Blondie Falls for My Black Boss

She'd responded, "Oh pooh, he wants to fuck me an' I know it. An' he's goin' to—you just wait an' see—now gimme a trim, sugar."

So I did and was glad I had because she'd read my boss far better than I had, and now here we were, with him getting another unimpeded view of that neatly trimmed bush. Catching Beau's reflection in the mirror, I watched him lean his head back on the seat and close his eyes, a contented smile on his face. I'd seen Blondie put that look on many a man's face in precisely the same way.

Winking into the mirror, I teased, "Good pussy isn't it?"

He shook his head disbelievingly, "Unbelievably good pussy—unbelievably sexy kisser—and a beautiful, sexy woman. You're a very lucky man."

Blondie was smiling with smug self-satisfaction so I kept going, "Pretty little pussy, too, hmm?"

Turning to look down between Blondie's still-spread legs and unclothed crotch he confirmed,

"Prettiest little pussy I've ever seen..."

Smiling demurely, she joked, "My...my...Mr. Boss Man, I bet you tell all your employees' wives that don't you? You keep talkin' like that, I just may have to give you another little piece a' this pretty little pussy before we even get to the hotel, hmm?"

She didn't...but they did sit back there giggling and necking like a couple of lovesick teenagers until we started across the I-10 bridge over Lake Ponchartrain into New Orleans. Finally sitting up and paying attention to where we were, Blondie tittered to me,

"My goodness, we're almost there, aren't we? You know, Rick, I've always hated making this drive..." then turning to Beau with that wonderful, toothy, sexy smile she purred,

"But for some reason I've really enjoyed it today, je ne peux juste pas imaginer pourquoi (I just can't imagine why), cher, can you?"

When Beau and I had first discussed his trip and he told me about his wish to visit his old aunt I had suggested he might want to give the old girl a thrill by staying in a nice suite and bringing her up for a visit to show her how successful the nephew she had raised had become in the corporate world. He liked the idea and told me to set it up. I had called the riverside Hilton at the foot of Poydras Street, just off Canal, and reserved a two bedroom suite with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Mississippi River that I'd used before as a hospitality suite at a convention. The parlor area between the bedrooms was very nicely appointed with two large, comfortable sofas, multiple oversized easy chairs, a wet bar with four stools, and a dining area with a table seating six. The entire long wall facing the river was glass. It was impressive.

I hadn't told Blondie, wanting to surprise her. When the bellhop opened the door for her and gestured her in, she was expecting just another ordinary hotel room, and was duly impressed,

"Wow, babe, this is spectacular!"

Snaking her arm around Beau's waist, she bumped hips with him saying, "Looks like a great place to party, hmm, boss man," which caused the black bellhop, to glance at me dubiously then lock eyes with Beau and give him a conspiratorial smirk. That smirk became a broad grin when Blondie asked Beau which bedroom they were taking then instructed the bellhop to put her luggage in there, putting the horns on her husband in front of the household help.

When the bellhop finished filling ice buckets for all three rooms, his eyes on my wife most of the time, she smiled flirtatiously, eyeing him like a delicious confection, "Merci, jeune homme (Thank you, young man)."

He replied, "Le plaisir m'appartient entièrement, madame (The pleasure is entirely mine, ma'am)," with that peculiar New Orleans inflection, causing her to smile even more lecherously at his French fluency. She winked at me: he'd be someone I wouldn't have to translate for.

I escorted him to the door, over-tipped him and looking at his name tag said quietly,

"Yeah, you got the picture right, Lamar...he's my boss...she's my wife...and yeah, she's fucking him, okay? So let your bruthas and sistas who are going to be taking care of us the next few days know that I want them taking just as good of care of him as my wife is, and trust me, she is taking very good care of him. So I want extra fast, extra good service throughout our stay and I'll tip very well if we get it. You got that picture?"

Smirking and emboldened by my forthrightness and Blondie's bold behavior, Lamar asked slyly, "She foxy, sure-nuf—she got da jungle fevah or you makin' her do it?"

