VIP Anniversary

Disclaimer: For those readers with discriminating tastes when it comes to interracial sex, this story will only piss you off. So, any anonymous flamers please do us both a favor and skip this story.

"A woman's dress should be like a barbed wire fence: serving its purpose without obstructing the view." –Sophia Loren

As it happened, my sister-in-law and I were having a girls-day-on-the-town when a tantalizing subject came up again in our conversation. I'm sure it's not out of the ordinary for two mature white women, sipping cocktails at a local bistro at four on an autumn afternoon; to reminisce about the sizable male genitalia they've been treated to throughout the years. However, the fact that the two of us could speak truthfully from real-life experience made the dialog unique.

"You can see they're fakes. I mean they have to literally hold on to those (obviously lifeless) two-foot honkers the whole time. And those tiny, white stick sluts they always show paired up with them, being so shocked and amazed... I mean, give me a break!" Debbie recounted after viewing some outrageous website she stumbled upon.

"What's it called again?" I laughed.

"I don't know... Crazy Cock Boys dot com, or some shit," she shook her head.

"Hmm, I'll have to check it out," blankly taking another sip from my Mimosa.

"You look a little preoccupied Baby," she said, gently touching my hand. "Is everything okay?"

Of course, whenever Debbie brings up the subject of big cocks, especially extra-large black ones, my thoughts are instantly transported to memories of Hubby's surprise trip for us to Minneapolis a few years back.

"Just another Minnesota flashback... our anniversary, ya know."

"That's where you scored that cute little black sequined dress wasn't it? Ooh, and that sexy bustier... you never did tell me the whole story," Debbie prodded.

"Well, I guess there isn't a lot to tell," my eyes shifted from hers to refocus on the blurred rim of my glass.

"You know Barb; I can always tell when you're lying. You get that sneaky subtle smile."

"What smile?" I toyed, letting my fingers feel the sleek, frosty form of my martini glass.

"That one there... SEE!" She pointed. "Now spill it girl, or I'll just bug the hell out of Donny, 'til he tells me."

"Hmm, that probably wouldn't be such a good idea; especially if you're aiming for accuracy," I laughed.

"So then, why not save me the trouble, and just TELL me, damn it! It has something to do with big black cocks, right?"

"I suppose we... I mean you and I, don't have much to be secretive about, do we?" (New readers can refer to my "Security Room Gangbang" story regarding that comment.)

Not getting a verbal response, I gathered from her determined expression, she was serious. I quickly thought back and re-assembled one of the more erotic episodes that hubby and I have ever shared.

The Perfect Little Black Dress +++++

It had been quite some time since Donny and I ran off on an adventure of any kind. So, when he suggested that we head to Minneapolis under the guise of celebrating our anniversary, I was pleasantly surprised. I figured it would be an excellent chance for us to shake the dust off our libidos and, in his words, "have a sexy, fun time." This was our first trip to the Twin Cities and the Mall of America. Needless to say, that even made me more anxious to do some major shopping.

Shopping has always meant two different things to the two of us. As with most couples, the man is characteristically quite ready to call it a day, about the time his lady is getting her second wind. This particular outing was different. He didn't put up even the slightest stink when I drug him to the eighth shoe store.

"I hope you're still planning on picking up something special to wear for tonight," he suggested.

"Does that mean you're taking me dancing?" I nudged.

"You bet! A great meal, some fancy dancin', a swanky hotel, and perhaps a few surprises. You're getting spoiled tonight, for sure," my hubby proudly smiled.

"Sounds like somebody wants to make sure he gets laid," I smirked and squeezed his ass.

Draping his arm over my shoulders as we walked, he admitted, "Well sure. I just know you're not a cheap date. Besides, there's no sales tax in Minnesota on clothing; betcha didn't know that?"

"Oh really! Well then you can buy me something pretty in here," I stated, pulling him by the arm into a rather upscale dress shop. Always strike when the iron is hot.

Thumbing from one clothes rack to another, among cocktail gowns and prom dresses, I pulled a black sheath dress off the rack. Donny remarked how full of sequins it was, and that he wasn't completely sold on the upper portion of the knee-length, expensive little number.

"Oh Honey, you're always having me wear those low neck things; I think this one could be very sexy too. Here, let me try it on." My excitement must have been sufficient for him to let me scurry off to find a dressing room, without his normal eye rolling.

