I was eating a sandwich and reviewing my afternoon presentation during lunchtime at Panera’s when we met. In essence, she was sitting at the table immediately to my right and having lunch with a friend.

She was dressed casually—a white blouse that was open at the neck and exposing a generous amount of bosom; tight, sexy jeans that hugged her hips; and three-inch heels. She was twenty years older than my twenty-seven years of age.

What caught my attention was the silver chain around her ankle and the matching, silver charm. It was a large spade with a black letter Q in the middle—a Queen of Spades symbol that indicated she fucked black men.

I also noticed a large diamond on her ring finger, along with a matching wedding band, and wondered if she’d married a brother or was cuckolding her white husband with black men.

She gave me one hundred-watt smile when she saw me staring at her ankle bracelet.

After her girlfriend excused herself to use the restroom, I reached out and gave my phone to the sexy, mature woman. She looked at me questioningly, so I said,

“Type your name into the chat feature and send it to your phone. That way, I’ll have your name and number.”

It took her a few seconds to type and send the information, but then she smiled and handed the phone back to me.

I told her,

“I need to go to a meeting, but I’m looking forward to chatting soon.”

After I returned to my condo (from the gym), later that evening, I texted Tina:

[Me] Hi, Tina. I am Chris. We met at Panera this afternoon.

A few minutes later, I received a reply:

[Tina] Hi, Chris. I was wondering if you’d say hi.

[Me] I suspect many black men introduce themselves to you whenever you have that pretty, silver charm hanging around your ankle.

[Tina] Truthfully, I don’t wear it too often. Only under the right circumstances.

[Me] And those circumstances are?

[Tina] I do not wear it at work or in places that might embarrass my husband. I mostly wear it when I am out by myself or with girlfriends.

[Me] So, the husband knows and approves?

[Tina] Yes. We are incredibly discreet. BBC has been my obsession for the last several years.

[Me] We seem to match up!

[Tina] Oh? How so?

[Me] My kink is mature and white.

[Tina] Are you just saying that, or do you have experience?


Tina’s question spurred a favorite memory. I was a freshman in college when I was at the grocery store, buying some snacks. The woman directly in front of me in the checkout line was beautiful—she stood five feet, two inches tall, was slim, and had nice curves. I guessed she was in her late forties.

As she was bending over her carriage to reach the groceries in the bottom of the basket, her shirt rode up her back, and I spotted the universal sign of a black cock queen—a tattoo of a black spade surrounding the letter Q was peeking over the top of her jeans. After all of her groceries were on the conveyor belt, she turned and smiled at me.

I smiled back and quietly said,

“My queen!”

When her smile became bigger, I asked,

“May I help you take your bags of food to your car?”

After I checked out and put my snacks in her carriage, I followed behind while pushing it.

I was moving her bags from her cart to the back of her Honda SUV when she commented,

“You’re quite the gentleman!”

I nodded.

“I’m always a gentleman…in public!”

With a twinkle in her eye, she asked,

“And…in private?”

“In private—?”

I reached out, took her hand, and guided it to my crotch, where she proceeded to trace her fingers along the length of my hard cock.

“I can get very nasty!”

When her hand slid between my thighs and cupped my balls, I asked,

“Do you like nasty, black boys?”

She admitted,

“The nastier, the better!”

I guided her to the passenger side and opened the rear door.

“By the way, I’m Chris.”

As she climbed into the back seat, I palmed her ass.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Angela.”

Angela sucked my cock for the next thirty minutes while I finger fucked her tight, wet pussy and even tighter asshole. She gagged (violently) around my cock each of the three times she came. I came twice, and she gulped down each load.

The next day, Angela was on time and knocked on my dorm room door at exactly noon. She was nicely dressed in a black T-shirt; sexy, tight jeans; and heels—her clothes were in a pile on the floor, and we were tangled in a girl on top sixty-nine position within minutes!

I knew (from the previous day) Angela had excellent cock sucking skills. She slowly took my thick, black cock to the root (over and over!) while I licked from her tight, little asshole to her pink clit.

She came all over my face as I slid a finger into her tight pussy and lapped at her clit with my tongue. She bucked and began a second time when I bottomed out two fingers in her hole.

Angela spit my cock out after her second cum and announced,

“I need this cock inside of my pussy!”

