Part One
The first time I saw it, my mouth went dry.
Marcus stepped out of the shower with a towel hanging low on his hips, water still beading across the deep brown of his chest and stomach. When the towel slipped, the heavy, thick cock that swung free made my pulse jump hard between my legs. It was darker than the rest of him, almost black at the head, veined, and already half-hard from the way I’d been staring.
“Like what you see?” he asked, voice low and amused.
I nodded, unable to find words. He walked closer, took my hand, and wrapped my fingers around the shaft. The heat of it surprised me. The weight. The way it thickened and lengthened under my touch until it stood rigid, the broad head glossy and dark.
He guided me down onto the bed. I spread my legs without being asked. When he rubbed the blunt head against my cunt, I was already wet enough that it slid through my folds with an easy, filthy sound. He pushed in slow. The stretch burned in the best way—thick, relentless, filling me until I felt every inch of that black cock dragging along my walls. I moaned into his shoulder as he bottomed out, balls pressed tight against me.
Marcus fucked me with steady, deep strokes, one hand gripping my hip, the other braced beside my head. Each thrust made my clit throb. The contrast of his dark skin against my lighter thighs, the way that thick cock disappeared into me and came back shiny with my wetness, kept pulling soft, broken sounds from my throat.
“Look at it,” he murmured. “Watch it go in.”
I did. I watched the fat, dark shaft stretch me open, watched the way my cunt clung to him on every withdrawal. The sight alone pushed me closer. When he started fucking me harder—long, heavy strokes that made the bed creak—I came with a sharp cry, clenching hard around him.
Part Two
He didn’t stop. He flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and sank back in from behind. The new angle made me feel even fuller. His hands gripped my ass as he drove into me, the wet slap of skin and the low, satisfied sounds he made filling the room. I pushed back to meet every thrust, greedy for more of that thick black cock.
When he finally came, he buried himself deep and groaned, pulsing hot inside me. I felt every throb. After a moment he pulled out slowly, leaving me open and messy, a thick trail of cum following the dark head as it slipped free.
I stayed there on my elbows and knees for a few seconds, breathing hard, still feeling the shape of him inside me. Then I turned, looked at the glistening length of his cock, and leaned in to taste him—salt, heat, and the evidence of how thoroughly he’d just used me.
Marcus stroked my hair and let me clean him with my tongue, already starting to harden again under my mouth.
“Round two?” he asked.
I answered by taking him deeper, lips stretching around the thick black head, tongue working the underside as I sucked him back to full hardness. He let me work for a while, then pulled me up, laid me on my back again, and pushed straight back into my still-slick cunt. This time he fucked me slower but deeper, grinding against my clit with every stroke until I came a second time, shaking under him.
He followed soon after, flooding me again. When he finally pulled out, I was left lying there spent and full, the taste of him still on my tongue and the thick, dark cock that had just wrecked me resting heavy against my thigh.
I already knew I wanted more.

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