Preview of Chapters from the Blackstone Series


The fifth book (Mourning Becomes Black) of the Blackstone Series will be available by January 4, 2016. If you haven’t read the series, I will provide you chapters from books 1,2, 3, 4 each week and a chapter from book 5 on January 1, 2016.

If you would like to read the series you can find them at Barnes and Noble, Apple ITunes, Google, Amazon, Smashwords, Kobo, All E Romance and where Ebooks are sold.

Warning these books are Erotic Romance and for individuals 18 and over. Below is Chapter 1 of The Incredible Mr. Black.

The Incredible Mr. Black

Chapter 1


The worst thing a young woman can do is fall in love, and worse yet is to fall in love with a sexy, handsome, drop dead gorgeous rich man. Because you could find yourself doing things you never would imagine—like letting him handcuff you to his bed, as he makes passionate, sexual, erotic love to you.

Driving into the gated community, shivering from the thought, I stopped to put in the code. The mansion is setting on a lush green manicured grassy hill with a circular driveway. I bring my SL 500 Mercedes to a quick stop and exit it, another present I accepted from the billionaire industrialist, Maximilian Blackstone, or as I call him, Mr. Black.

A young man reaches for my keys. I stiffen my hand. He felt my hand hesitate. “Don’t worry miss, we’ll take care of your car.” It wasn’t the car that worried me.

Walking in a daze I’m now at the front door of Pandora’s Retreat, a luxurious getaway for the serious bondage and S and M enthusiast. My mind wavering as I count my steps. I can’t decide whether I want to do this, whether I want to walk through those double glass doors with the gold plated trim, and spend a week experiencing a world of BDSM.

I’ve had only one man in my sexual life, and I can’t imagine anyone who could match the Incredible Mr. Black, Max as his friends call him.

I tugged the collar of my cream colored silk shirt and lumbered on through the doors. My gaze turned following an attractive woman heading in my direction, where a faint light bounced off her stern face. She stopped to greet me, “Welcome, Ms. Johns. You will find your stay most delightful, and you will discover that we have attended to all your needs, including an apartment for a week’s stay.” The director, a beautiful golden haired woman of forty, wearing a black fitted dress and high heels, who appeared to enjoy her job, smiled warmly, opening the door of the apartment and handing me the key.

How did it come to this? Why did I agree to do this? I wondered ignoring the answer.

Three years ago, I fell in love and the last thing I thought about was being a sex slave to a beautiful exotic looking billionaire who appeared on the outside normal, but by my standards then, there was nothing normal about whippings, ropes, and handcuffs. I guess a few years ago, I would have been considered Vanilla.

I’m here to meet the Master, he’s to teach me how to be the perfect Sub and bring me to a higher level of submission. Mr. Black suggested that I was confused, and I didn’t know whether I was a Sub or Dom, and he needed a Sub. I knew what I was, he just couldn’t handle it. Finally I agreed to his wishes, but I warned him that sending me here could be dangerous for both of us. But deep down inside I was anxious to learn about the real world of bondage, because until now, I had been faking it to understand, and fit into the world of my incredible handsome and sexy, Mr. Black.

When did this begin? I asked myself as I prepared my mind and body for what I had come to love. When did I begin to enjoy a man placing me over his knee, whipping my ass, and tying me to his headboard while fucking me senseless?

It started the day I answered an ad in the local newspaper for a terrific job in Montana, never bothering to read the small print.


Today is my first day on the job. I’m suffering from jet lag, incompetence, identity crisis, and a host of other insecurities that a twenty-two year old who has just completed college, with mountains of debt, no friends or family to speak of, and a new job that I need. I found this position in the New York Post: Wanted, young gregarious go getter to work in sales, she should be intelligent, a college graduate, pretty without being noticeable, comfortable with individuals who are among the 1 percent… the ad went on and on. I figured I had one of the qualities they advertised, and I packed my bags and headed to Billings, Montana in the middle of ski season.

