Wednesday, January 3, 2024
I was spending New Year’s in London, at my maternal grandmother’s house.
I’d barely arrived and my cousin Diego was already bugging me from Brazil, blowing up my phone with messages. The horny bastard was always curious, wanting to hear about my slutty shit:
“So, bitch, you gotten into any trouble over there yet? Snagged one of those big black guys you love?”
I laughed alone in the room. Even from the other side of the world he didn’t lose interest. Diego knew every filthy corner of my desires and knew exactly the kind of “tourism” I was into: I wanted a real big black guy. Legit African, hung as fuck and rough.
I’d already hunted plenty. Even used Tinder, but no profile caught my eye. None that actually made my pussy throb.
Friday, January 5, 2024
I went out with my cousin Carol to central London. It was fucking freezing. The biting wind mixed with light rain soaked everything, feeling like it was coming up from the ground. We were huddled in our coats, running toward a pub to drink and get out of that rain.
We walked into one that looked pretty lively. The second I opened the door, a warm blast of beer, wet wood, and man smell hit my face. Fuck, that felt good. After that miserable cold outside, the heat of the place wrapped around my whole body like a hot mouth.
Inside it was packed. A bunch of big dudes, a lot of them tall and built, all glued to the huge screen showing a rugby game. Almost nobody noticed when Carol and I walked in. Two women alone, hot, soaked from the rain, surrounded by all that testosterone… and the bastards barely took their eyes off the screen.
My eyes scanned the room slowly, checking each guy out. Until I stopped at a table toward the back. Two black guys. One of them was fucking gorgeous: really tall, looked like a basketball player, broad shoulders and a presence that actually grabbed attention.
My cunt pulsed. I felt heat rush up through my body, imagining those big hands gripping me hard while he fucked me without mercy.
Carol caught my look and nudged my arm, laughing under her breath.
“I know that look… you’re on the hunt, aren’t you, you slut?”
I just smiled. Didn’t even need to answer.
The two guys noticed we were staring. The taller one smiled at me with perfect white teeth and, after a minute, stood up and came over. Up close he was even more imposing. Smelled good, deep voice, and a calm way about him that made me even wetter.
He introduced himself as Lameck and called his friend over, who said his name was Mbadiwe. They were from Zambia. I thought the pronunciation was weird and started calling the guy Mbappé. He laughed and thought it was funny.
We started talking at the bar. They were pretty friendly. Lameck said he wasn’t really into rugby, he was just there to drink. When we told them we were Brazilian, the conversation flowed even better. He got excited talking about Pelé, Neymar, and the Brazilians who played for Arsenal.
When he mentioned “Arsenal,” I let out a loud “NOOOOOOO.” I told him I was a Manchester United fan and that all my uncles and cousins in London were die-hard Arsenal supporters. The rivalry at home had always been huge. He cracked up and said he hated the Manchester teams.
Everybody laughed. The vibe got even lighter and more relaxed. Lameck couldn’t take his eyes off me, and I wasn’t hiding my interest either. After a few drinks and a lot of laughing, I pulled Carol to the bathroom. I needed to know if she was comfortable and willing to go on this adventure with me.
We went down the narrow wooden stairs that creaked with every step. The women’s bathroom in the pub was small, with worn white and green Victorian tiles, old mosaic floor, and dim yellow light that gave everything a kind of shady, almost forbidden feel.
There were only three stalls. I stepped into the middle one, shut the wooden door, and leaned my back against the cold wall. The space was so tight our bodies were almost touching. I looked Carol in the eyes, heart pounding with nerves and lust.
“So? You down?” I asked, biting my lower lip, my voice already hoarse.
Carol stared at me, that smile of someone who knows me better than anyone. She pressed her forehead to mine for a second, laughing softly.
“Fuck, Rafa… you’re something else. Can’t keep that hot pussy of yours under control for even a minute, huh? We just met these guys, you crazy bitch.”
I laughed, running my fingers along her waist, pulling her body lightly against mine. The smell of beer, perfume, and that faint damp scent of an old bathroom mixed together in a way that only made me wetter.
“You think they’re ugly?” I asked, curious, brushing my nose against her neck.
“Yeah… Mbadiwe’s ugly, but he’s got style,” she answered, smirking. “But you’re already melting over Lameck, aren’t you?”
I smiled, not denying it. My hands slid up her back, squeezing lightly.
“I want both of them, Carol. But you don’t have to do anything to please me. If you’re not feeling it, that’s fine.”
Carol looked at me for a few seconds, biting the corner of her lip. She always thinks more than I do.
“Rafa, we barely know these guys…” she said quieter, almost whispering. “Two huge black dudes, we’re in another country, nobody knows where we are… it’s a fucking risk, right?”
I smiled and held her face with both hands.
“I know, babe. But Lameck is so fucking hot. I’m dripping just thinking about it. But if you don’t want to, it’s cool, we’ll leave… I’ll just get their numbers and set something up another day.”
She took a deep breath, leaned her head against the wall, and kept staring at me. I saw the exact moment desire beat out fear.
“Shit, Rafa… you always drag me into these crazy situations,” she said, laughing nervously. “Fine. I’m in.”
We laughed quietly, sealing the deal with a wet, lingering kiss right there in the cramped pub bathroom. When we walked out, my heart was racing and my panties were already soaked through.