Trying Out the Neighbor's Dick

There was an intriguing link on the page, something called, The Bull Pen. She clicked on it, gasping when she saw what it was. Thumbnail after thumbnail of black men offering their services as "bulls". Underneath the heading, THE BULL PEN, were the words, no white pricks here.

Gabby's eyes were wide as she stared at all the black cocks, every one of them in the 30 to 36-centimeter range! Even the hanging ones seemed to be plump black banana cocks, a foot long by American standards. Some hid their faces behind smartphones in mirror selfies, some had the cocks pulled out of sweatpants, and others, the muscular ones, posed nude. There were young men, old men, muscular, thin, and fat men, all with huge black cocks. Some of the erect circumcised ones were perfect specimens of black cock. One even looked familiar, so she clicked on the thumbnail.

HANDY ANDY, my equipment will get the job done.

She snorted, staring lustfully at the familiar cock. Her fanny slowly started drooling at the sight of it. Gabby glanced away and over her shoulder at the black dildo on her bed. She might have to have another go with it later, and dammit if her ass wasn't craving a good fucking too.

She turned back to her computer, staring at Andy's sexy muscular body and his even sexier big black cock, sticking out, fully erect. "Well, sonofabitch," she muttered as the idea came to her. Gabby opened her email and wrote out one to her publisher before sending it.

She opened up her word processing program and started typing.

Darcy O'Grady paced back and forth in front of Drew. The black-skinned handyman, smiled as he watched her pace the room. Darcy had the feeling she'd need some muscle for this job and muscle was something Handy Andy had plenty of. Her neighbor needed some extra cash and readily agreed to help her.

"Dammit Drew, of course, the Haitian would be smuggling the Columbian artifacts out of a strip club," she groaned, "but how do we infiltrate the network? You can go in as a customer, but how do I get in?

"Isn't it obvious, especially with your body," chuckled Drew. "You get a job there as a dancer."

Darcy quit walking and stared at her new black ally. "I work for the art division of INTERPOL, I'm not a stripper."

"Well, that's a waste then, cause you sho is built like a stripper. How big are your tits, DDs?"

"Double E's" she answered, reluctantly. "You've got a point, but I don't know the least thing about dancing."

"Well, I've been to a few of the local clubs."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Drew chuckled. "Even the one we need to infiltrate. I could show you some pointers."

"What do we need to do?"

"Follow me." The large black man got up off the couch and entered his bedroom. His apartment was similar to her next door, small with just a few rooms, but that was all she needed for however long The Haitian Job took her. "Here, this should fit you," he said, pulling out a tiny dress that looked like it belonged to an adult dancer. "Got some heels too."

"Why on earth do you have these?"

"Ex-girlfriend. Her tits were as big as yours but fake. You could make a lot of money dancing with your natural big titties."

"Thanks," she replied, wryly. Drew was nice enough, but crass.

"Put it on and come out and dance for me." Drew turned and walked back out to his living room.

Darcy pulled off her clothes, wondering how she always seemed to find herself in these situations. At least Drew was here to help her and she was grateful for that. He had a large mirror and she looked at her young fit figure, her large breasts straining to burst out of her bra. She had a firm well-rounded rear end too. Her neighbor wasn't wrong, she was built like a stripper. This wouldn't be the first time she used her looks to get what she needed either.

Gabby pulled the dress on over her head, tugging at the hem to pull it down further, but the thing barely covered the bottom of her fanny or her butt cheeks. She slipped her dainty feet into the heels, immediately accentuating her strong calves. "Well, with a little makeup and having my hair done, I do look like a stripper." She examined herself in the mirror, pleased with how good she looked. "Ready," she called.

"Okay," said Drew. Suddenly, Motley Crues' Girls, Girls, Girls, began playing from Drew's phone. "Come out strutting."

Darcy O'Grady strutted out from the bedroom, already swaying her hips to the music, and promptly froze in her tracks, eyes staring in amazement at her black assistant.

"What's wrong? Why did you stop?"

"Why are you naked?" Darcy couldn't take her eyes off the massive piece of black meat hanging between Drew's legs. It had to be 32 centimeters... No, she should keep it for an American audience, thought Gabby, backspacing. It had to be a foot long! "And why's it so big?"

Drew chuckled. "Never seen a black one?"