I wasn’t a drop dead gorgeous woman but I had my moments, just average, long auburn curly hair worn in a ponytail most often, oval face, high cheekbones, and large blue eyes. I never trusted my looks as a magnet for men.

And I never got the impression that the company which hired me was more interested in my looks than whether I could do the job.

“Miss Bishop,” the manager Joshua said holding my resume and looking over his glasses, “can you work overtime?” That was it. Staring at him as his eyes glanced intermittently at me; I thought he was a great looking guy, with dirty blond hair, barely six feet, and a great body. The kind of body you get from farm work, not spending time in a gym.

They must have been desperate for personnel but you couldn’t tell by the beautiful scenery, luxurious accommodations for the staff and guest, all the food you can eat, and the pay was great. I would have paid them to work at Blackstone Ski Lodge.

I soon learned that the altitude was unbearable and on one occasion I almost fainted. My skin stayed dry and I had to keep a supply of Vaseline and Chap Stick in my imitation leather purse. I was constantly licking my lips and batting my eyes because I used very little makeup. One of the hotel guests, an older gentleman, thought I was flirting with him. He was all of seventy. “Get a life,” I said.

Shuffling off none too happy, he tried to have me fired but Joshua intervened, and that’s why he and I became best buds, besides he let me sleep on his couch because I was afraid to live alone. I’m sure he expected much more, but that was all I had to give. I planned on remaining a virgin until the right man came along. Handsome and rich, but that was just a dream, the problem is it’s as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one, but probabilities are that I would never meet a rich handsome man that would even take a look at me and say, “She’s the one.”

It was the middle of the winter ski season and the hotel was shorthanded, Jacob took his time getting to the counter because he likes his long lunches with the newly hired. He claimed he wanted to do a detailed interview. I knew better but I owed him just for taking a chance on me.

Reaching for my Chap Stick under the counter, I stooped, and when I raised my head, I gazed directly into the eyes of the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. Living in New York, I have seen my share of men. I have seen all races, all nationalities, all ages, gay and straight, and he was just beautiful. A face like none I have ever seen. His wide dark green eyes, a strong jaw, head full of dark curls cut short, thick eyebrows, and he wore a hidden smile or was that a smirk, the kind I had seen on a billboard for a Tom Ford’s advertisement for Tom Ford Noir, a fragrance for men.

Yes, Noir, it means Black, how fitting.

He was just different. I felt it throughout my body. My legs tingled, my hands shook, and my mouth opened wide. He was the one. The one I would do anything for, the one I would give up my virginity for in a fast second if only he would ask with just a whisper in my ear.

This does not say much about my self-control. I thought I had plenty until I laid eyes on him. “Wow!” His breath-taking sinful face should have been concealed to prevent him from casting a spell on all women who gazed into his green eyes. Those eyes appeared capable of seeing through a woman’s dress and straight to her clit.

Gliding into the lodge, he was chatting and laughing but paused when our eyes locked. Stopping in his tracks, there was a moment of silence, and then his gaze wandered around the room and the room filled again with idle chatter.

I knew he was trouble when I scanned his gorgeous face and body. He strutted through a throng of eligible beautiful obscene young men and women with all eyes targeting him. They leaned and whispered, obviously they knew him. Dressed immaculate in a black Giorgio Armani suit, black and white Prada shirt, and black Gucci loafers, walking with a sort of swagger, leaning as he walked—like a predatory cat, lumbering through the double doors of the Blackstone Ski Lodge in Billings, Montana with an entourage of three handsome men trailing behind his gorgeous firm muscular ass. His jet black curly hair tousled, and windswept, his piercing green eyes begging me to lie down and stay awhile to be his sex slave on call, I thought remembering that moment. I keep playing it over in my mind. “Wow.”

This man was trouble for any woman crazy enough to fall in love with him. So, I convinced myself, keep your wits about you, and don’t act like a frigging idiot. It was far too late for that, I admitted.

