The Zebra Lounge

"Fuck yes, I really think this might work," Mark chuckled to Coach.

"It's definitely going to be interesting," acknowledged Coach with a big smile, "there is going to be a whole lot of white women getting their pussies fucked by a whole lot of big black cocks." The two friends raised a toast to each other and continued to work on details and steps that would be required to put Mark's dream into play.

Coach was not his real name but Mark was one of the few people in the local interracial swinging lifestyle that knew that Coach was born with the name William. Coach had been a frequent visitor to Mark's home over the years. His wife Marlene had enjoyed fucking Coach many times; sometimes, it was just a quickie fuck while Mark was checking online to answer email messages and occasionally, Marlene and Coach would spend an entire weekend together at the beach, being a happy and playful interracial couple. Other than Mark, no man alive had fucked Marlene as many times as Coach had.

Interracial was a huge part of Mark and Marlene's activities. Mark's excitement with the swinging sub-culture of black men fucking white women centered around taboo breaking, fed by his natural rebellious side. He loved it when they were sitting in a restaurant with Marlene and one of her black boyfriends, where occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of one of the other restaurant patrons casting a scornful glance at Marlene and her date. He always encouraged Marlene to flaunt her stuff, by snuggling and pawing against her date to the point where a casual observer would have few doubts that she was getting black dick from him. What entertained Mark the most was trying to interpret the facial expressions on the people who took notice. Were they displeased, disgusted, or envious?

Marlene was intensely attracted to men of color and especially African Americans. For her, it was both her perception of their good looks as well as how they made her feel special. She also loved exploring a Jamaican when she had the chance. Over the years, she had tasted the pleasures of men from Kenya, Nigeria, Cameroon, and once, a born and raised black Englishman from the outskirts of London. At her core, she also relished the idea of being a slut to the nearest big black cock and the only thing she liked more than a big black dick was many big black dicks.

It was Marlene's wanton attitude towards blacks and Mark's insatiable desire to have Marlene fucked by as many black men as possible that made them an ideal matched pair. Lately, both Mark and Marlene had adjusted their activities somewhat by allowing Marlene to engage in deeper, more emotional relationships. It occasionally was more important whom she fucked rather than how often. To this end, occasionally relationships between Marlene and her men were encouraged to explore romance and alone time together. This is how Coach had become more than just a fuck buddy.

Mark enjoyed it when Marlene was able to spent extended alone time with Coach or any of the other men the couple had met off the SwingParners web site; of course virtually all of the men Marlene had encounters with were black men and it had been this way for many years. Marlene would always come back home to him with stories to tell and he enjoyed hearing her tell them. He loved hearing what he called the locker-room versions from her dates. Coach was one of the few of Marlene's black lovers that would take the time to sit around with Mark and describe every moan and climax he had provided Marlene during their most recent fuck session.

As Mark and Coach shared their toast that evening, it was March of 2011 and a new nightclub, The Zebra Lounge, as it would be destined to be named, was born. The club was Mark's idea and one he had fantasized about for many years however putting his ideas to work had always been totally out of his financial reach. All it took was the right six lottery numbers, picked at just the right time, and Mark's life changed and all his dreams and fantasies became possible.

The numbers, picked at random by the convenience store lottery machine that afternoon were not instantly the correct ones. The grand prize for that evening had risen to just over a hundred million dollars and Mark told the young Chinese store clerk he wanted ten weeks, twenty consecutive draws, and to let the computer pick the numbers. As usual, he placed the lottery ticket into his wallet, expending no more additional effort than to glance quickly at the final number. Mark observed that it was the number thirteen and he frowned when he saw it. Bad luck, he thought.

The ticket had not been a winner that night, not that Mark held any illusions about hitting the big one, but not a single one of his numbers had been drawn in the multi-state lottery. He sometimes amused himself by thinking about the three or four hundred dollars he had 'invested' in the lottery over the years, telling himself that he was overdo to win big.

Mark's unlucky-thirteen ticket didn't win that night, nor was it a winner the next time, nor the next time after that. Each morning, Mark would go online after another bi-weekly drawing to check to see if he had won. Each time he logged into the computer to check his numbers, he again reassured himself that he was due to win and maybe next time it would happen.

As the number of remaining draws left on Mark's unlucky thirteen ticket continued to drop, Mark was mildly excited by the fact that no one else had managed to pick a winner either and the grand prize had edged up to over two hundred million dollars. A sum which Mark felt was just about the right amount to turn some fifty thousand dollar a year computer programmer into a wannabe billionaire; too much money to ever spend while not quite enough to really crash the big time on the Forbes list. Mark didn't win the two hundred million drawing either and continued to reassure himself he was long overdue. The following week, dreams do come true when his lucky thirteen ticket turned into a three hundred, thirty-five million dollar grand prizewinner.

"Oh my fucking God," Mark exclaimed, and quickly clasped his hand over his mouth. He looked around to insure that Marlene had not heard him squeal. Luckily, only his mutt Buster took notice and realizing that Mark didn't have a doggy-treat in his hand, he laid back down on his side to finish his nap.

Mark forced himself to go to work that morning after seeing his numbers on the state's lottery website and after nearly shitting himself, he had looked at two more state lottery sites just to make sure it had really happened. He kept the news from Marlene who was surprised when Mark laughingly had told her, "Why not?" when she had asked if she could pay off her latest lay-a-way balance.