Stepping out into the corridor, I pulled the door almost closed and said, "Nobody makes that woman do anything, Lamar—fucking my boss was her idea—you're right about the jungle fever, though. My lady's one of those Southern women with a thing for black guys, okay?"

Noting again that he was fairly young and attractive with that confident, bad-boy attitude about him that Blondie liked, I asked, "You here every day until Friday?" When he nodded, I asked,

"Can you get someone to cover for you a while during the day?" When he saw where this was going, he grinned and nodded and I said, "Well you just might get lucky, Lamar. I can call you at the bell stand, right?" Again he nodded and I turned to go back into the suite, saying,

"Stay sharp, Lamar—we may be giving you a call that I guarantee you don't want to miss."

He gave me a big grin and a fist bump, "Call me, homme patron (boss man)—Lamar gonna give that fine wife a' yours somethin she be wantin' more of, promise you that." I did not miss his intended irony in calling me boss.

Blondie's toiletry bag was in Beau's bathroom and she was hanging her clothes, which included three negligees, in his closet when I stepped into their room and pointed out that we'd have to move all that to my room if his auntie visited. Blondie said, "Merde! I'd forgotten about that!" Then I realized Beau and I could just swap out our things as an easier option, so she went merrily back to her unpacking.

Beau said he wanted to visit his aunt tomorrow before deciding whether to invite her up to the suite, so tonight was all ours, causing my little Cajun cutie to smile with delight. It occurred to me that it had been less than twenty-four hours since Blondie had strutted into that downtown bar in Mobile yesterday evening, and now here we were, the three of us, ensconced in a suite in New Orleans, with her having spent last night with him and preparing to sleep in his bed for the next three. She'd sure had this situation better figured out than I had.

It was approaching happy hour so I asked if anybody wanted to go get a drink and Blondie said,

"You know, I don't think I want to go anywhere. I'd rather just stay here an' enjoy this view."

She grinned, "An' my two big ol' handsome men, okay?"

Blondie and I had spent so much time in New Orleans that we were a bit inured to its supposed charms, other than a few favored restaurants. On the drive over I had mentioned that there is a good discount liquor store on Canal just a few blocks from our hotel where we could stock the bar. She suggested that Beau and I go get some drinking supplies, and noting the stemmed wine glasses on the glass shelves behind the bar, instructed me to get several bottles of B&G Beaujolais, not only her favorite but also unusually inexpensive in New Orleans. We always bought at least a couple of cases when we came here, even if just passing through. Blondie told us to take our time as she intended to take a long relaxing bath in the jetted tub then make herself pretty for her men.

When we returned with our heavy burdens, she was still in the tub and called for me to bring her a glass of the Beaujolais. I figured she'd specified me because she didn't want Beau to see her with her hair and makeup wilted by the bubbling heat and humidity. I teased, "If you're planning on sleeping in his room all three nights, you better get used to the idea that Beau's going to see you not looking your best when you wake up, sweetie."

"I know, that's the downside," she replied, but then, with a crafty smile, she said, "But, oh sugar, those wake-up fucks are gonna make it an absolutely delicious upside, n'est-ce pas vrai (aren't they), darlin'?"

Gesturing for me to close the bathroom door, she gloated, "Never havin' spent the whole night alone with a black guy, just the thought that I was actually doin' it, without my husband, an' him bein' my husband's boss at that, just kept me horny all night, cher, an' I'm horny right now from knowin' I'm gonna do it again tonight with you sleepin' right in there in the other bedroom."

Grinning wickedly she taunted, "You layin' in there all by yourself, lettin' your big ol stud black boss have your wife all to himself all night long—mon Dieu that is so deliciously wicked, cher, Je l'aime simplement (I simply love it)!"

"All those times we fantasized 'bout me fuckin' him, none of 'em were anywhere near as good as the real thing is turnin' out to be," she sighed, "Not even close, cher, vrai? (true)?"