Joshua returned just in time. “Sorry Alex, I owe you one.”

“Oh that’s OK,” I said following that handsome fuck’s gaze. I heard nothing and saw nothing, I was staring into space, dreaming and heading in the direction of the elevators, trying to get out of the room before I fainted.

I stepped aside to allow the entourage and that man I would die for in the elevator, hesitating, praying the door would close. Too late, he turned around, his face expressive and light with a skillful grin, a disarming smile he uses to great effect. Facing the open door and space that I now occupied, he said, “That’s a lovely necklace.” His voice deep with perfect English, of prep-schools and elite colleges and universities, seduced me, surprised me, and then the elevator,—closed immediately in my goofy looking face.

My head gave a quick jerk downward to see what he was looking at. I grabbed for my turquoise drop held by a black string, the only piece of jewelry that I owned, and wondered, what is it? Why would a rich handsome fuck like him admire a cheap piece of Indian jewelry?

As I passed the mirror, I noticed that a button had come undone and my breasts were in full view. I now became aware of what he had seen, taking the view in, “not bad,” I said admiring my best assets. Thank God I wore my expensive Victoria Secret’s bra with black lace trim, that’s because I had thrown out all my old comfortable ratty bras; otherwise, I would never show my face again. I didn’t feel so bad now, just embarrassed. I hope he didn’t think I did that on purpose. I bet woman were hiding around every corner throwing their panties in his direction. I know I would if I had half the chance.

Scrambling to button my shirt, and breathing deep with shame, I put my head down and scurried into the employees’ lounge. I thought about him all night. Why did he have to notice me? Why did I have to look like a misfit around all those wonderful looking rich people and why did he have to make me feel so inadequate? Couldn’t he just keep that beautiful mouth with those perfect white teeth shut? I mumble to myself.

Determine to ignore him the next day when he came through the elevator with his entourage, I excused myself, pretending I had to go to the restroom when I saw him moving in the direction of the counter. He didn’t send his secretary or one of his body guards, he sauntered up with all the confidence of a rich handsome arrogant thirty-something, and then seeing him, I ducked low and scurried into the back office hiding like a child who had just stole her big sister’s lipstick.

When I finally thought it was safe to come out, Freddie, the new hire, looked me up and down with a judgmental scan with his brown eyes. “Mr. Blackstone asked for you.”

“Did he tell you what he wanted?” It took a moment to register. “You mean he’s the owner of this Lodge and I’m his employee?” I said with a scowl displaying my anger. “I was too busy trying to find an apartment. I didn’t have time to do research,” I mumbled looking up his room number. Yes, the Penthouse suite. Why didn’t he take the private elevator?

“People like that don’t explain themselves,” Freddie said not looking up from the computer, “but he was awfully interested in you.”

“What is his problem? Do you think he wants to fire me?” I said, my voice shaky and shrill.

Freddie rolled his shoulders to his ears. “Well, he asked your name and whether you were married and did you have any friends? Quote, boyfriends.” Freddie made the signs of quotation marks in the air. “He didn’t exactly use those words.” Freddie paused as I held my breath. “I told him that I didn’t know.”

“Why did you say that?” My eyes opened wide.

“Because I don’t know and it’s none of his business, besides, I don’t care how much money he has, he has no right to invade your privacy.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” I said under my breath, and rolling my eyes.

The next day standing at my desk reading The Great Gatsby, a book I never got a chance to read in college because Cliff Notes were easier, I felt eyes measuring me. It was an eerie feeling. When I glanced up he was staring at me with those penetrating deep dark green eyes. He had come from outside and for once he was alone. He just stood looking at me making me so uncomfortable with those jade eyes undressing me, leaving me weak.

