“The Big Four Ohhh!” is now available. Currently only available on Smashwords, it will start to filter through to other retailers over the next few days/weeks. But why wait, right? Go grab your copy now.
Here’s the cover, blurb and, exclusively, a short excerpt from the first chapter (Which is for adults only, of course).
When Dave Cartwright sees an ad in the local newspaper offering twenty-seven inches of Prime British Beef, it plants the seed of an idea which leads to a unique celebration his wife’s upcoming fortieth birthday and a night that neither one of them will ever forget.
Excerpt from Chapter One.
“So, Dave, what you getting the missus for her birthday? It’s a big one this year ain’t it?”
“How do you know Ruth’s birthday is coming up?”
“’Cause it’s the first of July. And every July for the past ten years you’ve whined like a bitch about not knowing what to get her. Plus, well, Sue mentioned it. It is a big one this year, right?”
I nodded. “Forty.”
Jack sucked in air through his teeth, a technique I’d never mastered. But then, he fixed the cars and I only sold them. We were best friends—as were our wives— and ours was a joint business venture that had worked well over the years.
“Forty’s a tough one. I remember last year when Sue turned forty. You’ve got to be careful. Can’t be something that makes her feel old, but also not something that insults her by treating her like she’s still in her twenties or something. I don’t envy you this year mate, I really don’t.”
“Thanks. That’s… that’s helpful.”
“That’s me. Helpful ‘til the end.” He smirked and walked off to check on one of the cars in the workshop.
The thing was, Jack was right. It was going to be incredibly hard to buy the right gift for Ruth’s fortieth birthday. It had to be something special to mark the milestone, but she’d also made it very clear that she wasn’t looking forward to hitting said milestone. I got the distinct impression that she felt like her life would suddenly be over when the clock stuck midnight and the date ticked over to Saturday July 27th 2013.
I didn’t understand it. I hadn’t made this much of a fuss last October.
She had this crazy idea that women in their forties ceased to be attractive. Which is obviously nonsense. Just look at the long, long list of pop stars and actresses who still looked great at that age. Not to mention some of the women we got in the garage looking to get their car fixed or replaced. But Ruth wouldn’t have it. Forty was over the hill. Period.
Case in point. This coming weekend we had been invited to a barbeque at her boss’ house and last night she’d been looking through her wardrobe for something to wear.
“This is crazy, there’s nothing. Nothing at all. I’ll have to go shopping one night this week.”
“Your wardrobe is already stuffed full.”
“Yes, but half of this will have to go to the charity shop. Look at it. I don’t know why I bought most of it. It’s either for work, which would make me look old and frumpy if I wore it on Saturday, or for someone half my age and everyone would think I was mutton dressed as lamb! Look at it!” She pulled one of the offending garments out and held it up for my inspection. A pale yellow, knee-length summer dress.
“I love that dress on you. It’s sexy, but not too sexy.”
“Exactly! It’s sexy. It’s for young sexy women, not old hags like me.”
I got up off the bed, where I’d been lying reading a book on my iPad. “Listen, Sweetheart, you’re not old and you’re not a hag. You’re beautiful and smart and sexy as hell. And that dress looks fabulous on you.”
“It used to! When I was younger!”
“It still does,” I said, as calmly as I could. “It still looks fabulous, because you look fabulous.”
She smiled. “Liar,” she said softly.
“I’m not lying.”
“I know. But just because you believe what you say doesn’t make you right. Just because you think I’m sexy, doesn’t mean I am. You’re supposed to think that way. It’s your job as a husband.”
“And it’s an easy job because you are beautiful and sexy. And if you wear that dress right there then every man at the barbeque will be jealous because you’re with me not them.”
She looked down at the floor. “I’m too old to be sexy. I’m going to be forty. Forty!”
So there was my problem, how to celebrate the milestone of turning forty in a way that told her she was still sexy and desirable (and not just to me) but didn’t patronise her by treating her like someone ten or twenty years younger.
For a split second, my mind went to that advert I’d cut from the newspaper. But only for a split second.
“Ohhh, it’s so big! So big. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck.” She was a little louder than usual, but still not exactly what you’d call loud. The kids were staying with their grandparents for the weekend again and we’d taken the opportunity to get a little more adventurous than usual in the bedroom. Presently I was hammering her from behind with my big cock. My big black cock.
