Prakash had really given her the workout she needed. All day she had felt the heat in her choot building. She had felt the wetness of her pussy as she...had walked around thinking of…. Haresh.It had all begun several years earlier, on a family holiday to Goa’s famous beaches.As she and Prakash had sat under a beach umbrella, watching semi clad foreigners trot by, she had wandered ridiculously what their parents would think, especially of the girls with nothing but a thread between their buttocks. ’ A long pause before she broke the seriousness. ‘If you really loved me,’ she pouted, ‘you’d go and make me a bacon sandwich … I’m starving.’ He laughed then and reached for his dressing gown that was hanging from the door. ‘And a nice cup of tea …’ he heard her call as he went downstairs towards the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water after putting the bacon on to grill. The aroma soon wafted around the room and his mouth watered with anticipation. Soon after he was climbing the stairs. Mind you all young men of that age seem nice looking to me nowadays. I liked the attention and I have to admit I enjoyed the idea of him fancying me. That is more of a turn on than my hubby’s fantasies. The young man looked at me and smiled but I didn’t return the favour and I moved away. I told my husband all this and asked him what he thought. He didn’t say much but he did ask me if I enjoyed the unexpected attention and I admitted to him it was flattering and nice. But I then took control of. “Oh yeah?”“When I’m fantasizing about being with a black man.”“Ha! Sounds like this has been pent up for a while”“It has.”Robert grinned, gripping my ass, sucking my tits, “Good. Enough talking. Ride that dick.”****“Oh fuck!” the hours went by as I fucked that black man’s brains out. Up and down I’d bounce his big cock. He’d watch me, smiling at me, slapping my ass, encouraging me. “Fuck yes!” I’d scream in Robert’s apartment. I never, ever, had sex with my husband, like I did with a black man..