At twenty-three I’d accomplished my goal. After a five-year grind—four to get my degree plus an internship to satisfy all requirements—I was a fully licensed CPA.

I was ready to celebrate.

Having been raised in the Catholic Church, I’d experienced the full indoctrination. I was the quintessential good Catholic girl. I did stray a bit. Lost my virginity at twenty—that was a hard bridge to cross—with a few boyfriends here and there. My no first or second date sex rule probably hindered that a bit. As did not doing oral sex. I was a rule follower. Father Donovan scared the bejesus out of me—Hell was waiting.

That was all past. Tonight was my night to leave it all behind. To experience what my desires commanded—fucking a BBC. I know I’d watched too much porn, but I was hooked. I wanted what I wanted. Word was I could find it at the Black Knight’s Club. That’s where I was headed.

Before I’d turned off the engine I heard the pounding beat of the music. The decaying siding on the old ramshackle building seemed to vibrate. Colored lights flashed out of the entrance as I approached. Terrified but undaunted, I took a deep breath and entered the unknown.

Facing a U-shaped bar, there were people dancing and mingling on all sides. The DJ, on a raised platform, was just visible, headphones bouncing on her head as she moved to the music. Most everyone was black. There were a few white women—soon to be one more.

A few more steps and I was in the crowd, jostling my way to the bar. Obviously, I’d not made a mistake with my mini skirt and short, braless, camisole. Most of the women were showing even more skin.

The bartender laughed when I ordered a Chardonnay. “Charlie,” a voice next to me said, “get the lady a Margarita and me a beer.” Then turning to me he said, “You do like Margaritas, right?”

“Oh, yes, thanks, ah...”

“Nate, I’m Nate, your host for the evening. And you’re?”

“Mary.”

“You one fine lookin’ woman Mary. If you looking for a good time you came to the right place. Best damn dance club in town.”

“Well, it certainly is a lively crowd, and great music—such a driving beat.” Even though I was extremely nervous, I felt the heat rising between my legs as my anticipation intensified.

The drinks arrived. Nate handed me mine. “Would you like to move around some? Sort of get the lay of the land, so to speak.”

“Sure! Lead on MacDuff.”

“Who’s MacDuff? I’m Nate. Remember?”

Laughing to myself, I said, “Just an expression Nate. I’d love you to show me around.” Off we went.

The old wooden floor was warped in a few places, creaking in others, but obviously could take a pounding. People danced with abandon. Somebody slapped my ass as we were walking. I whipped around but had no idea who it was.

Nate laughed. “You gotta expect that here. These boys love a good lookin’ woman and don’t hesitate to show it. This may not be the place for you if you’re not down. Ya get my meanin’? Things haven’t even gotten hot yet.”

I got his meaning. This was exactly the place for me. Things were getting hot for me. I just had to find my knight for the night.

Nate finished the tour as I finished my drink. Not really much to see. Booths and tables lined the walls. Bathrooms in the rear—I could smell them before I saw them. We were almost back to the bar when a guy grabbed my hand and spun me around.

“Hey baby! I’m Tony. C’mon, let’s dance,” he said as he pulled me into the crowd. I liked his approach, direct. Was he the guy?

“Thanks Nate,” I shouted back as I melted into the moving throng.

Being too loud to talk, I just went with the flow of the music and people. Tony stayed close, his hands even closer, as we boogied and jived to the tunes. The margarita had hit me harder than I expected. Soon, I was twerking Tony—his hands pulling my hips tight to his unmistakably large cock. He’d flipped up my skirt. There was no doubt he wanted what I wanted.

His hands slipped up my body, under my top, finding my nips, squeezing and rolling them. Moaning in desire, I ground ever harder against his cock. My craving was building to a fever pitch. I wanted it.

Before I knew it we were in a booth doing tequila shots. My thong was gone, skirt around my waist. His dick was hanging out, pants around his ankles. Between shots, we were in a twisted tangle. I’d been sucking him and he’d been fingering me.

Suddenly, he pulled up his pants saying, “You wanna fuck, right?”

“Oh god yes!”

“Let’s go!”

“What? Where? Here?”

I was confused, alcohol-dazed, and lusting for his black monster to be buried in me. Pulling me to my feet, he held my hand as I tripped and stumbled my way behind him. That smell hit me. The door faintly displayed, “Men.”

Oh god no, not here. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He pushed me into a stall.

“Grab the tank.”

I did and felt his thick dick rubbing up and down my slit. “Hell yes! I'm aching for your dick!” He began pushing in and slapping my ass. I was being stretched exactly as I’d imagined. It was just like the videos—no, much better. Also, the foul odor had magically vanished—a mind trick.

“That’s it baby, take it!”

His balls slapped me. The fucking started as I held on for dear life and began going outta-my-mind.

“Do it! Fuck my coochie, hard and deep! Yes. Just like that!”

I screamed and shouted as I came several times before feeling his hot spunk fill me. Later, he recounted the clapping and cheers I’d instigated.

Father Donovan was finally vanquished.