Black Bull 01: Confessions

**** Friday night

She was simply gorgeous.

No, is simply gorgeous.

Hang on, have I got that right? I mean, objectively, she is gorgeous. It's just... should I be using the past tense, considering...?

You know what? Fuck it. I always sucked at grammar. Figure it out for yourself.

Ahem. Anyway...

Right, so, there I was, relaxing in the leather wingback, single malt in my hand, enjoying that warm, nice just-about-to-be-drunk-but-not-quite-there-yet feeling. I - along with the rest of the bar, it seemed - was watching her move through the room.

She was making her way to the actual bar. It was just a few metres from where we were sat, but I could see what everyone else could, and they were all watching too. I mean, I couldn't blame them.

I spotted a few sly peeks over shoulders, the odd feigned stretch and - a personal favourite of mine - the 'check-my-phone-then-look-up-casually-at-what-you-really-wanted-to-see-in-the-first-place' (I bet there's a German word for that...). A classic.

She reached the counter and carefully - well aware of the admiring gazes - adjusted her black dress, stepping back to hop herself up onto the stool. I could see she knew everyone was watching her; I knew she was loving it.

The young barman's eyes lit up the moment he saw her. He completely ignored some other poor sap at the bar - it was clearly his turn - and made a beeline straight for her. It wasn't just the barkeep; two other patrons swivelled on their stools, turning to face her.

One guy leaned in to her - I assume, to offer her a drink - but got the full treatment. I could see his lips moving, but she didn't even look at him; he was talking at the side of her head. He knew she could hear him. She knew he knew she could hear him. Sucker.

She just lifted a finger slightly. That was all she needed; the barman practically feel over himself trying to lean over.

I knew what she was asking for: whiskey and champagne. Honestly though, the guy's eyes looked like she was telling him the secret to everlasting life.

The hopeful sucker tried again; I had to chuckle. He got up off of his stool, adjusting his posh blazer, saying something to her. Same effect. Give it up guy!

Just to rub salt into the wound, she picked up the glass by the stem, turning to directly face the chap. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes, taking a long, slow sip, knowing exactly what she was doing.

The fella had given up any pretence of decorum - he just plain gawped at her chest. I could see her smiling to herself as she got down from the stool, taking the drinks with her. What a fucking prick-tease.

I didn't even need to look; I knew the man and the barkeep were both staring at her backside. Man, they were right to; her ass is perfect. It's not a 'butt' mind you - she's a small, slight woman. But what it lacks in 'oompf' it more than makes up for in 'shit, that's a good ass!'. It slowly curves out from her lower back, then precipitously curves back in. The dress she was wearing clung to the damn thing, making it look even more... well, you know. I love ('loved'? No, sorry, I forgot: tenses are your problem, not mine) that ass.

I swear she was exaggerating her hip-dip with each step she took back towards me. It was having the desired effect; my heart was beating faster. I dare say I was not alone.

She put the drinks down in front of me. Fuck she was hot! She just leaned over to me, squeezing her arms in, those gorgeous tits doing their damndest to make my eyes pop out.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever," she rasped, putting on her best husky voice.

She just left the drinks, turned and sauntered over to the elevator. She knew the whole bar was watching her go.

I almost - almost! - just sat there like a dumb fuck, staring at her ass. Then my brain - God bless you sir, you served me well then! - kicked into gear, shouting at me, "Well, go on then man, she's talking to you!".

****

She actually led me into the room by my tie; how fucking hot is that, right?! She just strolled in, pulling me, then turned, reeling me in with the thing like a prize catch.

I couldn't help myself; "God you are gorgeous!" I managed, leaning in, trying to kiss those dark, cherry-red lips; she pushed me away (playfully, I'd add).

She took a few steps back into the room, positioning herself perfectly (had she planned this?), the standard lamp silhouetting her hourglass body. I think I knew what she was up to at this point.

She ever-so-slowly reached behind herself, grasping the zipper at the base of her dress, undoing it. She peeled each shoulder strap off, one after the other, the black fabric sliding down her body. I swear, I could hear 'Big Spender' playing in my mind.

She wriggled herself free, her gorgeous breasts now exposed, the low light somehow making each one gleam. It really did take all of my willpower not to ruin the show, to just lunge forward and grab a hold of the fucking things! I'm a gentlemen though; I wasn't going to fuck up what she clearly had planned. Besides, my Spidey-sense told me that would be a dumb-arsed move; the last thing I wanted was a halt in proceedings.

She bent forward slightly, reaching to her sides to grasp the thin material of that dress (all my brain was doing was cursing the damned fabric for having the temerity to still be on her). She finally got it below the waist, her narrow hips doing a little flick to send it slithering down to the floor (at last!).

Finally, gloriously naked, she hip-dipped her way back towards me, smiling that sultry little smile of hers. I could feel my heartbeat pulsing through my dick - I think it had a pretty good idea it was in for a wild night.

She walked herself right up in front of me, about an inch away, her sky-blue eyes staring up into mine. I might have just stayed there forever if she hadn't...

