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He was black; possessed a commanding look like a handsomer young Sidney Poitier; intelligent. He was also the vice president of the corporation. He exuded a magnetic figure in the confine of the room where now he stood totally at ease among his colleagues...and Frances. His powerful ebony body towered over the other men present and his gentle smile charmed the women...and Frances.

She could feel Drago's eyes on her as she walked. She could feel the blood rushing to her face. The minute Drago entered the room, Frances seemed to feel his energy. The room seemed to vibrate as he walked over and leaned down hesitantly to plant a welcome kiss on her cheek. Drago was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his huge body and smell the scent of his ebony skin. He smelled clean and very healthy with no cosmetic scent to hide the odor of human black skin. Frances looked up at him, expecting to see gentleness, surprised instead, to see desire too. Neither one of them was comfortable with that, yet it seemed too stilted to shake hands. He sort of grabbed her hand as he kissed her. They both laughed and pulled away a little too quickly.


"I'm Drago and you're Frances. Right?"

"Yes."

The conversation and the laughter rose and ebbed in the rhytmic characteristic of cocktail parties everywhere. Frances was conscious of Drago, conscious of being watched. Frances laughed, she smiled, she spoke only a little, never quite closing her mouth entirely. She was being admired and desired by Drago, and she abandoned herself to the sensation. The slow sweet music blared through the loudspeaker. Frances was startled when a hand took her wine glass away.

“I've waited a long time for this. Would you like to dance?"

It was Drago. She followed Drago' lead. He was an accomplished, well-taught dancer. He was attracted to her, and unlike the men Frances had known who made a point of hiding their feelings, he made no attempt to conceal them. Frances, too, was attracted to him, but she was disturbed by the feeling, distrusting its immediacy. Nevertheless, his unconcealed admiration made her very pleasantly aware of herself and the moment. She enjoyed the feeling of her clothing against her body, the scent of her own perfume, Poison, with the increase in the warmth of her body at the emotions she felt, suddenly more noticeable. They danced in silence, Drago at ease with his feelings, Frances uncomfortable with hers, yet unwilling to relinquish them.

The party finished early. Drago escorted her to her room. They said goodnight awkwardly. They were both conscious of a holding back, of a growing tension and uncertainty between them that were far more electric, far more compelling than a giving in to the enormous sexual excitement both felt.

Alone in his room, he undressed and, naked stood in front of his bed. Drago wished she was with him, but he had been afraid to ask too soon. He almost forgot that she was a married woman. He was afraid to be rejected. He did not want her to think he was lonely. Instinctively, his hand wrapped around his fully erect cock and started to rubbed it violently as he kept saying Frances' name. "Frances!" he shouted as great gobs of cum kept spurting almost endlessly out of his ebony cock. He felt limp because he never did come like this before. Until Frances.

In her room, Frances' mind was on Drago. He intrigued her. She found Drago' obvious attraction to her. She was immediately drawn to him when they met. There was something challenging. She had thought she would never arouse a man, and a black man at that, like Drago; a man like that would never be interested in someone like her, a married woman. And, for sex alone? Surely, there were a lot of attractive women. Yet, he obviously was in some way. Maybe he was just playing up to her because of the business plan, but she did not think so.

For the rest of the days, Drago became their personal escort which was most unusual. He seldom did it and only when their visitor were special. But Frances was special to him.

Frances found herself waking up daily in her room to the sight of red roses from Drago. There were those casual touches, the constant attention, the small gifts. All from Drago.

Friday:

They took her boss Albert to the airport, leaving Frances with a week more to spend in Ottawa.

"I guess you will now have a personalized tourist guide."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Will you have dinner with me? "Anywhere you like." Drago asked knowing she had the power to hurt him by refusing. It was risky, dangerous, thrilling. He waited for her answer.

"Anywhere?" Frances asked.

"Yes. Whatever your pleasure."

"Yes."

The Friday Evening:

"I'm absolutely in awe of you."

"Drago, I can't..."

"I'll be insulted, Frances. For friendship sake."

"It's beautiful," Frances said. Drago stood up and went behind her.

"May I?" as he fastened them around her neck. The emerald necklace was the first gift Jacques had ever chosen for her, and she interpreted them as a sign that she was special to him. Still standing behind Frances and his hands holding her neck, he whispered:

“I’ll be more than happy if you will wear it always. . . . like a wedding ring.”

“I promise I’ll wear it always,” Frances said jokingly.

“Really. I really mean it.” Frances was suddenly quiet. Frances sipped her wine. She could smell his smell again, even thought they were not that close. It was not bad. Frances did not even know what he smelled like. They made small talk. He told her all about the good old days. She was thinking how handsome Drago was when he looked up over his glass and caught her eye. There was a twinkle in his eye when he looked at her, but when they caught each other's glance they both became serious.

"Frances."

"Yes? What is it Drago?"

