I wasn't in the mood to fuck around, just to fuck, and the moment he walked in, I knew we were going to do it. I wasn't even looking at the door at the time, but as soon as he opened it, I felt myself drawn as if by magnetism. He was there, outlined against the night, his skin a cocoa nearly as dark as the black sky, dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket.

He walked into the bar like he owned it, with a confidence and subtle swagger in his walk that can't be faked. He was a big man in every way possible. He was over six feet tall, with a barrel chest and large, workman's hands. He had big eyes, big lips, a big nose. A big bulge at the front of his jeans.

As he strode across the smoky room to the bar and sat, I thought that a piece of the night itself had come in. His skin was a deep ebony, and the only light spots I saw on him were the whites of his eyes, which glinted like stars, and his palms, which were the color of a latte.

Some nights the desire takes you, and you just know who you're going to end up doing. Tonight I knew. I didn't care who he was, what his name was, where he was from, or what he did. All I knew was that I wanted him. Looking at him, I felt my pulse quicken, felt my temperature raise. It was a hot summer night already, and the bar was thick with heat and moisture, but looking at him, I felt the sweat which was already beading on my forehead run down my face and onto my neck. I felt it stick my thin sundress to me, so that it clung like cellophane, hugging my breasts. My nipples stuck out through the thin fabric, firm and hard and sharp.

I pulled the thin fabric away from me, revealing for an instant a glimpse of snow-white breast and rose nipple. The moment I let go of it, though, it clung to me again, every bit as obvious as before. I hardly cared, though. I wanted the man. Let him know. Let anyone know who cared. Lust stirred in me like some sort of jungle cat: sleek and strong and ready to hunt. There was a tension in my loins, a tightness, an emptiness that was desperate to be filled.

The man ordered a beer, and I found myself watching him as he clutched the cold bottle in his hand, the condensation congealing and running down, wetting his fingers. His hands were huge knots of muscle, with fingers like sausages and veins that curled around his knuckles like snakes. I wanted those hands on me--on my breasts, between my legs, around my neck. I almost didn't care where; I just wanted to be possessed by them.

I stood and walked across the bar toward him. I brushed a strand of wet, blond hair out of my face. I could feel my heart pounding, could feel myself panting for him as I walked up. I took in every detail of him. His thick shoulders and back muscles, bunched like a tiger, filling out his jacket. His wide brow, creased into deep valleys. His lips, slightly pursed. His head, shaved smooth and dully reflective in the dim light of the bar.

I walked up to him, stood beside him. Even sitting, he was almost as tall as I was, and that made me want him even more. I wanted his crushing weight, his largeness. I was in heat, and I wanted the burden of a stallion on me.

He glanced up at me, and I saw that his pupils weren't black all the way through. They reflected the light and shone with hidden colors, like black opals.

"Hi," I said, hearing my voice trembling with my heart beat. I leaned in close to him, letting my sundress fall open to reveal my hanging breasts, and put a hand on his broad shoulder. "Could you use some company?"

He looked up at me appraisingly for a moment, his face serious. Then he smiled, his thick lips turning upward in a tight grin.

"One for the lady here," he said to the bartender, his voice thick and deep and his eyes fixed on me.

The stools on both sides of him were both filled, so I just pushed in close against him and sat in his lap. His thighs were warm and hard under the denim of his jeans, and between them, nestled under the crease of my ass, I felt his cock. It was warm and long and full, but not hard. Not yet, anyway. I'd fix that. I ground slightly down on him, rolling my hips slowly as I sat there.

The bartender returned with my beer, and I took it. The bottle was ice cold, and it steamed when I opened it. I stood, turned around, straddled the man, wrapping my legs around him and sitting on his lap once more. Other people in the bar were starting to look, but I didn't care. The man smiled at me, flashing a wide grin full of dazzling white teeth, and I felt his cock start to stir under me. I smiled back and took a sip of my beer. It went down cold and smooth. I lowered the bottle and slowly pulled it to my chest, rubbing it slowly over my smooth skin, pressing it into the valley between my breasts, rolling it over my nipples, which were hot and tight and ached when the cold touched them.

The man's dark eyes were fastened on my chest. My thin dress clung to me so tightly that the nipples stood up like mountains, and the individual corrugations on my areolas were visible. I ground downward, shifting my hips and feeling the man's cock growing hard and hot and rigid. I could actually feel it lengthening, pushing downward to fill the crotch of his pants, filling the space between my legs, growing against my pussy.

The man looked up at me hungrily. I smiled at him, then took another pull at the beer, pulling my head back so he could see my white neck. He leaned in, and brushed his lips against my throat. They were warm and smooth, and his breath was hot against me, even as the drink cooled me from the inside. I shivered as he kissed the base of my jaw, and as he ran his lips over the soft spot between my throat and neck muscles, I felt the pulse of my jugular against him.