The sleeveless, black sparkling dress came up to a halter-type choke collar that hooked at the back of the neck. Though it thoroughly covered my chest, the back zipper only came up far enough to cover my rear. This left my back and arms totally exposed. As I couldn't very well wear the dress without a bra, I'd have to come up with some sort of support. Making my way from the dressing room, Donny's wide eyes and smile told me he approved of my selection, at least on one level. The sexy, black dress fit my 36-26-35 shape wonderfully. For once it made my legs, not my d-cupped boobs, the focal point. I knew this fancy rag didn't accentuate how he generally preferred to show me off, but after stepping into a sleek pair of spiky 5-inch pair of black pumps, he was instantly pleased with my selection.

That was the good news. Unfortunately the store didn't carry a selection of strapless corsets, which the dress desperately needed. The sales girl suggested a certain downtown boutique that carried such frilly garments. After having Donny treat me to a pair of CFM pumps, a shiny new dress, and a beautiful set of dangling silver earrings, I was feeling mighty special–even a little sexified.

In retrospect, my ensemble resembled that of an expensive call girl; an outfit I would never wear around our conservative little city. However, there's something so freeing about the anonymity of visiting a different metropolis hundreds of miles from home. The chance to explore pent up fantasies in a remote environment where nobody recognizes you is delightfully compelling. What came next served to further define an adventure I certainly could have never imagined.

Discovering My Black Ass +++++

Vanessa's Closet was the name outside of the small lingerie boutique located just off the main business district. "This must be da place!" Donny said, as we parked and made our way across the busy street. Judging from the female manikins outfitted in skimpy lingerie in the window, I supposed that's what got his attention. Stepping inside the tiny lavender-scented emporium, I noticed another feature sure to captivate him. Glossing over racks and tables of sexy lingerie, I caught sight of a voluptuous sales woman assisting a customer. I should have commended Donny for keeping his initial shock to a minimum, as the shorter black lady was extremely well endowed.

Picking through tables and racks of silky ensembles, I didn't immediately spy anything that might work for me. The buxom sales lady glanced up at us several times, before finally shooting us a big disarming smile. "She seems nice. I'll bet she knows exactly what you need, Baby," Donny whispered.

"Well, for God sakes don't bother her. I'm sure I can find something," I flashed a half smile back at her, before heading to another rack of sexy under things. Perusing through camisoles and flimsy nightgowns, I failed to hear the front door shut. Looking up to check the saleslady's whereabouts, I lost her. "Now I wonder where..." I started, and then felt a light touch on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Did I startle you?" Came a voice from behind.

"Oh Hi! No, we were just looking..." I nervously replied, turning to return her greeting.

"Hi, I'm Vanessa. Can I help?" She smiled up at me, brushing back her long black hair.

"Are you THE Vanessa?" Donny asked, motioning to the door sign, but hardly taking his eyes off her imposing chest.

"Yes Sir, that's me. And you must be... Cary Grant?" She winked.

"Who him?" I laughed. "No, no that's just Donny."

"Well Just Donny, you definitely have that Cary Grant thing goin' on! Now, what can I find for you newlyweds?"

Of course Donny instantly became an authority on ladies underwear. I must admit it was hilarious watching him trying to describe precisely what I needed. Vanessa gently took my elbow and pulled me aside, "Honey, you looking for a corset or bustier for a new dress?" Her sweet eyes sparkled.

"Yes," I sighed.

"I've got all sorts to choose from. Why don't we send Clueless Cary to fetch the dress, while we take a look?" She asked, pressing herself close to me as we turned. Her cute, beige wrap-around top, offered a classy yet tempting view of a deep cleavage many a conservative woman would find appalling. To me (and I'm sure my hubby), I found it to be quite alluring.

Like a puppy devoted to playing fetch, Donny eagerly ambled out to get my latest mall acquisition. Funny Vanessa and I engaged in friendly girl-talk, as she led me back to a series of fitting rooms beyond the main sales counter. She seemed especially thrilled to hear we were celebrating our anniversary with a night of fine dining and dancing. Once she discovered we were from out-of-town, this 35-yr-old lady, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Donna Summer, the great disco diva, was full of all sorts of suggestions.

