Black Bull 04: Birthday Surprise

**** Monday night

There are many adjectives you could use to describe my wife: gorgeous, severe, ambitious. One you would probably not use would be 'chef' (fine, I know, a noun; told you I sucked at grammar). There was one thing though she really could do well - whip up a delicious, creamy, handmade pasta.

"Now you're sure you prefer my cooking to that nice Italian?" she said, scooping up the last bit of carbonara with some bread.

I most certainly did. I leant back in my chair, patting my belly, wondering if that last mouthful wasn't going to be the final nail in my 30 inch waist's coffin.

"Oh my Lord, yes! I don't care which part of Lazio you come from, no-one can make creamy Italian quite like you!"

I was never one for going out on my birthday. I hated the hoopla, the attention, the stilted 'happy birthday to...' as the staff inevitably paused, awkwardly, waiting for the name of the person they neither knew nor cared about. No, I much preferred exactly this: a night in with my gorgeous wife, a nice meal, some wine,... some...

"Wouldn't you prefer a nice restaurant to this?"

She clearly hadn't the faith in her own creation that I did, gesturing around herself at the kitchen, the low spotlights shining off the large dark-grained table top.

I pointed outside, the wind helpfully blowing harder, whistling, as the rain surged again, pattering against the glass doors.

"Look at it, it's filthy out there. I've got everything I need right here," I said, mainly truthfully, leaning across to take her hand, stroking it. "I love you so much," I added, this time entirely honestly.

"Well, hold that thought," smiled Claire, pulling her hand back from me, sliding her chair out from the table. "You haven't seen your main present yet!"

She stood up, running her hands slowly down her body, the silky material of her black dress clinging to her every curve. This I liked the sound of.

She just smiled that little sexy smile of hers. I tried to shut out the image of her smiling like that at Deejay, the man's hand inexorably moving up her leg, and concentrate on the here and now.

"Alexa, lower the lights a little. And play something sexy."

She emphasised that last word, as if Amazon's algorithm would understand exactly what she meant. Fair play to the A.I.; it managed to pick out one of her favourite trip-hop numbers.

My mind flashed back to the hotel room as Claire started to slowly move her hips, her hands running up and down her body, her face a picture of seduction.

This time, I couldn't be the gentlemen - I stood up, wanting to grab her, squeeze her; fuck, to bend her little ass over the table and spank her for being such a tease.

She wasn't having any of it - she just pushed my chest as I went to get up, dropping me back down in the chair, wagging her finger at me.

She started the same damned sexy moves she'd pulled in the hotel, both arms reaching up and across to hold the shoulder straps, pulling them down; I suddenly got a glimpse at my main 'present'.

I have to admit, fancy underwear is not the biggest draw for me; what's the saying, 'it's what underneath that counts'? But I had to give her her due - the lacy blue garment really was quite hot.

She pulled the dress down further, shimmying it below her waist, the thing dropping to the floor. Christ, I take it back - this underwear was the proverbial bee's knees.

It was all a lovely ultramarine blue, her gorgeous dark areola showing through their chiffon cages, a delicate lacy suspender belt sat just across her belly-button.

She turned, bending over, looking back at me, her finger provocatively brought up to her lips, a faux-innocent look on her face. She shook her perfect little backside, most of her pale white cheeks exposed, the expensive underwear clearly not bought for its coverage.

"You like?" she teased.

I don't think it was really a question - I'm pretty sure I looked like the wolf in those cartoons, eyes popping out of his head, tongue lolling out his mouth. Hell, I think I even wolf-whistled.

She turned, walking back to me, and sat herself down on my lap, arms reaching around me, pulling my face into her tits, smothering me. Hell, if you're going to have to go, I figured this is how I'd like to exit the world, the woman of my dreams grinding on my lap, my face buried in her chest.

"So you like me flirting with other men, do you?" she purred. I could feel the warmth between her legs - I knew she could feel what I made of things.

She started grinding herself harder, pushing her hips forward, then down, rubbing my erect cock for all she was worth. She leaned her head into my ear, nibbling at it, whispering, "His hand was so big and warm. You know what they say about a man with big hands, don't you baby?"

I was crazy turned on, my wife stripper-dancing on my lap, whispering dirty little things in my ear whilst I busily tried to chew down on her nipples. My teeth grabbed a hold of one of the sweet little cherries, nibbling at it, pulling it.

"Careful!" she cried, "You don't want to wreck your present on its first outing!"

I'd planned my own present unveiling for later in the evening. But right then, as she looked down at me, I couldn't quite manage to hide it. I could see her looking quizzically at me as I 'grr' with a nipple in my mouth, my face obviously giving the game away; I looked like a kid at Christmas, stoked with my present, but also desperate for her to open her present.

"What?" she asked, trying to interpret my mischievous expression, "What's that look mean?"