My body shook and blood coursed through my veins at an accelerated rate forcing my blood pressure up and my blood sugar down. I felt faint; he appeared to have that effect over me whenever he’s near. He opened his mouth and those lips and perfect white teeth sucked out what oxygen was left in my brain. My eyes jutted up to his perfect nose, dark layered eye brows, and then back to his mouth and I began daydreaming about where he could put those lips.

“Hello,” he said soft and smooth.

“Yes? Hello.” I responded like the idiot I claimed I would never become if I laid eyes on him again.

“Ms. Bishop… I was wondering if… I want… I would like to see you,” he said with a sexy English tone to his voice.

“Why?” I leaned forward. “Did you say you want to see me, sir, ah Mr. Black…I mean Mr. Blackstone.” I sound incompetent like I had escaped from an asylum.

“Forget it. I’m sorry,” he said fading away into the private elevator. I stood staring at the spot where he had asked to see me with my mouth so wide it could have caught a fly if any could survive at this altitude. A man like that asking to see me, did he mean what I think he meant? Me? Alexander Bishop, a girl who had never been anywhere except Brooklyn, well I could count the states, breathing the same air as this rich, handsome, drop dead gorgeous fuck. He looked all of thirty-five, so I rationalized that he was too old, too worldly, and too dangerous for me.

And what did he mean by “wanting to see me?” Was I reading too much in those few words? Joshua says I analyze things to death. But I couldn’t understand why a man who is obviously articulate would just say, “I want to see you.”

If I was stupid enough to dream that he thought I was attractive or entertain such an idea, all I could do was get hurt. I had no defense. I wasn’t worldly, I had one friend, I had no money, and I wasn’t that pretty.

What kind of experience did I have to even talk to that world class man? Maybe he was married and I would be one of the many girls he fucked on vacation, but for me it would be a fuck of a lifetime. I may never recover if he puts his rich dick in me. I would be gone, probably turn into a stalker, I thought. So it was better that I get him out of my mind. But I couldn’t. He haunted my thoughts, my body, and my clit.

A chill eased up my back caressing my spine straight into the nape of my neck and settling on the roots of my hair. Wow! It was then I knew that I would do anything for him and that was dangerous.

The next day I figured the best way to rid myself of Mr. Black was to try out my new skis, maybe break a leg or something, and have them send me back to Brooklyn with workman’s comp. That would help me until I could get another job and get far away from him.

I had lied on my application and stated that I was proficient on the slopes. So they gave me skis and lessons were free to upgrade my skills. What skills? Bending forward adjusting the skis, I stepped backwards and backed up until I hit a wall or so I thought. Looking through my legs, I saw a pair of skis with two long legs covered in a black ski suit standing behind me. It was Mr. Black’s rock hard body. There he stood all six foot two, in a black ski suit and gear, and my ass plastered directly on his hard dick.

He didn’t move. His gaze scanned my hair, back, and my ass. By the look in his eyes he appeared to be measuring the split of my butt for something, and I didn’t know what? I couldn’t straighten up, my finger had gotten stuck, and when I unhinged it and stood, he never moved. He stood on my skis with a wicked smile, and with me not moving an inch I said wryly, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. Take a picture it’ll last longer.” That’s all I could think of. I remember hearing that somewhere.

“Well, Ms. Bishop,” he said with a sly smile crossing his inviting lips, “we meet again.” I stood up with his body close, where not even a sheet of paper could pass between us, as if we were entwined in intercourse and he had penetrated my ass. He whispered softly in my ear, my butt quivering against his dick, with him getting even closer, if that was possible. He circled my body with his arms and said, “You smell wonderful.”

“Thank you, but could you get off of my skis?”

He moved his hand caressing my chin then placing it lower, “Your beautiful neck needs something, a collar,” he stated casually passing his fingers from front to the back causing me to shiver, not from the cold but from the heat of his penis penetrating my clothing like lighting. At the time I thought nothing of his comments. Maybe that’s what the rich say when they want to make a pass, and I responded in a childish and girlish manner.

