Addicted

The Discovery Part 1

Patrice lay beneath her husband as he hovered over her grunted loudly and pushed his modest-sized cock inside of her. Even though he wasn't large, there were times when his cock provided her some pleasure. It was proof that it wasn't all about size, but more about the effort a man made with his size.

Yet, over the past two years, he had struggled to give her any pleasure, often forgoing foreplay and finishing long before she was near climax. And that night was no different, he stroked rapidly, grunted, and collapsed in her arms. His sweat dripped onto her cheek and neck just before he rolled off her body, "You good?" he asked.

Being that she was non-confrontational and hated to hurt anyone's feelings, she simply replied, "Yes." She slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom to clean the cum from her slit. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was in her early forties, yet she still looked as if she was twenty-something.

She had nice breasts, a slim waist, long-toned legs, flawless golden honey-colored skin, and amber-colored eyes. On her nose were soft brown freckles and she had a radiant smile. She sighed as she dried her hands and left the bathroom.

Upon entering the bedroom, she saw her sweet husband in a heap under the covers. He was still handsome, yet he had put on thirty pounds since they had gotten married. She loved him dearly, but she was starting to buckle under the pressure of sexual frustration.

He snored loudly. She shook her head, threw on some sweat pants, and left the bedroom. She ended up in her office doing what she normally did on nights when her needs were not met.

She pulled up pictures of cocks. She enjoyed the look of various kinds. She had only been with her husband so she was used to five inches, but the ones she saw online looked inviting and downright delicious.

There were the white men with huge cocks. She was shocked that white men were that blessed since she had only heard the narrative about black men's cocks, which...her husband was black, so she was aware that it didn't apply to "all."

She imagined one in her mouth, so nice and full to lick on and suck until he would release his warm nutrient into her mouth. She smiled at the thought of it.

She pulled up Latin men's cocks, they too were blessed. She imagined one inside of her as her finger traced her labia and polished her sweet pearl. She imagined bumping hips vigorously with a Latin man and having him whisper nasty things in Spanish to her.

Finally, she looked at black men's cocks. They were beautiful. She imagined one of those long thick elephant trunks inside of her as she bucked on top of him like she was riding a mechanical bull. She slid her fingers inside of her pink paradise and moaned.

She wanted to cum badly. Why was it so hard for her husband to please her? She never thought about leaving him. But she would often see men and wonder about their cocks. How long, how thick, if it had a lot of veins or was it smooth, was the tip a mushroom, or was he still hooded until he became aroused.

It was a game she liked to play in her head. There was no harm in it, as long as she never acted on her thoughts. I mean, she would never walk up to a man and ask to see his cock. Although she wondered, what would happen if she did?

This game provided her pleasure in ways sleeping with her husband did not. She promised herself it was just a game.

Two weeks later, Patrice had to leave home for a business trip. She was an ethics officer that visited different companies and taught classes on ethics and compliance.

It was early morning and the conference room was filled with workers ready to receive her message. When she entered the room with her materials, she saw a handsome olive-skin-toned man with gray eyes. He was clean-shaven, had a chiseled jawline with a cleft in his chin, and immediately, her mind thought about what he was hiding behind the brown trousers he wore. Her heart raced and she quickly looked away and prepared to present.