She crawled down my body, reached behind herself, and guided my cock into her in a reverse cowgirl position.

It took a few pushes before Angela fully impaled herself and then started bouncing on my cock. I loved the look of her ass, and tight, pink asshole as her cheeks flexed on my rod.

I reached out, grabbed her right butt cheek, opened her backside, and played with her asshole with my thumb. As Angela looked over her shoulder and growled, I pushed my thumb inside.

A few bounces later, Angela squealed,

“Come with me, lover. Fill my pussy with cum!”

Ninety minutes later, and after a long, hard, second fuck, Angela had sucked me hard again! She was on her hands and knees (with my cock buried in her tight, little asshole) while I was holding her hips and sliding in and out of her well-lubricated hole when I heard a crucial jiggling in my dorm room door lock.

Angela tried to pull away, but I held her in place as Tony (my roommate) entered the room with another buddy (Phil) as I continued a slow, deep, ass fuck.

Tony smirked and called out,

“Sorry, bud! I just stopped in to get my physics book.”

Without missing a stroke, I replied,

“No problem. We will be finishing after my next cum.”

Phil joined the conversation.

“She’s hot…a real MILF! Is she any good?”

I answered,

“She’s particularly good! She gives great head if you have time.”

Angela reacted immediately by pleading,

“No, Chris! I prefer black men!”

“I know you do, baby, but please make me proud and show my boys how well you suck cock.”

Tony had his pants around his ankles, and his hard cock pressed against Angela’s lips in a flash. It only took a few minutes for him to dump his load into her mouth so Phil could take his place. A few minutes later, Phil erupted down her throat while I came in her ass.

Angela and I remained friends throughout my remaining college years, and she introduced me to several other women and couples who craved an occasional big, black cock.


[Me] I’ve had many friendships with white women.

[Tina] Do you have an age range?”

[Me] Not really. I date girls my age, but have affairs with older women…mostly late 30s to their 50s.

[Tina] So, age isn’t essential?

[Me] Nope. I like attractive, submissive, and uninhibited.

After Tina didn’t respond for a few minutes, I continued with:

[Me] When did you catch the BBC fever?

[Tina] LOL! I have been a Queen of Spades for five years. Love the visual of black on white!

[Me] Only the visual?

[Tina] At first, it was only the visual, but I’ve come to love black men’s confidence, arrogance, dominance…and BBC! Have you ever had a married girlfriend?


The talk of ever having a married girlfriend reminded me of Pat and her husband (Scott). I had stopped in the Marriott lounge to visit with my friend, Gloria—she worked as a bartender twice a week. The bar was nearly vacant, so I took a stool two places away from the woman Gloria was talking to.

I stayed much longer than I thought I would because the conversation was exciting and fun. After I finally excused myself, the woman (Pat) dug into her wallet, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me.

“I enjoyed your company and conversation tonight. Give me a call if you’d ever like to meet for a drink.”

On the face of the card was the familiar spade and Q drawing, and on the back was her first name and a phone number.

I smiled at Pat.

“I expect you’ll be hearing from me soon.”


I arrived at Pat’s upper-middle-class home on Friday evening. She had invited me to share dinner with her and her husband (Scott)—he met me at the door and welcomed me.

He escorted me into their living room, where Pat was waiting. She was dressed in a little black dress and looked amazing! She kissed me on the cheek and welcomed me to their home, and then we talked for a few minutes until Scott returned with three glasses of wine. After “clinking” glasses together and taking a sip, Pat handed her glass to Scott and dropped to her knees in front of me.

As she was unfastening my belt, she said,

“I like getting the first cum out of the way, so, after dinner, you can give me the good, hard, long fuck I’ve been thinking about since we met.”

After my slacks and boxers were around my ankles, and my cock was bobbing freely, Pat excitedly commented,

“Look, Scott! A big one! Just the way I like my black cock!”

“you are going to enjoy yourself tonight, dear!”

Pat’s gag reflex was a significant turn on. She liked gagging as much as I loved hearing the sexy sound. It did not take long for her to get a pre-dinner appetizer—a mouth full of cum.

Scott served us dinner in the dining room after grilling steak, asparagus, and potatoes. The meal was delicious, and the conversation was surprisingly reasonable. After the last morsel was finished, Pat stood, reached behind her back, and unzipped her dress. After she stepped out of it, she was completely naked (except for her heels)!

