Size Queen Wife, Chapter 7: Oral Fixation free porn video

In the aftermath of her intense masturbation session with the new BBC dildo, Karen unexpectantly found herself feeling all the sappy emotions of a woman infatuated. The long black shaft that penetrated deep inside her married pussy had the impact of Cupid’s arrow. Her mood was buoyant and giddy, she had energy like a teenager, and she spent many hours daydreaming amorous scenarios involving her fantastically hung “lover”, even though he was only a realistic-looking, enormous, chocolate-colored sex toy. 

Was it possible to have feelings for a disembodied cock? What if the cock was world-class and modeled from a gorgeous, very real and very much alive young stud?

She pictured herself and the porn star on whom the toy was molded, (“Mr. XL” according to the packaging’s photo caption), traveling to far-flung and exotic locations, making love by moonlight on a beach, exploring each other’s bodies without shame or anxiety. At posh restaurants, other women would glare, envying the prize of such a young and handsome sex partner.

Sometimes the fantasies were darker. In anonymous hotel rooms, Mr. XL would force her to wear a leather dog collar and crawl around naked, cruelly denying her his cock until she begged long and submissively enough.

Or maybe he’d dress her up like a French maid to serve drinks and snacks when his friends came over to watch football. She wouldn’t be wearing panties, so the boys—all black, hot, and hung, obviously—could randomly fondle, caress, stroke, and finger her ass and pussy while she performed waitress duties…the night would end in a gangbang, with Karen the center of attention.

All those throbbing black cocks, pumping huge loads of creamy white jism all over her body, so much cum, covering her breasts, her hair, her face…her excited pussy vibrated to the images…

But images only, never reality. So long as the perversions stayed locked inside her head, she could forestall the Catholic guilt that had tortured her since young ebony bodies became her obsession. The married mother of two resolved to gather all her extramarital lust for big black cock and seclude it in a walled-off garden of masturbatory fantasy that would remain private to all, even her husband.

Of course, cultivating, watering, and tilling this garden was essential, or it might fail to keep the horny wife’s raging libido imprisoned. Mindful of this, she researched Mr. XL online, seeking real-life details to flesh out her dream lover and his magnificent prick.

Using anonymous Twitter and Instagram accounts to stalk her prey, Karen learned:

He was twenty-seven years old, 6’2”, 225 lbs., all ebony muscle. Following service in the Air Force, he worked a corporate job but quit after realizing he could make better money as a male stripper. He traveled the country, and sometimes the world, exposing himself to crowds of horny women. Many pics featured him surrounded by lust-crazed ladies, their hands fondling his dark muscled flesh and giving him wads of cash.

Stripping led to modeling—not all of it pornographic. His Instagram included professional-grade fashion photos. He had the photogenic looks and physique of a male model.

But the massive cock, his ticket to stardom, always stole the show. The obsessed mom salivated over dick-pics that were marvels to behold, its profile from different angles, lightings, and backgrounds; in various stages of arousal, from rock-hard to semi-erect, to hanging low and relaxed, extending down past the large nut sack, a heavy scepter of dormant sexual power. That big cock was an aesthetic masterpiece, she concluded, a work of biologic art.

To compare it to the real thing, she held the massive dildo up to her phone, and found every vein and contour right in place. Even the color was pretty accurate. One series of photos showed the cock’s monstrous length and girth being measured by a young female fan with measuring tape. Just like Karen’s version, it was 11.5 inches long and 5.5 inches in diameter. When Karen diddled her clit, she silently recited those size measurements to herself; like an erogenous code, they unlocked searing orgasms.

On free porn sites, she found videos of Mr. XL fucking women of all different races, sexes, ages, and body types, from amateur swingers to established porn actresses. But being jealous of these women, especially when they were middle-aged, white and blonde like herself, Karen found these videos difficult to get off to. The only ones that made her cum were of Mr. XL jacking his massive cock solo.

Karen was astonished that a stripper and porn actor could spend so much free time fucking as well. According to an interview on a site called Spades Magazine, he was a highly sought after “Bull” among so-called cuckold couples, who belonged to a subcategory of the swinging world. Bulls, or well-endowed black men, would fuck the wives of willing husbands, i.e., “cucks” who got aroused by passively standing by watching the show. 

Although Karen found swingers gross, this niche intrigued her. Most bizarre—and oddly titillating—was the cuck husbands remained faithful, enjoying no reciprocal infidelity hall pass. From what she gathered, the wives usually were sexually dominant over the husbands but submissive to their Bulls.

