Big Black Cock Tastes Better {1}

SYDNEY

A new neighbor moved in next door two weeks ago.

His name is Matthew… hot name, am I right? He's a single father, and tall as hell, with thick, broad shoulders that stretch every shirt he wears.

His body? Insane! Deep, smooth black skin that glows under the morning sun like polished gold... or diamond.

Every morning when he mows his lawn shirtless, it’s impossible not to stare. Literally. His chest is wide and powerful, his abs are clearly carved, his arms thick with muscle, and that dangerous V-line of his hips disappearing into his shorts… mmm.

And his face? Gosh, don't get me started. Straight-up lethal. Clean-cut hair, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and dark, intense eyes that make women weak.

I've spoken to him once. His voice is so deep and velvety that it could make panties drop faster than you could say “Go.” Trust me.

God, he's just so preposterously perfect. He has this mix of rugged masculinity and quiet confidence that’s ridiculously attractive.

It didn’t take long for the rumors to start. Rumors that this insanely hot man has quietly slept with half the married women on the street in just the two weeks that he's been here. And if I'm to be honest, I'm not that surprised.

If you see this man, you wouldn't be either.

The news of Teresa's husband planning to divorce her has been circulating, and people suspect that it's because she has slept with this man... Mathew. And two days ago, Gloria's husband was found at Matthew’s front porch, picking a fight with him.

Every husband in the street is intimidated by Matthew's presence and wants him out of the neighborhood before he sleeps with everyone in the street.

But mine isn't worried though. We've been married for eight years now, with two kids, and he trusts that I wouldn't cheat on him.

Only if he knew.

Only if he knew the kind of dark, filthy thoughts and fantasies I've been having about Matthew. Only if he knew that when we're having sex, I imagine that Matthew is the one drilling his big black cock into me.

I know, I should be ashamed of myself. But being ashamed isn't enough.

I've never had a black cock inside of me before, and I never really cared. But ever since Mathew moved in next door? God, I've been craving one. His, specifically.

And the stereotype about black men having big, fat cocks makes me even more excited when I think about him.

I wonder how long I can keep it together before I succumb to these dark, forbidden cravings of mine.

“Honey? Honey. Honey? Sydney!”

I flinched, startled, jolting out of my thoughts. I glanced over at the dining table to my husband, Tom. “Yes?!”

“The egg.” He said urgently, “It’s burning.”

The moment he said it, my senses instantly became aware of the burning smell circulating in the kitchen. Then I glanced down at the burning pan before me.

“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed in total shock, moving quickly. I turned off the stove and brought down the frying pan.

The burnt egg glared up at me, smoke curling up. I coughed, moving backward, using my hand to slap off the smoke.

“What were you even thinking?” Tom's exasperated voice echoed from behind.

“I-I don't know.” I said in uncertainty, turning around, only to find my four-year old daughter, Jane, looking as though she might burst into tears anytime soon.

Scrambled eggs are her favorite, and I was making this one specifically for her. She was looking forward to it.

But I just burnt it… while thinking about a big black cock.

I'm the worst.

“Oh, my God, baby, don't cry.” I said in a cheerful, tiny voice, stepping close. “It's okay, I can always make another one.”

I walked the few steps to the fridge and swung it open. Oops. No more eggs.

I pressed my eyes shut, letting out a helpless sigh.

Fuck.

I slowly turned around with a stiff smile. Jane was biting down on her lower lip, possibly to suppress a cry, but her eyes were already blurry with tears.

“Oh, baby…” I began.

But her dad cut me off, carried her up and cradled her in his arms, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Come on, Sweetheart, oh, it's okay. Don't cry. I'll get you ice cream on the way to school. You want ice cream, right?”

She gave a little nod.

“That's my girl.”

“I want ice cream, too, Daddy,” said our seven-year-old son, Mike.

Tom glanced at him, chuckled and ruffled Mike's hair. “You'll get yours, too, buddy. Are you done eating?”

Mike nodded, “Yes, Daddy. Look, I finished mine.”

“Good boy. Now, why don't you help your sister get into her backpack? I need to speak with Mommy.”

Tom gently set Jane down on the floor and started approaching me as Mike helped her get into her backpack.

I pressed my lips in a thin line, bracing myself.

“Sydney, let me ask you something,” Tom began, pinching his nose. “Are you sick or something?”

The question surprised me. “What? No.”

“Then are you pregnant?” He asked gently.

“No, I'm not.” I replied, “I'm fine. Why would you think that?”

“Well, you've been acting off a lot lately.” He said, his gentle tone now dropping down, hardening, “Like, a lot. I thought you were sick or pregnant and was waiting for you to tell me yourself. But if you're not sick or pregnant, then it's something else, and I'm going to have a talk with you tonight about it.” He turned and clapped his hands, “Alright, come on, guys, let's get you to school.”

“Bye, Mommy!” Both Mike and Jane waved at me.

“Bye!” I smiled at them. “Have fun!”

I waited until I heard them get into the car and drive away, then I leaned over the counter and sighed.

So Tom has noticed that I've been off lately? When did he notice?

God, I shudder to think how he'll react if he finds out that the reason I've been off lately is that I've been fantasizing about Matthew's black cock?

I sighed again.

I need to stop this before it ruins my family. I love my husband and kids. I'm a woman of dignity.

I'm so very ashamed of myself.

I need to stop this.

From now on, no more fantasizing about Matthew or his big black cock. That man is a walking temptation. Screw him. I'll overcome this temptation. I know I will.

I got this.

I dumped the burnt eggs into the trash bag, washed the burnt plate and the dirty dishes and then put them all away.

Just as I was about to head upstairs to take a bath and go to work, the doorbell rang.

I paused.

Not helping but wondering who it might be, I walked over to the foyer and opened the door.

The person standing at my door was definitely not who I was expecting.

It was him.

Matthew.

My pussy clenched hard, throbbing with sudden need as I stared at him, lips parted slightly. I could feel my pulse rise.

He was shirtless, his smooth, dark chest gleaming with a light sheen of sweat that made his powerful muscles look like they were carved from obsidian.

His broad shoulders, thick pecs, and rock-hard abs glistened under the rising morning sunlight. A single drop of sweat slowly rolled down the center of his chest, sliding over his abs before disappearing into that deep, sexy V-cut.

His frayed jeans hung dangerously low on his narrow hips, barely holding on, showing the sharp lines of his pelvis and the start of his happy trail leading down to what I could only imagine was huge.

I swallowed nothing.

Fuck…

When my eyes finally dragged up to his face, he was already watching me with a slow, knowing smirk. The corner of his full lips curled up like he could read every filthy thought running through my mind.

I felt my cheeks burn.

And you know what the worst part was? This sexy bastard of a temptation looked like he was enjoying how soaked I was getting just from looking at him.

I'm so screwed.