Blondie Falls for My Black Boss

Blondie Falls for My Black Boss

Southern hotwife initiates an affair with cuckold husband's black corporate supervisor

Those readers who have not read my prior account of how my sexy, blonde, thirty-something wife seduced my handsome, black boss when he flew down to the Gulf Coast from Chicago to work with me, may wish to consider doing so at "Blondie Balls My Black Boss" to learn how this hotwife adventure that turned into an extended affair got off to its exciting start on the evening prior to these events.

After feeding the cats I dragged my tired body into the big, lonely, king sized bed in our quiet bayside neighborhood home, my mind aswirl with vivid images of what my beautiful blonde spouse and my black boss were probably still doing in that other king-sized bed, the one in his hotel room several miles north in downtown Mobile. When he had flown in the previous evening from Chicago to spend a few days working with me—not even when Blondie had begun flirting outrageously with him at dinner this evening—I had certainly not foreseen the possibility of driving away from his hotel tonight by myself, leaving my more than willing wife behind in his room to fuck the night away in his bed. But that was in fact where my sexy little Cajun slut was at this very moment, gleefully and enthusiastically affixing the cuckold horns to my head.

It was a restless night, with my half-awake brain running a video loop of my naked mate in the bed and arms of my corporate master, the attractive younger black man who headed our sales and marketing force in the home office. It had not escaped me that she hadn't bothered to call to see if I'd made it home safely, but as I stood before the long bathroom counter shaving the next morning, I consoled myself with the hard reality that had the situation been reversed, with her leaving me in the bed of a beautiful woman, I'd likely be too preoccupied to check on her, too. As if we were communicating telepathically, the phone rang...I checked my watch...8:35...as I answered. A perky voice said,

"Oh good! Caught you before you left...need you to bring me a coupla things...so we can go lay by the pool, cher, d'accord (okay)?"

Speaking in a husky undertone she purred, "Merci mon chéri (thanks my darlin'), for lettin' me stay last night. We had a very good time an' I do mean very."

"Beau's in the shower but you'll be glad to know your wife has used her considerable skills to persuade your boss to take the day off..."

"Wasn't real hard to do..." she giggled, "But, boy oh boy, somethin' else sure was hard...a good part of the night in fact...the best parts of the night, pour sûr (for sure)."

She whispered, "We just finished a little mornin' baise de réveil (wake-up fuck), babe, an' he didn't have a bit of a problem gettin' it up again—guess he wasn't lyin' when he said he hasn't gotten laid in almost a month—an' he was even able to come pretty good again this mornin', tu sais (you know)"

Picturing her lying there in that hotel bed, freshly fucked, caused a stirring in my gonads, and knowing my cocu (cuckold) preferences so well, my little Southern slut chuckled,

"He came enough so that your secondes bâclées (sloppy seconds), will feel real nice 'n creamy, just the way you like 'em. So you just better hurry up an' get yourself back here before I hafta get up an' take a shower, d'accord, mon amour?"

In a very low teasing voice she said, "An' you're more'n welcome to get yourself a little taste of all the fun we been havin' just like always when I spend the night out."

That was a reference to our usual routine when she'd come home from an all-night date. She'd always fuck her overnight dates when they woke up, then come home with fresh semen in her and lie back with legs spread describing the previous night's activities while I kissed, licked and sucked her messy pussy.

"I'll stay here in bed an' save it for you, babe, but I'm gonna go ahead an' order some breakfast soon as we hang up."

Chuckling again, she teased, "So you can re-pay me for your secondes bâclées an' your day off by bringin' me my white bikini an' that white, flowered sun dress I bought for the Jamaica trip...an' the sandals that go with it...oh, an' some trunks for Beau, d'accord, sweetie?"

If you're thinking I may have driven a bit too fast returning to town, you'd be correct. When Beau let me in the room, he had only a towel around his loins. Blondie reclined against the headboard, still naked but wearing fresh lipstick with her blonde hair brushed out rather wildly, finishing breakfast on the room service bed tray. Beau had a sheepish look on his face as he ushered me in. In the sober light of day, this little menage a trois with an employee and the employee's wife might be giving him some second thoughts.

