I was at Publix, just grabbing a few things, nothing special..

I was at Publix, just grabbing a few things, nothing special. Then, this tall, decent looking black guy walks up. He's got this easy confidence, not cocky, just sure of himself. He said something about how beautiful I was and asked if I was married. I told him yes, and he asked me if I was looking for any new friends, I told him absolutely so he handed me his phone, and I put in my phone number. He said I will text you. That hit me like a fucking freight train. My pussy's instantly throbbing, and all I can think about is his big black dick. Not just any dick, his. I'm picturing it, thick, veined, heavy, the kind that stretches you until you're gasping, ruined for anyone else. I'm already wet walking back to my car, thighs slick under my shorts, and as I'm putting my groceries in my car, he walks up to me and says, I am going to text you, so please make sure you answer it.

We've been texting since. Flirty shit, but I know where it's headed. Every time my phone pings, my clit jumps, imagining him bending me over, his cock slamming into me so deep I forget my name. I'm obsessed with the idea of him pumping me full of cum, just unloading, leaving me dripping, my pussy wrecked, gaped, useless for anyone else. It's not just the size, it's the power, the way a black guy's cock feels like it owns you. I want him to fuck me until I'm a mess until my head is spinning, and I can't even remember I'm even married. I definitely won't forget about Shane, he just got this way that makes me want to be his, but my pussy says not exclusively, at least once in a while!

Scott, my husband, he knows who he married. I want this black guy to absolutely put my husband to shame. Make him and his dick seem completely insignificant, that's my ultimate goal with Scott. Shane, my boyfriend, I'm never letting him go, but I can't stop myself from wanting that black cock to make me insane from massive orgasms. I guess it's cheating on Shane a little bit, but honestly, they both know I'm a slut. How I lose my mind over the idea of a huge black cock stretching me out. Especially if it's so good it makes my husband seem completely inadequate, just there. It's not about yelling at my husband or calling him names, and it's the quiet humiliation, the way I know he can't compare. I'll come home after this guy fucks me, pussy still sore, cum still leaking, and Scott'll look at me like he knows. He will sense it. He will see that I'm distracted, still feeling that guy's dick in me while we're watching TV. That look my husband gives me...wanting to know who it was, how many times did I take his cock? It makes me want to climb the walls, and it's so fucking hot. I'll sit across from Scott at dinner, thighs pressed together, or lean into him on the couch, and he is none the wiser, but he knows something's different. That's the mental game, my husband realizing I've been taken apart by someone who can do what he never will. It's not mean. It's just true.

Do I feel guilty? No, because the sexual excitement is so intense, I could never stop. This guy's got me too worked up, my pussy's screaming for it, and my head's stuck on the image of his cock, black and long, pounding me until I'm nothing but a puddle of cum and sweat. I want him to destroy me, to fuck me so hard I can't walk straight, so every step reminds me of him. I want to be so full of his cum that it's dripping down my legs, marking me, making me a black man's cum dumpster. Black guys just have this thing that makes me feel like I'm nothing but a hole for them to fill. And I love it. I want to be used, owned, fucked until I'm begging for more, even when I can't take it. This guy from Publix. He's my shot at that. And I'm taking it.