“You smell pretty good yourself,” was all I could get out and then freezing. I should have asked, “What the fuck are you doing?” But I didn’t. I should have asked, “Have you lost your fucking mind?” But I didn’t. I should have asked, “Do you think I’m that kind of girl? Do you want to fuck me?” But I didn’t.

“I was wondering whether I can see you under different circumstances,” he said with a hint of vulnerability dancing in his green eyes, which had softened.

I managed to slightly turn my head. “You are seeing me now, why do you wish to see me? And please get off of my skis.” I said coldly trying to cool the heat that was coursing between my thighs.

When I finally moved my skis to turn to face my fears, the obstruction was gone and so was Mr. Blackstone. So here I am again staring into nothingness with only a mountain of snow for company and feeling stupid once more. I swore to myself that if I see him again, I would give him a piece of my mind—how dare he quit so soon. One minute more and I would have caved in and he could have fucked me in my ears if he had a mind to.

I headed down the slope and at the very foot; I tripped, stumbled, rolled, and landed in a large bed of snow with my skis buried. I tried to stand but that was impossible. I knew that I had sprung my ankle. Looking around, I didn’t see anyone. I panicked and screamed, “Hello! I need help, I’m hurt!” Before I could yell again, standing in front of me was the extraordinary handsome, Mr. Black.

He rushed over to me, dug me out with a small shovel he carried somewhere, unfastened my skis, and lifted me like a doll. Cradle in his arms, my breath ceased. Gazing into my eyes, he asked, “Are you hurt?”

“It’s my ankle.” He touched it gently. I screamed not from pain, but desperate wanting his attention.

“You can’t take pain, pain can be exciting and satisfying,” he said flashing a smile. “You know childbirth is painful and satisfying.”

“What did you say?” I always missed his cues.

“I guess we can’t have children,” he said passing a dark teasing smirk along his mouth while not taking his eyes off me.

His gaze unnerved me. “I can carry you to my cabin it’s near. You’re so light.” I felt incredibly light or I was incredibly stupid. He could be some kind of serial killer, or worse, a man who would make love to me and never see me again. Nevertheless, I felt comfortable in his arms, like I belonged there.

Stopping at a large house built with logs, he lumbered up the stone stairs with me in his arms, to this unbelievable red wood cabin in the middle of snow and mountains. I had never seen a house of that magnitude. It was built on a mountain with boulders as steps. Strong floor to ceiling glass windows surrounded the house giving a panoramic view of everything for miles. The cabin, breathtaking, and it matched the owner—rich, beautiful, strong, and different.

We entered the house and I turned around mystified at the décor. The foyer wide like a museum had numerous gray leather chairs placed facing the windows, large paintings lined the walls. The house stood half on the mountain and half on large pillars the kind you find under bridges. “This place is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he said making me uncomfortable. Turning around I spied a large roaring fire.

“Oh, I love a fire.” He placed me in a large cream leather chair, setting near the huge fireplace, then picking up a log and feeding the fire. It was his favorite chair because it sat alone with a large table near with books setting on it, and a small crystal chest set. He watched deliberately as I acted like a little girl who had never had anything or been anywhere and he was right.

Trying to stand, I wobbled, he rushed to me and knelt looking up at me. “You can’t walk on that leg. I will have the doctor here to examine it.” His voice commanding and strong.

“What about my job?”

“Joshua can get someone to replace you until you are fit for work. Remember they work for me and so do you, so relax, and let me pamper you.” My mind began to work overtime, trying to figure out what it was he was after and why me? He stood, walked away, turned, and smiled and strutted into an area that appeared to be a kitchen. Then he came back moments later with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a tin of Beluga caviar.

Wrinkling my nose at the caviar, Max looked at me confused. “Is something wrong, Alex?” I love the way the sound of my name dripped from his lips—so authoritative, so masculine. No man had ever called me Alex; they always wanted to feminize Alexander. My parents named me after Alexander the Great, the great conquer.

