After Hours – Marcus Takes Her

I never thought I’d be the guy who got off on this shit. Me, the devoted husband, the one who built a life with Emily—high school sweethearts turned suburban power couple. She was the petite blonde with those innocent blue eyes and a body that still turned heads at 32. I was the average Joe, steady job, steady everything. But steady got boring, and that’s how we ended up here: me, tied to a chair in our dimly lit bedroom, my cock straining against my pants, watching as Marcus—her “bull,” as she called him—claimed what was mine.

It started innocently enough. Emily had been complaining about our sex life for months. “You’re sweet, baby, but I need more… fire,” she’d say, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest after another vanilla session. I laughed it off at first, but deep down, it stung. Then one night, over wine, she confessed her fantasy: a big, strong black man who could dominate her, make her scream in ways I never could. “What if you watched?” she whispered, her cheeks flushing. My heart raced—not with anger, but with a twisted excitement. I was hard just thinking about it. We talked boundaries, set rules. No emotions, just physical. But fuck, who was I kidding? This was going to change everything.

We found Marcus on some discreet app for this lifestyle. He was 6’4″, built like a goddamn linebacker, with skin like polished ebony and a smirk that said he knew exactly what he was packing. His profile pic showed him shirtless, abs rippling, and Emily’s eyes lit up when she swiped right. “He’s perfect,” she purred, squeezing my thigh under the table. We met him at a bar first—neutral ground. He shook my hand firmly, his deep voice rumbling as he eyed Emily like she was his next meal. “You sure about this, man?” he asked me, but his gaze never left her cleavage. I nodded, my mouth dry, already imagining it.

That first night, back at our place, the air was thick with anticipation. Emily had dressed for the occasion: a sheer red lingerie set that hugged her perky C-cups and barely covered her shaved pussy. She kissed me softly before turning to Marcus. “Show him what a real man can do,” she said, her voice husky with need. I sat in the corner chair, wrists loosely bound with silk ties—her idea, to make sure I didn’t interfere. My dick throbbed as Marcus pulled her close, his massive hands roaming her body. He was twice my size in every way, and when he kissed her, it was hungry, possessive. Emily melted into him, moaning into his mouth, her hands fumbling with his belt.

“Watch closely, hubby,” Marcus growled, glancing at me with a knowing grin. He unzipped his pants, and out sprang the beast—thick, veiny, at least 10 inches of rock-hard black cock, curving slightly upward like it was made to hit every spot. Emily’s eyes widened, her breath hitching. “Oh God, it’s so big,” she whispered, dropping to her knees without hesitation. She wrapped her small hands around it, stroking slowly, her tongue flicking out to taste the precum beading at the tip. The sight of my wife’s lips stretching around that monster made my own cock leak in my boxers. She sucked him eagerly, gagging as he pushed deeper, her saliva dripping down his shaft. Marcus threaded his fingers through her blonde hair, guiding her rhythm. “That’s it, slut. Take it all for your pathetic husband.”

I squirmed in the chair, the humiliation burning hot in my veins, mixing with raw arousal. Emily looked over at me mid-blowjob, her eyes glassy with lust. “He’s so much bigger than you, baby. I can barely fit him.” Her words stung, but fuck, they made me harder. Marcus chuckled, pulling her up and tossing her onto the bed like she weighed nothing. He ripped off her panties in one swift motion, exposing her glistening pink folds. “Look how wet she is for me,” he said to me, spreading her legs wide. Emily arched her back, begging. “Please, Marcus… fuck me.”

He didn’t make her wait. With one powerful thrust, he buried half his length inside her. Emily cried out, her nails digging into his back. “Oh fuck, it’s too big!” But she pushed back, taking more, her pussy stretching around him obscenely. I watched every inch disappear into her, the contrast of his dark skin against her pale body hypnotic. He started pounding her relentlessly, the bed creaking under their weight. Slap-slap-slap—the wet sounds of her arousal filled the room, mingled with her moans. “Yes! Harder! God, you’re ruining me!” she screamed, her tits bouncing with each brutal stroke.

Marcus flipped her over onto all fours, facing me directly. “Tell him how good it feels,” he commanded, slamming back in. Emily locked eyes with me, her face contorted in ecstasy. “It’s… ahh… so much better than you. His cock fills me up completely. I’m gonna cum so hard!” And she did—shuddering, squirting all over his balls as he kept railing her. The sight pushed me to the edge; I was humping the air, desperate for release, but the ties held me back.

He wasn’t done. Marcus pulled out, his cock slick with her juices, and positioned her on top. Emily rode him like a woman possessed, grinding her clit against his base, her ass cheeks rippling with each bounce. “Watch me take this big black dick, honey,” she taunted, reaching back to spread herself wider. I could see everything—her pussy lips gripping him, juices dripping down his thighs. Marcus grabbed her hips, thrusting up to meet her, hitting depths I’d never reached. She came again, collapsing forward, but he flipped her onto her back and kept going, missionary style now, his massive frame dwarfing hers.

Finally, with a guttural roar, Marcus tensed. “Where do you want it, slut?” Emily wrapped her legs around him. “Inside me! Breed me!” He exploded, pumping rope after rope of hot cum deep into her womb. She milked him dry, moaning my name mockingly. “See, baby? That’s how a real man cums.”

He pulled out slowly, his seed leaking from her stretched hole. Emily crawled over to me, her body glistening with sweat, and untied my hands. “Clean me up, cuck,” she ordered softly. I hesitated, but the fire in her eyes—and in my pants—made me obey. I knelt between her legs, tasting the salty mix of them on my tongue, lapping at her swollen pussy while she stroked my hair. Marcus watched, smirking, his cock still semi-hard. “Good boy.”

That night changed us. Emily craves Marcus weekly now, and I crave the rush of watching. It’s dirty, it’s humiliating, it’s the hottest fucking thing we’ve ever done. And deep down, I know I’ll never go back.