"I have something to tell you...something you should know." Drago looked directly at Frances' eyes. Frances suddenly became conscious of his gaze.

"About the business?" Frances asked timidly.

"No." Frances became silent for a while.

"What is it then, Drago?"

"Frances... you should know that...I love you." Drago got hold of Frances' hand and held it tenderly. Frances was stunned, not knowing what to do, just feeling the soft touch of Drago.

"Ever since I met you, I've never been the same...in my heart, mind and body.

"Drago..."

"No, Frances let me express what I feel. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to say what you feel...nor am I asking you to have an affair with me, much as I would like that to happen. I want you to know...to remember always that there is another man who loves you very much." Drago held her hand tightly as he continued to talk, "I just keep on feeling this love for you. You know men will always be taken in by your feminity, what appears to be your pliable nature, your soft seductiveness. But you are never totally able to surrender. It's like the fog. No man can ever conquer the fog. You will always elude him. That must be party because you want it that way. You feel more secure when you are never totally possessed." And with that, Drago released her hand.

Frances looked at him. Neither one of them smiled. Drago had a questioning look in his eyes. Frances could not look at him this time. For some reason, she wanted to cry. They kept looking at each other. She was unable to break the gaze. Instead, she heaved a large sigh, then whispered:

"Drago, it's getting late. I have to go." They were outside the door to her room.

"Drago, thank you for the wonderful dinner." As she turned towards the door, Drago held her elbow and: "Frances." And as Frances turned to him, Drago embraced her and kissed her gently. Frances was unable to resist. She stood stiffly in his arms uncertain what to do. She was shocked by his touch, shocked by the intimacy of his body so close to hers. Her initial impression was of warmth enfolding her. She was aware of the texture of his clothing, of his scent. His hands were strong, yet gentle. Drago took his mouth just far enough away from Frances' lips to be able to speak. "May I come in?" he asked, indicating the door. Then reason reasserted itself.

"No. And please release me," she said suddenly and without thinking. Frances pulled away from his embrace and went into her room, shutting the door behind her, leaving him hurt and confused. Frances did not understand why, but she burst into tears. Finally, when they had died, she wondered why she had said no when she meant yes.

Within the privacy of her own room, she covered her breast and her pussy with her hands. His kiss, his touch has stirred her almost unbearably. If reason did not prevail, she doubted that she could have controlled herself while they were in the elevator and the corridor. She was married, yet she found herself craving for another man, a black man. Blanked fires of desire had burst into bright flame within her, yet the realization that her passion was overcoming her reason frightened her.

"Oh God, don't make me sin," she whispered. Wearily, she undressed herself and went to bed. The room was warm from the heater. Throwing back the blankets, she covered her naked body with the sheet and stared upward.

"Drago," she whispered through lips that barely moved. How she longed for his ebony body, thinking how his ebony cock would look like; how it would feel thrusting in and out of her and nestling deep down inside her. In the grip of a powerful fantasy, she pressed her hands to her breasts. Swollen and aching, they begged for relief that she could not give them. Only a lover's lips could do that. She would not want him to be gentle either, she acknowledged. Her body hungered for savagery that would drive away the longing and allow her to revel in her womanhood.

Moaning Drago's name softly, she squeezed her breast as her other hand traced the warm V at the top of her thighs. “Dear God? Do I have to sin to cool this desperate fire in me?” she thought.

A dream woke her. This time it was only three in the morning. It had scared her. In her dream, she and Drago were lying in bed with a glass dome watching the fireworks. They were naked and Frances could feel his hard ebony body pressed up closely against hers with his cock so deep inside her as they watched the sparkles and flames and plumes shoot through the air. Her limbs felt hot; her body was trembling. He reached over and lightly brushed her abdomen, up upon her breasts. The desire was overwhelming. Drago leaned over to kiss her, his lips forcing her mouth open, his tongue finding its way between her teeth. "I can't," she said. "Please, no, stop. I can't do this to my husband. I can't do it to him." When she woke up she was trembling. And she found her hand between her legs, still sticky. Frances moved her hand up and down, caressing herself until she found herself breathing faster. Her body trembled, calling Drago's name softly, and she quickly drew her hand away and closed her legs, satisfied. Immediately she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Saturday Morning

There was a silence between them. To fill it, Drago ordered coffee for them both. Then: "I'm sorry about last night."

Frances blushed. "I hope you'll forgive me... It's just that I can't help how I feel for you. Anyway, I'm glad we're - I'm glad to see you again Frances. I was afraid you might not want to see me any more."

"Why?" Her eyes widened, but they knew what he meant.

"I though you were angry with me...with what I said."

"No. It's just that I am a married woman. Maybe...if we met long before," Frances said as she shook her head slowly. Drago realized at once Frances' feelings for him. "Then...you feel something for me too?" Frances was silent for a while.

"I'm afraid of you."