"I've got a present for you!" I managed, unhappy at having to let go of her sweet breasts, but my heart pounding nonetheless, pounding as images of what her present might do to her flashed through my mind.

"But it's your birthday?" she squeaked, not doing a very good job of hiding her glee.

You know you can buy presents for a couple, right? Well, this was one of those. Granted, not the sort of thing you might want unwrapped round the tree at a friend's house, but hey. I told her, "Think of it as a present for both of us."

You see, dirty-talk aside, I still thought Claire was just playing with the idea of fucking another man. She was just having fun with it, using the thrill of it to amp her up, to tease me, to get us both running hot. But I don't think she seriously considered it a realistic scenario.

I, on the other hand, was dead set on making it a fucking (pun intended) hot reality. I'd bought this present to try and give her another little push, another small nudge, to get her mind - amongst other things - more used to the idea, more used to the feeling.

Ever since that night in the hotel, it was all I could think about. Seeing her flirting with that big bastard at the party had just made the idea grow deeper roots, little tendrils of desire sinking themselves further into me, wrapping around me like some insidious ivy. Watching her get felt up and almost fucking kissing him... Well, that had turned it into what now felt like an obsession.

Cursing myself for bringing an end to the lap dance, my wife reversed off of me, kissing my forehead, a gorgeous, expectant look on her face.

I clambered off of the chair, going to the cabinet where I'd hidden the thing earlier. I hoped she'd not guess what it was. I do so hate the lack of surprise when you get what's so obviously a book, having to make that mock 'oh, what could it be?' rattle, the artless wrapping giving the game away.

I pulled the large red box down, handing it to her; I'm pretty sure I was gurning at her like the village idiot.

"Read the card first!" I yelped, failing to keep my cool.

"To my darling Claire. I hope you get a lot of use out of this. XXX Neil."

Job done - I could see from her face she had no idea what it was. She ripped the wrapping off, lifting the lid to look inside.

Her face was priceless.

"Oh my God! What have you bought me!"

Her eyes boggled as she gingerly reached in, pulling the thing out of the deliberately oversized box. I think I did a little skip of glee.

She held the enormous black dildo up to the light, examining it in detail, clearly amazed at the anatomical realism.

"It's huge!" she cried, "I don't know if it'll even fit!"

"Well," I said, quickly swaying out of the way as Claire tried to playfully bat me with the thing, "we can have a lot of fun finding out!"

I'd done my research - "It's called the 'Mr Marcus', modelled - in detail - on a real black porn star!"

My wife held the huge phallus, tip-up, against her belly. The contrast of her pale white skin against the almost midnight black of it had my brain filling with images of her getting stuffed full of the real thing.

"Fuck!" she cried, "look how far into me it'd go! You're going to need to get me very wet for this thing to fit!"

I couldn't wait any longer - I grabbed her by the hand, "Let's go upstairs and find out how much you can take!"

****

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, one hand grabbing a hold of my hair, the other the bed frame behind her, "you're such a good pussy-licker!"

Tell me something I don't know love.

My head popped up from between her legs, a stupid grin covering my whole face, looking for all the world like the cat that got the proverbial cream.

Claire lifted her head up too, looking down herself at me, "I want a divorce!" she smiled, "your tongue and I are going to get married!"

"Sorry darling," I laughed, mock disappointed, "but you get the tongue, you get me too!" I dove back in.

I was determined to get her so ramped up she'd be willing to give the monster a go; all my mind was doing was thinking how fucking sexy she'd look with her little pussy stretched out around it.

My attentions clearly had the desired effect. I lapped at her, then nippled at her puffy labia, tasting her as she got more and more turned on.

"Oh, God, I'm so wet!" she cried, "Let's see if that monster fits!" She was almost laughing hysterically as she said it, her hips bucking on my tongue.

To be honest - not that I'm doing myself down here, mind - I was surprised she was so keen, so soon. But fuck it, I was determined to see her get properly reamed.

She sat herself up on her elbows, looking down at me. I could see she still had a look of trepidation; I didn't want to blow this, to push too hard, too early. I needed to be sure she was sure.

"Really, you're sure? You don't have to, you know..."

All true. But damn I was glad she was willing.

"No, I want to try! But be very gentle!"

I had this all worked out.

"Don't worry," I smiled, reaching underneath the bed to produce a small pump-action bottle, "I got plenty of this!"

"What is that?" she squeaked; for a very sexual woman, she could be somewhat naive.

I jacked some of the stuff onto my hands, rubbing them together, then squeezed a big load of the viscous fluid onto the top of the dildo, rubbing it in. "It's lube, silly!"

Claire lay back on the bed again, spreading her legs a little wider. "Now remember, slowly! Oh! Oh my..."

I rubbed the head of the thing up and round her clit, making sure to get the bulbous end as wet as possible. I moved the tip down to her vulva, ever so gently pushing just the very top of it into her. Jesus H Christ, it just looked so fucking right!