But not the employee's wife. Sizing up the situation, she snickered my way, "I've been tryin' to tell boss man to chill out—that you wouldn't have left me here all night if you weren't okay with it, includin' all the sober-as-a-judge, mornin-after, second-guessin'."

She grinned, "I wanna have fun today...a lotta fun...a lotta sexy fun...so you two need to relax all that macho connerie (crap) so we can do that..." She winked at Beau, purring, "An' believe me, lover, I can handle both of you with no problem, an' right now it's my husband's turn in bed an' your turn to watch, okay?"

Ordering me to undress, Blondie had Beau take the tray, then she lay back waiting. Once again I was struck with her casual nonchalance with nudity in the presence of a man she'd known only socially twenty-four hours earlier. I'd had men tell me their wives weren't comfortable being nude with them, their own husbands, yet mine was totally unconcerned with her husband's supervisor not just seeing her nude but watching her have sex. But then, I'd seen Blondie totally relaxed when she was the only female present in a room, dancing naked for a half-dozen men.

Before I could even remove my shirt, she asked if I'd brought a joint. I pulled one from my pocket, holding it up by one twisted end in reply. Smiling, she mimicked lighting it, which I did before proceeding to undress. She took three solid tokes, handing it back to me as I sat on the bed. Taking three deep hits, I offered it to Beau, who surprised me with how quickly he snatched it away and took in a deep draft, then a second. as he stood at the foot of the bed, appreciatively ogling my naked spouse. As I sat back beside her, giving the dope time to go to work she and Beau played eyesies, looking steadily, meaningfully at each other, their gazes almost smoking with mutual desire.

Time seemed to slow as the dope's first tranquil tendrils found their way into my brain. For the first time since entering the room, I became fully aware of Motown music playing on the radio, feeling the beat resonate through the room. As if removing a blindfold, I dreamily realized there was a large, attractive, naked, black man sitting at the table across the room, staring intently at the beautiful naked blonde lying beside me. I felt a powerful and indescribable wave of sexual desire course through me as the realization that this naked woman was my wife and the naked black man my boss... my supervisor from Chicago...what was he doing here in Mobile? All that suddenly came streaming into my dope-expanded psyche.

My befuddlement was interrupted mid-thought by this sexy blonde turning my face to hers and covering my mouth with those wide, full, incredibly soft lips, clearing the way for a vehement invasion by her delicious tongue. We held that kiss as she tugged me on top of her, between flexed, spread legs that quickly entrapped my own calves. Then, ever the naughty girl, she softly and secretively whispered mockingly against my mouth,

"Put your cock in me sugar-bear an' get some of what mama's been givin' your good-lookin, boss ever since you so sweetly went home an' left her here with 'im for the night..."

"An' what I gave him again when we woke up just a little while ago."

She kissed my ear whispering, "Believe me, cher, he's takin' full advantage of your generosity."

My God! Under the influence of that sexy dope, entering Blondie's so thoroughly and recently used pussy felt almost transcendental, an unworldly pleasure I could imagine felt something akin to immersing my erection in a tube of warm butter. But it was a tube in subtle but constant, slow, twisting, turning, thrusting motion as she went to work on me, demonstrating how willingly she had been giving her body to my black boss since I'd left her to pleasure him. With her mouth at my ear, away from Beau, she paraded their salacious secrets in a series of intimate whispers,

"We fucked for a long time after you left but I couldn't make him come again..."

"So we slept for a while an' tried again an' he came pretty fast that time..."

"An' sometime in the wee hours of the mornin' I felt that thing pokin' me in the butt so I rolled over an' we fucked again for a while but we both dozed off before he could come."

"Then we fucked about an hour ago an' he came fairly quick this time..."

"But he hasn't made me come again since that first time..."

Pressing her lips even closer and softening her voice even more, she confided in safe French,

"Il n'est pas aussi bon que Victor (He's not as good as Victor)... il ne vient pas autant que Victor ou aussi souvent (he doesn't come as much as Victor or as often)...an' Sa bite n'est pas aussi grosse que celle de Victor (his cock's not as big as Victor's)...but he's better lookin' an' a much better kisser an' a helluva lot smarter, classier guy."