"Why?" Very gently. Gentleness, in a man who could have, truly, whatever he wanted, was a gift beyond price.

"Not you, really," she corrected herself. "I'm afraid of the way I will feel about you. I'm afraid I'll lose control of myself."

"I won't let you be afraid," Drago said, and she knew he had the power to stay her fear. That power was what she feared. It was also what she wanted.

"Frances, you will be staying for quite some time here, but if there's any way I can be of help, here's my number."

"Thank you, Drago."

"Maybe you'd like to go out to dinner, at the opera, or anything that pleases you..." "You're wondering if I'm angry you with you as not to go out with you. Quite the contrary," Frances replied with a teasing look in her eyes and in her smile.

"That makes me feel very good. Let's make a date right now!" Drago said with a wave of relief.

"I'm in favor. Got any suggestions?" Frances asked while laughing.

"You name it, we'll do it."

"How would you like to take me in the country when you're free for a few hours?"

"How about tomorrow?"

And tomorrow it is. Drago picked her up at her hotel. And as he drove, they talked.

"Oh, Drago, it's such fun being with someone unstuffy."

"Isn't your husband unstuffy?"

"Only about half the time."

"We're going to be friends Drago," Frances said after talking about various things.

"We're already friends. We always will be."

Veering off into quieter country road, Drago dropped one hand to the hands folded on her lap and felt her fingers close around it tenderly, aware and warm and confident. It was the sign of declaration, the gift of knowing what he now knew, and telling him so. Frances smiled, her face calm and composed again. Suddenly, the lake came into view. He stopped the car by the road and they walked in silence, drinking the beauty of the scene like wine.

They set off through the pine woods toward the lake. It was silent under the trees. They followed the winding, narrow path until they came to the water's edge. Drago turned to Frances. As naturally as instinct, Drago took her in his arms and kissed her, feeling her body yield to him and her shoulders tremble a little under his big hands. Then just as suddenly, they drew apart and, with unspoken assent, resumed their walk along the lake's edge. Neither of them spoke. There seemed no need to discuss it. For Drago knew now, and he knew Frances knew also with a wisdom surer than his own, that the moment was inevitable; in that instant they had surrendered simultaneously to the living beauty around them and become part of it. Would it go on from there, beyond this woodland beauty, beyond the response to overwhelming nature? Would it become Frances and Drago without the need for spell, enchantment, d**g? Had her kiss committed her? It was the unanswered question, even as now, like sister and brother, they held hands with a single impulse and moved along the path together.

"I love you Frances! And I want. . ."

"Drago, please don't. You're doing it again." In the long silence, her words seemed to echo in the frozen air. Drago stopped again, still holding her hand, and they stood face to face.

"Do you want me, Frances? Do you want me to be your lover? Do you want me to make love to you? Do you want me to be so deep inside you. . .to cum into you, Frances?"

"Drago. . .Yes, I think I do. . .I think I will. . ..but not yet. I would have to love you, Drago. I've never love anyone but my husband and. . .I just can't. . .become a new woman overnight. But, maybe I can learn. Maybe you can help me learn, teach me. . ..I don't think it would have been possible if I. . .if we haven't met. But now. . . ." Frances said in a low and troubled voice while their eyes held. She looked tremulously up at him and he put his arms around her close; so close Drago knew Frances could feel his erection throbbing against her body.

"Drago, I need a little time, please," she whispered, and they walked on together.

For the most part, her warmly sensual nature lay submerged within her, but sometimes during those few remaining Canadian nights, she touched her body with dry, hot palms and often thought of Drago. Drago! She looked around her at the dim hotel room praying Drago was with her. Rising unsteadily, Frances stretched in an effort to ease her muscles. Her breasts lifted, making her conscious that the slight coarseness of her nightgown aroused her tender nipples. With a shiver, she plucked at the nightgown. Then drawing in her breath, she clasped her breasts in both her hands squeezing in an effort to ease the torment of unsated desire.

Drago! She ached for him. Painfully conscious of her body's throbbing, she stood alone in the room while her blood heated and her mind conjured up pictures of his hard-muscled ebony body, his gentle hands, especially his long, immense, hard cock so close to her body. She felt torn apart by the tidal storm of sexual desire that thundered through her veins. Dear Lord! How she wanted him. . .in her mouth. . .deep inside her pussy. . .in any part of her body! Her very soul craved his touch. Frances moaned softly at the image of Drago's mouth working its magic on her nipples and her navel, and the strength and power of his massive ebony cock so deep inside her pussy. “Dear God! Drago!” she moaned and began to tremble as she felt her inside thighs become wet. Angrily, she tore her hands away from her aching breasts and covered her face. My husband! Please God, let him fill my mind.