She placed the dress over the back of her chair and instructed,

“Scott, please clean up from dinner, and when you come upstairs, please bring my dress.”

“Of course, dear.”

Pat held her hand out to me, and, together, we walked out of the dining room and to the master bedroom.

Pat was insatiable! We started fucking fixed as soon as we entered the bedroom. I took her from behind as she laid over the edge of the mattress with her feet spread on the floor. After she came, I turned her over onto her back, rested her legs on my shoulders, and fucked her again as I stood in front of her.

I was on my back, and Pat was riding me when Scott entered the bedroom. It was such a turn on to have him watch as his wife rode my cock that I only lasted a few more moments before I came deep into her snatch.

She was able to coax two more loads from my balls that night—one into her gorgeous ass, and the last down her throat.

“Chris, you’re more than welcome to stay the night and sleep with Pat in the master bedroom.”

“Thank you, but I have to decline your invitation, this time, because I’m going to have a hectic Saturday morning.”

Scott escorted me to the front door and shook my hand as I left.


It took a few minutes for Tina’s next text:

[Tina] Did the husbands’ roles go beyond being voyeurs?

[Me] I’ll guess half watched. The others were more involved.

[Tina] How were they more involved?

[Me] They’d eat snowballs and cream pies, they’d guide my cock into their wives’ pussies, they’d coat my cock with lube for anal, and I’ve been blown and rimmed by white husbands.


Her next text didn’t arrive until lunch the next day.

[Tina] Do you have pictures?

[Me] Pictures? We met the other day. You know what I look like.

[Tina] You know what I mean!

I sent Tina a series of pictures of me shirtless and at the beach.

[Tina] Hubby is a thin five inches.

In the next series of pictures, I was naked and erect.

[Tina] Nice! Very nice!

Tina texted me a few hours later.

[Tina] Do you want to see pictures of me?

I suspected that I’d surprised her when I texted her back a few minutes later.

[Me] No, thanks.


[Me] I want much, much more than pictures.


The talk of pictures reminded me of Lucy and her husband, Jon. Lucy and I were members of the same gym. She was a beautiful woman in her late thirties. She dressed in tight work-out clothes that highlighted her C-cups and her spectacular ass!

A month after she first joined the gym, we were nodding acquaintances. A month later, we would say a few words as we passed each other. I noticed Lucy’s exercise routine seemed to change, and she was in much closer proximity to me.

I was drinking a smoothie in the corner of the “cafe” area of the gym when Lucy approached me.

“May I join you?”

“Of course.”

She was a delightful woman. Among many things, I found out she was married, and her husband traveled almost weekly for business.

After a few more minutes, Lucy asked,

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“No, I’ve never gotten into body art. Do you have any?”

She nodded.

“I have two, but they’re in very private spots.”

“I am intrigued! Tell me more!”

“I can do better than tell you. I have gotten pictures of each. Would you like to see them?”

Lucy scrolled through the picture app on her phone until she found what she wanted. It was a picture of her spread legs, and bald pussy—just over the top of her clit was the Queen of Spades tattoo.

I checked out the next picture after Lucy encouraged me to look. It was a second, identical tattoo on her left ass cheek.

As I admired her athletic, round ass cheeks, Lucy told me,

“My husband and I have an open marriage, so while he travels, I get to play with black men, but there’s a catch—I have to send him pictures. Interested?”

“It sounds like it might be interesting. The pictures would need to be discreet, though.”

Lucy was sitting with her back to the room. She looked over her shoulder and could see no one was in sight.

“Are you hard?”

“Rock hard!”

“Take it out of your shorts and hold it against your stomach.”

As I did what Lucy asked, she took out her phone and took a picture of my cock. I tucked myself away as she was pressing buttons on her phone. After she finished, she showed me her phone screen where I saw a picture of my rock hard cock, along with a text she’d sent to her husband:

[Lucy] Look what I found!

I spent the evening with her. We started with dinner at a local bistro and then dessert at a large, open-air mall. She needed to do some shopping, and then she invited me back to her condominium.

Jon received several photos that evening. Lucy took pictures of me as I undressed, and I took pictures as she stripped. We took several series of images of my black hands, exploring her body. A favorite snapshot was of Lucy’s petite, left side (with her diamond and wedding band centered in the picture) as she grasped my cock.

