I held my wife’s hips while a complete stranger’s massive black cock stretched her open through a glory hole. She came so hard her legs gave out… then looked at me with glassy eyes and whispered, “Bring him home. I am Ken, 38. Laura is 35. We’ve been married twelve years, and the sex had settled into something comfortable, predictable, and increasingly quiet. That Friday night, after a second bottle of wine, she looked at me with a heat I hadn’t seen in years and said, “I want strangers to use me while you watch.” That is how we ended up at the adult bookstore on the industrial side of town, the one with the private booths and the glory holes cut into the walls. The place smelled of industrial cleaner and old carpet. We paid for a double booth, the kind with a locking door and two holes on opposite walls. Laura’s hands were shaking when she locked us in. She wore a short black dress and nothing underneath, the way we had planned. I sat on the narrow bench and watched her. The first cock that appeared was average, pale, already hard. Laura looked at me, waiting for permission. I nodded. She dropped to her knees, took it in her mouth, and the soft wet sounds filled the booth. I stroked myself while I watched her. She was careful at first, then hungrier, the way she gets when she stops thinking. The stranger came quickly, and she swallowed without being asked. When the cock withdrew she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at me, eyes bright. “More,” she whispered. Two more men came and went. One she sucked. One she turned around for, bracing her hands on the wall while I held her hips and watched a stranger’s cock disappear into her. She came on it, quiet and sharp, biting her lip so the sound wouldn’t carry. I came on the floor of the booth watching her. Then the fourth one appeared. It was thick, dark, and heavy, the kind of cock that makes you stop breathing for a second. The head was broad and already shiny. Laura stared. I stared. Neither of us spoke. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around it. Her hand looked small. She stroked once, twice, then leaned in and licked the underside from base to tip. The man on the other side of the wall groaned, low and deep. Laura looked back at me over her shoulder. “Ken… can I?” I was already hard again. “Do it.” She took as much as she could into her mouth. Her lips stretched. Spit ran down the shaft. She worked him with both hands and her mouth, making soft needy sounds I had never heard from her before. When she finally pulled off she was breathing hard. “I want him inside me,” she said. I helped her stand. She put her hands on the wall, arched her back, and guided that thick black cock to her entrance. The head pushed against her. She pushed back. It stretched her open slowly, and the sound she made was half pain, half something else. I watched every inch disappear. When he was all the way in she stayed still for a long moment, just breathing. Then he started to fuck her. Hard. Deep. The wet slap of skin filled the booth. Laura’s mouth hung open. Her eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time. I reached under her and rubbed her clit while he pounded into her. She came hard, legs shaking, and he kept going. I could see how full she was, how her body kept trying to adjust around him. When he finally pulled out and came across her ass and lower back, she was still trembling. We cleaned up in silence. Outside the booth a tall Black man in his late forties was waiting, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He had a calm, almost polite face and the kind of body that said he worked out without trying too hard. “Name’s Derrick,” he said. “You two look like you’re having a good night.” Laura’s cheeks were still flushed.