After that night on the beach with Jack, Trudy was a different woman. Transformed.
Alive, yes... but also more than that - confident, carefree... even glowing. Cliche I know. Most of all however she was hungry with desire for more... pandoras box had been opened and now the key was being thrown away; the beast had been freed and would not be going back.
Sat in bed the following morning, obviously the conversation was all about the night before and how we both felt now it had happened... very quickly it was obvious that she was already thinking about the next time... wanting it to be soon.
I should not really have been surprised when she said she knew who she wanted to seduce next, and had actually been considering him before Jack came along. My cock paid immediate attention at the thought of another night of watching my wife submit her body to another bull.
I asked the obvious question... "Who"?
"Soloman" she said. The black pool guy. "I want to try my first black cock, another new experience... I need to know if what they say is true."
Now Soloman was a young, athletic, muscular guy who came to the villa 3 days per week to clean the pool. Originally from Morocco and as black as the ace of spades, he had been in Spain for a few months trying to earn some money and better himself; he had told us this when exchanging early pleasantries on his first visit to clean the pool. His English learned at school and college, and practised on tourists.
Trudy said. "I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye when I was sunbathing the other day. I wasn't sure at first, but when I lay on my back, with my knees raised I suddenly realised he was ogling the area between my legs... I was 100% certain when I saw the bulge in his shorts, and he had to turn away to hide it, but not before I got a good idea of the size of him".
"I was going to mention it, but then Jack came along".
She made another confession too, something else she'd "forgotten" to mention. After she had caught him watching her, she had flirted with him a little... did the old "can you rub some more cream on my back" routine.
She had teased him, and asked about girlfriends, or a wife (none of either)... he told her he was just 21, and admitted he liked white girls, apparently all African men love the milky skin of a white woman... a sharp contrast to their blackness; and all have ambitions of sleeping with one... so he told her. While they talked about this, and as he rubbed sun cream in to the same milky skin he was talking about, he had tried his luck a little she now admitted.
She cheekily had asked him if he had achieved the African mans dream... and he told her that he'd had sex with two white teenage holidaymakers (amazingly losing his virginity to the first at 19 according to him)... but that they were drunk, silly girls who would have fucked anything that bought them a drink... too pissed to fully take part in proceedings. A disappointment. These didn't count according to Soloman, who would prefer an older, experienced woman that would appreciate his attentions, and hopefully educate him in the ways of the world given his few experiences so far. As he was explaining this, his hands had wandered, and were now oiling the back of Trudy's thighs... dipping in between her legs, but maintaining a respectful distance from her womanhood. Enough for Trudy to get his drift, but without pushing his luck in case he had read the situation wrong. He did not need the attention of the Spanish authorities for fondling a white woman.
"So" I said... "how we gonna do this, what's the plan"? And we began to plot my wife's first experience of an ethnic dick.
We decided to peak his interest first... a test, or a lure, reel him in a little bit more... get his attention.
We knew what time he arrived on his visits... 0800 on the dot, his first job before the sun got too hot. We could also hear him arrive, as the side gate he used squeaked on its hinges - bone dry in the heat.
So on Monday morning, as he arrived and started to clean the pool, he glanced casually towards the villa and stopped, transfixed at the site of Trudy's naked body, fresh from the shower in the master bedroom. The bedroom was on the corner of the building and could be accessed directly from the pool by double sliding patio doors... although curtained for privacy, one of these doors had been left slightly open on purpose, allowing the narrow view in to the room that Soloman was now drinking in.
Trudy knew he was there. Watching. Wondering. Dreaming. She could see him in the dressing table mirror set to one side of the room. She reached up and tied her hair back, her ample but firm bosom rising up as she did... she put one foot then the other in turn on a stool under the dressing table (her back to the window and to Soloman) while she slowly, and very seductively, rubbed body lotion in to her skin... making her milkyness shimmer and glisten as it moisturised her. By doing so, this also had another bonus for Soloman; because she was leaning forward when reaching for her ankles it afforded him a better view of her soft, fleshy arse and a slight hint of her snatch.
He got a full on view of the slit of her cunt when she bent over double to select her underwear from a drawer at the bottom of the dresser... lingering there on purpose, as if unsure which to chose.
She glanced back and was overjoyed to see his hand was inside his shorts, stroking his cock... and even from that distance it was obvious that one of the rumours about black men was most definitely true in his case.
But today wasn't the day... it was the entree, the foreplay. She dressed as if he wasn't there, and when she stepped outside through the patio, spotted him and spoke to him casually, as he tried his best not to show his guilt at watching her through the window. She had him, and she knew it. Her pussy was getting wet at the thought of what would come next, if all went to plan. Wednesday could not arrive soon enough.
The big day. Men are creatures of habit. Especially men who witnessed something that made them hard. As soon as Solomon arrived on Wednesday morning, his first furtive glance was always going to be toward the bedroom and those windows, desperate for a repeat performance, and hopefully more... obvious psychology.