We sent Jon a shot of my cock halfway down Lucy’s throat and another of her blowing bubbles with my cum. Another set of pictures highlighted my cock buried in Lucy’s bald, married snatch, and ended with a picture of me cum leaking from her gaping hole. The last sequence had me fucking her round, athletic ass, and Cumming all over her smiling face.

I played with Lucy, at least once a month and we always sent Jon pictures.


Early the next morning, Tina texted:

[Tina] Do you prefer single or married?

[Me] I prefer married because the relationships seem to last longer. I also enjoy the cuckold dynamic. Single girls are okay, but most often are one and done.

[Tina] I have a married girlfriend who has never been with a black man. You?

[Me] Is her husband okay with her playing?

[Tina] No. He could never find out.

[Me] I am not interested. I do not like cheaters.


The talk of cheaters reminded me of Julie and her husband (Mack). I met Julie at work. We had run into each other on occasion, had worked on two interdepartmental projects together, and were part of that large group. She was in her early forties and tiny—she weighed no more than ninety-five pounds, had A-cups, and a small, shapely bottom.

Toward the end of the summer, Julie’s husband had taken their three kids to a family retreat in New York’s Finger Lakes area.

“My husband and I have an open marriage, I love young black men, and I want to know if you’d be interested in an older white woman.”

“Older and white are my favorites!”

Julie liked rough sex. She wanted to be dominated and used, so we fucked and sucked for the entire week her husband and kids were gone. On the last night, I took her anal virginity, which opened an entirely new world for Julie.

“I wonder how I’ll be able to introduce anal sex into my marriage after decades of refusing my husband?”

After her family returned home, she’d visit my condo once or twice a month.

One night, I was sitting at the bar of a local craft beer hall when a white guy sat next to me. After he ordered a beer, he turned to me.

“You’re Chris, right?”

I nodded my head.

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m Mack Davis. My wife is cheating with you.”

I tensed up because I expected a fight, but he sat quietly and took another sip of beer.

“Your wife is Julie?”

After he nodded, I continued,

“She told me you had an open marriage.”

Mack sighed and said (in a humorous way),

“I wish I would’ve known it was an open marriage!”

He tried to say it with humor, but I could tell the guy was hurting…badly!

We were silent for a minute or so.

“I want to stay married to her, so I need you to back off.”

He watched as I nodded with agreement, and then he tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar before he walked away.

After seeing the incredible pain that infidelity causes, I vowed to only have affairs with married women whose husbands were willing cuckolds.


The next day:

[Tina] Do you regularly share your white girlfriends with friends?

[Me] I prefer not to share, but I’ve been asked to join in with other Black Bulls and their married, white subs.

[Tina] So, you’ve been in group sex situations?

[Me] Many MMF and MMMF. Also, 15 black men and 3 white, married women.

[Tina] That’s so fucking hot!


The talk of group sex reminded me of the time I ran into a buddy at the gym during my senior year of college. Mike told me it wasn’t a sure thing, but a mutual friend was organizing an orgy (planned for the upcoming Friday night) with a few married, white women, and they wanted a group of brothers.

The women were older—all in their fifties. They were attractive, but not gym goers—their husbands were out of shape, also. We spent five hours double and triple penetrating them. They were worn out messes when I left at one o’clock Saturday morning.


The following evening:

[Tina] Can we meet? Friday?

[Me] You and me?

[Tina] No. You, me, and Larry. He is my husband.

[Me] Perfect. 8 p.m. Friday night. 72 Lewis Street, Unit 3. I have craft beer and wine.

[Tina] You want us to come to your home?

[Me] Yes.

[Tina] Just for drinks?

[Me] Plan on much more than drinks!


MmTina and I messaged back and forth over the next two days. It was late Wednesday evening, before our Friday date:

[Tina] I have a friend, Trudy. She is a white, married, BBC slut like me. I told her about our date, and she wondered if you might have a friend.

[Me] Can you send a pic?

A minute later, I heard a “ding” and checked my phone. Tina had sent a blurred picture of a mature, fortyish, white woman. She was topless with firm C-cups. Overall, she had a trim figure and a tattoo of a black spade surrounding the letter Q on her left breast.