“Drinking wine is not good for me, I have a low tolerance for wine, and the caviar is from a mammal, it’s like eating my own eggs,” I said looking at him thinking I said something interesting. But the truth was I had never had caviar. I could tell by his smile and arched eyebrow that I wasn’t fooling him.

“Oh you are one of those,” he said staring as if he had seen an alien. “After today with your ankle, I thought you needed a drink. And the caviar, I’ll get rid of it. I’ll have my cook make you something more familiar.” He scooped up the silver tray, holding the tin of caviar, with silver matching spoons, and disappeared into the kitchen. Then he returned looking disappointed and vulnerable. “I instructed my chef to make you soup, a sandwich, and a salad, you do eat lettuce?”

“Mr. Blackstone, I’ll have the wine…”

He interrupted, “Call me Maximillian or Max.” He poured the wine, and I took a sip and before I could finish it someone rang the bell. It was the doctor. He examined me and my ankle, massaged it, gave me some muscle relaxers, and said that I should stay off it for twenty-four hours and I would be good to go. Max didn’t leave me. He sat and waited for the doctor to finish examining me. The last thing I remembered was looking into Max’s beautiful face.

Waking in the middle of the night to the moon flowing through the picture windows, I worried because I had fallen asleep around a man I didn’t know. Was it the wine or did Mr. Black slip something into my drink? No, it was the meds. He didn’t have to drug me; I would give myself freely and happily, and he knew it. I felt my clothing. I was wearing a silk white top and nothing else. I felt the bed, now I know what silk black sheets feel like. I smiled. I guess he likes black. Then in the moonlight I saw a tall figure standing with his legs crossed in the doorway, his hand on his hip. “Are you ok?”

“Who undressed me? How did you know my size?” he answered one of my questions.

“Me. We are adults after all,” he said inching in my direction.

“We may be adults but you are my employer,” I said wincing. “I’ll never be able to look at you without feeling uncomfortable.”

“Well you will not have to see me again unless you want to.” He strutted close to the bed and sat at the corner staring down at me. “Do you find me attractive?”

“What kind of question is that?” A blind woman would find him attractive just from his voice. Didn’t he know how handsome and sexy he is especially in the moonlight?

“I was taken with you the moment I saw your beautiful face,” he said with a secret smile.

You weren’t looking at my face it was my breasts, you sexy fuck. Was he serious? Maybe he was blind and I hadn’t notice. Maybe he had a missing leg or he was impotent and he would seduce anyone he could fool? Why me?

All possibilities crossed my mind, I came to a conclusion,—I didn’t care. He leaned over to kiss me. I leaned back away from his full lips. “I don’t think we should do this.” I was going but I didn’t want to go easy.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said with a gleeful smile.

“I’m not what you think I am?” I said trying for respectability.

“You are exactly what I think you are?” he said with a twist of his head.

“Some kind of slut you can give wine to and I’ll do anything to be near a rich good-looking guy like you.”

“So you find me appealing.”

“Well, yes in a kind of sexy odd way.”

“Now I’m sexy?” he questioned with a soft smile and glowing eyes. He moved closer and leaned in to me. I tried to move away when he draped his muscular arm across my lap and trapped me.

“I didn’t quite mean it like that.”

“What if I told you that I’m attracted to you?” Mr. Black said, eyes penetrating my glance.

“What if I told you that I’m not attracted to you,” I said wanting to take those words back the minute they slipped from my lips.

“Then I’m hurt. Feel my heart, it’s broken.” Mr. Black took my hand and placed it to his hard chest. I felt his heart beating quickly as he nudged his face closer to my neck. My body responded to his closeness. His hand pushed my hair to the side and he planted kisses on my neck, on my chin, and on my lips.