It seemed too good to be true. The wives had the best of both worlds: a loving husband as part of a lawful, society-sanctioned relationship, and a wild, forbidden promiscuity that catered to their inner sluts.

In online interviews and podcasts, Mr. XL explained why he favored wives, saying older, married women were at their sexual peak, and thus hornier and more receptive to their erotic cravings. Also, they required less emotional entanglement. Younger, single women were often “clingy drama queens,” as he put it.  

With mature women, it was all about non-stop sex.

“They’re not seeking commitment. Married women won’t stalk you. You won’t find her crying on your doorstep.”

The transgressive, boundary-crossing aspect of extramarital sex also appealed to the young lothario: “I’m a naturally dominant person in the bedroom, and it’s empowering to have a woman offer herself to me, especially when she’s beautiful and would normally be off-limits to anyone besides her husband.”

And he loved the interracial taboo, not just a black man fucking a white woman, but a black man fucking a married white woman—the age-old anxiety of the lesser endowed Caucasian race, miscegenation, losing their wives to superior black cock, righteous revenge after 400 years of oppression and subjugation.

Obviously, all single men dream of being Bulls. Who wouldn’t want unlimited, no-strings-attached sex with gorgeous married women? Well, for starters, most men couldn’t measure up to the God-given endowments of someone like Mr. XL. But even handsome well-hung single men often fail because they misread the complexity of the three-way cuckold relationship, as Mr. XL explained in one podcast:

“They think it’s about fucking the wife, and that’s it. Nothing could be further from the truth. You’ve got to make the husband part of the dynamic. In the beginning, to earn the couple’s trust, you need his trust first. Each couple has an emotional bond and a sexual bond. As a Bull, you must show you respect the emotional bond, and then slowly begin undermining the sexual one.”

Over time, the Bull’s goal is to replace the husband as the wife’s primary sex partner, for her to fixate on him sexually.

“You do this by becoming the Alpha Male in the relationship,” Mr. XL explained. “All social mammals have Alpha Males. They are the fastest, strongest and smartest males in the pack. Females are instinctively drawn to them because they have the superior genetic material. Human females are no different. If two men are in her life, a woman will instinctively become more attracted to the Alpha Male.”

Although Bulls certainly must rule the roost in the bedroom, not all of this happens during sex, he added. Alpha Male behavior occurs everywhere.

“At the start of the relationship, I interact with both the husband and the wife equally. But gradually, as time passes, I pay more attention to her and less to him. So, when meeting, I’ll place myself between the wife and husband. I sit or stand between them. I use my presence a barrier…Slowly he starts fading into the background.”

Then he moves on to asking the husband to perform small tasks, like getting drinks or parking the car. “After a while, I stop asking and start giving direct orders. I’ve seen many wives get aroused watching this progression. In her eyes, you are emerging as the Alpha Male. The more passive hubby becomes, the more turned on she will be.”

It seems cruel, but on some level, husbands crave this subservience: “He wants the same thing as his wife does, although he may not consciously know it. He wants to see her become an insatiable slut again like she was before they were married, and he knows she needs someone new to do that.”  

Another Bull move: getting the wife to commit sexual acts she denies hubby. For example, several wives who had refused their husbands anal sex, cum swallowing, and bisexuality with other women all did these things for Mr. XL. If the wives hesitated, all he had to do was threaten to cut off access to his dick, and they gave in. 

Learning about the cuckold dynamic opened new vistas of eroticism for Karen. Though she couldn’t explain why and found it hard to admit even to herself (unless she had a glass or two of wine), the thought of Craig being forced to witness her adultery with a well-endowed black man excited her immensely.

Fucking her pussy with the huge dildo, she imagined Mr. XL, Craig and herself in a public place—a nightclub maybe—the black man’s strong arm draped possessively over her shoulder, claiming his territory. Meanwhile, Craig dutifully scurried to the bar for drinks. The stares of the other customers—some quizzical, some knowing—inflamed her passion as she ran her hand along her boyfriend’s brawny thigh.

Then Karen leaned close, smelling his masculine scent, and the interracial couple tongue kissed in full view of the whole place, as Craig meekly returned with their drinks…at this point in the scenario she always came violently.

Before she had gotten much further in her research about cuckoldry and her new virtual “boyfriend”/fixation, Karen was interrupted by preparations for an important biotech conference she had to attend in Las Vegas. She considered sneaking Mr. XL into her luggage, but worried he would get confiscated by some nosy TSA agent. She resolved instead to spend her downtime in Vegas doing Kegel exercises to tighten her stretched-out pelvic floor for Craig.

