A Hotel Trip
This is my first attempt at writing something from a man's point of view. It has been harder than I thought!
Black cock. Every girl talks about it, some more openly than others. Many twitter about it amongst themselves, and some display their wanton lust for such sexual conquest openly, even wearing t-shirts or blouses that proudly display they are a black cock slut. What I did not know was that my wife was one of those women.
I discovered what was going on by accident. I was at work, when my boss asked me to drop what I was doing and catch a plane to California to assist a client. Of course, it was a rushed departure, and I didn't even get a chance to call my wife before I left. What I wanted to tell her was that since she was on a business trip in Los Angeles also, I had managed to get into the same hotel. I was looking forward to get into her room with her, and then we could pocket the hotel expense for mine!
I landed late at LAX and caught a cab to the hotel. They had a bar and restaurant just off the lobby, and that is was not open to the public this evening, but since I was staying at the hotel, I could get in. They were also very sorry, but as a security measure, they would not give me a key to my wife's room without her permission. I could be a stalker or something, after all, they said!
After sighing off my frustration, I went to my own, lonely room and unpacked and changed, expecting to go down for a dinner. I tried to call my wife's cell phone, but had to leave a message. I knew she would call me before going to bed, and that would not be for another hour or so, leaving me with the next item on the agenda, dinner.
I went down and true to the front-desk's word, was able to get into the restaurant. It was actually connected to the lounge, which had a hip-hop band playing really loudly and deep bass songs, making the water in my glass vibrate with every beat. The waitress was nice, but harried, and I could tell she was not having a good night. As I looker around, I could figure out why. While the restaurant was not full, it was noticeably empty of Caucasian men, but had plenty of black men. Evidently the waitress was tired of the small hassles and passes she was being thrown, and just wanted to go home.
After an unremarkable dinner, I decided to get a drink to go upstairs, while I waited for my wife to return. I entered the lounge, and found an empty seat in the corner, and what I saw was astonishing. The dance floor was full of black guys and white girls, all wriggling and dancing to the heavy beat. As the cocktail waitress came by, I had to ask what sort of special event this was. That was when I found out that there are interracial sex parties that travel from establishment to establishment. The hotel got extra revenue from the rooms they rented, and the lounge did gangbuster business. The men were all looking for girls, and the girls were all looking for one thing. She even commented that there were a fair number of women who were on 12-hour divorces from their husbands, all in the pursuit of big, black men.
As I looked about, I could see it was true. There were a good number of women there, fitting all types of descriptions. There were tall, thin and willowy blondes; short, dumpy brunettes, a few ladies who were old enough to be the matrons of the group, and quite a few very beautiful ladies as well. One stand out girl had a head-full of auburn hair, with green eyes, a dynamite smile, and a revealing Kelly-green dress to match. When she was on the dance floor, there were a few studs-in-waiting around her, moving a shaking in an attempt to catch her eye. As I sipped my drink, my eyes just wandered the room. It was then that I was hit by a bolt of lightning from my worst fears. There was my Angela, on the dance floor, looking like something from my wildest fantasies, and doing some of the things in my dreams! Except she wasn't doing them with me.
My mouth hung open as I looked at her on the dance floor, also ensconced by a group of black men who had designs on her body. Who wouldn't based upon her attire. She was wearing a sheer white blouse, one with chest pockets right over her breasts. She needed those pockets, as it was very obvious from her erect nipples that she wasn't wearing a bra. A black satin skirt hung from her waist, the short hemline not even coming close to covering her as I would like, especially in front of other men, and when one of then got a chance to spin her along, the hem of her circle skirt flew straight out, revealing a total absence of panties underneath. From the hoots and calls of the men, it was obvious that her modesty was no secret. Her legs were covered by a pair of white thigh-high hose, complete with little pink satin bows on the top, and her black 4 inch patent leather shoes gave her a respectful five-foot eight inch height. In short, even though I didn't even know she owned clothing like this, she looked totally hot and fuckable in them!
