Pot Black

She'd lost me, but I asked, "So where do you go...for these holidays?"

"Oh there are some good - secret - clubs in the UK and a local swimming pool does sessions with naturist s - that's the proper term - only. Our kids have stopped being nudists, their age you know, but they'll be back..."

"A bit like Arnold Schwarzenegger," I snickered. "Wonder what he's like naked," I chuckled.

"He'll be OK," Sharon said dismissively. "But on these nudist camps, they're mostly old fat bags like me, I mean the Germans and Russians, men and women are grotesque, some cases bellies overhanging their pussy and cocks..." Sharon shrieked with mirth and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Sorry, don't want to wake the neighbours. There are all mainly fat and old like me these days. John won a bit on the lottery and that's paid for all of us to go to the top resorts in the South of France, two years already and some more yet, but depends who want to go."

"Do you ever see any black girls on the nude beaches?"

"Very very rarely. They - coloureds I mean - don't seem to go for it. Pity as I wouldn't mind seeing some big black cocks," she snickered. "Same as you eh? Well not cocks but juicy black fannies yeah? Interesting that, you asking that. You like a bit of a brown shade don't you? I saw you ogling Mrs Shing earlier and her daughter."

"Mrs Shi...oh yes I see. The pharmacist, he's Ravi oh yes," I chuckled. "Yes I am partial to all colours, but the coloureds do turn me on. By the way, don't keep downgrading your self Sharon, you're fucking perfect..."

"Yes but too old really - Simon."

"Well we've just had a good fuck and if I'm not mistaken we'll have another soon, pretty damn good whatever..." I told her firmly and to make the reassurance positive, I delved into her crotch. She drew her knees up.

"S'not a pretty sight." she murmured, as I slid down the bed and between her legs.

I shushed her and examined the thick orange peel textured flaps surrounding her cunt. I could flick them open, finding her clit wasn't buried away, but in a bulbous hood. I leaned in to flick it with my tongue and she gasped. Her pubes which I guess which would have once been thick and long had thinned out somewhat, and was that a grey one - but those that remained were long. I noticed some soft stubble round the extremities of, I guessed, would have been a large dark hirsute triangle and mused that she still shaved it occasionally.

"I bite the bullet when we go nude and shave it all off, it's seems the thing to do." She told me. "John hates it, says I look too much like the kids..at my age..."she shrieked again.

"Your kids?"

"No silly, the kids on the naturist sites. You get all ages. Some absolute stunners, teens, kiddies and older. You'd love them..."

"Not the kids..."I responded swiftly.

"The older ones," she giggled.

"You are perfect in my eyes Sharon...not just saying that," I smiled, my face slimy with her cunt juice and what's left of my cum earlier. I reverted to my eager sucking, not hearing her whispered trembling response.

"Sorry, need the loo, do you mind?" she asked.

I slid back and she clambered off the bed, saying with a big grin 'I'll be back.'

Her big bum rolled away, fatty rolls round her hips wobbled deliciously and I guessed maybe a size 14 as mummy is not dis-similar. Even though she'd closed the bathroom door I could hear a furious splash and then the flush until Sharon sauntered back. A Chinese girl I had when playing a tournament in Beijing layered a load of toilet paper in the bowl to soften the splash. She had left the bathroom door open until remembering to close it. On the way, she gathered up her dress and posed with it draped across her lush body.

"You should be a model Sharon."

"Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt,"s he giggled. "I did some nude modelling for a life class that was an off shoot of the naturist society. Nice pay and easy," she dropped the dress and came alongside the bed. I reached out and felt her up while she bent her legs slightly, opened them and thrust her hips forward and enjoyed it, gurning lustily. This is one dirty lady - I thanked my lucky stars.

"Another pose you might like," she chuckled. Sharon swivelled, bent over with her hands on those rolling wide hips and bent over giving me probably my favourite view. She smoothed her hands round her buttocks, pulled them apart and widened her legs. "S'not a classic life session one though."

Fuck me an exhibitionist too!

Her sphincter winked at me through wispy hairs, maybe she didn't remove. The whole area of her arse crevasse was much darker than the surrounding domes. I am fascinated with that pigment change as much as on black girls where their palms, feet and of course pussies are a very different pink The labia I had flicked and licked were pouched in a fleshy, what I can only describe as a hamburger bun but with far better fillings.

