Her First BBC Fantasy at the Bar

Corinne stood in the bedroom doorway in a black dress that barely covered her ass, twenty-eight and already flushed with the idea she had been turning over for weeks. Henrik, thirty-two, sat on the edge of the bed in jeans and a T-shirt, watching her like he was afraid she might change her mind and more afraid she wouldn't.

"I've never had one," she said, and her mouth curved, filthy already. "Never had a black cock. Never felt something that actually fills me until I can't think. You know how I get when I picture it. I can already hear myself begging. I want a huge one. I want to know if size really ruins a girl the way I think it does. I want my first BBC tonight, and I want you to send me out for it."

Henrik's breath caught. This was his fantasy too, the one he jerked off to when she whispered in the dark about being stretched open by a stranger while he waited at home and imagined every wet sound. He nodded, throat tight. "Downtown. The bar on Mercer. I'll drop you and come straight back. You tell me everything when you get home. Every inch. Every word you say to him."

She crossed the room and kissed him hard, then spoke against his mouth. "I'm going to find the biggest bulge in that place and tell him my married pussy needs to be split. I'm going to let him wreck me, and then I'm going to walk back in here dripping and make you come while I describe how much better he fucked me than you ever have."

He drove her in silence that hummed. At the curb she got out, heels clicking, and looked back once. "Don't come inside until I do. Stroke it if you have to. Picture me on my knees." Then she was gone through the door, and Henrik turned the car around and drove home with his cock already aching against his zipper.

In their apartment he stripped to his boxers and sat on the bed, one hand wrapped around himself, not rushing. He pictured the bar lights on her throat, the way her dress would ride when she crossed her legs, the dirty mouth she never bothered to clean up for him. He imagined her scanning the room, hungry, obsessed with the idea of something thick enough to make her gasp. His fist moved slow. He wanted the wait. He wanted every filthy detail she would bring home, and until she did he let his mind write the story for her, stroke by stroke, already leaking at the thought of her voice saying it out loud.

The bar was loud and warm. Corinne took a stool at the end, ordered a club soda, and felt eyes on her before she had even settled. She didn't drink. She wanted every second sharp. Across the room a man stood at the high-top, twenty-six, tall enough that the ceiling lights caught the line of his shoulders, muscular under a fitted black shirt, dark skin gleaming. His jeans were tight. The bulge in them was not subtle. It ran heavy along his thigh, thick even at rest, and Corinne's stomach dropped in a hot rush. She had imagined this. She had never seen it in person, not like that, not aimed at her.

Darius caught her looking and didn't look away. He crossed the floor like he already knew what she was there for. Up close he smelled like cedar and clean skin. His voice was low. "You keep staring at my dick like you want an introduction."

"I do," she said, and her dirty mouth opened all the way. "I'm Corinne. I'm married. My husband dropped me off and went home to jerk off while he waits to hear how I got fucked. I've never been with a black man. I've never had a cock that big. I can see yours through those jeans and I am soaking my panties just looking at it. I need a huge BBC to stretch my married white pussy until I can't close my legs. I want you to ruin me. I want to feel every thick inch split me open and I want to tell him afterward exactly how much bigger you were."

Darius's mouth twitched, heat in his eyes. He set a hand on the bar beside her hip, not touching yet. "You talk like that to every man, or am I special?"

"You're the first one who looks like he could actually do it." She leaned in, voice dropping, vivid and shameless. "I want to get on my knees and choke on it. I want you to bend me over and pound me until I'm screaming that your cock is too big and I still need more. I want you to fuck me so deep I forget my husband's name for a minute and then remember it just so I can go home and tell him how you creampied me. Size matters. I think I'm into it. I need to know. Take me somewhere and find out."

He studied her face, checking. She met his eyes, steady, wanting. "You sure?" he asked. "No games. You want this, you say it."

"I want it," she said. "I want your huge black cock in my pussy tonight. I consent. Take me."

