Back in the safety of her own bedroom, with Emeka working late at the office, Adaugo finally allowed herself to examine her purchase. She locked the bedroom door, drew the curtains, and sat on the edge of the bed, her heart thudding against her ribs like a talking drum at a masquerade festival. She pulled the dildo from the brown paper bag and held it in her hands.
It looked astonishingly real, she thought. The large, flared head, the raised veins running along its length—it was a faithful replica, except for its intimidating size. It was so much bigger than Emeka’s in both length and girth. Yet it felt real, with a slight spongy give beneath her fingers, but undeniably rigid. It was a formidable thing.
A strange, reckless impulse overtook her. She brought it up to her lips and kissed the head. She had never kissed a penis before, not even her husband’s. The act felt so naughty, so utterly forbidden, but it sent a thrill through her. She licked it across the head, tasting the rubber. The depravity of her actions (actions she would have condemned in others just weeks ago) was intoxicating. Then she took a long, slow lick of what would be the underside of the shaft, all the way up to the ridge at the head.
A wicked smile touched her lips. She made a big oval with her mouth and barely got her lips over the rim of the head. Once accomplished, she gently pushed it in until her mouth was full, and she rubbed her tongue side to side against the veins and ridges. The sensation was foreign, yet deeply arousing.
She pulled it out to catch her breath, then pushed it in again and again, flicking it with her tongue, until she was pushing against the back of her throat. A sudden gag made her yank it out. She coughed, tears welling in her eyes. But after calming down, she started again. This time she went slower until she reached the same point, then pulled back.
Again and again, she practised, finding that she could keep it there a little longer each time. Then she found she was able to push it a little further down her throat. She started to play a game to see how much she could fit in her mouth. The presence of the dildo and her growing desire made her salivate excessively, and soon she was drooling down her chin, the evidence of her wickedness glistening on her skin.
Adaugo pulled the dildo out of her mouth and looked at the wet, glistening head. Then she pushed it into the deep cleavage formed by her full breasts, still encased in her bra. The saliva lubricated the head as it wiped against the sides of her firm mounds. She pulled the bra cup down over her left breast, exposing it to the cool air.
She ran the head of the dildo around the edge of her areola, then rubbed the flared head across her hardened nipple. A shiver ran through her. This might really be a fun toy, she thought. She could feel sensations building in her core, wet juices seeping into her thong, and she wondered what kind of vibrations the real thing would generate.
Dropping the dildo onto the bed, Adaugo pulled her blouse off, unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, and let it fall to the floor in a soft heap. She lay down, placing her feet flat on the bedspread, wide apart. This parted her thighs and exposed the black lace covering her pussy.
Picking up the dildo again, she rubbed the wet head up and down her soft inner thighs. No man had ever done such a thing to her with a real cock. The idea was foreign, yet it felt deliciously good and nasty. She kept bringing the rigid shaft closer to the crotch of her now-drenched panties.
She reached around behind her right leg and started to rub the firm head up and down her panty-covered pussy. She could feel it parting her wet, sensitive lips through the thin fabric.
Using her left index finger, she hooked the panties and pulled the soaked material out of the way, then continued to rub the phallus against her bare pussy lips. The rounded head felt so wide against her responsive opening, especially compared to the head of her husband’s cock. The ridge of the head pushed against her swollen clit, and a loud moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.
*
As she pressed the thick, bulbous head of the black toy against the slick seam of her womanhood, she paused, her breath catching in her throat. It looked impossibly huge compared to Emeka’s modest cock. How on earth is this supposed to fit inside me? she wondered, her heart drumming against her ribs. But her body was already betraying her. She was wet, eager and trembling. With each slow, deliberate push, the blunt tip kissed her opening, and with the aid of her own copious wetness, it began to sink in, inch by torturous inch.
Oh God… it’s spreading me so wide…
Her inner walls stretched around the unyielding girth, opening her far beyond anything she had ever known. The moment the thick ridge popped past her entrance, it was as if her body inhaled it, pulling it deeper, gripping it tight. A storm of sensation exploded from her core, racing through her belly, her spine, her limbs.
She gasped. It felt like being split open and remade all at once. Each slow stroke dragged against that hidden spot inside her, and the friction sent electric pulses straight to her clit. Her pleasure mounted with every thrust, her hips rising to meet the toy as if possessed by a hunger she could no longer deny.
Her breath turned ragged. Her back arched clean off the bed, her body climbing toward a peak she had never reached before. “Ooh! Oh God!” she cried, voice raw, as her release ripped through her like a tidal wave.
