Marcus had been married for eight years when the itch turned into a full-on need. His wife thought he was working late again. Instead he was in the hotel bar, nursing a whiskey and scrolling the app that had already shown him three dick pics from the same guy. The latest one was thick, veiny, dark, and hard enough to make Marcuss mouth water. The message underneath said simply: Room 412. Doors unlocked. Get on your knees.
He downed the drink and went up. The hallway was quiet. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room smelled like cologne and clean sheets. A tall, broad-shouldered Black man sat in the armchair, legs spread, wearing only black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide the heavy bulge.
Strip, the man said. No hello. Just the command.
Marcus dropped his clothes where he stood. His own cock was already stiff and leaking. He walked over and knelt between the spread thighs like hed been told to do in the chat. The man hooked a thumb under the waistband and freed his cock. It was long, thick, and darker than the rest of his skin, the head shiny with precum.
Suck it.
Marcus opened his mouth and took the head in. The taste was salty and masculine. He worked his tongue under the ridge, then pushed forward, taking more. The mans hand settled on the back of his head and pushed him down until the thick shaft hit the back of his throat. Marcus gagged once, eyes watering, but didnt pull off. He wanted this. Needed it.
The man let him suck for a few minutes, then pulled him up by the hair. On the bed. Face down, ass up.
Marcus climbed onto the mattress. He felt the mans big hands spread his cheeks and a warm, wet tongue drag over his hole. The sensation made him moan into the sheets. The tongue pushed inside, fucking him open, getting him slick and loose. Then two thick fingers followed, scissoring and stretching.
Condom? the man asked.
Fuck no, Marcus answered. I want to feel every inch.
The man chuckled low. Good husband.
The blunt head of that big black cock pressed against his hole and pushed. Marcus grunted at the burn as it stretched him wider than anything had in years. Inch after inch sank in until the mans heavy balls rested against his ass. He stayed still, letting Marcus adjust, then started to fuck.
The thrusts were deep and steady at first, then harder. The bed creaked. Skin slapped. Marcus reached under himself and jerked his own cock in time with the pounding. Every time the thick shaft dragged over his prostate he saw stars.
Say it, the man growled, leaning over him, chest to back. Tell me what you are.
White husband getting fucked by black cock, Marcus gasped.
Louder.
White husband getting fucked by black cock!
The man slammed in harder, hips snapping. He reached under and grabbed Marcuss balls, tugging just enough to mix pain with pleasure. Marcus came first, shooting across the sheets with a broken moan. His hole clenched tight around the invading cock. That was enough to push the man over; he buried himself to the root and unloaded, pumping hot cum deep inside Marcuss guts.
They stayed locked together until the mans cock softened and slipped out. Cum trickled down Marcuss thigh. He didnt move. The man patted his ass once, almost affectionately.
Same time next week, he said. Bring the wedding ring. I want to see it while I fuck you.
Marcus smiled into the pillow, already knowing hed be back. His wife would never know, but his ass would remember every thick inch of that black cock until the next time.
