Black Coffee In Bed

Training courses can be rather tedious affairs. Our professional body insists that we attend at least three days of training a year, and they are usually on rather dry subjects. However, the advantage is that you get to travel to a city and get a couple of nights away with no real pressure.

So I journeyed to Leeds one Wednesday afternoon feeling relaxed and wondering how I could avoid the next day’s lectures on international money laundering.  I checked into my hotel and, after slinging my suitcase on the bed, headed down to the bar to see if there was anyone else I knew in there. In fact, the bar was almost empty except for one woman I did recognise. 

She was a very good-looking Afro-Caribbean lady, aged around 30, whom I remembered had been brought up in Australia and had the accent to match. She was dressed in a smart business suit and I did notice her hair was somewhat longer than the last time I’d seen her. I also remembered that she had recently started her own business after having worked with a major player in our field for several years. She was also, I had heard, engaged to a musician in quite a well-known band

I remembered she had a reputation for being rather aloof and stand-offish and rarely socialised with others. What I could not, for the life of me, remember was her name.

She looked up when I walked in and said “hello”.  I went over to shake her hand and asked if she’d had a good journey. She sat down and indicated for me to do the same. She seemed very uptight and I wondered if I had disturbed her.  A waiter came over and I asked if I could get her a drink. I noticed she had an almost empty glass of orange juice in front of her. She nodded and I said “I’m having white wine. Care to join me?” She hesitated and then seemed to relax a bit and said “Why not?” I ordered a bottle of pinot noir.

We chatted about the forthcoming course and about the profession in general and then, suddenly, I remembered her name was Stephanie. As we chatted, I topped our glasses up from time to time.  The more she drank, the more relaxed she became, to the extent that she started to smile and even chuckle at my somewhat irreverent comments on some of our contemporaries and our professional body.

An hour passed very quickly, and I was actually enjoying myself. Stephanie was actually rather good company and I put her presumed aloofness down to perhaps nothing more than shyness.  In fact, I became emboldened and asked her if she was dining in the hotel. She was, and we agreed to eat together. I called the waiter over and booked a table for 7.00pm and ordered another bottle of wine.

We downed that quite quickly and it started to dawn on me that Stephanie was becoming ever-so-slightly drunk. Now this was a surprise.

We left the bar at 6.00pm to get ready for dinner, and met again 45 minutes later in the bar. Now I was a little shocked. The sober business suit had gone, and had been replaced by a blouse with perhaps one button too many undone and an extremely short (but obviously very expensive) skirt and the brightest red high heels which I quickly noticed were Louboutin’s.

Dinner was actually a hoot and we were getting on like a house on fire. I decided to try my luck and asked if she would like to go out in the city to check out the nightlife. I was expecting to be rebuffed but she actually seemed very keen on the idea. 

Two bars and a nightclub later and there was no doubt at all that Stephanie was drunk.  Proof, if proof be needed, occurred around 1.00am when I was leaning in close to talk to her over the music and she kissed me. Shortly afterwards, we were walking back to the hotel. Well, I was walking, and Stephanie was slightly staggering so that I had to put my arm around her wait to steady her. 

I had already discovered we were staying on the same floor and I knew we would reach my room first.  When we got there, I said I’d walk her along to her room. She giggled, and said she would come into my room for a coffee. 

No sooner had we got inside when she started kissing me again. I slid my hand up her skirt and was soon rubbing her clit over her panties.  She pulled away, turned to the bed, and got onto it. However, she did not lay down, but stayed on all fours with her ass towards me.  I needed no further encouragement.  I lifted her skirt up and pulled down her thong to her knees. Undoing my trousers, and pulling down my shorts, I entered her from behind.  With each thrust, she was rocking back hard, so that my cock was penetrating deep inside her.  When I approached climax, I pulled out and pushed the head of my rod into the rosebud of her ass. It opened as if by magic and I needed no lubrication as I pushed into her. She squealed and gasped “Yes. Fuck me hard” and I did, shooting my load inside her very tight ass.

Spent, I collapsed on the bed and she twisted round to lie next to me. “That was great!” she said and I slid my hand inside her blouse, which she proceeded to unbutton further.  She had fantastic breasts; small but firm with dark black nipples that stood erect like little thimbles. I could not resist giving them a pinch, which Stephanie clearly liked. 

I finished undressing her, and then undressed myself, before pulling the duvet over us.  I was very soon asleep, the combination of good wine and fucking great sex. The next thing I knew I was being pulled awake by Stephanie who was stood there stark naked with a cup of coffee, saying “Wake up! I want to talk”. I looked at the clock … it was 4.30am

And talk we did … until breakfast time, in fact.  OK, there was the odd time when passion got the best of us and I spent some time tonguing her clit through a thick mass of wiry black hair, and clamping my teeth around those fabulous nipples, and she gave me head. But on the whole we talked, and in those three hours grew a friendship that remains to this day.

We sat next to each other during the lectures, and had coffee together. When I went to the rest room, George (a pal from way back) followed me and asked “Have you shagged her?”  I replied with a smile, which told him all he needed to know.

That was five years ago. Stephanie is married now, but that hasn’t stopped us enjoying each other whenever we are on the same course …. Something that happens … ooh …. three times a year!