First a soft kiss, then one on the nape of my neck. He placed his strong manicured hand around my back to brace me, threading his hand through my curly unruly auburn hair and said, “I’m turned on by your lips, which makes me want to…” He didn’t finish his thoughts. He strummed his finger over my top lip. Maybe it was too soon for him to say that he wanted me to wrap my full lips around his hard dick.

Passing his finger on my bottom lip and letting it linger, his eyes smoldering and dark. Then he took my fingers and placed it in his mouth. I watched as he kissed it and then he closed his eyes and sucked them. I watched in wonder. I felt a tingle move down my breasts and settle on my clit then to my toes. This type of foreplay was new to me. I felt intensely drawn to him like metal drawn to a magnet. It was something sinful about how he kissed my fingers and then his lips found my mouth.

His tongue swirled around and sucked my tongue as long as he sucked my finger. I tried to reciprocate drawing in his tongue, but he was in control and sucked my mouth dry. Determine to seduce me with his foreplay; I was more than determined to allow him.

Lowering his head to my neck, he softly nipped it. The feeling was felt in my folds. His hands grabbed both breasts and his fingers squeezed my nipples until they rose and ached with pleasure. His dark green eyes searched my eyes as he lay over me biting my neck and squeezing my nipples harder. I didn’t cry out because surprisingly, I enjoyed the intensity of his love making. His gaze locked on me and he saw in my eyes that I enjoyed every moment of his painful seduction.

“Does pain give you pleasure?” he said meeting my gaze and his fingers tightening on my nipples. Yes, how did he know? I just found out.

“Yes, yes, harder,” I moaned breathless. His eyes gleaming, he pinched my nipples harder. My breathing intensified.

His head moving down, his short curly locks brushed against my breasts. I threaded my fingers through his dark locks, and with his mouth he sucked each nipple, careful to tug each one in his teeth until they rose and turned red. I gave out a low moan. When I shouted it was with pleasure. He appeared hungry for a body and that body lay in his bed and it was mine.

And I felt as if I had won the lottery. I was a lucky fuck for the day.

The compromise of my beliefs for that beautiful man making a meal out of my breasts, gorging himself until he felt satisfied filled me with pleasure. He took them in his hands, “These are beautiful, I can’t get enough of them,” he said stroking them forward pinching each nipple as they met his fingers, “and they are mine.” A dark gleam settled in his eyes. A penetrating look caused me to pull the straps of the silk top down my hips, leaving the thong, a thin strip up my ass, masquerading as underwear.

He helped pull the top down and looked on me with my breasts heaving up and down. He straddled me as his eyes searched every inch of my body. Then he reached his large hands on both sides of the string and with one jerk, the strings came undone and his gaze lowered and settled on my pubic hair.

“Let it grow, don’t shave it again,” he demanded. Then sliding down my body slowly, stopping to place a warm kiss on my stomach, his hands parted my legs, and he dropped his magnificent face between my legs. His tongue searched my clit until he found the spot he had been looking for. He caught me by surprise. My legs trembled, but soon relaxed and I opened them wide.

I carelessly draped my legs over his shoulder which excited me as well as him because he clutched them with both hands never coming up for breath.

His head moved with the intensity and the rhythm of his tongue. I wanted to know how it felt to have a man eat me. I had heard about it, but I didn’t know it was so pleasurable. His energy was boundless. His hands cupped my breasts and his fingers pinched my nipples as he worked his tongue. He had mastered a rhythm with his lips, tongue, hands, and fingers—the epitome of extreme multi-tasking.

I had my first orgasm and before I could yell I had another one. It was a terrific feeling and I could not contain a scream of pleasure. With a smile on his face, he moved and eased his body up gazing in my eyes. I took his dick into my hands and he looked at me his eyes begging me to do something with it or to it. It was so hard when I placed it in my mouth, lying on my back. I feared that my mouth could not contain it.

He saw the panic in my eyes; I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. I took it out, “I’ve never done this before,” I said looking up at Mr. Black.

“I know,” he said softly.

How did he know, I asked myself? Now was not the time to analyze.