She moaned softly, "An' I just love fuckin' a black man who's cool an' classy an' educated an' smart, baby, simply love it."

Then with a throaty chuckle, "One smart enough to be my husband's boss—mmm, I love that."

Victor was the previously mentioned, huge-dicked, tattooed, black gangsta type in New Orleans, the poster-boy for street thuggery, whom Blondie had bedded several times. The only thing he and Beau had in common was their African origin but my sweetie was one of those women who had that unfathomable fetish for bad-boys. Of course it didn't matter to Blondie if Victor was a better fuck, he was still a thug and Beau was a much more appealing guy. I knew that after last night's successful seduction, my little Southern slut would accommodate my black boss any time he returned to the Gulf Coast, which I expected to now be a far more frequent occurrence. As if mindreading, Blondie hummed in my ear,

"He asked me last night if I'll stay with him again...next time he comes down to work with you."

My whispered reply, "And you said?"

Licking my neck, she cooed softly, "Bien sûr...Je lui ai dit bien sûr (Of course...I told him of course) and that if he'll give me advance notice I'll juggle my office schedule so that I can spend maybe a day an' a coupla nights with him."

She paused before revealing, "An' I told him maybe we could still get together even if he can't make it to Mobile."

Lifting my head I looked down at that lovely face. She waggled her eyebrows playfully, teasing, then pulled my head back down, murmuring softly,

"Maybe meetin' him somewhere, like Atlanta or Tampa. I think he'd like to make this a regular thing an' I know for sure he wants keep it goin' this trip 'til he heads back to Chicago. Just before you got back, he asked me to come along to New Orleans when you drive him over to visit his old auntie. Sounds like fun to me so how 'bout it, cher?"

Blondie had followed her mother into the field of property management and had been successful enough that she now could pretty much make her own hours, consequently spending minimal time in the office. She also did occasional consulting in that field, visiting existing and potential clients, sometimes necessitating overnight travel, so she'd have little difficulty making up a last minute excuse for accompanying Beau and me.

Adding to her enjoyment, it would be a couple of nights in the Big Easy on expense account with myriad opportunities for some sexy fun. Blondie currently had three lovers in New Orleans to choose from, two white and one black, so I imagined that she'd already calculated how she could spend her time most pleasurably when Beau wasn't around.

She confirmed that by sticking her tongue in my ear and purring quietly, "Betcha I can find lotsa of fun things to do when he's not keepin' me busy, hmm?"

When I whispered Victor's name, she moaned softly, "Oh, God yes—it's been too long since I got me some a' that—an' maybe Johnnie, too, if there's time."

Blondie and Johnnie, a Cajun oil company executive, had been a regular item for a more than a year with her spending nights with him in his hotel room when he came to Mobile on business. And when we were in New Orleans she usually arranged to spend the afternoon with him while I kept business appointments then capped off those matinee liaisons with an evening of interracial adventure with Victor, occasionally having him bring along one of his homies for added spice.

Again she moaned furtively in my ear, "Mmmm, two big black dicks an' my Cajun boyfriend, too—three beautiful cocks in one day—oh, yeah, sugar, I want some a' that action, d'accord?"

With that she began kissing me feverishly and fucking me intensely, soon bringing me to a mind bending climax that left us both gasping. As we lay there catching our breath with a grinning Beau watching, Blondie informed him,

"Okay, Beau, I'm comin' with you guys—I'm willin' to keep this little party goin' as long as you want to, okay?" She winked at him, "After all, you're the boss man, right, baby?"

He broke into a huge, nodding grin and she asked, "When you flyin' back home, lover?"

With a calculating smile, he said, "Well now, after last night, that depends..." then continued, "On whether or not your husband will let you sleep in my room, gorgeous."

Blondie threw me an inquiring glance and when I said, "That's entirely up to you, girl," she got up from the bed, crossed the room and sat in his lap. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him tenderly, saying,

"Baby, I'm yours as long as you want me...all yours...all night...every night 'til you leave, if you're sure that's what you want, okay? You can spend your days with your old auntie an' workin' with my husband an' then come back to the hotel an' spend your nights with me."

