"How did you discover your preference for black men, if you don't mind me asking such a personal question?" I said making sure my voice stayed level and I didn't squeak.

"I don't mind at all," she assured me. "Do you have time for a story?"

I told her I had as much time as she needed.

 

***

 

Her story:

 

My husband James Reed was the one who turned me on to black cock. His wife had died leaving him with a small child. Lou. I've always liked children and Lou was a sweetheart so after James and I dated a few months he asked me to marry him. I said yes.

One afternoon while Lou was in school James and I took a short road trip. We stopped for gas in a small town called Waynesville about an hour's drive from home. James spied a combination bar and strip club across the road from the gas station. James suggested we check it out. I told him I wasn't dressed to be in public. I was wearing small tight shorts that nearly exposed the cheeks of my butt with a cut-off tee-shirt that just barely covered my breasts. The shirt was so shear my nipples were plainly visible. I thought I had won the argument so I was shocked when he drove across the highway and pulled in front of the dingy place.

"I'm not going in there!" I said. "No way! You have to be out of your mind!"

"Come on, Starr," he insisted. "It will be fun. You go in first and I'll follow. I'll find you and buy you a drink. Everybody will think I'm picking you up."

It did sound like it might be fun and I was pretty sure we wouldn't know anyone in the place, so I gave up and went in. The man at the door waved me in telling me that there would be no cover charge because I was an unescorted female. A little later, James had to pay ten dollars to get in. I couldn't see the attraction unless it was the teenager trying to dance on the postage stamp size stage. She had boobs about the size of a couple of chicken eggs. I'm not being mean or critical, she was just flat-chested. Mostly all nipple.

I went to the bar and ordered a drink while waiting on my "pick-up" to arrive. I had no more than got sat down when the guys started hitting on me. One offered to buy my drink for me. Thinking this fool wanted to be soon parted from his money, I let him buy the drink.

I saw James come in and take a seat at a table in front of the stage where the girl was trying her best to shake her pitifully small boobs. Tits that small don't move at all.

While I fended-off the men at the bar, James seemed to be occupied by one of the dancers, soliciting high priced drinks.

Suddenly a large shadow fell across me and the pick-up artists. I looked around and saw him. A huge black man with a scowl on his face.

"I'm Morgan," the man said. "Who are you?"

"I'm..." I thought about making up a name, but discarded the idea as no one knew me in that burg. "I'm Starr," I said.

"You a dancer, Starr?" he asked. I told him that I was not a dancer. "You should be," he said looking at me carefully, his eyes coming to rest on my nearly exposed breasts. "Nice body. Nice rack, too." I managed to stammer a thanks, and searched the dark room for James. He was watching me with a big grin on his face. The fool nodded at me, actually encouraging me to flirt with the big black man.

"I don't have enough rhythm to be a dancer," I said. It wasn't at all true, but I was desperate for something to say.

"Nothing to it," Morgan said. "Pick a slow song, close your eyes and move with the music while taking your clothes off. I think you should enter the contest tonight. Might win five hundred bucks."

"No thanks," I said with a nervous laugh. "I'll just watch."

"Okay, but if you change your mind let me know. I own this place." He got up from the barstool. "Come on, I want to show you around."

I couldn't think of a reason not to. At least I couldn't think fast enough. In reality there were any number of reasons to get away from the man. I slid off the stool and followed him. We walked right passed James who watched us, still grinning like a fool. I gave him the finger and he grinned even more. Silly ass!

"This is the dressing room," Morgan said, not bothering to knock. There were three or four women in various stages of undress. "We got a lot of costumes you could wear if you decide you want to give it a try. Hello ladies," he said to the women. "This is Starr. She's trying to make up her mind if she wants to dance or not."

"Back here," Morgan said, taking my hand and leading me, "is my office and play room." The room consisted of a desk, a couple of worn chairs, an even more worn couch, and a bed.

Before I knew what was happening, I was in his embrace and he was kissing me while feeling my breasts. I'm sure I struggled, but it did no good. He continued to hold me and fondle me. If I did struggle, I soon gave up, and enjoyed what he was doing to me. I spread my legs so that he could also fondle my pussy after he pushed my shorts down. It wasn't something I thought about. I just did it. He had a couple of fingers inside of my abbreviated panties and was creating magic with me. I don't know how long he did it, or what would have happened if someone had not called out there was a fight in the club. He abruptly left me and hurried out of the office. I was nearly running when I went by James, yelling at him to come on.

We talked about what had happened on the way home, and for several days after that. James would almost immediately get aroused when we talked about it. I spent many hours fantasizing about what Morgan had done to me, also. I find it difficult to describe Morgan. As I said he's big. Six feet two or three, I guess. Probably near three hundred pounds. His head was completely shaved and his face, while not handsome by any stretch, was rather attractive, except for the long jagged scar down one cheek. He has large hand and very large fingers. I certainly did remember the large fingers and what they did to me.

"When are we going to take another road trip?" James asked me after we got home.

"I don't know," I answered.

"Think we need to check out Morgan's place again?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I don't think he the type of man to take no for an answer. We lucked out last time, but we can't count on luck every time."

"Okay," James said. He was lying on the bed stroking his dick and smiling at me. "Don't say no, and you won't have a problem."

"Yeah right," I said joining him on the bed. I took his dick away from him and replaced his hand with my mouth. I've learned to watch for the small indications that he's about to come. When James was thinking about me, the prostitute, or me with another man, he has a hair trigger. When I felt him tense up I took my mouth off of him. "It's just a fantasy isn't it, James?"

"Huh? What did you say?" His voice was strained.

"Me with another man. It's just something you fantasize about. You wouldn't really want it to happen would you?" He didn't answer for a few moments. When he did it surprised me.

"Starr," he said seriously. "What I want most in the world, is to hold your legs open and have a big dude shove his cock in you and fuck the hell out of you. I want to see your pussy crammed full of hard cock. I want to hear you scream out for him to fuck you. A big black cock by preference."