I was as hard as a rock, feeling myself leaking in my own pants, watching my wife's pussy spread, the giant black end stretching her lips wider.

"Oh, holy Christ!" she shouted "it's so fucking big!"

My eyes were practically popping out of their sockets as I pushed it a little deeper, the head of the thing now fully inside her.

"Fuck!" she cried; I felt her hips buck again.

"Too much?" I asked, my voice almost breaking with excitement.

"No! I want more!" - she practically growled the words.

I pushed the monster further into her, Claire letting out a long, loud moan as one, two, then three inches disappeared into her wet pussy; it was almost frothing at the edges.

I paused - despite myself - and looked up, to make sure she was still good; I needn't have bothered. I could see her grasping at the bed frame, her back arching, presenting herself more fully, clearly wanting more of the big dildo fed into her.

Right on cue, she arched even more, almost screaming now, "More!"

I continued to feed the giant black dildo deeper inside her, feeling the thing buck in my hands as her pussy spasmed and clenched down, then relaxing again, allowing me to feed more of the enormous girth in.

It looked a.fucking.mazing.

"Oh my God! Your pussy is just eating it up!"

"Aaaah! God!"

I pushed again, four, five, then six inches being fed into her, my wife's sopping cunt foaming around the edges of the thing, her labia spread impossibly wide.

The dildo clearly hit the right spot - I felt her pussy clench down, then her legs started that fucking hot little 'cumming!' jiggle as I watched in amazement as her whole body arched up even higher, her feet kicking.

"Oh! My! GOD!"

"More?!"

"Nnnaaah! Yes! More! I want more! Push it all the way in!"

I pushed harder, watching in awe as seven, eight, then the full nine inches were engulfed. The silicone end of the thing, the giant set of balls, sat against her perineum, was the only part visible anymore.

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" she cried, bucking again, her feet scrambling, pushing the covers off the bed.

I couldn't believe she'd taken it all! My petite, lilly-white, career-woman wife, lying there, her sopping pussy stuffed full of a huge fucking black dildo!

A wicked thought occurred to me; I lightly tapped the end of the thing - just a gentle little flick - and she screamed, hell, screeched as another orgasm ripped through her.

"Well," I said, standing up, looking down, entranced, at my wife's filled cunt, "it's official - you're a size queen!"

Christ, she did the sexiest thing: looking at me, square in the eyes, her brow sweaty, she reached down with both hands, grasping the end of the dildo, and rasped, "Come here," nodding her head to her right, "and kiss me while I fuck myself with 'Mr Marcus'."

I could have won a medal for my vault; I literally leapt over the bed and dropped to my knees by the side of it, my head next to hers. I heard the sucking sound of her pussy desperately trying to keep a hold of the giant toy as she pulled it an inch or two out of herself, staring me straight in the eyes.

I leant in to kiss her mouth; she tried to kiss me back but her mouth just gaped as she shoved the dildo back in, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She'd never looked so fucking gorgeous.

"You look so hot with that monster buried inside you," I murmured, nibbling her earlobe as her head turned back, looking at the ceiling, "Imagine that's Deejay's fat, black cock stuffed inside you."

I almost came right there, watching her face, her mouth agape as she screamed, "I'm fucking CUMMING!"

"Again," I corrected her.

****

Claire just lay there, her whole body practically glowing, covered in a thin film of sweat. The dildo was sat on the floor at the end of the bed, where her fifth - and most explosive - orgasm had forced her pussy to clamp down so hard, she'd actually shot the thing out.

I was lying next to her, still fully clothed, rubbing my aching dick through my trousers. I wanted her to just keep thinking about being fucking bulled, to Pavlovian-link her post-orgasmic bliss to the thought of being fucked hard by a fat black dick.

"Imagine if you had a bull doing that to you, a big, black bull, pumping his huge cock in and out of your stretched-out little pussy."

Score one to me; her legs twitched a little.

She rolled over, onto her side, smiling at me.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you baby?" - now that was an understatement - "You'd like to watch a big, black, giant dick dominate your little wife's pussy. You'd like to watch me cum, over and over, as a big mean bull pummels me into submission, 'till I'm screaming his name, 'till he made me his!"

Oh fuck, yes! I unzipped myself, stroking my rock-hard prick.

"It would be so hot baby, to see you get your pussy fucking owned!"

She just leant across, grabbing my dick, wanking it, smiling like a fucking slut.

"But baby," she cooed, putting on a mock sad-face and voice, "once he'd used me, stretched me out, resized me, your little cock wouldn't be enough for me anymore!"

I came right there, staring into my wife's teasing eyes.

"Why don't you go clean your mess up," she smiled, lying back, "and bring me 'Mr Marcus' again, so I can feel what a real cock feels like."