Chapter 1

"Girl, you have to help me satisfy my husband. I honestly can't take it anymore."

Recently, my wife couldn't handle my intensity anymore and went crying to her best friend for help. Wanting to ease the tension between us, her bestie decided to come to our house alone.

She showed up in a sexy short dress that barely contained her curves.

"So I hear you're pretty wild, huh? Let me see what all the fuss is about."

My name is Cole Griffin. After five years of marriage, my body suddenly went through a second round of development.

The growth down there was nothing short of astonishing, and with it came an insatiable appetite. I found myself wanting it seven or eight times a day.

At first, my wife was thrilled with the change. Every night brought her to the brink of exhaustion—in the best way possible.

But gradually, I kept growing, and she couldn't handle me anymore.

"Stop, please—I can't take any more. You're going to break me."

She'd beg me through tears, but I was desperate with need. The urge was unbearable.

I'd end up pressing her against the wall, taking what I had to have.

Then came the day she finally snapped. Crying, she demanded a divorce.

When I refused, she packed up and moved in with her best friend. Days passed. No sign of her coming home.

I was going out of my mind. Every night, I'd be so hard I thought I'd explode. The ache was torture.

Her best friend caught wind of what was happening. Curiosity got the better of her.

Claiming she wanted to help patch things up between us, she showed up at my place—ready, it seemed, to offer a different kind of relief.

The night she arrived, I was pacing the living room, restless and on edge.

The doorbell rang. My heart leaped—finally, my wife had come home. After days of pent-up frustration, I'd finally get some release.

But when I opened the door, it wasn't my wife standing there.

It was Ramona Lincoln, my wife's best friend.

She wore a tight black bodycon dress that hugged every curve. Her breasts strained against the fabric, full and round, impossible to ignore. The hem barely grazed her thighs, leaving her long, slender legs on full display—sheer black stockings giving way to a teasing glimpse of bare skin at the top.

I stood there, stunned. My body reacted instantly.

I'd been expecting my wife, so I'd answered the door in nothing but loose shorts. The tent I was pitching was unmistakably obvious.

Ramona's eyes went wide.

"You really did grow again. That's bigger than a beer bottle!"

Truth was, Ramona was a woman with unmet needs herself.

She was beautiful—anyone could see that. But she'd married a rich old man. According to my wife, he'd burned through his prime too hard and too fast. Now his body had given out, and he couldn't satisfy her at all.

These days, she apparently spent good money on male escorts to fill the void.

I motioned her inside. She settled onto the couch, crossing her legs slowly, showing off those red-bottom heels, making damn sure I noticed.

"So what brings you here, Ramona?" I asked, grabbing a glass of water and handing it to her. "Where's Rachel?"

She took a sip, then fixed me with a look.

"You. You're the reason. You're like a bull on steroids. Rachel's too scared to come home. I'm here to talk some sense into you. You can't keep going at her like that. She's delicate, for God's sake. No woman could handle a brute like you going full force."

As she spoke, her chest rose and fell with each word. Those two magnificent breasts moved hypnotically beneath the thin fabric—bigger than my wife's, fuller, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

My pulse hammered in my ears. God, I wanted to touch them.

I sighed, settling into the chair across from her.

"It's not that I'm trying to be rough. It's this second development—I can't control it. The urge hits me like a freight train. If I don't... you know... at least once a day, the ache is unbearable."

Ramona's eyes sparkled with curiosity. She leaned forward.

"Men can have second growth spurts? So you're bigger now than before? Can I see?"

She looked at me earnestly, like it was the most natural request in the world.

My heart skipped. Was she serious? You don't just... show something like that to your wife's best friend.

"I... I don't think that's appropriate," I stammered, even as my mind raced with possibilities.

Ramona waved off my hesitation like it was nothing.

"What's the big deal? This is practically a miracle. I just want to witness it for myself."

She insisted. And insisted.

Finally, I stopped pretending.

Right there in front of her, I slowly pulled down my shorts.

I'd never exposed myself to another woman before. The thrill of it was electric.

Her hot gaze locked onto me, and that strange, illicit excitement only grew.

Ramona had clearly spent time with plenty of male escorts, because she didn't blush. Didn't flinch either. If anything, hunger flickered in her eyes.

She gulped.

"You're even bigger than any escort I've ever hired. Is it... real? Can I touch it?"

