Sometimes stereotypes are correct, I thought to myself with a smile. It was rock solid hard with a throbbing vein running the length of the shaft, and once fully erect it stood a good nine inches at attention. The thickness rivaled that of a beer can. Yep, God had blessed this black man with one hell of a beautiful cock.
The almost scalding water from the shower ran down the length of my six foot four frame, and I began to soap up my dick, slowly stroking it from the top of the head to the base that was connected to my heavy ball sack.

I just couldn't help it. I woke up every morning damn horny. Unfortunately, that was the opposite of my wife who only seemed to be in the mood in the evenings...and especially after I let her go on one of her infamous shopping sprees.

I heard the bathroom door open, and my wife, Cassandra, walked in.

“Don't forget about the Hampton's barbeque this weekend. The rest of your firm's partners will be there, and I am dying to get on the committee for next year’s Feed the Starving Costume Ball.”

I slid back the shower door to look at her, and so she could look at me.

“How can I forget when you remind me every morning before work?” I asked.

Wearing only a flimsy red nightgown, she folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Well, if you didn't forget about every single social engagement we needed to attend I wouldn't have to,” she said, annoyed at me again...like I didn't keep the bitch in Prada and jewels.

“Look at this baby,” I said, glancing down at my throbbing cock. “Papa wants to give you breakfast.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, “Tyrone, you know I don't like morning sex, and the steam in this bathroom is going to ruin the do I just had did on my head.”
And with that she turned around, walked out, and shut the door.

Damnit!

When we were dating, Cassandra couldn't get enough of my cock. Some days she'd suck it up to three times a day…in the bedroom, the shower, the car, the kitchen, the backyard. Hell, the day before our wedding she even sucked it while I sat on the crapper. She'd swallow every drop and tell me how sweet my juice was, too. But ever since she got that ring on her finger a year ago, it felt like sex had now become 100% on her terms. Now, she only wanted to fuck and that was if some little damn kit from the drugstore told her she was ovulating. She just wanted to get knocked up to reel me more in I guess. The Cassandra I dated who was flirty, sexy, and could blow the wax out of my ears disappeared from the moment we said our “I dos.”

I couldn't understand why. I still made sure to work out three times a week after work, and I also played basketball with the guys once a week. My arms and chest were strong, my ass firm, and my legs muscular. Cassandra didn't seem to appreciate it at all. And I was pretty good at knowing how to use my dick to make a woman cum if I say so myself.

I knew the time was ticking by, and I needed to hop into my work clothes. Off to another day of slaving away to make the rich richer and to support Cassandra's latest trip to Nordstrom’s. My life at 34 had already turned into a bad fucking cliché.

I looked down at my still soapy hard dick. I stayed hard all the time these days it seemed. I decided blue balls wouldn't help me get through the day, so I gripped my cock and began jerking it furiously. I thought back to this little stewardess with big tits and blonde hair I dated right after law school. She used to love to have me fuck her in her ass nice and hard. Some women had problems taking me in their pussy because I'm so wide, but that bitch loved it up her ass...and hard. The way her butthole would grip my cock while I fucked her doggie style....and then I started to cum. My white manjuice shot out of my piss slit like a geyser and hit the shower wall.

I wasn't sure what Cassandra was thinking these days, but a strong virile black man has needs that have to be met one way or the other.