I wanted my wife so bad, my jeans were straining at the zipper. Unfortunately, so did many guys in the room, and Angela did not even know I was there. As bad as I wanted to just throw her to the ground and leap on top of her, I was also getting more than furious about her being here. I decided to be generous, however, and give her a chance, to see what she would do. In my heart, I knew that I was going to watch her have sex with a black man, but I was hoping that maybe she would just tease the Hell out of them, and then go back to her room and masturbate with a dildo or something. I sat there and watched her be lead from the dance floor by one particularly large man, wearing a pair of athletic warm up pants, a white tank top, and tennis shoes. He had a few gold chains around his neck, and his bald head fairly shone in the dancing lights. He held her hand as she was lead to a booth. He slid in, and then she followed, taking a moment to smooth the hem of her skirt as she crossed her legs under the table. Also at the table were a few other guys, and another girl, a blonde. She was in a rather animated conversation with one of the men there, and his hand was well up her dress, and I was sure a public display of affection was just minutes away. Her fingers clenched hard on the table gave away her passion.
Angela was sitting there, smiling and listening as the other men talked, and I watched her date slide his hand to her thigh. Before I knew it, he leaned around and placed his face to hers, and I saw her jaw drop to allow his tongue to probe for hers, and she returned the kiss, demurely. His hand then slid higher up her thigh and under her skirt, and her legs uncrossed as she let him access her crotch. After a moment, her hand slid to his crotch, and she used her long, French-manicured fingernail along the length of his growing bulge. Soon her fingers tried to wrap around his crank through his pants, and began some long, slow strokes. They kissed more and I could sense she was ripe and ready for him.
A few minutes later they got up and left, Angela playfully swaying her hips in front of him, and when he closed on her from behind, she ground her butt against his cock, now making his pants tented. I got up to follow them, like a sick voyeur. There was a train wreck coming, and I could not help but watch. I was surprised that they did not go far away, like to her room. I was able to catch up with them as they stopped in an alcove, one with a small sofa. I hid at the corner, just behind some artificial plants.
My Angela wasted no time to pop the fasteners down both sides of his pants, and he was naked in seconds, his ebony shaft sticking out hard at her, a single-eyed monster demanding a white pussy. Angela was happy to oblige as she knelt before him and kissed the end of his cock before parting her lips and suckling his cock. Her fingers went to his shaft, tickling and teasing it before she cupped his sac in her small hand, his large jewels threatening to overwhelm. There was no telling how much semen he had, but I knew Angela was going to get all of it in her pussy.
Almost on command, she leaned back onto her heels, and placed her butt on the end of the sofa. Her black lover knelt and placed both of her ankles on his shoulders, her body leaning back as his cock lay pointed right at her vagina. Her eyes were locked with his, as I heard her beg him to fuck her. To place his big cock inside her and make her his cock slut.
As I heard that, my heart sank. I didn't know how long Angela had been doing this, but it had been obvious it was for some time. Her mouth opened as her eyes rolled back in her head, her cock straining to accommodate his enormous black manhood. Angela's toes pointed straight up as she felt the pleasure from his penetration, and he pushed deeply into her, until he was fully buried inside. After a moment, he began to cycle his hips, and his cock in and out of her, driving Angela wild. I had to hand it to Angela, she sure played the role of a hot fuck, laying back, with her harms over her head in supplication as she gave herself to this stranger. They began to mutter back and forth, her praising his lovemaking and his endowment, and he told her he was claiming her for his very own, to fuck and show off when he wanted. She would be his slave, no panties ever, and would bear his children. Each one of these comment drawing a gasp or moan of passion as they fornicated, their voices getting louder until his thrusts were at a fever pitch, where she begged him not to withdraw his cock, and "spill his black cum" inside her.
He was eager to please, and gave one last thrust before he climaxed, and his tight balls shot a flood of his essence inside her, so much that there was a small spurt of his seed rushing out past her labia and onto the ground. He began to thrust softly as he continued to give her every ounce of his seed, and Angela pushed herself onto her elbows and tilt her head up to kiss him, her eyes almost glassy as they matched lips and tongues. When they broke the kiss, she signed and moaned as he pulsed a few small thrusts of his now soft cock inside her, and she told him she loved his cock, and would gladly be his cock slut, if he would have her.
It was all I could take, and I turned away, not wanting to know what he said. I hurried out the lounge and to my room, my eyes tearing as I was so hurt, my heart burning with rage at my soon-to-be former wife.
I was able to return home as soon as my work emergency was over. I returned to an empty house, and began to pack. I had plenty of time to plan this out. I took those things I wanted, and rented a furnished apartment. I also had 75% of the bank account withdrawn. I also was able to take advantage of a transfer within the company, and was in the process of relocation when Angela got home 3 days later. I hadn't even left a letter to her. Falling off the face of the Earth was surprisingly easy to do! I only wish I could have been a fly on the wall when she got the divorce papers the night she got home. Of course, that is nothing compared to when I heard she got pregnant!