I never expected her to actually ask.

My heart pounded. I nodded.

Chapter 2

Ramona reached out with her soft, delicate hand and wrapped her fingers around me.

An explosion of pleasure shot through my body—electric, tingling.

This wasn't just touching. She was stroking me. Deliberately.

After days of pent-up frustration, I was already on edge. The way she moved her hand up and down only made it worse.

The fire inside me blazed hotter, consuming everything. My organs felt like they were burning up.

I couldn't stop myself from trembling.

Only then did she pull back, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Now I get it," she purred. "You're this thick? No wonder Rachel can't handle you."

I fumbled with my shorts, desperate to cover up before I lost all control and pounced on her right there.

"Not my fault," I mumbled defensively. "It's not like I can just... not. The pressure builds up. It hurts."

Ramona stood up. Then, to my shock, she settled onto my lap.

Her round, firm ass pressed right against my straining erection. The contact was maddening.

"I came here to talk sense into you. Can't you just take it easier on her? If she divorces you, I won't get to see you anymore."

She shifted her weight, grinding against me slightly. The friction sent fresh waves of heat crashing through my veins.

What was her game? First, she touched me, now she's sitting on my lap like this. Was she actually offering herself to me?

"It's not about me being too rough. The second I'm inside her, she starts crying about the pain."

Ramona let out a little laugh at that.

"Well... that does complicate things. Maybe you should just stop having sex with her altogether? Focus on being a good husband instead?"

I couldn't help myself—I reached out and wrapped my arms around her waist. Soft. Slender. Incredible to touch.

"Not possible. I'd literally explode."

She was being so forward. Was she trying to replace my wife? I took a deep breath and gathered my courage.

"Since you're here... why don't you help me out?"

Ramona slapped my chest playfully, feigning outrage.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm your wife's best friend. You want me to cheat on her with you?"

My heart sank. So this wasn't heading where I'd hoped.

Then she added, almost casually, "Sex isn't the only option, you know. There are other ways. Hands. Mouth..."

She demonstrated as she spoke, her lips forming a perfect O that made my imagination run wild.

I shook my head firmly.

"No way. Once in a while, maybe. But every day? That'd get old fast."

Hearing that, Ramona sighed and slid off my lap, returning to the couch.

"Then what's the solution? It's not like you can divorce her and find someone else. Rachel's my best friend. I don't want to see her marriage fall apart. And I hate watching her suffer like this."

I studied her as she spoke. Despite her words, her body told a different story. Every curve screamed unfulfilled desire.

A woman this beautiful, married to some rich old geezer who couldn't get it up if his life depended on it. The waste of it.

She must be starving for real attention.

Screw it.

I moved closer, settling beside her on the couch. My hand found its way under her skirt.

When my fingers grazed her inner thigh, she didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. If anything, she leaned into the touch.

"Well, well. Cole. Didn't know you had it in you to be so bold."

I grinned, pressing further. Finding her heat.

She batted my hand away, but there was no real force behind it.

"Stop that. I'm not your wife, you know."

Liar. I'd already felt the dampness through her panties.

My middle finger traced along the seam, teasing. 'Let's see how long that act lasts.'

"Mmm... ah... you can't touch me there."

Her cheeks flushed. Her voice went breathy and thick.

Exactly as I'd guessed. Denied for too long. Well, tonight, we'd both get what we needed.

"You show up at my place alone, dressed like this, this late. What did you think would happen? You touched me first. Now I'm aching. Time to follow through."

I murmured the words against her ear.

She was barely holding on now. Her legs parted slightly, giving me more room.

"We can't... we're both married... It's wrong..."

She tried to squeeze her thighs shut, but I forced them back open with my hand.

"Married? You still spend your nights with male escorts. Drop the act. None of those pretty boys can give you what I can."

I lifted her onto my shoulder in one smooth motion and carried her to the bedroom.

She squirmed against me, her perfect ass in the air, legs kicking uselessly.

"Put me down! Have you lost your mind?!"

I tossed her onto the bed. Grabbed her ankles. Slipped off her heels.

Her feet were small and delicate, warm in my hands. Perfect.

I lifted one to my face, inhaling deeply. Her scent filled my lungs, went straight to my head. My blood roared in my ears.

"Ramona. God, you smell incredible. Bet you've never had anything like what I'm packing. Let me show you what you've been missing."