Matt’s hands trembled as he held the useless silicone sleeve. “Call him,” he said, his voice a raw whisper. “Call Marcus. I know you need it.”

Lilly’s breath hitched. For years, Matt’s tiny dicklet—a sad, pink nub even when hard—had left her aching. The extensions were a joke, floppy and hollow. Her secret browser history, full of monstrous black cocks stretching pink pussy lips, was no secret anymore.

“You love it,” Matt pressed, his eyes glazed with a desperate obsession. “You crave that big black dick. I see how you soak your panties watching those videos. So call him. I want to see you get what I can’t give you.”

A thrill shot through her core. She picked up her phone, finding Marcus’s contact. One text later, and he was at the door, a mountain of muscle and confident swagger.

Marcus stepped in, his gaze locking on Lilly. “Damn, girl. You been starving.” His sweatpants did nothing to hide the formidable bulge straining the fabric—a thick, long print that made Matt whimper.

“On your knees, Lilly,” Matt commanded from the corner, his own small cock a pathetic lump in his shorts. “Show him you’re ready.”

Lilly sank down, pulling Marcus’s sweats down. His cock sprang free, a true monster. A thick, veined, ebony pillar of meat, its wide purple helmet already glistening with pre-cum. It smelled of musk and pure man. She leaned in, her lips parting.

“That’s it,” Matt hissed, frantically rubbing his own insignificant n