*

“It’s okay, Mr. Naylor. It happens to a lot of guys, even ones my age.”

“Please don’t call me Mr. Naylor,” Craig said. “Right now I don’t want to feel any older than I already do.”

The would-be lovers were lying on the bed in the Naylors’ master bedroom, Craig on his back, staring at the ceiling, and Alex, the family’s new twenty-year-old babysitter, resting her head on his chest. After this brief exchange, they lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence.

Alex Kinkler had recently replaced their former babysitter, an elderly woman who retired to Florida. A petite brunette, Alex worked part-time at their daughters’ daycare center. She and Craig had struck up a flirtation during drop-offs and pickups. The lecherous husband was secretly thrilled when Karen raised no objection to allowing the attractive youngster into their home to help with the kids.

When they met, Alex found herself drawn to the older man, but not in the way as boys her own age. True, there was something poignant about his fading yet still discernable good looks, his thinning hair, and the sadness around his eyes. And she appreciated his evident lust for her. Erotic power over someone so much older and established in life was itself a turn on.

But what really attracted her to Mr. Naylor (she could never think of him as Craig) was his marriage to his wife. To the feminist college student, Karen Naylor was a role model, a successful career woman, a dean, a physician, a mother, a wife. The tall blonde was all that and good looking to boot. In her eyes, they had the perfect marriage; Karen at work in the city, Craig home caring for the children, the kind of female-centric union Alex hoped someday to have herself.

In short, she liked the Naylors as a couple.

But she never intended flirtation to blossom into actual sex. It had just been harmless fun—until the bizarre events of this afternoon, that is.

Alex had come to the house to get signatures for paperwork her father, a tax attorney, had drawn up, which would create tax breaks by diverting some of Alex’s babysitting income toward her college tuition.

To complete the paperwork, they needed Karen’s social security number. But Karen was out of town on her Vegas trip, and Craig couldn’t remember it.

After calls and texts to Karen went unreturned, he invited the sexy youngster inside while he searched.

“I know,” he said. “We keep our tax returns in a safe in our bedroom. Karen handles all that financial stuff. Help me find the key.”

They rummaged through the master bedroom, and Alex found the key in Karen’s side of the bathroom vanity. 

They entered the walk-in closet that contained the safe. Craig kneeled and unlocked it. The heavy door swung open.

Right there, in full view to both of them, atop a sheaf of documents, sat a gigantic, realistic, black dildo.

Shocked into frozen silence, neither moved. After a long moment, Craig closed the door and stood. Slowly he moved from the closet over to the bed. He sat on the edge.

“I’m sorry you had to see that Alex. I had no idea that…that…item would be in there.”

His humiliated mind raced. It all made sense now. This was why their sex life was suffering. This was why her pussy was so loose and stretched out. This was why she constantly criticized his load size. His wife was cheating on him with a huge black cock!

How long had this been going on? He never went into that safe. That giant black dick could have been there a year or maybe even longer…

And was it just the fake cock? Had she progressed to cheating with a real black man? Or men?

While he was thinking all this, Alex watched him. He looked so pathetic, like a lost little boy. “It’s okay, Mr. Naylor. It’s really not something to be embarrassed about. If anything, a willingness to experiment is a sign of a healthy marriage—”

“No, you don’t understand. I’ve never seen that thing before in my life.” He covered his face with his hands.  

“Oh,” she said, starting to comprehend. She sat beside him. “Poor, Mr. Naylor,” she consoled, as she rubbed his back.

A complicated mix of emotions welled up in Alex. Physically, the sight of the huge cock released a simmering flow of juice to her womanhood. But on another level, pity, amusement, and lust all mixed together to create an odd feeling of sympathy for Mr. Naylor. Clearly, he wasn’t up to the task of satisfying his wife’s voracious sexual needs. That wasn’t his fault. But it wasn’t his wife’s fault either. It was just the way life was sometimes.

Anyway, it was clear to the youngster that something hot was going on in this marriage. And whatever it was she wanted to play a part. Maybe, by playing good cop to Karen’s bad, she could be the glue that held them together? An image flashed in her mind: she was on her knees eating the older woman’s pussy to prepare it for the big dildo’s entry…

Craig raised his head and looked at Alex. In his eyes, she saw hurt, but also rage and lust—the eyes of someone burning to reclaim his manhood. She wanted to help. So she let him make the first move…

He leaned forward and kissed her. Hmm, she thought, not bad. As their tongues entwined, things got more passionate, and his hands explored her pert young tits. She put a hand on his crotch and felt his growing hardon.