He paid for nothing because she hadn't touched the soda, and they were outside in under a minute. A cab idled at the corner. Darius opened the door, and Corinne slid in, dress riding high, thighs pressed together and already slick. He gave the driver an address a few blocks over, an apartment above a closed bookstore, and then his hand was on her knee, heavy and warm, sliding up until his fingers found the wet cotton of her panties.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You're drenched."

"Because I can feel how big you are against my leg," she whispered, filthy and bright-eyed. "I'm going to beg. I'm going to be so loud. My husband is at home right now with his hand on his cock imagining this, and he has no idea how much worse it's going to be for him when I describe your dick splitting me. Hurry."

The ride was short and electric. His fingers rubbed her through the panties until she was biting her lip, grinding down, whispering exactly how she wanted to be used. When the cab stopped he paid, helped her out, and led her up a narrow stair to a door he unlocked with one hand while the other stayed on her ass. Inside, the apartment was dim, a couch facing a low table, city light through half-closed blinds. He locked the door behind them. Corinne turned, dropped her purse, and went to her knees on the rug without being asked.

"Show me," she said. "I need to see it. I need to worship it before you wreck me."

Darius unzipped. The cock that swung free was enormous, thick as her wrist, dark and heavy, veins raised along the shaft, the head broad and already shining. It hung and then lifted as he wrapped a hand around the base, and Corinne made a broken sound. She had imagined size. This was more. Her pussy clenched on nothing.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "It's huge. It's so fucking huge. Henrik's never even close. Look at it. I can't even wrap my head around fitting that in my mouth, and I still need it in my cunt."

She leaned in and licked the underside from base to tip, slow and wet, tasting salt and heat. Then she opened wide and took the head, jaw straining, tongue working the slit. Spit gathered fast. She pushed deeper, gagged, pulled back with a string of saliva, and went again, sloppier, both hands stroking what she couldn't swallow. The shaft was too thick for her fingers to meet. She gagged again, eyes watering, and didn't stop, moaning around him, filthy even with her mouth full.

"Please," she gasped, pulling off, chin shining. "Please wreck me with this. Please fuck my married pussy with this monster. I need it. I need you to stretch me until I scream. I'm begging you, Darius. Use me. Ruin me. Make me take every inch of this huge BBC."

He hauled her up by the arms, spun her, and bent her over the arm of the couch. Her dress went up. Her panties went down to her ankles. She kicked them off. His hand slid between her thighs and found her soaked, swollen, ready. Two fingers pushed in and she cried out at even that, then whined when he added a third and worked her open.

"You're tight," he said, voice rough. "You sure you want all of it?"

"Yes. God, yes. I want it to hurt a little. I want to feel the stretch. Put it in. Please put that huge cock in me."

He lined up. The broad head pressed at her entrance and held there, blunt pressure, and then he pushed. Corinne's mouth fell open. The stretch was immediate and enormous, a slow burn that turned into a deep, shocking fullness as the head popped inside and the thick shaft followed. She gripped the couch cushion and screamed, not in refusal, in overwhelmed want.

"Fuck, fuck, it's so big, it's splitting me, oh my God it's splitting my pussy open—"

Darius groaned and fed her another inch, then another, hands locked on her hips. She was soaked enough that he slid, but the fit was obscene, her lips stretched white around the dark shaft, her body shaking as she took him. He didn't rush the first stroke. He sank until his hips met her ass and she felt him deeper than anything she had ever known, a pressure against her cervix that made her vision spark.

"All the way," she panted. "You're all the way in. I can feel you in my stomach. Henrik could never. He could never fill me like this. Move. Pound me. I need you to pound this huge BBC into me."

He drew back and drove in, a hard, wet slap. Then again. Then he set a rhythm that was deep and relentless, doggy on the couch, each thrust punching a filthy cry out of her. The sound of it filled the room, skin on skin, her pussy sucking at him, her voice breaking into words she didn't try to clean.

"Yes, yes, ruin me, split me open, your cock is too big and I love it, I fucking love it, size matters, oh God size matters so much, you're stretching my married cunt so wide I won't be the same, harder, harder, wreck this pussy, make it yours for tonight—"

Darius fucked her like she had asked, long strokes that dragged every thick inch out to the head and slammed back in until she was drooling on the cushion, ass rippling, dress bunched at her waist. One hand slid under her and found her clit, rubbing rough circles while he pounded. She came fast and loud, clenching so hard around him that he cursed and had to slow or finish too soon. She shook through it, still talking, still begging.