"Girl, you two picked the right town to party in," she began, as she helped me out of my casual, sleeveless top and shorts. I was so caught up in her vibrant character; I took little notice of all the personal attention. It wasn't until Donny somehow found his way back to the dressing area, that I felt subconscious with her intimate approach. "God, you two are SO cute! Cary, now you didn't say a damn thing about this whole anniversary thing–naughty you. Here give me that. You just go sit over there while we get sized up." She directed, as she un-bagged my shiny new dress.

She oohed and aahed over the dress, as she helped me into it. "Yes Ma'am that IS one sexy fit for off-the-rack," she pronounced, zipping up the rear. "Please Barb, can I call you Barb, don't take this wrong... but Girl, you definitely have a black ass," Vanessa cooed.

"Oh No! Did I spill something already?" I shrieked and turned in the mirror to locate my mistake.

"Calm down, be cool now. I mean you have a BLACK ass," she stated and turned to wag her ass at me.

"OH! God, I'm so lame," I blushed. "Well, thank you, I guess."

"See how your booty hangs out there–looking good?" She said, pointing into the mirror. "Guys probably give it up for you all the time, don't they Baby; havin' a phat ass like that? Of course we'll need to shorten the hem, if you're planning on doing any dancin' in this town, but I can take care of that."

Telling a woman, especially a white one, that she naturally has an ass to be proud of, after she's done her best for years trying to lose it, is so refreshing. I couldn't help but fixate on my derrière, as Vanessa helped me back out of the dress.

"Come to think of it, no. I usually get a fair amount of attention from these," I laughed, and lightly shook my weighty jugs, "but never my ass." I shrugged.

"Well Honey, those guys don't know what they're missin'. You're gonna show them tonight though– show them ALL that good stuff!" She said, half-dancing while she unhooked my bra.

"Ah, is that..." I was taken back.

"Necessary? I think so Darlin'. I can tell you're a 36, but we need to make sure and fill those cups to the brim, ya know," she winked and grabbed my firm melons. I was so impressed that she could easily guess my size that I let her have a grab. "I think you might want to go with a bustier, instead of a corset. I mean, you could go either way, but that dress is so classy. That ole Tom Jones-English-whore look might just be the way to go," she theorized.

"Okay..." I sheepishly pleaded ignorance.

Hot Stuff Baby Tonight +++++

"Donna Summer–that's who you look like!" I yelled loud enough for her to hear me, as she made a quick exit.

"Yeah, I get that all the time–a stubby Donna Summer with huge tits!" She hollered back.

I laughed at her personal assessment, as she came back toting three short lacey garments that resembled body armor. After holding each Victorian-looking bustier to my bare chest, she helped me squeeze into a rather plain black one. "God, is it supposed to be so damn tight?" I asked, catching my breath.

"Don't fight it Honey; you'll get used to it. Besides I think this one will do the trick," Vanessa smiled in the mirror, as she zipped up the back.

"And what sort of trick is..." I stopped at the sight of my reflection. "Oh MY!" I nearly gasped at the sight of my puffed up puppies ready to pour out from their new home. The slimming effect on my waist was even more impressive. "Oh my goodness!" I turned profile to take in my whole new sexy self.

"Goodness got nothin' to do with it. Baby, once we slide you into a garter belt and a fresh set of sheers, there won't be one damn NICE thing about you. We're talking hot and ready for any VIP room in this town, for sure," she added.

Standing there taking stock of my re-shaped torso, I was tempted to agree with her assessment. I had only of few more minutes of gloating, before she returned with a black garter belt, black hose, and a silky pair of French-cut satin panties.

"You okay nasty girl? I'll let you get it together, while I go over some things with Mr. Cary Grant." She said and quickly disappeared again.

Over-hearing their muffled voices from beyond the dressing room door, I followed her directions. As I eased my mature parts into the rest of the seductive lingerie, I sensed an attitude change sweep over me. By the time I squeezed into the panties I felt a distinct change in my persona. Of course, the fact that I looked like every virile man's secret desire didn't hurt my evaluation. Since my new pumps were in the dress bag, I slipped them on to complete the erotic image. Standing in the mirror was a version of myself I would have never recognized. "This is gonna be one hell of an adventure!" I uttered, just as Vanessa burst back into the small dressing room, carrying a carafe and two fancy shot glasses.

"I hope you don't mind, but I thought we'd celebrate the new you," She asked.

"Sounds good to me. Wow, what is that? It's soo friggin' smooth!" I reacted to the tasty shot of liquor, sliding like warm glycerin down my throat.