Sliding to the floor, she unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zipper. The cock she pulled out was by no means lengthy—about five to five-and-a-half inches long—but it had a prominent, well-shaped crown and a decent girth. Overall, the perfect endowment for a well behaved husband. Not too small to be useless, especially for a small girl like Alex. But also not a whopper that would attract rival women or encourage infidelity.

Aroused that this very same cock had been inside Dr. Naylor’s pussy, had fathered her children, she took it into her mouth, deep throating the whole thing.

Craig couldn’t remember the last time Karen had blown him. He was in heaven.

“Oh, God, Alex, that feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

“Mm. Your cock tastes delicious, Mr. Naylor. I love sucking it.”

Just then his phone pinged. It was Karen, returning his text about the social security number.

He threw the phone to the other side of the bed, and tried to concentrate on the wonderful blowjob this young beautiful girl was giving him. But then he remembered the dildo in the closet, the enormous black marauder that had invaded his home and ruined his wife’s pussy. His confidence wilted, along with his hardon.

After trying for several minutes to suck his limp cock back to life, Alex gave up and crawled up next to him. That’s when she told him it happened to other guys too.

The words gave Craig no comfort. With bitterness, he realized why Karen had raised no objection to hiring Alex. His wife held such a low opinion of his masculinity she didn’t perceive the young woman as a threat. And now he’d gone and proved her right.

*

Scanning the swanky casino-hotel restaurant, Karen spotted Brandee in a booth near the bar. As she moved through the tables toward her friend, the large breasted-blonde looked up and gave her boss a chilly smile.

“I was starting to worry you’d stood me up.”

“Sorry.” Karen set down her tote bag and folded her tall body into the booth. “My panel went long. Then I got cornered by a bunch of Wall Street jerks.”

“Douchbags. I hate em.”

“Pumping me for what our study will do for Braun’s stock.”

A handsome, twenty-something waiter brought menus. For the medical conference, both women wore their sharpest professional attire, elegantly tailored suit jackets and skirts, with Brandee, as usual, showing too much leg and cleavage. But Karen had clearly put extra effort into her appearance, sporting a new blonde dye job and applying heavier-than-usual makeup. Although Brandee radiated more carnality (some would call it slutty-ness), Karen’s clean-cut looks and longer-limbed physique better fit the traditional model for hot female executive. The university dean was delighted to catch the waiter slyly checking out her legs.

“Something about you is different,” Brandee said, studying the departing youth’s slim buttocks. “Your skin is glowing.”

Karen had no intention of revealing her recent dildo purchase or its effect on her happiness. That was private, and anyway, they had something important to discuss.

Brandee’s brazen sexual exploitation of the student-athletes had to stop. Her lewd actions in the training room went beyond the pale. The memory of Brandee openly fondling the naked football players’ genitals haunted Karen. It was only the extreme size of all those black cocks that had shocked her into complicity, allowing a university employee to masturbate a student and collect a sperm sample in full view of the whole team.

What if one of the boys had recorded it on his phone? No, this had to end. Treating students like an erotic all-you-can-eat buffet was a career-ending scandal waiting to happen.

After cocktails arrived, Karen addressed the issue: “I know your personal life has been somewhat—um, I don’t think ‘wild’ is the right word but maybe ‘unconventional’?—since the divorce. And that’s entirely your business. It’s not my place to interfere in the actions of consenting adults. But what’s been going on between you and the football team, that’s a step too far. It has to stop. It's completely inappropriate and unprofessional.”

Brandee calmly sipped her drink. “Well, you’re right about my personal life. It has been wild and unconventional. And quite frankly, Karen, I’ve loved every minute of it. I’m sowing the wild oats I didn’t get to when I was young. I’m having the best sex of my entire life. And when I’m not having it, I’m thinking about it! It’s all true what they say about us women. We really don’t reach our sexual peak until middle age. I’m like a teenage boy—constantly horny. All I wanted was to share a little part of my newfound freedom with my friend.”

Karen remained silent but understood. In fact, she felt the same way. She was always horny too.

“But I hear what you’re saying. I took it too far with those boys. It was just, like, being around all that temptation…Doing the exams, checking their vitals, watching them practice, getting all sweaty, and then showering, those gorgeous young bodies. Oh, man.” Brandee shivered. “What can I say? I gave in. It was my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“But it’s all over with now?”

“Finished. Promise.”