Her thighs quaked, her fingers twisted the sheets, and the juice of her climax sprayed over the dark shaft, slicking her inner thighs and the hand that drove it. Her head thrashed side to side, her nipples hard as pebbles beneath her own desperate fingers. Then, like a lightning strike, she shattered.
“Jeeeeezus! Oh my God!” Her hips lifted off the mattress, her whole body convulsing in wave after wave of ecstasy. The dildo stood lodged deep inside her, still gripped tight by the pulsating walls of her cunt. When she finally collapsed, panting and boneless, she glanced down and saw a good four inches still protruding.
She couldn’t believe it. How could any woman take all of that? But if it felt this good now, what would the full length do to her? The thought both frightened and thrilled her.
Guilt scratched at the back of her mind, but the memory of that pleasure, that blinding release, was too powerful to deny. She pushed the guilt aside almost as quickly as it came.
In the days that followed, she became insatiable. Again and again, she reached for the dildo, each time sinking a little deeper, each time learning new depths of her own body. But she never needed more than six or seven inches to shatter. Still, the question haunted her: what would the full length feel like?
A week later, during a late-night phone call, she finally asked Grace. “Are men really that big? I mean… naturally?”
Grace laughed, low and knowing. “Plenty are. I’ve had a few that size. And trust me, they make you fly. If you don’t believe me, watch some porn videos. You’ll see real monsters. The biggest I ever had was this young guy, very gifted. He stayed hard for hours. That weekend nearly finished me.”
Adaugo was quiet for a moment, her mind spinning with questions…morality, fidelity, the things Grace had done and with whom. But Grace sounded so alive, so fulfilled. Maybe, Adaugo thought, there was more to pleasure than she had ever allowed herself to imagine. Maybe, just maybe, she deserved to feel it too.
*
Adaugo stood outside the adult shop, her hand hovering over the door handle. She had sworn she would not return, yet here she was, drawn by a curiosity that had become impossible to ignore. The sex toy she had purchased weeks ago was so impossibly large, far beyond anything her husband Emeka possessed, that she simply could not imagine a real man matching it. Could such a thing even exist?
The same young attendant from her first visit spotted her the moment she stepped inside. His smile stretched wide. Recognition sparked in his eyes.
Adaugo felt a sudden shiver ripple down her spine. She remembered what her friend Grace had confided over drinks, that the most endowed man she had ever been with was a young man, barely twenty-five, with a physique that had ruined her for every other lover since.
“Welcome back, madam,” the attendant said, his voice smooth and assured. “You have come for another item?”
She nodded, barely able to meet his gaze. He gestured toward the far wall where rows upon rows of DVDs lined the shelves. The sheer volume astounded her. Titles in bold lettering promised every fantasy imaginable. Her eyes scanned the options until one caught her attention: Well-Endowed Men for Restless Married Women. It felt uncomfortably, thrillingly appropriate.
After paying, she turned to leave, but the attendant’s voice stopped her.
“Enjoy yourself, madam. If you ever need… live assistance, I am very available.”
His words hung in the air, thick with implication. Adaugo’s mind immediately conjured images of Grace’s young lover, and she felt a warm rush of moisture between her thighs. She fled the store without responding.
Back in her apartment, Adaugo slid the disc into her laptop, drew the curtains, and settled onto the sofa. The film began without ceremony. No plot, no preamble, just bodies colliding in raw, unapologetic lust. She was initially scandalised by how quickly the action escalated. But as the minutes passed, a strange heat began building in her chest, spreading downward. Her nipples tightened beneath her blouse.
Her fingers drifted almost unconsciously to her thighs, pressing against the fabric of her dress.
She was astonished to see that every man on screen was at least as huge as the toy hidden in her wardrobe. And the women, housewives like herself, moaned with such authentic ecstasy as those impossibly thick cock disappeared into their mouths and bodies.
That night, Adaugo moved her viewing to the bedroom. She lay naked on the bed, one hand roaming her body while the other worked the remote.
She became bolder with each session, retrieving the dildo from its hiding place and attempting to replicate what she saw on screen. She would imagine herself as the woman on television, on her knees, mouth stretched wide, or on her back, legs trembling as the man drove into her.
She learned to synchronise her movements with the actresses, matching their rhythm, their breathing, their desperate cries. She found that her climax would crest precisely as the women on screen reached theirs, leaving her gasping and spent in the dim glow of the screen.
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