Yep, we were in fantasy mode and I was playing the role of her black stud. I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind at all. I actually loved fucking her doggie-style, it was one of my favourite positions. I loved to see my cock disappearing into her moist snatch. But we did it that way so rarely these days because it’s one thing to tell the kids Mommy and Daddy were just having a cuddle when I’m lying on top of her under the covers (and so they can’t see the ins and outs of what’s going on), but it would be a bit harder to explain why I’m banging away at her like a bitch and slapping her arse.
Of course, another reason I enjoyed this particular role-play was—
“Are you going to stick your big dick in my arse, you bastard? My husband always wants to fuck me in the arse, but I never let him. Only you. Only you, you big black stud.”
Yep, I enjoyed this role-play a lot.
Twenty minutes later, sweaty and exhausted, we lay on the bed in post-coital afterglow. I was on my back and she was on her side next to me with one arm and one leg draped over me as spunk dribbled out of her abused anus.
“You know,” she said, “we need to make the most of the next couple of weeks.”
“Well, we can’t keep doing this after my birthday, can we?”
“Why the hell not?”
“I’ll be forty!” she said with a tone that told me I was stupid for not knowing that.
“Oh, come off it,” I said. “Turning forty doesn’t mean you can’t have sex.”
“No. But you can’t have wild sex the way we just did—even when the kids are out of the house.”
“Why not? Don’t they say that women truly reach their sexual peak at around the age of forty? You telling me you can’t have wild sex when you’re at your sexual peak?”
“That’s rubbish. That whole sexual peak thing. It’s made up by middle-aged women desperate to hold on to their youth instead of growing old gracefully.”
“Even though all the studies that say that were done by men?”
“Then it’s just middle-aged men trying to get their wives to give it up a bit more and be a bit more adventurous in the bedroom.”
We went quiet for a while. She traced her fingernail around one of my nipples and I gently ran a finger up and down her spine.
“You really get off on this whole black-cock fantasy, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “You never complain.”
“No, I’m not complaining. Just…. I mean… Would you ever consider it? For real I mean?”
“Because of the race thing?”
“No! Because I’m with you.”
“But if you weren’t with me. Or… I don’t know… If I gave you permission or something? No comebacks. No recriminations.”
It was a few very long seconds before she answered. “I don’t know. Probably. Maybe. No. No, I couldn’t do that to you.”
“What about the other big fantasy of yours? The more-than-one thing?”
She shrugged again. “Would you be there? Would you be one of them?”
“If you wanted me to.”
Her eyes said yes but her mouth said, “No. No I couldn’t.”
We went quiet again. It was just after nine and had only just gotten dark outside. We’d been at the barbeque until almost eight and yes, Ruth had worn the yellow summer dress that she’d been adamant she couldn’t wear and yes, she had got a lot of admiring glances from the men there. Men of all ages. Including a couple of thickly built black guys that were serving the drinks and canapés. That was probably the reason we’d raced home as soon as it was polite to reasonably do so and spent the rest of the evening acting out Ruth’s black-cock fantasy.
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to say anything to anyone?”
She nodded. Then a few seconds later said, “Sue’s done it with a black guy.”
“What? Sue? Jack’s Sue? Jesus? Does he know? Is that why you made me promise—”
“Shh. Dave, shush.” She held a finger to my lips. “Jack knows. In fact, Sue said that Jack set it up for her.”
“What? Why…? How come he never told me that?”
“Have you ever told him about any of the things we do?”
“Fair point. But… I mean… How come she told you? Is this a ‘girls tell each other everything’ thing?”
“No, nothing like that. She only told me the other week and she did it ages ago. We were talking about birthdays. My birthday. And she admitted that for her fortieth Jack arranged for the two of them to meet up with this black guy through some website or other and they spent the afternoon and evening fucking the living daylights out of her.”
“She even showed me pictures. I hope her phone never gets stolen because if it does there’ll be photos of her sucking and getting fucked by a big black cock all over the internet. And I do mean big. The damn thing was huge. I surprised it was able to fit. In her mouth or in her—”
She shrugged again. “Just telling you what I saw. Anyway, it’s one thing for me to say I would go ahead and fuck someone else, but what about you? Do you think you could cope with me fucking another man? A black man? A black man with a huge cock? How would you feel seeing me split in two by nine inches of fuck-stick?”
She smiled coyly, snaked a hand down my body and wrapped her fingers around my fuck-stick which, remarkably given our earlier activities, had begun to re-harden.
“Hmm, feels like someone’s excited. You know, I don’t think I’m the only one who likes the idea of me getting fucked by a big black cock.” She lifted her head from my chest and moved lower, ready to take me in her mouth. “Think you’ve got another one in you? For me? You big black stud, you.”