"It's tequila, but not just any tequila. They call it "1800". Yummy stuff," she commented, and then poured us both another shot. "At 38 bucks a bottle, I only break this out for special occasions," she admitted.

"Well, I don't know how special this is for you, but I'm definitely feeling frisky," I said, towering over her five foot frame in my black patent leather pumps.

"Frisky? Are you trying to say you're horny... that your pussy is on fire for some nice thick man meat? God, you white women never cease to amaze me!"

"YES, okay damn it! Send that Cary Grant S.O.B. in here and I'll rape the fucker right here and now; how's that?"

There must have been enough fire in my tone to convince her of my sincerity. However, instead of bringing Donny in, she suggested we might be more relaxed in another room. When I didn't see my hubby waiting outside of the door, I became suspicious. However, when she opened a door to an adjoining dressing room, a much larger furnished area, and I saw Donny, my apprehension faded.

"WOW! My God Barb, is that YOU?" Hubby's jaw nearly hit the floor. "'Nessa said I was in for a surprise, but this... WOW!" He reiterated and stepped toward me.

"You like?" I teased and gave him a full runway turn.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he was content to let me perform. Letting his eyes bathe in my newfound sensuality, I slowly bobbed and weaved in and out of his grasp. "Vanessa says I have a black ass."

"Hey, I have no reason to doubt her judgment on that subject," Donny simmered, edging his hand inside my panties. "She told me she thinks you look like that Christine character from that "Coach" TV series... what's her name; except with big tits... and ass, of course."

"Ha, she's so funny. That's Shelly what's-her-name. She used to on the old Donna Reed Show too. Maybe I should do a sexy version of Johnny Angel for ya?" I slyly teased.

Up until that point, putting on a little show for my hubby was devilish fun. Suddenly, feeling the warmth of his hand on my equally warm pussy switched on my internal faucet. My juices started to flow. I backed away quick and swung around to face Vanessa, standing a few steps behind me.

"God, I think I really DO need to be fucked," I leaned down to whisper my realization in confidence.

"Well don't let me hold ya back, Sister. I've got plenty to do out front. You two just make yourselves at home, and have a good time." She gave us both a big toothy grin, paying special attention to my husband's emerging hardon, before leaving us alone.

"So, do you think it's safe in here? I mean we've only just met this woman..." I began, as Donny resumed his foreplay.

"She seems really nice to me, and she sure knows how to pick the perfect hardware," He schmoozed in my ear.

With his persistent fingers circling and probing my slippery slit, I purred, "You're just turned on by her huge hooters."

"Well I do admit they are attention-getters, aren't they?"

"Uh-huh," I numbly agreed, prying my panties down to allow him complete access.

"And, I suppose you want me to leave the shoes on?" I offered, stepping gingerly out of the panties.

Hubby suddenly transformed into a horny Houdini. Shoes and socks, slacks and shirt flew off of him in a matter of seconds. I sauntered over to one of two daybeds in the room. Pulling back a red duvet, I slithered into the bed.

"Damn Baby, I don't think I've ever seen you look so..." Donny started, while he stepped toward me, slowly jacking his exposed eight-incher.

"So sexy?" I asked, splaying my legs to hand-pamper my blonde bush. "So hot?" I offered. "So completely fuckable!" I further proposed, fingers spreading my lips to show off my pink pussy.

That's all it took. He was on me and in me in a heartbeat. His hands worked in tandem to caress my charcoal nylon-covered legs. Pulling my ankles together and up to my neck, he took a bead on his intended target. His hot hard poker easily slid between my silky lips and filled my vagina. After years of lovemaking; in all kinds of places; in most every conceivable position; this time fucking hubby seemed significantly hotter for some reason. As words of love and lust tumbled from our tongues, I began to feel this added avarice must be due in large part to my sexy new ensemble. True, it was self indulgent of me; but damn it, I looked and felt sexier than ever before!

Vanessa Prefers Vanilla +++++

After about 15 minutes of solid screwing, Donny emptied a creamy load inside me. He was winding things up, when our heavy-breasted saleslady returned. "Oh, I'm sorry... am I intruding?" Nessa asked rhetorically, as she strode confidently across the carpeted floor. I could see through her imaginary blinders, she was trying to avert her focus from my naked husband, as she relaxed on the matching daybed across from us.

"No, you're okay, Vanessa. I believe we're done, aren't we Honey?" I smiled with an optimistic lilt in my voice that left further options up to my husband.