Sarah Receives Her Bull's Creampie

I never thought I’d actually go through with it until the night Darius walked into our living room.

I’m thirty-two, married for eight years to Mark, and for the last two of them my husband had slowly unraveled his deepest fantasy in the dark beside me—telling me how hard he got thinking about another man taking me, filling me, claiming what was supposed to be only his. The fantasy had a face now. Darius. His tall, dominant Black coworker. Twenty-nine years old, built like a linebacker, voice like smoked whiskey. When Mark finally worked up the courage to invite him over “for drinks,” we both knew exactly what we were doing.

I wore a tight little crimson dress that barely reached mid-thigh, no bra, a tiny black thong. My nipples were already stiff against the thin fabric as I sat on the couch between the two men. Mark was on my left, fidgeting, trying to hide how hard he was. Darius lounged on my right like he already owned the room, one thick arm stretched along the back of the couch so his fingertips brushed my bare shoulder.

“Damn, Lisa,” Darius said, eyes sliding down my body without shame. “You been hiding all this under those office clothes? Those legs… that ass… Mark, my man, you’ve been selfish.”

Mark swallowed hard, voice hoarse. “She looks good, doesn’t she?”

Darius chuckled, low and filthy. “She looks like a woman who needs to be fucked proper.”

The tension snapped tight. I felt my pussy throb at the crude words. Darius didn’t wait for permission. He hooked one big hand around my waist and pulled me smoothly onto his lap so I was straddling him, my short dress riding all the way up. The heat of his massive thighs burned against the backs of mine. His hands settled on my ass, squeezing possessively.

Mark’s eyes were glued to us. I watched my husband’s hand press over the bulge in his slacks, rubbing slowly.

Darius kissed the side of my neck, open-mouthed, sucking lightly. I whimpered. His breath was hot against my ear. “You feel that, baby? That’s what a real man feels like.”

I rocked my hips once, grinding my thong-covered pussy against the enormous ridge of his cock. Even through his pants it felt obscene—thick, long, heavy. Nothing like Mark.

“Mark,” Darius said, voice calm and commanding while he continued kissing my throat. “You gonna sit there jerking yourself like a little cuck, or you gonna give me what I want?”