* * *

So it began - days before she finally left for San Diego when he gave every spare hour to being with Frances. He lavished attention on her for the remaining days of her stay. Always there was the daily phone call to Frances, calling her constantly when he was not with her, anxious about her comfort, solicitous about her preferences. Whenever she went somewhere without him, he insisted she call him to let him know she had arrived safely; he telephoned her first thing when she woke and last thing before he fell asleep. Frances told him that not even her husband kept as faithfully in touch as he did.

And meanwhile, Drago was giving Frances a life in Canada she had ever known with her husband. They went to restaurants, attended the winter season of opera and concerts, drove to the country on fine days, and always with the feeling between them that it might be the last time, and this very special relationship would end. He made her feel loved, and as Drago wished for so long, Frances finally fell in love with him.

For it was special - not since the day at the lake had he touched her but for the friendly kiss-on-cheeek of greeeting or parting. And Drago saw in Frances' eyes the gratefulness that was gradually turning from affection to need, closer and closer to the verge of sexual surrender. They talked freely of everything but the act itself, and guardedly of her husband.

The Last Night

Frances found herself spending more time in the bathroom since Drago dropped her off at the lobby three hours ago. It was her last night and she was having a dinner with Drago at the classiest dining place. In the bath tub, Frances soaped, washed her body slowly and languidly. Afterwards, she slowly rubbed lotion all over body, taking a little time longer when she came to her neck, breasts, and most of all her buttocks and pussy. Naked, in front of the mirror, she dab an extra amount of Poison, most of all on her neck, breasts and pussy. Still naked, she first put on the sapphire necklace Drago gave her...then her make-up...next her stockings...her black bra and lastly, a black lace thong she had forgotten the time she last worn it. She was still in front of the mirror, ready, when the doorbell ring. With a final look at herself in the mirror, Frances knew she was ready. But, not quite. With finality, she took off her wedding band and left on the sidetable.

Drago had noticed a difference in Frances as soon as he saw her. What the difference eluded him, tantalized him. She seemed for the first time, since they met, vulnerable, touchable. Until he noticed the sapphire necklace clinging around Frances' neck and the wedding band was missing from her finger. As soon as he realized what the difference in her was, he put it from his conscious mind. With finality, he now knew that the moment was now. But the desire was something else. It was something he could no more control than he could control for his heart to beat. The realization, the sight and smell of her, immediately gave him an uncontrollable enormous erection.

"Oh, Drago! They are beautiful. Thank you."

"But you are more beautiful," said Drago as she handed her three lovely red roses. "I think I should be the one to thank you."

"Why?"

"I thought you will never wear it."

"Oh. It's a very special night."

"It will be. Shall we go?"

"You're beginning to enjoy yourself," Drago said as they danced. Frances sensed that he was aware of something about her, but she did not reply. She continued to dance.

"You're so beautiful, so very, very beautiful," Drago said, and he drew her closer into his embrace as they danced. Her body and her scent further sustained his enormous erection. He moved her head against his shoulder and with his other hand in the small of her back pressing her hips tightly against him. Submissively, Frances drew closer to him, her hands clinging tightly around his neck, pressing her own body to him, not hearing his exact words but reacting to their sense, to the tone of his voice. She had forgotten what it was like to de desired, to be special, to be privileged. Now, dancing with Drago, feeling his hardness, the warmth of him and smelling his smell, the scent of perfectly, newly clean black skin so reminiscent of the first time Drago proposed to her, Frances remembered. They moved very slowly in time with the music, allowing her to feel his growing erection. Frances could feel his manhood pressing into her navel, reveling in Drago’s hardness, if not, in his lust for her.

"Frances, feel how much I love you," Drago whispered softly in her ears. But Frances did not seem to hear. Rather, her eyes closed, she rested her head against his breast and pressed her body closer to his while Drago felt her hands around his neck pull him closer to her. She allowed herself to enjoy the pressure, his enormous erection pressing hard against her womb.

Drago invited her for a night cap in his house. Drago poured the wine. Frances was surprised to see, when she took her glass, that her hand was shaking.

"Cheers," he said, as he clicked his glass to hers. She took a very small sip, tasting it. Their eyes locked. Looking straight into Drago' eyes, Frances let the tip of her tongue slipped from between her lips and slowly and provocatively licked away a shimmering drop of the wine. Instantly, hot blood surged through Drago’s veins and cock. He wanted her so badly that pain lanced along his thighs and his manhood throbbed. As hot color flooded his face, Frances smiled at him, and said,

"It's good," Frances said smiling at him while hot color flooded Drago’ face. Lifting her glass toward him, she offered a silent toast of gratitude to him.

The gesture thrilled Drago’ immeasurably. Hot with unsatisfied lust, warm with love, he burned in delightful misery throughout the rest of their dinner. They made small talk. He told her about his good old days. But Frances did not hear a word. She kept watching his hands as they played with the bread crumbs on the coffee table near the fireplace, watching his eyes as they sparkled when he laughed: mocking? serious? she could not tell; his lashes as they swept his cheeks when he looked down. Drago' lower lip was full and curved down at one end, so that he always had a sort of wry look about him, ready to smile or grimace. His jaw was square, and he worked it when he was silent as though he were chewing his thoughts. Frances tried hard not to think what his mouth would feel like on her mouth. . .on her breast and nipples. . .on her pussy or what his massive black hands would feel on her body. She began playing with her bread crumbs.