Karen exhaled with relief. “Thank God you understand.”

“I mean those aren’t the only big black cocks in the world, right?”

“Shh! Oh, Brandee, please!” She laughed.

“Here, let’s drink to that.” Brandee raised her glass. “Friends again?”

Karen clinked rims. “We never weren’t friends.”

After dinner and two bottles of wine on the university’s tab, it was like there had never been any tension at all between them.

“We should hang out tonight,” Brandee suggested over dessert. “You fly home tomorrow? Let’s have a girl's night out. We’re in Vegas, baby!”

“I don’t know. I’ve had a long day.”

“Sounds like you need another round. Where’s that cute waiter? I’m calling an Uber right now.”

Laughing, slurring their words, clinging to each other, the pair of good-looking blondes stumbled into the hot Las Vegas evening. In the car, Brandee wouldn’t say where they were going.

“Please don’t take me to some sleazy place where cougars hit on young guys,” Karen begged.

“Oh, no. It’s better than that.”

They pulled up to a brilliantly lit building with a flat red roof and white walls. Written along its cornice: “World Famous Since 1969 PALOMINO. The only club in Vegas with fully nude dancers that serves alcohol.”

Karen groaned. “Oh, no. Not a strip club!”

Ignoring her protests, Brandee pulled her from the car, led her past the bouncers, and paid their covers. As they reeled down a dark corridor toward the sound of thumping dance music, Karen slurred, “Why would we want to watch a bunch of bimbos take their clothes off?”

“Because they’re not bimbos,” replied Brandee. “They’re mimbos.”

The two entered a large room with a bar to one side and booths and tables on the other. In the center stood a low, round stage with a stripper pole, on which a young shirtless black man wearing a baseball cap gyrated seductively.

“And they’re all black.”  

The dancer on stage wore what appeared to be specially designed pants, open at the groin like cowboy chaps. Flopping around between his legs, his enormously oversized penis was encased in a white leather jockstrap with a long tube affixed to the front to accommodate its massive length and girth. White frills ran along the bottom length of this strange cock tube.

A dozen other half-naked well-built black men milled about the crowd of women, all wearing variations of the same oversize jockstrap, only in different colors and materials. None left anything to the imagination about their endowments—all obscenely huge.

“Oh my Lord, Brandee. What is this place?” was all Karen could murmur.

“Remember at dinner I said our football team wasn’t the only place to find huge black cock?” Brandee made a sweeping gesture. “Voila! Another target-rich environment.”

Karen feasted her eyes on the young sexy bodies on display and the mouthwatering appendages dangling between their legs. It was like the training room all over again…Except, well, at least this time they weren’t students…

Brandee led them to a table. “I’ve been to a lot of male revues in Vegas, but the Palomino is by far my favorite. Can you see why?”

“Well, you do seem to have a type,” she replied, eyes trailing one of the bobbing cocks as it passed.

“You’re saying I have jungle fever? Oh, I openly admit it. And I don’t want to be cured. But I’m not the only one. I saw your face when I was jacking Fletcher’s big black dick. The glazed eyes. The blushing skin. You wanted to jump all over that fine-looking buck!”

Fletcher’s name brought back memories of their kiss on campus that day…Karen’s intoxicated mind suddenly ached to confess everything to Brandee, to bare her tumultuous sexual longings to someone who would understand. But she couldn’t do it. It was too risky.

A dancer in policeman getup approached their table, his enormous prick enclosed in navy blue velvet, studded along its length with rhinestones. The massive meat stick instantly drew the gaze of both women. 

“Evening, young ladies. How’s your night going?”

Brandee reached over and hefted the cock under its base. With her other hand, she wrapped a ten-dollar bill around its girth. The edges of the bill couldn’t touch it was so thick.

“Keeps getting better, officer,” Brandee said, using the cock like a leash to pull him closer. She moved their drinks and phones to make room for the studded phallus to rest on the tabletop. “Wow. Would you look at this beauty, Karen? That must be a ten-incher. Go ahead. You can touch it.”

Karen blushed deep red. “No…I probably shouldn’t.”

“Karen. Don’t insult the man. And don’t embarrass me.”

Once again, Karen’s desire rationalized its way across another ethical line. After all, it was a strip club. It’s what one does in a strip club.

“You don’t mind?” Karen heard her voice say. The dancer shook his head.

Feeling like she was dreaming, she ran her fingertips gingerly along the mammoth cock. Unlike the rubber dildo back home, warm flesh pulsed with life underneath the material.  