Giving me a foxy smile, she cooed, "That way if your boss wakes up all horny like he did this mornin' I'll be right there to take care of that little problem for him before he goes off for the day with you or auntie, d'accord, sweetie?"

"Well, I'm ticketed to fly out Thursday but I guess it would hurt to spend another day in New Orleans and change it to Friday," Beau responded.

She kissed him again, a bit more ardently this time, and snickered, "No, it won't...an' I don't suppose it will hurt you to spend another night with little ol' Aunt Blondie in your bed either, loverboy."

They laughed merrily, kissing affectionately, his hand cupping her bare breast. Glancing at her watch, she said, "Forget about the pool—lemme get dressed an' run on home to get cleaned up, throw some things together, an' let's get this show on the road, okay?"

I chuckled inwardly, wondering what he would think if he knew my little Cajun cutie's plan to spend her time in bed with two other lovers while he was preoccupied with his old auntie and me. I grinned: Blondie would rationalize it as just keeping her little milking machine warmed up for him.

By 1:30 we were headed west on I-10 at eighty miles per hour in a Hertz Lincoln Town Car, with me behind the wheel, chauffeuring my wife and boss in the large, plush, back seat. They'd begun the trip with Beau quizzing her about the condo rental situation along the coast, but after a while they went quiet. Adjusting the rearview mirror, I saw that they were kissing, tenderly at first but as it went on, more heatedly.

Honestly, I tried my best to keep my eyes on the road, but when Beau groaned loudly, I twisted around and saw my hotpants little slut's head bobbing up and down in his lap. A few minutes later Blondie's high-heeled sandal kicked me in the back of the head with her panties hanging from it and it was she who was groaning as she gave my black boss an eighty miles per hour piece of ass on the busy Mississippi Interstate at midafternoon.

They'd been going at it for ten minutes when I heard Beau begin groaning, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" just as we topped a small rise. Seeing we had a long slightly downhill straightaway and my radar detector was quiet, I kicked it into passing gear, accelerating up through ninety to one hundred mph in seconds. The big, new Lincoln took it in stride, smoothly surging to higher speed. I held that speed until I heard the unmistakable sounds his ejaculation coming from their backseat mobile playpen. As I eased off the accelerator, I chuckled over my shoulder,

"Congratulations, boss—our little Dixie Pixie just got your nuts off at one hundred miles an hour and I can assure you, while she's made a lot of guys come with that tight little milking machine, she's never done it at that speed before, right, babe?"

Blondie, who had been encouraging Beau to come in her in her usual gasping Cajun and French endearments, started laughing, then gasping more and choking. as she demanded,

"Rick, slow this damned thing down before you get a fuckin' speedin' ticket an' we get one for public indecency, you hear?"

Hitting the resume button on cruise control, I dropped us back to a safer, sedate eighty, joking,

"You guys haven't been lovers for twenty-four hours and you're already setting new records."

When I glanced in the mirror again, Blondie had retreated to the far corner of the back seat where, reclining against the door, she was getting her breathing under control. The hem of her flowered sun dress was still bunched around her waist , leaving her hairy, but neatly trimmed, little twat exposed to the world, a thin rivulet of Beau's semen dribbling from between its still excited and swollen rosy lips. I smiled to myself with the thought that not only had I had the good fortune to marry a pretty little slut with a tight little pussy, it was also a pretty little pussy with smallish symmetrical rose petal-like labia and a dainty pink rosebud clitoris.

Two days earlier, on Sunday evening, Blondie had called me into the bedroom where she sat naked on a folded bath sheet, her shoulders propped against the wall of mirror that served as the headboard of our king-sized bed. Arrayed next to here were a comb, barber scissors, lady's razor, shaving cream and a depilatory formula, all the tonsorial tools needed for barbering her bush.

She smiled, "How 'bout trimmin' this wild mess a' hair up a bit babe? I do want it to look pretty if I get a chance to show it to your boss this week, tu sais (you know)?"

I replied, "Blondie, you need to get that crazy idea out of your head before you get me in all kinds of trouble with the company."