"Canada isn't the same anymore," he was saying. He had put his in a pile, brushing them together.

"Why is that?" she forced herself to respond. She did the same with hers.

"Things aren't as much fun. I don't know. Maybe I'm just older or perhaps alone. Maybe I have to find somebody." As Drago said it, he looked at her. Their eyes caught. He reached over and brushed her crumbs onto his. Frances was helping him put the piles together. Their fingers touched.

"You sometimes have to look for it. . .get it to have it," she said, and reddened.

"More wine?" Their hands pulled apart as Drago reached for the bottle and they both sighed.

"I don't know. I feel bent out of shape. Maybe I'm just older. Or maybe it's the business tilt," he said.

"All right. What's the business tilt? "Have I got it yet?"" she giggled. Drago explained it to her. Frances laughed. It was not that she had forgotten how funny and sexy he was. It was just that she had not allowed herself to remember.

"No, and I hope you don't. You have too pretty a neck to have it ruined that way."

Frances could feel her face flush and her pulse beat a little faster. Her lips had gone dry. She licked them; again slowly, deliberately, if not, provocating. She tried not to smile, but heard herself giggling again. She did not know what to say.

"You're terrible," she said. He laughed.

"Have you got it?"

"Got it?"

"The tilt."

"Only when I talk to you. "I surely will miss you," she finally said while blushing. They were both concentrating very hard on his wine pouring. She wondered if his heart was pounding the way hers was. Drago look at her intently.

"Is. . .is your marriage satisfactory?"

"I. . . .I think so."

"Do you miss him?"

"Miss who? My family?"

"No. Him. You're husband."

"Yes. . .but not every time."

"Have you called him up?"

"No."

"Have you emailed him?"

"Yes." A pause. They were sitting facing each other by the fireplace in Drago' house and for the first time.

"What do you tell him?"

"I tell him I miss him," Frances lied weakly and blushing slightly. Drago did not press her for more, sensing that here they were on dangerous ground. As their present relationship stood, her husband did not exist, and it was unfair to bring him into the conversation, to remind her that she was another man's wife, to reawaken the sense of guilt or at least confusion that she must surely feel. Drago sensed it again as he bent to kiss her goodnight to take her back to the hotel, felt it in the warm grasp of her hand on his arm as she stood up.

"You're a very patient man, Drago."

"I love being with you, that's all."

"I'm not fair to you."

"Just be fair to yourself, Frances."

"I'm trying to be fair to my husband, too."

"Which husband? The man who does not exist now or the man who only exist when you wish so?" Drago could not help saying it. Frances did not answer immediately and Drago was afraid he'd spoken coarsely.

"I'm sorry if I said something wrong," he muttered, and took her unresisting into his arms. Frances was crying softly and Drago felt her tears against his cheeks, but then she drew back.

“You thought I don't feel something for you Drago? How little you know me, after all!" Again, Frances moved close to Drago, his lips in her warm soft hair, her arms tightening around him, as though all at once the floodgates of her emotion had broken and every pent-up desire and secret of her innermost self was pouring through.

"My marriage has nothing to do with it, not now Drago! I. . .I want you to take me. . .possess me. . .make love to me. . .fuck me. . .whatever you want to do with my body. Don't you know that. . .I. . .I lie awake dreaming of you each night. . .desiring you. . .wanting to open myself to you. . .wanting to surrender my body and soul to you. . .and dreaming of taking you all the way deep inside me, after so long. . .after so long!" Frances murmured through her tears while pulling back her head and staring at Drago in the eyes.

Drago took both of her hands with her confession. Then, he suddenly broke off the embrace. Frances stood puzzled

"And will you take me now?" Drago said softly. With tears still in her eyes, Frances also took a step back away from him. Then standing before him, she slowly bared her body to him as she took off her clothes slowly and deliberately, one by one. Drago did not move as he watched her undress quietly. Finally, totally naked, except for the sapphire necklace around her delicate neck, Frances whispered:

"Oh, yes...please, please!" She cupped her breasts in both hands and walked toward Drago as if she held offerings for a god's gratification. Then Drago took both of her hands as they stood near the fireplace, this woman who in one moment, with total unexpectedness, after weeks of withholding herself, had suddenly become another identity. Frances began to speak but he stopped the flooding words with his mouth, ran his hands hungrily down her back, over her whole body he had coveted for so long, felt her give and sway against him, almost swooning as his fingers closed on the rich weight of her buttocks, felt them yield and surrendered to his touch. They were both panting, breathless, as their mouths parted.