“It’s, uh, very impressive,” was all she could think to say.

Brandee stuffed the money in the mesh net supporting his heavy balls. Then she again grasped the cock’s base, lifted it up, and let it drop on the table. The thing was so heavy it banged the surface like a gavel, rattling their drinks and cell phones. She did this several times.

“Hear ye, hear ye! Court is now in session,” Brandee joked.

“It’s not a gavel,” Karen laughed nervously. “It’s cudgel!”

Taking this clownery in stride, the stripper asked, “You ladies married?” He had noticed  Karen’s ring.

“She is. I’m not,” answered Brandee, looking up and meeting his eyes for the first time.

The man did a double-take. “Hold on. Don’t I know you?”

“Maybe. I was here about a year ago.”

“Mm. You hard to forget, girl,” he said, leering at her huge tits.

Brandee giggled and continued to fondle his cock. “Yeah, now I remember. We had some fun, didn’t we?”

“You miss my big dick, baby?”

“You know it,” she said, ogling his prick and licking her lips.

Brandee got up to leave. Karen panicked. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“It’s okay. I’ll just be over there getting a couch dance.” She pointed to a row of curtained cubicles at the far end of the room.

“Maybe wifey wants to join us,” suggested the stripper, eyeing Karen lustily. “Only thing I like better than white women is married white women.”

“No, not tonight, stud. I want you all to myself,” Brandee said, clinging possessively to his muscled arm. “Just wait here, Karen. I won’t be long.” As they left, Karen heard Brandee ask him to remind her what his name was.

Alone, Karen quickly realized not only were all the dancers black, so were the customers. She’d been so mesmerized by the BBCs she’d failed to notice the crowd of middle-aged, mostly overweight, African American women shooting hostile glares at the two overdressed bougie white interlopers.

She was relieved when another dancer approached. No theme for this one; just shirtless in dark jeans and sneakers, with a silver lamé cock sheath. He was a couple inches shorter than Karen, but built like something chiseled from a slab of onyx. Against his dark skin and charcoal jeans, the giant, silver-clad dick appeared to glow luminescent. It was hard not to stare.

“It’s okay, you can look,” he said. “I like it when women look. It’s why I do this.”

Karen covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry! My friend left me and I don’t know the etiquette here.”

He sat in Brandee’s vacated chair, pulled it close, and took her hands in his. “Don’t worry.” He smiled at her. “It’s just a human body. Nothing to be afraid of.”

She looked at their entwined hands, the skin contrast making her light-headed.

“Only thing you need to know is the outside world doesn’t exist here,” he said. “Inside these walls, there’s no judgment, no guilt, no fear. Just pleasure, yours and mine. But especially yours.”

He touched her knee and traced his fingers up the inside of her bare thigh, causing her pussy to slaver almost to the point of incontinence.

“Oh, my, that feels…oh, I, please don’t. Ah, I think I should…my friend just…”

With his free hand, he grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the shaft roughly up and down on her calf.

“So let me guess,” he said calmly, continuing to massage her legs with his hands and cock. “In town for a convention. But you’re not in sales. No, something professional…You a lawyer?”

“D-doctor,” she stammered. 

“Ooh. Love medical women. I know some freaky nurses.”

“My friend is a nurse. She’s getting a couch dance.”

“Saw you two come in. She not bad, but you’re hotter. My name’s Silva Bullet. What’s yours?

“Karen.” They shook hands.

As if it were a scarf, he draped his cock over her knee as they made small talk. Although distracted, she managed to learn his real name was Gordon Cromwell, he was thirty-two years old, and he was a professionally ranked boxer saving up to start his own training gym.

After another round of drinks, he asked her if she wanted a private dance. She firmly declined, but he wore down her defenses by pleading it was how the dancers made their income. Yet again, the adulterous impulse found an escape clause: buying a dance was like tipping a waiter, she thought to herself. To refuse would be unacceptably rude.

Moans and whispered voices emanated from the booths as they made their way to an empty one, where Silva Bullet drew back the curtain to reveal a plush leather coach against the back wall. He set her cell phone and drink on a small table, positioned her on the couch and closed the curtain.

Facing her, a look of intense concentration on his handsome features, his torso began undulating in time with the throbbing dance music. He moved with animal grace; clearly, he wasn’t lying about being a professional athlete. He had amazing control and rhythm. She reached out and touched his abdominal muscles. They were hard as concrete.