"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop. I need more. Flip me. I want to watch it. I want to see that huge black cock disappearing in me. I want to see how deep you go."

He pulled out, the sudden emptiness making her whimper, and turned her onto her back on the couch cushions, legs spread, heels still on. He pushed her knees up and wide. Corinne looked down between her bodies as he guided himself back to her soaked, reddened entrance. The sight of it, thick and dark against her pale skin, the head nudging her open again, made her moan before he even moved.

"Watch," he said.

She watched. He sank in inch by inch, and she saw her pussy stretch around him, saw the shaft vanish, saw how far he had to go before his hips met hers. It looked impossible and felt better. He bottomed out and held there, letting her stare, letting her feel the full weight of him inside her married body.

"Look at that," she whispered, awed and wrecked. "Look how much of you is in me. Every inch. I can see it. My husband is half your size. Half. Maybe less. I'm so full I can't breathe. Fuck me like this. Make me watch you ruin me."

He did. Missionary, hard and deep, his weight pinning her, his cock driving in and out while she kept her eyes locked on the place they joined. Each thrust made her gasp a new filthy line. She told him his BBC was splitting her open. She told him she was obsessed. She told him she would never forget the sight of that huge cock disappearing into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper, heels digging into his back, begging for it harder, dirtier, until the couch creaked and her voice went raw.

"Yes, right there, right there, you're so deep, you're so fucking thick, I can feel every vein, I can feel you stretching me on every stroke, don't pull out, I want it, I want your cum, I want you to flood my cunt, creampie me, fill me up, give me all of it so I can take it home to him dripping out of me—"

Darius's rhythm broke. He groaned, buried himself to the hilt, and came in long, heavy pulses, flooding her clenching pussy with a huge load that she felt hot and thick inside her. Corinne came again at the feeling of it, milking him, sobbing his name and then her husband's, filthy and grateful, her body locked around the cock that had just ruined her the way she had begged for. He stayed deep until the last throb faded, both of them shaking, sweat on their skin, her pussy still fluttering around him.

He eased out slowly. Cum followed at once, a thick white spill over her swollen lips and down onto the cushion. Corinne lay there panting, legs open, watching it leak, a dazed smile on her mouth.

"Cab," she managed. "I have to get home. He's waiting. He's going to lose his mind."

Darius helped her stand, steadied her when her knees wobbled, and found her panties. She didn't put them on. She tucked them into her purse, smoothed her dress down over the mess, and let him call the car. At the curb he kissed her once, brief, and put her in the back seat. She sat carefully, feeling him drip out of her the whole ride, thighs sticky, pussy aching in the best way, already shaping the words she would use.

Henrik was on the bed when she walked in, boxers shoved down, fist flying over his cock, face flushed, eyes wild. He saw her and groaned. "Tell me. Please. I can't—"

She climbed onto the mattress, dress still on, and straddled his thighs without letting him inside her. Cum slicked her skin. She took his free hand and pressed it between her legs so he could feel how open she was, how wet, how used.

"He was huge," she said, voice low and filthy, feeding him every detail. "Bigger than I imagined. Thick as my wrist. I got on my knees and gagged on it until I was drooling, and then he bent me over his couch and split my pussy open in doggy. I screamed. I told him size matters. I told him you could never fill me like that. He fucked me so deep I watched every inch disappear when he flipped me over, and then he creampied me. A huge load. It's still leaking out of me. Feel it. His cum in your wife's cunt. His BBC destroyed me, Henrik. It felt so much bigger and so much better than anything you could ever give me."

Henrik's hips jerked. He came hard, striping his stomach, groaning through it while she kept talking, while she described the stretch and the creampie and the way she had begged to be ruined. She stayed on him through the last pulse, mouth still open, the story not finished and the afterglow already cutting short around them.