"Ahhh. . .so good, so good. . .if you knew what your hands mean to me, like waking me from sleep, like raising a dark curtain that had been between us since the first time we met," Frances whispered. Breaking off her tight embrace, Drago deliberate took off his clothes, baring his ebony body and his massive manhood before her fascinated gaze.

"You're beautiful! You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. You are like a Greek god," she said quietly with her eyes fixed on his erect cock.

"No. You are the goddess."

Seeing him in his naked godly glory, with his immense and mighty 10-inch ebony cock throbbing high up in the air, Frances instinctively approached him; her eyes still locked on his glistening and menacing manhood. But then, Drago raised his hand, signaling her to stop.

"No. Not yet!"

"Why Drago? What is it?", she whined as she looked up at Drago' face.

"Beg for me!" he commanded, like a master to a slave; now confident with the knowledge that Frances wanted him so badly; aching madly for his body particularly his ebony cock.

"Drago. . .please. . .please. . .please!" she whimpered.

"Beg me!" Drago ordered her harshly. With a bewildered look in her face, Frances knelt down in supplication before a naked Drago.

"Please, Drago! Please! Please. . .",she begged like a slave to a master. Then, with the compassion of a lord, Drago beckoned her to stand up and come to him. Submissively, Frances rose and advanced towards him. Drawing near, Frances then pressed her warm breasts up against Drago' bare chest. With Drago standing rigidly, unmoving and silently, she then proceeded to kiss him passionately, her tongue exploring his warm mouth while all the while she stroked his cock. Drago again broke off her advance. Puzzled, she looked at him with all the affection, and whispered pleadingly.

"Drago. Please let me worship you. . .like a god. I want to adore you. I want to be submissive to you. Always. Forever."

"Then you know what to do," Drago hissed. Again, Frances knelt down on her knees in front of Drago, her mouth so close to his cock; her hands cupping his buttocks.

"It's so beautiful," Frances murmured, her face almost almost touching his cock. Drago then placed his hands on the back of her head. But Frances did not need any guidance. She knew her duty. Knowingly, she then reached behind him to hold his ass as she wantonly wrapped his cock with her loving mouth, smothering his big, long, black cock with her luscious lips, sliding them up and down until he became very hot. Frances continued to suck him while her hands endlessly explored his balls and the sensitive area between them and his ass. Then after wetting her finger with saliva, she inserted it gently into his ass and moved it in and out.

"Frances, it's so good!" After what seemed like several wonderful hours, Frances released his cock and slid his tongue down the shaft until she reached his balls. As she licked and sucked the soft skin of his magnificent cock, Drago's hips started thrusting forward, faster and faster. Like a slave, Frances allowed him to fuck her in the mouth; delighting in the fact that she was being treated like a pussy. . .a slut. . .a bitch. . .a consummate woman. She then sat him on the sofa, continuing to fondle his balls while she put his cock back into her warm, hungry mouth; suckling like a hungry baby on a mother's breast. Finally, releasing his captive cock in her mouth, she looked up gently but wantonly at Drago' agonized faced.

"Come in my mouth. Fill me with your love," Frances begged Drago over and over as she coaxed his cock into ecstasy, teasing him by holding the blood-swelled head inches from her mouth. Then wrapping it again lovingly in her mouth.

"Please Drago feed me with your come! Please!" Then, she gave his cock one last caressing kiss, Drago started coming, shooting thicks glob of his cum into her hungry mouth. Like a slave who has not eaten for many days, Frances covered his cock with her mouth, swallowing his cum, until the tempo of hip thrust slowed, until not a drop came out of his mighty proud black cock.

Still kneeling, Frances, her lips glistening with his cum with some dripping out of her mouth, she looked up lovingly at Drago.

"I love you!"

"I love you, too," he whispered as he pulled her up to kiss her. They kissed passionately, with Drago tasting his own cum. Hungrily, he too licked his cum off her face and then kissed her passionately.

"Frances, let me worship you too like a goddess."

"Yes, Drago. I belong to you now. I'm all yours. You own me now. Do whatever you want to do with me."

With that, Drago laid her on her back. Like a hungry predator, his tongue and lips started to lick, suck and explore the folds and lips of her womanhood. He had a special talent for sliding his tongue in and out of her pussy while his lips caressed her clitoris. Frances could not contain the pleasure she felt. She could only feel that her body was on fire. Rather, she could only hold his head tightly pressed to her longing pussy; after what seems to be like eternity. Then, she suddenly felt her body on fire and she finally reached a climax that shook her from head to toe. With her almost endless spasms of pleasures, Frances could only call out his name in submission and in gratitude while Drago relished her honey.