“I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you to satisfy me.” Those words sound promising. Maybe I wasn’t a one night stand after all, but I was certainly his cunt for the day. As he directed me to hold his warm dick in my hand, I clutched it gently. “No you’re holding it like you’re afraid of it. Tighter.”

Finally, I got it. I felt in control as he tilted his head back moaning with pleasure, “Alex, yes, that’s what I like. Now suck it hard. I don’t want to fill your mouth with my cum, I want to fill your pussy. I can’t wait.”

With little patience, I sucked the head of his penis; up and down my mouth took it in. I wanted to control that dark, handsome, sexy, and titillating love of my life, man of my dreams, fucking trouble, who has ruined me for other men.

Tasting a hint of warm fluid, dropping slow, drip by drip until he pulled his dick from my mouth, and he held it with a painful expression. Then with his strong arms he lifted me up facing him. With his head buried in my breasts, he whispered, “Put it in Alex.” I hesitated, my hands quivered at the thought of the pain his hot wet penis would inflict on the walls of my vagina. I guided his hard penis into the mouth of my vagina and stopped. I glared at Mr. Black with panicked eyes.

“You’re a virgin, I know. I’ll be careful.” His mouth locked around my nipple, his long arm reaching, and his fingers finding my folds, sending a current shooting to my toes. He opened my wet folds and inserted a finger, softly another finger, then breaching my wall. Taking his fingers out, he placed them to his nose and inhaled, then inserting them in his mouth on his tongue, and said, “It’s your smell that turns me on. That smell tells me no man has been here.”

Holding my breath, he plowed the tip of his heavy penis into my vagina, inch by inch, taking more of my opening until he reached a roadblock. Then with a quick thrust he filled my vagina, as if he had heard somewhere that to limit the pain and reach the summit of a mountain, he had to do it quickly.

The nerves of my clit came alive. Opening my mouth to scream, his mouth cupped my mouth and he sucked my tongue in, rendering me speechless as he arched his body deep into my opening. I became use to his incredible hard penis. I took it in easily, it was a good fit. I knew it and he knew it.

Overmatched by his incredible body, his incredible lovemaking, his incredible handsome face, I yield everything to him.

His energy was boundless, “I need more,” his glance laying on my body instead of my eyes. I didn’t say a word. I was numb from the meds. But I knew what I was doing and where I was going.

He whispered, “I should have been gentle, but I couldn’t help myself, your virgin pussy was so sweet and irresistible.” He looked like a child declaring that he could not resist a piece of candy.

Mr. Black’s face softened and enjoyment and pleasure took hold. I wanted to give him the pleasure of my body where he would never forget me. As he thrust his dick into me once more, I met it with enjoyment, as I tried to find out just what turned on my gorgeous fuck of a man. My finger nails trailed up and down his back until I found that he responded. “Fuck me Alex, never stop. I love you, you’re mine, and I’m your first.”

And you will be my only man. I don’t want anyone but you. Ever! I thought.

Leaning his head back his breathing intensified. I worked my hips at each positive expression on his face. His animalistic moans caused me to thrust forward into him and milk his penis up and down with my tight cunt. His body shook violently with pleasure and his come slowly drained into me.

He pulled me close, our eyes met as I lay with my head on his hard muscular arm. I looked around and saw a large moon casting light on his hard chest. He knew all about me, but I knew nothing of him except that I loved him and he said that he loved me. I wanted to believe him.

Turning facing me with his hands between my thighs, “Alex, you look so sexy, I want more of you.” He nudged under me and stroked my behind. His gaze covered my body as he fought off sleep. But he wasn’t successful and sleep won out. I was too giddy to close my eyes. I just stared at him with his drop dead looks and body; his arm draped across my stomach.

I wondered how I had gotten so lucky. Then I realized that I had never been lucky. I turned lying in his arms with my head on his chest, and I remained in a state of ignorant bliss.



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