Moving toward her, he inserted his hips between her knees, spreading them open. Supporting himself with his hands on the top of the couch, he rubbed his torso all the way from the hem of her skirt up to her chest several times. At every pass during this maneuver, she could feel his huge cock growing firmer and bigger against her body.

Gradually his dance got more aggressive. He pinned both her hands above her head and thrust that big silver-clad cock against her chest, essentially dry humping her tits. This rough behavior starkly contrasted with the soft-spoken young man she’d met just minutes before. It startled her, but she also recognized it.

It was the same unyielding erotic force she had felt with Justin the masseur: an impersonal power of nature that seemed intent on conquering her will whether she liked it or not. The very indifference to her consent amplified the already gut-wrenching lust this astonishing specimen of manhood was churning up inside her.

Now he was standing on the couch, legs straddling her body, his cock and balls jutting over her head. Grabbing a handful of her blonde hair he tilted her face upward and smacked her cheek roughly and repeatedly with his heavy cock.

“Is this what you want, huh? Is this what you came here for, Karen? You wanted that real dick, don’t you? Tell me, girl.”

Too overwhelmed with lust to answer, all she could do was whimper in the affirmative while desperately clawing at her skirt to trying to touch her pussy. Anything to relieve the unbearable tension in her loins.

“I’m gonna give it to you, girl. I’m gonna give you that real cock you been craving your whole life. You ready? Here it is now!”

With one fluid movement, he stripped away the sliver cock sheath, revealing his enormous and now fully engorged black manhood.

“Oh. My. God,” was all Karen could say. Finally face to face with the object of her lust, it was the first time she’d been this close to a BBC—and it was magnificent. It had to be at least 10 inches long, very thick and stood out incredibly hard and perfectly straight.

He ran his fist up and down its long length, causing a pearl of white pre-cum to form at its tip. It looked to Karen so deliciously edible, like a magic elixir. She extended her tongue to slurp it up…

“Ah ah ah, Karen. If you want to taste the flavor, that costs extra.”

Long past any semblance of reason or morals, Karen simply asked, “How much?”

“Three hundred.”

“Oh, no, but I don’t have that much cash on me.” Panic was in her voice.

“That’s okay. We take credit cards.”

She was prepared to do anything to put that succulent young organ into her mouth. Quadruple that price would’ve been fine. Hands trembling, she gave him her MasterCard.

He left, and soon the waitress who had taken their drink orders entered with a receipt for her to sign. When she departed, Silva Bullet returned, his giant erection barely flagging.

He reclined on the couch and spread his legs, giving the white mother access to his cock; then motioned for her to kneel on the floor. Karen gladly knelt, her eyes riveted to his manhood, an expression of rapt awe on her face, and reverently took that massive pole in both hands. The feel of it was indescribable, rock hard yet throbbing with life.

The veins stood out in relief. While stroking slowly up and down, she leaned forward and looked at the huge mushroom head. Again, a drop of pre-cum formed at the tip.

“Go ahead, baby. It’s all yours now. Enjoy.”

This was it. The moment of truth from which she had been running for months, maybe longer. It had been naïve to think playing with a rubber toy dildo could preempt this inevitability. If anything it had only been throwing gasoline on a fire. Karen looked directly at her destiny, and she fully accepted it.

She started by lapping up the pre-cum, relishing the salty unfamiliar flavor. Then she licked around the bulbous head, and finally opened her mouth wide to take him between her lips. After shallowly bobbing up and down a few times, she pressed downward and forced some of the shaft into her mouth. Her lips stretched a little painfully, and her jaws opened wide.

“There you go, Karen. You’re doing good. Just make sure not to use your teeth.”

She felt proud that her oral skills were up to the task of pleasing such a remarkable stud. She kept at it for a few more minutes.

“Now lick my balls,” he told her. “Cover them with saliva.”

Obediently Karen removed her mouth from the black pole and lowered her head to the base. Taking one huge ball in her mouth, she lathered it lovingly with her tongue. Then she repeated the process on his other ball until both glistened with spit.

“You’re good at following orders,” he said. “That’s a quality I value in my women. You can touch your pussy now if you want.”

During all the passionate cock worship, Karen had all but completely forgotten her own pleasure. Keeping her mouth on the head of his cock, she shut her eyes and fumbled underneath her skirt to press her clit through her panties. The love button was tautly engorged, and after only a few moments of manipulation, she had a powerful orgasm that soaked through her panties and dribbled onto the floor around her knees. Her mouth released the cock, and she cried out in blissful agony.

“Whoa. Did you just cum?”

She was breathless. “I think so, yeah.”