Satiated and strengthened by her love juice, Drago gently took her nipples between his fingers and began rolling and pulling them in slow, alternating circles. Her eyes fluttered and a spasm rocked her body again. Sensing her physical resistance ebb further, he pushed her backward onto the bed and slid his knee between her legs, placing it easily against the softness of her vulva, which lay vulnerably exposed. As he pulled the tender flesh of her nipples, Frances unabashly grounded her pussy against his knee. The lips of her vagina parted, and the wetness of her love juices soon covered his leg. The more force he applied with his knee, the harder Frances grounded herself against him. All resistance to his advances had been replaced by the need to satisfy her desires. Drago could feel her legs drawing him to her, urging him to enter her. Frances moaned as she could no longer bear the sensation.

"Drago, please enter me now. . .please. . .I need you deep inside me!"

"Not yet."

"Drago. . . ."

Kneeling quickly between her legs, he spread her labia and forcefully squeezed the hood of her clitoris, pulling it up and down over the wet, swollen head of her clitoris. Frances responded immediately, opening her legs wide open to him, moaning and whimpering with each stroke and pinching her own nipples between her long fingers. Without interrupting his work on her clitoris, he slid the index finger of his left hand into the pink wetness of her vagina, causing Frances to moan loudly. Slowly, he rimmed the opening, pulling at the tight muscles that guarded her womanhood. A second finger followed. His strong fingers pushed into her warm flesh and penetrated up to the third knuckle. He felt her muscles relax slightly. His fingers slid in and out rhytmically, pulling at her inner lips. The added penetration of his penetration was beginning to bring Frances to orgasm, and he slowed the attention he was giving her clitoris in order to prolong her vulnerability.

Her building physical excitement provided copius amounts of pussy juice. No longer able to restrain himself, he spread and pushed his fingers alternately until the breath of his third knuckle was surrounded by the stretched muscles of her cunt.

"Oh...please....more!" moaned Frances. He began to suck her now enlarged clitoris into his mouth. Her Poison-scented pussy plus the pungent aroma of her secretions were more than he could bear. Her body trembled with excitement as Drago continued eating her. Shudders of ecstasy filled her body and she was quickly on her way to orgasm again.

"Oh, stop! Oh Drago I'm going to come again!" Frances gasped. She started to wrench her head from side to side in delirious ecstasy.

"Drago!" Shuddering, gasping, she screamed as she came, clutching Drago' head between her quivering thighs as his tongue and mouth kept it up, drinking her juice. Shaking violently as her orgasm came, she lost all sense of where she was and who she was.

He raised his head to watch her lovely face express total abandonment to his control while her vagina opened completely, while the series of pulsing contractions began to fade with her moans. With glazed eyes, Frances looked up to him.

"Drago, please fuck me. . .I need your cock deep inside me. Please!" She was almost in tears. Drago strong hand cupped her breast, cupping its fullness.

"Did you ask for me?" he asked her softly.

"Yes, darling." But Drago was not satisfied with her acceptance.

"Beg for me bitch as I have begged for you in my heart and loins for so long." Frances looked up at him.

"Please, Drago, please. Give me your cock, please! Fuck me please! Please fuck me now!"

"Oh, yes, Frances. Yes, my love." Drago cupped her buttocks, lifted her legs around her neck and entered her slowly not wanting to hurt her with his ten inches of manhood. As he entered her, Frances could only moan his name with mix pleasure and pain as Drago eased his cock very slowly into her; stopping from time to time to let her adjust to the girth of his mighty black cock. To Frances, the penetration seemed like eternity. She felt too that she could not take him all inside her, much as she wanted to. But then, she did when she felt that his cock seemed to strike her very heart and let out a long moan. As Drago managed to put all his cock deep inside her, Frances came again. Drago could only watch Frances shake her head in pleasure from side to side, all the while moaning his name endlessly.

"I love you the way I always wanted to love a woman. You belong to me now. You are now my woman…my bitch…my whore!" said Drago. He was in her, very deep.

"Yes. I'm yours now. . .always. . .forever."

“Tell my you are my slut! Tell me that you are my whore now!”

“Drago! I am your slut! Your whore! Your slave! I am yours!”And Frances abandoned herself to his black strength and then countered with her own way she had always instinctively known to respond with another man. But then, Drago promptly pulled out his cock. He could feel Frances' resistance.

"Drago, please don't!" With his cock finally out of her pussy, Drago said:

"Tell me you belong to me."

“Drago, I belong to you now. Can't you see that you own me? That I am yours? Your slave?" she moaned.

With that Drago, entered her again. Very slowly. Inching his cock. Frances could only close her eyes and let out a long, low moan again as his long, black cock pierced her deeply again. She felt her lungs congest. He was so huge, so long and so powerful. She again felt so afraid that she could not take him all. But again, she was able to. And doing so, she squeezed and stroked his cock with her pussy, allowing him to enter her further deeply. She felt what seems to be a hot steel deep inside her womb. She felt she was going to die, feeling pain and pleasure all at once as she felt his cock go down deep inside her again very slowly. She thought the probing of his cock will never end. Her legs wrapped around him tightly.