"Come here." I grabbed her and threw on the bed making her lie belly down. I got her to repeat the pose and dived in, nose first. Whatever her recent toilet visit, I didn't care. I was hard.

Sharon mewed, got the message, eased up and knelt, glanced back, smiling, nodding and waggling her big fat butt. I rubbed my knob end in her vacant sloppy snatch and aimed it at her arse hole. I reckoned she was used to anal by her enthusiasm, but we were strangers and there's always a slight hesitancy of how to go about new things, but this dirty woman was an expert, more than me although I had buggered mummy a few times and that Slovenian girl in Budapest. She repeated the opening of her buttocks again and her fundament widened, so I pushed, not thrusting, gently penetrating her willing bum.

We had an intense, quiet, thoughtful, bum fuck which we both enjoyed as Sharon encouraged me with little groans, mews and just two 'urhs be careful's from the soft depths of the pillow. I'm not over endowed, just a normal cock, but to bugger a mature anal lover was an experience that would book mark my visit to this little market town. Once I'd cum and withdrew, she flipped over and I concentrated on giving her an orgasm. It didn't take long. I found an engorged swollen clitoris which she was already expertly frigging, like mummy showed me, her fingers dancing on her clit hood. My tongue played lightly on the big pink button she exposed and there was a massive heaving, thrashing of legs and groans until my sexy Southern barmaid for the night expressed excitement into fulfilment.

We chatted as she dressed, she wasn't too careful, John was working so the house would be empty. The one item of clothing she was careful about however was her brassiere and I wasn't surprised, they needed careful handling and storage. I loved the way she manoeuvred her oversize knockers into her brassiere, she did the clasps first at the front, then swivelled it, opened the cup and hoisted up each huge mammary up into it's personal holster, stuffing the spare flesh into its place then the other one and then she manipulated the garment to be correct, shifting it side to side, tweaking the straps and then finally, she stooped and let them hang and find their own comfy place. Finally she cupped each cup as if feeling every thing was in the right place, patted her pride and joy and put the dress on. She lifted the hem and stuffed a tissue up her cunt and in her arsehole, not putting her briefs back on, putting them in her handbag.

"I hate cleaning up after a good time, it spoils the memories and atmosphere" she chuckled.

"Be a bit different tomorrow night Simon," she chuckled, knowing I was booked into the Working Men's club in the same town. "It's one John and I go to on Saturday as there's bingo and bit of dancing and they have a band in..."

"Oh fuck have I messed things up?" I responded. "Er is Joh...?

"It's his dad's birthday and we're going to the Tavern for a meal, so no if that's what you're asking, is John working? Sorry, you'll have to find someone else to shag, lucky girl. And there'll be no barmaids either, they employ a queer...sorry shouldn't say that these days but it's what John and I say, fuck em...You're not into that sort of thing are you."

"Queers or PC? No neither."

"One thing thought, they might give you a rough time, Labour Club. You are well known as a Tory, royalist and you know...sort of wealthy..."

"My you have checked me out Sharon," I chuckled. "I'll be OK, depends on the committee a lot."

"I think you will take to the President, she does a lot, well lets say she's doing a lot at the moment, Gina Miller...mean anything to you? She is a looker and fun for all her high and mighty ways."

"Fuck! You mean Gi...?"

"The very one. Did you know she's a big Labourite and living locally, she's always in the club when there's a crowd and you'll pull a crowd. Don't know whether she's into snooker, but you might show her a trick or two. And... what we were talking about earlier, there is at least two good looking black girl members...with their husbands and there's a family, nice tits on the daughter." Sharon smirked.

* * * * * *

The following morning, not early, I went for a seven mile run as usual, quite a pleasant little town with a cool market in the square, passing the club I would perform later. A good long shower, ample breakfast, not as good as mummy's, and relaxed in my room. I had reserved a late checkout, but needed to get the train to London that night. I called my agent and mummy and a couple of friends and lazed around,

I Googled Gina Miller, knowing her good looking face from the national press. She was in the Supreme Court in London arguing a case about Brexit. She's a classy looking fifty one year old coloured woman born in British Guiana. Then I watched Sky TV, loads of sport on Saturday including highlights of my national victory and the interview with Hazel. I thought of Willie.