"No," she said shaking her head, "I've never seen anything like what you're packing, Drew." Even the Māori from the recent Māori job hadn't been hung like this and his slong had been huge. Her fanny started drooling at the sight of it. It made her miss her husband, half a world away, but his prick wasn't half as big as Drew's black cock. "But, why are you naked?" she asked again, though she didn't want him to put it away.

"That's the test. Make it hard and you're ready to go undercover."

Oh, I'm ready to go under your covers, she thought. "Okay," she agreed.

Drew started the song again and sat back to enjoy the show.

And Darcy danced. It was easier than she thought, just open yourself to the beat and let the music flow through you. She'd always been a fast learner and stripping was no exception. She just wished she had a pole to practice on and speaking of poles, Drew's had plumped up and was rising. She turned and wiggled the dress off over her head, presenting her ass to him as well as the spreading wet spot on her panty.

Darcy spun around, strolling up to the black man, she leaned forward and shook her breasts in his face before stepping back and reaching for the hook between her cups. She swore his cock grew another inch when she freed her huge tits for him.

Darcy danced and danced. She was no longer dancing to go undercover, she wasn't even dancing for Drew, she was dancing to please his big black cock... and it was working...

Gabby sat back pleased with her new plan. She opened her emails. She had one from her doctor's office confirming an appointment for next week. She needed to get back on birth control and fast. She knew Dre would be back for more and she wouldn't be able to resist him. Hell, her writing had made her horny and she was ready to go look for him. But first, she needed to make sure she wasn't already pregnant and it was safe to fuck him again because she knew he wouldn't pull out nor would she want him to. The problem was there hadn't been any doctor appointments open for a week and with Florida's growing population, she'd been lucky to get that.

The second email was from her publisher giving feedback on her plan for Darcy. Her character would no longer be a dowdy middle-aged private detective ala Miss Marple, but a young vibrant attractive agent for Interpol hunting stolen cultural antiquities around the world. And Darcy would have her sexual needs.

Her publisher agreed.

Mrs. Gale;

You had me at sex. Show me you can write it.

Include at least two graphic sex scenes per book. Preferably more.

A loving encounter with the husband and hot erotic sex with an ally and the villain.

Keep the husband. She loves him, but can't help herself as her job gets her in situations.

Don't worry about large penises. Sex stories don't have to be realistic.

Loving Drew. Make theirs a "let's keep it professional, but they always end up fucking" relationship.

If this sells, I'll publish a rewritten version of THE MAORI JOB that follows the same formula.

If this works, I'm willing to discuss a multi-book contract.

Looking forward to reading what you've got. Impress me.

Gabby sat back a huge grin on her face. "Oh, I can write sex," she mumbled, liking the direction this was going. The series would be formulaic, like a James Bond novel. She'd already thought that Darcy would end up bedding the villain at some point. The Maori made sense from her first book and now there would be the strip club-owning smuggler known as "The Haitian".

She had a thought and opened her browser back to the Bull Pen. She backed away from Andy's and went back to browsing through the men. Sure enough, there was a dark-black man with a French name. A Haitian! She opened his window, gasping at the size of his dark black cock. He was as big as the fucking KING DONG she was planning on ordering. And there was his email and phone number! She couldn't contact some stranger for sex, could she? But dammit, she wouldn't mind trying out that cock. She could even consider it research for her book!

But first, she needed that pregnancy test and to get back on birth control.

The doorbell rang.

Gabby Gale stood up from her desk and tightened the belt on her robe as she walked down the stairs. The doorbell rang again halfway down. She hurried to the door and opened it.

Andre Mabuza stood there grinning at her, his finger reaching out to press her doorbell a third time.

Her naked body beneath the robe quickly became aroused at the sight of him. Her nipples swelled and popped out, pulling out her entire areola as they hardened. Her fanny started drooling as she stared at the muscular black African, no longer ugly in her eyes, but one of the best-looking men she'd ever seen.

She stood there staring wide-eyed at him like an idiot until he spoke, "Thought I'd stop by and fill your crack for you," he said with an arrogant smirk. He held a tube of caulk up. "I brought my cock."

Gabby slowly stepped back, holding the door open to let him in. He tugged at the belt on her robe, as he passed, pulling it out. Her robe fell open.

Gabby was smiling happily. Her nude figure was fully on display to anyone on the street as she slowly closed the door.

THE END