Then he was all the way inside her and for a long moment was still. She felt the tingling reach up into her belly. Slowly he began to move, gently at first with long smooth strokes which made Frances moan, then picking up tempo, until he was slamming into her like a triphammer. With each thrust, Frances could only moan and utter small whimpers: "Oh Drago...Oh Drago..."

Finally, she will take it no more.

"Stop! Drago, please, stop!" she cried. His body came to a rest against her; he was still hard inside her. Frances looked up at him. In the light of the fireplace, the fine patina of sweat covering his face and chest glowed copper.

"Are you all right, darling? "Would you like me to fuck you some more?" She nodded her head slowly.

"Yes but slowly. Love me with your cock," Frances said softly.

Anybody would have agreed that it was a beautiful sight: Brown on black becoming one. Frances felt that even if her husband saw them, he would not have noticed them, for she felt her body one with Drago’. Frances was on the bottom, lying on her back with her eyes closed, her short black hair touching the floor, her legs spread wide and held high with her toes pointed to the ceiling. She was sighing softly and edging her hips forward as the broad-shouldered powerfully built black Drago who hovered over her was penetrating her with a penis that in the firelight looked like a big, long burning rivet. It was a sight so stunning as their illicitly interlocked bodies moved in the changing light amid the crackling sounds of burning logs. It was a sight that Frances thought her husband would have love until he would recognized the familiar shape of her thighs and see the big, black, long and powerful penis oozing in and out of her pussy, provoking her pleasurable sighs and pounding back her buttocks.

Slowly, with sensuous twitchings and murmurings, the lovers subsided out of the giant stride of fucking until they lay still and exhausted. Drago tried to roll off her, but Frances' body crept after him, not wanting to let go of his cock. Frances shuddered as she pressed hard against his long, hairless ebony body, keeping his still hard cock inside her; she felt all pussy now, so sensitive and alive to his living, sensitive flesh.

Frances and Drago lay glued together, illicit passion slowly ebbing to a tender residue of completion. After a time, Frances lifted her head to gaze into his face still taking his cock in her pussy. Her eyes were seeing, her mouth tender.

"You were so good to me. I love you, Drago. I want you close to me. . .deep inside me. Always. . ."" she said, finding it necessary to whisper the words because they were so fraught with great love and lust. Frances placed a fingertip on his mouth, traced the softened line of his lip. She leaned to kiss him, her mouth softer than his. She could taste the smell of her pussy; it excited her, faintly but warmly, as it gave her the immediate sensory memory of what he had done to her with his mouth. Then Drago had to ask.

"Are you really glad we fucked? Do you want me to fuck you always?"

Frances laid her cheek on his chest, seeking the wiry brush of hairiness against her skin. She moved one hand to his crotch, to cradle warmly his still erect cock, his balls with his cock still deeply inside her.

"Yes. I love you. I love your...your cock, your balls, I love everything about you, your mouth, your cock, your cum and all. Take me again, Drago. Fuck me again."

Drago smiled and he put his hand on her pussy to begin again the joyous fucking. Drago stood up, and pulling out his cock inside her, and pulled her up. Standing close to each other, "I love you Frances," he said. Frances felt his warmth flowing into her, as she clung to him. His hard cock poked against her belly. Frances' hand dropped to encircle him again. He was still hard and moist in her fingers.

"Drago! Drago!" she cried. Drago stared into her eyes for a long moment.

"I want to fuck you on my bed."

Then lifting her under the arms, he raised her into the air before him. Automatically, her legs widened encircling his waist tightly, then slowly lowered her onto him. It seemed as if, he were thrusting a burning rod into her heart. Still standing, still holding her, he began to move slowly inside her.

The Morning After

There were faint bruised on her breasts where Drago had squeezed and sucked them, but they could not be seen in dim light, and in the daytime a little body makeup would cover them. She placed her hand on her pubis and gently parting the soft black hair, examined herself critically. Her pussy felt heavy and swollen and seemed slightly red and irritated. A faint tingling went through her as she thought how Drago had fucked her with his magnificent 10-inches of manhood, how she felt so full with his cock all night long, in her pussy or in her mouth. Always, she remembered that his majestic and imperial cock was always inside her, flooding her with his cum. She could still taste him for she cannot remember the number of times he fed her with his semen into her hungry mouth. Nor could count the number of many times Drago came deeply inside her greedy pussy. She never dreamed that she could take all of his mighty cock inside her...in her pussy...or in her mouth. She never dreamed that that her pussy overflowed with his cum or that she could eat a lot of semen. She could never dream that she could cum as many times as she had with Drago. But she did. With Drago. Not with her husband. Or with any other man or lover. And she did likewise never saw Drago' cock grow limp from all their love-making. Rather she always saw him hot and hard. So hard but gratifying; so unmerciful but so overflowing with cum; so untiring and unrelentless but caring.