I called him to agree on the club last night. We laughed about Eileen, he too had seen her fat old thighs. John Virgo had been with him. Not to my surprise, although it had been made clear that Sharon had purposely pulled me, it turned out that Willie had shagged her too, not up the arse though. He was surprised that I had done her that way adding it wasn't to his liking. He did hint that Hazel had queried anal but she had never suggested it and as he wasn't bothered it was forgotten. He joked that maybe Rob fucking Walker might bugger her because Willie thought he was a poofta, but I wasn't convinced and if he was, would he fuck prissy Hazel.

Checking out at six in the evening after a light snack, Queenie turned out to be a real laugh and of course Sharon had told her about me. Funny how names suggest persons but this older lady was not a queenie to me. The lady I had anticipated would be ripe, bleached blonde, blousy and fun and in the old days, a cigarette dangling from her over made up lips. She was fun certainly - that's all and efficient. She was medium build, not a big pair of boobs under a smart, off white, grey flecked, neck buttoned, corporate blouse, over a black, pencil line skirt black tights and black flatties. Very different to the rumbustious woman I had enjoyed upstairs. For all her jokey pleasant nature, Queenie remained the epitome of discretion and didn't mention Sharon.

Queenie went off duty as soon as she'd finished with me, handing over to a pasty faced youth.

As it happened a regular boozer in the hotel bar recognised me as I made my way out and he obligingly carried my travel bag as he was aiming to go to the club and watch me. I'd changed into performance gear before leaving, but didn't want to look pretentious walking through the town and left my, not clipped, bow tie off.

Arrival was noisy, part jeering from the smoking hoi polloi but I gave them a jovial finger and went indoors. Shit - it was packed and at the bar there was the usual camaraderie and one or two cunts who glowered and moved away, one leaving a woman behind, who glanced around looking for someone to talk to. She was blue black, not a real looker with a large chin and low cheek bones but well worth an ogle for me. Not a stunner, around my age, difficult to say with the coloureds. A mass of wiry raven coloured hair was done up in a brightly coloured band which tied her hair back tightly. This betrayed her hairline round her brows and temples, it was close, curly all round and I imagined there would be a hairy minge below. The crowd was so packed I couldn't get a view of lower down. She had traces of a Caribbean decadency and was sipping a pint of lager. The man that had deserted her earlier returned and resumed chatting. He was a hugely fat, bespectacled, greasy looking, white man who was shorter than her. With him, returning from the bar was an equally grotesque specimen of the female version.

My welcoming party was made up of a jolly, tall, thin bald chap, Brian Shorthouse, the chairman ad his wife Nora. She was not jolly, very introvert and dressed to kill...pleasure.

Gawd! she was plain, I would say emaciated and spoke with a very high pitched squeaky voice. I kept a beady eye on the blue black girl who had moved, with a sexy bounce of her typical big booty to join her partner who in turn was sat with maybe the coloured family Sharon had mentioned. The crowd at the bar parted and a smooth elegant arrival in the shape of Gina Miller was introduced to me. She was charming and as always the case, a hell of a lot more attractive in the flesh than on TV. She was slightly taller than me, she wore kitten heels. Unspectacular figure, her extremely long lustrous hair draped down her back and she was dressed in a simple maroon, straight, knee length dress topped by a light, salmon pink jacket. Simple, effective and looking like the high powered business lady she is but in a casual way.

I was introduced, played ten of the club members and went into the trick shot routine. They hadn't gone to the extent of shifting tables, there was only two, so the not too quiet and respectful members crowded, standing round me. There was no planned up skirt distractions as the night before, but I noticed the blue black woman and also the lady she had been sat with to the fore. The applause was very enthusiastic and men were crowding me and offering drinks - until Gina Miller brought me a pint, some of the men fading away. We chatted, she left and I was accosted by a huge black bugger, then his chocolate coloured family who had commandeered a bench seat. There was no sign of the other coloured woman. Gary was full of bonhomie, laughs and the husband of Naomi, father of Chantelle and Dervis. The boy's dark skin tone was more like Gary's. The teens were not interested and had their mobiles shining bright.

Sharon was right about Chantelle's tits. She was pretty, big toothed, chubby and dead from the feet up in personality, but her rack was impressive. It was cased in what looked to be a sturdy white bra, quite visible beneath her pale yellow, flimsy blouse. She wore tight jeans like Naomi. Gary was the current darts champ of the town and laughingly challenged me to a game, which I declined.

