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In the days that followed, Karen couldn’t shake the memory of the insanely erotic scene she had witnessed in the locker room among the naked football players. The volcanic image of Fletcher’s ejaculation, rope after rope of creamy white semen spewing from that enormous black cock, kept replaying in her mind’s eye like a nonstop sizzle reel.And even during the rare occasions when she could blot it out, it was quickly replaced by that of the muscular black spa employee who had almost seduced her, or just by fantasies of one of Brandee’s smoking hot fuck buddies.In short, she couldn’t stop thinking about black cock. Even while she slept, she dreamed about it, tossing and turning next to her clueless white husband. Her pussy was in a constant state of drooling desire. It got so bad that on some nights she had to creep from her marital bed and masturbate in the downstairs bathroom, out of earshot from the family, straddled over the toilet. As she had at the spa, she often achieved squirting orgasms during these secret diddling sessions.But no matter how many times she masturbated, nothing could suppress the constant barrage of erotic fantasies, the endless, gut-wrenching horniness, or the gnawing feelings of frustration that came with it. It was like a hunger that fed on itself.Finally she knew she had to take some kind of decisive action. She had to figure out a way to remain faithful to her husband yet still satisfy her relentless craving for hung black men.So she did some research. And she formed a plan.During workhours, on a lunchtime walk, far from the University campus, she stopped in a public park and sat on a bench. Looking around to make sure no one nearby knew her, she tied  on a head scarf and slipped on sunglasses. Taking a deep breath, she stood and walked briskly toward a small shop whose sign read “The Pleasure Chest,” one of those half-underground city places.Inside, Karen was relieved that the décor matched what her internet research had led her to expect. Clean, carpeted and tastefully lit, but still unmistakably a sex shop. The few other customers inside were mostly women, some men. Nobody looked like a perv or a sleazebag.Pretending to browse through bonus veren siteler a rack of lingerie, she scanned the shop for her true objective. There it was. Past the wall display of BDSM leather gear stood a clear glass counter whose interior was lined with realistic looking dildos.Her courage wavered. Just order one online? No, she couldn’t risk Craig opening the package first. This had to be done in person.Summoning her courage, Dr. Karen Naylor sauntered over to the display case, trying to pretend it was a makeup counter at the local mall, ho hum, just a normal retail encounter. She immediately experienced a tiny spasm of lust at the up-close sight of at least a dozen enormous cocks lined up neatly in a row, flaunting their massive size and fierce beauty for her perusal. Here was a reverse harem of pricks, a dizzying buffet of top-shelf man-meat.As she carefully inspected the dildos, amazed by their realism, it occurred to her that such lifelike designs—the veins, ridges, contours, even the tiny skin wrinkles—could only have been achieved by casting molds from actual human genitals. This realization sent a rush of fluid to her pussy.First of all, the clear evidence that such gorgeous cocks actually existed in the real world, that men walking around in city today might actually be so unbelievably endowed, was intensely arousing just in and of itself. But then add to that the fact anyone off the street could purchase exact replicas of such awe-inspiring cocks, well that just magnified her lust even further. She felt dizzy. It was almost too good to be true.Until the past few weeks, Karen had never fully appreciated the aesthetic beauty of the human penis. Since she was a young girl, she had always been attracted to good-looking males, those with square jaws, broad shoulders, narrow hips, well defined muscles, etc.—but their cocks had always been secondary, a less vital part of the equation (maybe because they were always hidden?).But now that dynamic was reversing itself. Lately, Karen found herself drawn to a man’s cock first and foremost, with other attributes becoming secondary. Sure, many of the cocks she had seen recently were bedava bahis attached to extremely hot guys, but she was coming to realize that even if they had not been, she would have still lusted for them.Was this a sign she was turning into a depraved slut?Another observation: the racial disparity in the display case before her was unmistakable. Though all the dildos were flesh colored, only one was Caucasian. The rest were various skin tones of black or brown. Apparently for the sex-toy-buying consumer “big” went hand-in-hand with “black.” Maybe she and Brandee were not the only white women to share this kink…Okay, time to choose. Not the white one, obviously, even though it was very long and thick, she thought, her gaze lingering on the prominent mushroom head…but, no, it must be black. For this to work, the parameters of the fantasy had to be observed.She was also conflicted by the age-old girth vs. length question. Like most women she favored girth, seeking a cock would provide that “overfull” feeling. Yet she worried that too much thickness would stretch out her pussy so much that Craig’s much smaller dick would get lost in the widened gap. If he noticed, the looseness would be difficult to explain.After much thought, she narrowed it down to two options: one about nine inches long, with a slight corkscrew curve along the shaft, which had a deep walnut hue. The head, however, was cinnamon red. It reminded her of E.J’s cock, the first well-endowed student-athlete Brandee had teased in the locker room.The other was longer, maybe 10 inches, a litter girthier, in a uniform shade of dark umber.Karen settled on the bigger one, promising herself she would start a daily regimen of kegel exercises to keep her pussy snug enough for her small dicked hubby.Her voice cracking with anxiety, she asked the pink-haired, nose-pierced, twenty-something girl behind the counter to examine the large black dildo.The cashier treated her with the same bored indifference she might receive at any other retail venue. Clearly Dr. Naylor was not the first randy suburban mom to shop there.The fake cock was heavier than she expected. Flexible and spongy to the touch, deneme bonus it was so thick she almost couldn’t wrap her fingers all the way around it, causing a shiver of anticipation in her loins. But also a feeling of nervousness. Would her pussy be able to handle such a monster?As it was rung up, Karen expressed shock at the hundred-dollar-plus price tag.The cashier explained: “You’re not just paying for the toy. It’s also the brand. See,” she pointed to a photo on the packaging of a handsome black man with confident smirk on his face, “that’s Mr. XL. He’s the model for that toy, and he’s a porn star, so he gets a licensing fee.” She handed over the purchase in an anonymous black gift bag. “Thanks. Have a nice day.”Feeling dizzy, Karen reeled around and quickly left the sex shop, experiencing a sense of accomplishment. It had been less awkward than she feared.Climbing the stairs to the sidewalk, her good mood vanished. For a panicked second she considered ducking back inside. But it was too late. She was busted.***“Oh my God, Karen. Is that you?” screeched a woman’s voice.  After the dimness of the sex shop, the sun momentarily blinded Karen, but she recognized the voice: none other than Paige McFarland, a neighbor from her suburban town.As always, Paige was dressed in the height of stay-at-home-mom fashion: dark yoga pants, expensive fleece, designer sunglasses, auburn hair caught in a pony tail. Her face gleamed with malicious delight at catching an acquaintance emerging from an adult boutique mid-workday. Karen suddenly felt ridiculous in her “disguise” beige overcoat and headscarf—it only made the transgression more obvious. The enormous black penis in the unmarked bag seemed to grow heavier.  “Oh, hi, Paige,” she replied, more calmly than she felt. “What brings you into the city?”“Picking up Ashley from choir practice. Aren’t you a long way from the campus…?” She glanced at the bag. The big black bag.She lifted it. “Bachelorette party for my niece. Penis-shaped candles, a couple other things. She’s just turned 23. Too young for marriage, in my opinion. But what do I know, right? I’ve only been married for 13 years!” She laughed too loudly.Paige was attractive, intelligent, charming, and had kept the same figure she had in high school—reason enough for Karen to hate her. But on top of that her husband made so much money at some finance job that Paige didn’t have to work. Karen loathed the smugness of stay-at-home moms.

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