Oh my lord, yes! She reached her hands down, undoing my belt, unzipping me. I went to put my arms around her, to grab her, but she pushed them back down again - she clearly wanted things doing her way. I wasn't arguing.

Her slight fingers started stroking me through my trousers. Then she reached in, rubbing me through just my boxers, staring up at me the whole time. I could have popped there and then. It wasn't just her hands, mind you - having a sexy woman smile up at you, an inch from your face, clearly loving life as she rubs your manhood; not many better things in life. Except maybe...

She got down on her knees, still with her almond eyes locked on mine, and pulled my trousers down to the ankles. She grabbed my boxers, pulling them, stopping just as they started to yank my erect cock down with them, pausing as my dick was held there, about to spring free - did I mention she's a prick-tease?

Tease she may be, but she knew what she was doing. She leant in and kissed my dick through the fabric - Christ, it felt good!

She knew exactly what I wanted then. She opened her mouth and let out the sexiest little moan of 'ahh'. I'm trying to look like I'm the world's most put-together stud, all serious like, but I can feel the stupid grin on my face.

Then she starts. God, I love this woman! I'm no real expert - not that many previous partners - but I can tell you now, hand on heart, this woman can blow.

She reached one hand up, gently cupping my balls - it's like a little electric shock hit me, I couldn't help but jump - then flattened her tongue out on my nuts, still staring up, and slowly licked me, balls to tip. All I wanted to do was grab her head, to feed her my aching cock. As I said though, I'm a gentlemen.

Right at the top, she opened her mouth up wide and dipped her head forward, swallowing me. Like I said, she can blow - she doesn't just start sucking. No, she flattened her tongue out flat along my cock and took me as far down as she could, holding me there, her warm mouth wrapped around me. Already, I was starting to reach into my brain for pictures of my gran, images of a dead sheep, anything to help me keep it together.

But fuck, she had other ideas. She started properly slurping me, breaking the seal of her lips so she can make slutty little moaning sounds, using plenty of saliva so there are these fucking hot, wet sloppy noises.

I'm pretty much doomed at this point; dead sheep or not, I ain't keeping it in.

"Fuck!" I shouted, "I'm going to cum!"

She stopped, pulling her head off of me, one hand pinching the end of my cock.

Looking up at me with one of those 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' smiles - she's holding my dick, after just giving me a world-class blowjob, so butter would pretty much vapourise on contact with her - she tells me, "I'm not done with you yet." I mentioned I love this woman, right?

She jumped herself back on the bed, shimmed her pretty little behind down, then spread those long legs of hers. It's all I could do not to trip over my own clothes as I tore my trousers off, desperate to get over there as she starts to play with her little clit.

"Come over here and fuck me," she purred. Can do.

Fair's fair - she'd just given me a blowjob from heaven, so I've gotta keep up my end of the bargain and fuck her good. I didn't just dive straight in, though God knows that's what I wanted to do. No, I'm still trying to pull off my 'cool, calm and collected stud man' lie.

I started with my dick as some sort of sex toy, rubbing the end of it all over her gorgeous wet pussy, pushing it onto her clit, rubbing the little nub up and down, up and down, round and round.

My skills seemed to be having the desired effect as she lay back, moaning, one hand yanking at one of her sweet little nipples.

I pushed myself into her, feeling her warm, wet pussy ease open, allowing me in. Good God does she feel good. I started to fuck her, gently at first, only a few inches in, then, with each thrust, I try and push deeper, pick up the speed a little more, give her what she so richly deserves.

It's only a matter of minutes before she leant up on her elbows, looking at me with that same innocent smile. It suddenly changed into a wicked, slutty little grin as I felt her pussy clamping down on me, squeezing me.

That was it - I couldn't hold myself any longer. "Fuck!" I cried, head back, eyes closed, "I'm going to cum!"

Just before I shot my load, I felt her pull herself back, my rock-hard prick coming out of her, throbbing - one little touch and it would explode.

I looked down at her, already knowing the expression I'd see on her face. Sure enough - she's pissed.

"You're too fast!" she chides me. How's it fair to blame me for how good her little pussy is? I'm only a man, after all...

"And you know you can't cum in me. Go to the bathroom."

"Sorry darling," was the best I could offer.

****

I tried to make up for it, I really did. And, if I do say so myself, I think I made a pretty good stab at it.

I heard her moan, then felt her hands on my head, her fingers trying to find some purchase in my strawberry blonde locks.

"Yes, right there, oh, right there, yes!"

My knees were really starting to grind, but fuck it, I owed her. I worked my tongue around her clit, lapping at her pussy, then took a hand off her thigh and pushed my index finger into her. I know what she wants, so I start doing my best 'come hither' finger pull, stroking her, trying to find that magic spot I knew was there somewhere.

Bingo. I felt her fingers really start to grip into my hair, the secret signal I'm doing my job, and doing it well.

"Oh yes!" she cried, "Like that! I want more - put another finger inside me!"

There we go - gotcha. I put another finger in, working my digits in tandem, stroking her, each one moving after the other, a kind of broken staccato motion.

"Oh, you're so good at that!"

I see her look down at me, over herself, her eyes meeting mine. By God, she tasted good.

