I'm ambling through the grocery store one evening, admiring some of the more phallic produce as I walk past it, bananas, cucumbers, eggplants and the like, and I begin to realize how empty my life feels at the stage that it's currently in.
I'm a married woman now, and it just feels like I'm past the opportunity for exploration and fantasy indulgence when it comes to my rather depraved sexuality.
I'm astonished when, suddenly, a black man who'd been giving me flirtatious looks earlier on in the produce department hands me his phone number at the checkout line, scribbled on a piece of paper above another, far more suggestive number: 11 inches...
I drive home, trying to forget about the incident, by making vicious love to my husband on the living room sofa. But almost immediately after it's finished, I end up broaching the subject of acting out a fantasy in front of him with the big black stranger, and a turn of very sexy events is set into motion.