a delicate motif, only two or three inches tall, shaded black except for a flesh-coloured Q in the centre of the leaf.

The symbolism wasn’t lost on Emma. “It’s a brand, isn’t it?” she said.

Tia nodded. “Yeah,” she replied, enthusiasm lifting her voice. “It means I only take BBC … Big. Black. Cock,” she explained. “I fuckin’ love them. The boys are so big and they can fuck all night.” Her eyes shone as she looked down at Emma on the seat. “And you have to admit, seeing those big fuckers gets you all hot, eh? I’m not interested in white men at all. I’m a black man’s bitch.”

“Nathaniel?” Emma said as she wiped herself with tissue.

“Not just him,” Tia replied. “There are others, too.”

Something in Tia’s voice made Emma squirm with desire and caused her insides to flip and melt low down, somewhere deep and indefinable. The way Tia said it sounded as though the blonde thought she had found paradise.

Emma sighed, her mind full of the possibilities. Tia was right, Emma decided, there was something enthralling about seeing those two men naked. The way their cocks just hung there, defying gravity, long and weighty was a buzz all right.

When she stood up and flushed the toilet Emma glanced at Tia’s face and saw the woman’s expression. There was no way Emma could articulate what she saw in that distant gaze, Tia’s thousand-yard stare as the platinum blonde chewed on her bottom lip; but she felt it, experienced a deep, hollow yearning as though a primordial instinct had woken, an elemental urge that had to be satisfied.

“Black men,” Emma gurgled, her voice thick, glutinous with impulsive lust. “You fuck black men … You fuck them and they come inside you.”

“Yeah,” Tia replied. She seemed to respond to the timbre of Emma’s tone. “I fuck black guys.” Tia stared at Emma’s face, their eyes locking as they gazed at each other through the mirror. “They come inside me,” she continued in a murmur. Tia turned Emma towards her with a light touch on the woman’s shoulder.

Emma’s mouth opened but no words came out. She sighed, took a deep breath, the air hissing in through her nose before she managed a croaked, “You’re not using any contraception, are you?”

“They come inside my pussy,” Tia breathed, her face closing on Emma’s. “All that spunk inside me.”

“God,” moaned Emma. “God, oh God…”

And then she opened her mouth to accept Tia’s kiss, their tongues sliding together gently.