“Wow. That was quick.”

“I know. Sorry.”

He laughed. “No worries, girl. I told you, that’s what we’re here for. To have a good time!”

She smiled sheepishly. “You have such a gorgeous cock. It turns me on so much. I just couldn’t help myself.” She realized that merely having his cock in her mouth excited her more than any white cock ever had in her pussy.

“This really is your first black cock, isn’t it?”

“It is. Now I just can’t believe I waited this long to try it.” She examined the large shaft. “Can I…can you, do you want to, like—?”

He smiled. “You mean can I cum?”

“Yes. I want to make you cum.”

“Well, I usually charge extra for that. But seeing this is your first time, I’ll let it slide.” He grasped his cock and gently stroked the tip across her cheek. “But you gotta promise you’ll do something for me.”

She kissed the flaring spongy head lovingly. “Anything,” she whispered.

“You’ve got to swallow it all.”

The sinful thrill of his demand knocked the breath out of her. When she was able to speak she said, “Yes, I’ll swallow all your cum.” Something she had never done, not for any boyfriend or even her husband.

With renewed vigor, she put her mouth and tongue back to work.  

“Use your left hand, so I can see your wedding ring. Yeah, that’s it. How do you like that black cock. Is it bigger than hubby’s?”

She removed her mouth. “Yes. Twice as big. Maybe more.”

“Yeah. Jerk it, baby. Just like that, God, I love married women!”

Sensing the comparison was turning him on, Karen pressed it further. “No other white cock I’ve ever seen compares to this.”

He was getting closer, his voice shaking. He arched his pelvis toward her cock-sucking face. “Now you’re gonna see how a black man cums. Here you go. Here’s your reward! Arrrgggg!”

That first shot of his load was so forceful it went right down her throat without touching the insides of her mouth. The next several spurts she caught in her oral cavity before gulping them down, so she was able to taste them. It was the first time she had ever really tasted a full load of cum, and it wasn’t bad at all, she thought. A salty nutty flavor. The blasts of semen kept coming until eventually, it overflowed her capacity to drink it all and the excess spilled out onto her chin and silk blouse.

“Oh, my,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get it all down. There’s just so much!”

“Oh, shit,” he said, catching his breath, collapsing back on the couch. “Oh, shit. That’s okay, baby.” He ruffled her blonde hair. “You did good for a first-timer.”

Beaming with pride and sexual afterglow, she climbed on the couch and snuggled in the arms of this marvelous man.

He used a cocktail napkin to mop up the cum on her chin and neck. All at once, he was back to the polite young man she had met at the table. She was beginning to realize the aggression and bravado of these encounters were really just erotic role-play. Men like him understood women like Karen wanted to be “dominated” in a safe, judgment-free zone.  

He told her to visit him if she ever made it to Vegas again and gave her a business card, saying he was available for “private shows” outside the strip club, starting at $600.

“Bring your husband if you want.”

“I don’t think he would appreciate that,” she said warily, successfully obstructing thoughts of Craig.

“You’d be surprised. Husbands can be fun.” He was stuffing his deflating but still massive cock back in the jockstrap. “If they know their place.”

Not long after that, the curtain swept aside, and Brandee and the policeman stripper joined them. Brandee hustled Karen out of the booth, explaining that the “feature dancer” was about to perform. The four of them gathered at the bar as the house lights dimmed and dramatic music played. “Ladies put your hands together for tonight’s star attraction,” the DJ announced. “The world-famous, Mr. XL!!!”

A single spotlight illuminated the dancer who walked slowly and seductively onto the stage. He was well over six feet tall and movie-star handsome, with a bodybuilder’s physique. His face, head, and upper torso were entirely covered with glittering gold paint, and his incredibly large, rock hard cock stood straight out before him like a magic scepter. He looked to Karen like a golden god, a dream man sent down from heaven.

It took a few moments but it finally penetrated her alcohol-dazed, lust-besotted brain: this was the man her big black dildo was modeled on! Her virtual “boyfriend”!

“I’ve seen this guy online, but never in person,” shouted Brandee over the wild applause. “I must say, I’m impressed.”

“He’s a legend in the business,” added Silva Bullet. “He travels the country hitting all the clubs.”

After Mr. XL had completed his stage set and descended to mingle with the crowd, he was mobbed by so many adoring fans that Karen and Brandee couldn’t hope to get close. So instead, they lingered at the bar and ordered a round of shots for themselves and their dancers. Those tequila shots were the last thing Karen remembered before losing consciousness.