"That Gina's a bit toffee nosed ain't she? " Gary chuckled, not seemingly bothered about his voice volume, speaking about the club Honorary President before downing his lager.

"Oh she's fine, nice lady. " I replied. "Very attractive too."

"Oh yeah mate, dead fucking right. I'd give her one..." he snickered. "Here, talk to the wife, I'm off for a drink and a game, see ya later."

Naomi was the manageress of the Coop convenience store in town and very bright and bubbly and impossible for me to determine her country of origin. Could be African- Caribbean who knows?

Her jacket was blindingly white, tailored to fit, buttons all loose revealing a black cotton tee-shirt. Nice shape all over taking in her tight jeans and flat black pumps. She was quite clued up on my game and she talked a lot about the up coming players from China and Hong Kong. A couple of members butted in and chatted but she was very patient until she suddenly half stood and beckoned to someone indicating there was seat available.

"This is my friend Michelle and her husband Colin," Naomi announced as the blue black woman arrived complete with the hugely fat, bespectacled, greasy looking, white man I'd spotted her with. Fuck! Her husband! I was surprised someone like him had pulled this woman, married her and allowed himself to be so gross in weight, appearance and manners - as it turned out.

"'ere mush, the wife reckons you've sucked me ma in-laws tits...'ave yer then?" he bellowed.

"Colin you daft bugger, not in here, it's not nice. Sorry mate," said Michelle, with a shake of her mane and rolling her eyes to me.

"Well 'as 'ee?" Her revolting old man persisted. "'Ave yer then?"

"I'm sorry I beg your pardon...er Colin?" I replied, trying to be polite but feeling embarrassed with the situation and just being with this horrid specimen. He roared with laughter again and was attracting quite a lots of attention as he downed another lager and bellowed to the staff at the bar for another pint of Stella Artois.

"Colin can you please be a little more friendly to our honoured guest?" asked Nora confronting him and then being eased away by her husband Brian Shorthouse the chairman. I was stunned that she had the guts to challenge Colin, such was her meek, introvert manner.

"Honoured what? He's just a fucking snooker player and a Tory fucking rich..." argued an increasingly recalcitrant fat man.

"Colin, I'll have to ask you to leave, using that sort of language in front of the ladies and children," whined Brian.

Michelle was shamefully looking down at the carpet, wringing her hands in her lap. Naomi had her arm round her friend's shoulder and Gary, standing up was about to join in. His wife told him not to. Dervis and Chantelle had looked up from their devices initially and reverted back to them.

"Do you know how long I've been an 'effin member, you daft cu..." started Colin until Michelle clapped a hand over his ugly gob.

"Enough Colin. Don't say another word, we're leaving, now." she spat, grabbing his arm.

Gary moved to help shift him. Two members arrived, pals of Colin apparently and they ushered him noisily staggering away through the front door. Brian and his wife moved away, explaining to whoever asked what it was all about.

"You'd better go Michelle," suggested Naomi.

"Me go, no way mate. He'll..they'll go to the Tudor Rose as usual. I've just about fuc...had enough. He's got past the point of no return, stuff him." she replied vehemently.

"I'm so sorry Simon, he's out of order and this was such a nice night," said Michelle.

You sorry? I am sorry for you darling," I soothed, patting her denim clad thigh. "You going to be OK?"

"Oh yeah, s'not the first time. I can handle him, he's a pussy really, just the booze you know, but...well you know..."

Gary and Naomi took their kids home, satisfied with Michelle's stressing she was OK, the club eased a bit, no bingo and no band booked - because of ME, but there was music and one of two members shaking their moves in the main bar. I asked Michelle if she fancied a dance. It's not dancing as such these days, I was taught to ballroom dance from an early age. I remember those moments snuggled into Mummy's maxi mammaries in a slow waltz. In that small Southern market town I was holding close, a slender black besmirched wife who was in need of some manly comfort. Man! Did she cling and fold in to my open arms.

I sensed she was conscious of pointed looks around the bar but obviously didn't give a fuck as we smooched, chatted, jiggled and swayed to whatever crap being played. Her perfume was exotic and intoxicating, as was her sensuous movement and I was hard and made sure her belly felt it. Inevitably I told her I had been at the Silk for two nights and was leaving for London tonight.