"If only your dick could last as long," she said, making a mock sad face, teasing me, "then you'd completely satisfy me."

Well, if you're gonna be a bitch about it, I thought, redoubling my efforts.

"I had someone once, when I was back in college, before we met."

Oh God, I love it when she starts talking like that. I gently bit her lips, pulling at one - she fucking loves that.

"It was only for one night, but he could really last."

Fuck yeah, that's right, tell me all about it baby.

"He was big, too. Much bigger than you," she laughed, "and he knew what he was doing. He fucked me so hard-"

Come on, you gorgeous tease, come on, tell me how bad you were.

"Aaah! Ooh, you like hearing about this do you?"

She looked down at me again; I must have been wagging my head like a happy little puppy.

"He fucked me so hard, I came all over his big dick. Twice! And he kept fucking me. I thought I was done, but he kept pounding my little pussy-"

Holy Christ, I was so hard again, so soon, my dick was poking my stomach.

"-and he made me cum again. He just kept fucking me," she cried, "like he owned me!"

Fuck! Fuck yes! I didn't even need to touch myself - I came, right there, my tongue going into overdrive on that sweet, teasing little bitch of a pussy.

"Oh, baby, you do like that, don't you?"

What could I say? Well, what with my tongue being otherwise occupied, granted, not very much. I just kept lapping at that hot, wet, teasing little cunt.

"Well, you keep - oh, yes, just there! - you keep licking me and I'll tell you all about how well another man fucked your little wife!"

****

**** Saturday morning

We waited by the elevator, the grandfather clock in the grandiose hallway showing 8:30am.

We were heading down for breakfast, dressed a little more casually than the night before. I'd gone simple - green corduroys, smart black leather shoes and a Ralph Lauren sweat shirt. She was wearing a pretty little off-white floral dress, the print all small flowers and clambering vines.

She leaned into me, her eyes watching the elevator floors flicking down to reach ours.

"Once we're done with breakfast, we should probably get a move on straight away. Check out's at 10, and I need to prepare for Monday's meeting."

"Sure," I said, pulling her into me.

I was still hooked on what she'd told me about last night, my brain seemingly unable to shift the image of her cumming like a bitch in heat on another man's big cock.

"But once we're home, we still have some time before you need to start, right? I know I've got to get the costumes later, but that won't take too long. I think there'll be a bit of time for you to tell me a bit more about you wild night of passion."

I turned, looking down at her, her eyes wide in mock horror. I could feel that same goofy grin on my face; damn it, I really could not pull off the confident stud thing.

"Neil Saunders, you are a bad man! Didn't you get enough of that last night?!"

"Not even close." I grabbed her gorgeous ass, giving it a squeeze.

The elevator pinged, the two suits inside smiling awkwardly as I quickly let go of her pert little backside.

"Going down?" asked one of them.

"Again," I smiled, as Claire tried to swat my roaming hand away.

****

"Is that what you ordered?" she asked. Claire was moving the fruits around on her plate, absent-mindedly stabbing at a slice of kiwi, missing slightly, the thing shooting off of the plate as she glared at my Eggs Benedict.

"No," I admitted, busily scrapping the hollandaise off with my knife, "but the eggs are perfect."

"Why don't you say something then?"

"No, it's fine, this'll do me."

"Nonsense! This hotel is not cheap! Where's the waiter?"

I know I'm exactly the kind of guy Claire always wanted to marry - she's told me, plenty of times. Kind, funny, caring; you know, a 'good' man. But I also know one thing she doesn't like, the Yang to all the good of the Ying; she thinks I'm too placid, not 'take-charge' enough.

"Please, honey, don't make a scene!"

The exact reverse is true for me. Again, she's my perfect mate. But she could be too dominant, too headstrong. If there's one thing I hate, it's making a scene.

"Excuse me! Yes, could you come here please?"

Claire had caught one of the serving staff, a tall, dark-haired, handsome young chap.

"Yes Madame?" the waiter smiled, flashing his unnaturally white teeth, asking, insincerely, "is everything OK?"

"No," she said, her voice low, as she chided the man, "this is not OK. My husband ordered plain poached eggs, and look - you've brought us the wrong thing. Please rectify this immediately."

She was staring intently at the waiter, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm very sorry Madame, I'll fetch your husband's order right away!"

"And we'd like the cost of this taken from our bill," she said, voice rising now. I could see some of the closer guests turning to see what the fuss was about. I hate this sort of thing.

The poor guy, feeling the eyes of the room on him now, - I feel your pain chap! - flushed.

"I'll see what I can do Madame," he said, turning to walk away.

"Not so fast," said Claire, pinning him to the spot, "I'd also like this taken off the bill too. If I order a £20 'fruit platter', I expect more than just some kiwi, banana and apple."

More and more of the guests were watching now; I was just trying to melt down into my chair.

"Of course Madame," said the waiter, bowing his head, flushing again, turning to race off back to the kitchen.

"You can't let people get away with this sort of thing, you need to be firm, to take control of the situation."

"Yes dear," I said quietly, sliding deeper into my chair, trying to shake off the feeling that the whole room was watching.