Changing the subject momentarily, I asked, "You get ahold of Victor or Johnnie?" and she said,

"I got Victor's ol' lady—boy what a bitch—an' she hasn't seen him for days. John's really busy this week, but promised he'll try to get away for a while, maybe a long lunch tomorrow or Thursday. Said he's really missed his little jolie blon (Cajun for pretty blonde and the name of a famous Cajun waltz)."

She grinned, "Which means he's horny..."

"I'd love to get Johnnie up here—I've fucked him in a lot of hotel rooms but never anything like this—if I can get him to come over here, I think I'll screw him out there on the couch with all those curtains open. That would be different an' sexy as hell, but I know he's gonna be nervous about comin' here, knowin' you're around."

Grinning again, "Even though I've told him repeatedly that you want me to fuck him an' you even bring me with you to New Orleans, just so I can."

I said, "Tell him that Beau and I have gone to Baton Rouge for a banking regulatory hearing."

"That's clever," she smiled craftily, "Just might work an' it will keep me from havin' to get dressed an' go meet him at another hotel."

With a tantalizing smile, she purred, "Told him I'd meet him at the door in my black lingerie an' that boy was almost salivatin', cher. You know how much he likes to fuck me in my sexies."

She teased, "He loves the feel of my nylons an' high heels on his legs an' back—says his good Catholic wife won't wear a garterbelt an' nylons for him no matter how much he begs her."

She smirked confidently, "She won't suck his dick either—another point in my favor."

I teased back, "Well if he can't make it, I've found you another option I think you'll like,"

That got me a raised, questioning eyebrow and I explained, "Lamar, the bellhop—he and I had a very frank discussion out in the hallway."

Blondie beamed, "Well, well, well...tell me more about that, sweetie pie...I'm all ears."

If there was anything my bayou belle loved more than fucking total strangers it was fucking black total strangers, so when I'd finished relating our brief hallway conversation, she chuckled,

"So he'll give me somethin' I'll want more of, huh? He sounds kinda cocky but mosta the black guys I've screwed have been, an' that does sound promising, cher, n'est-ce pas (doesn't it)?"

When I nodded, she smirked, "If he's that confident he's got a big dick or he's a good fuck an' either one is fine by me," she grinned, "But both would be even better, sais ce que je veux dire (know what I mean)?"

She dismissed me with, "He is kinda cute...an' he is a young one...so I'll definitely keep that possibility in mind. Now get outta here an' soon as I finish this wine I'll get outta this tub an' make myself beautiful again for your boss, okay?"

Beau and I sat on the big sofa facing the panoramic windows, sipping whisky and watching ships pass on the river as the evening sky darkened and lights began flickering on across the river in Algiers and all over the massive Greater New Orleans Bridge. Now that I'd seen the relaxed human side of Beau, not to mention having had such intimate contact with him, jacking him off before he fucked Blondie the previous night, he seemed far less aloof, more human and more down to earth. I found myself even liking him a little bit. I said,

"Hey, if you want to spend your time with your aunt, I've got you covered on calls, no sweat."

Still staring out at the river and Algiers and Gretna on the West Bank, Beau said, "Thanks, I really appreciate it, Rick." Then kind of awkwardly, "Look, man, it's true I was checking out your wife in Colorado and I thought she was checking me out, too, but I never expected it to turn into anything like this, I swear."

"You didn't have a chance, Beau. You were a dead duck the minute she got you in her sites. When Blondie decides she wants a man, she gets him sooner or later. Why, you feeling guilty? You want to call an end to it?" I asked.

"Oh hell no, I didn't mean anything like that..." he responded, "I'm just wondering where it's all going from here—what's going to happen down the road, you know?"

I laughed, "Well, I rather suspect you're going to want to work with me more often and when you do, you're going to expect me to let you fuck my wife, right?"

He sat there silently for a long while before sighing, "Yeah, more than likely...but the bigger question is...are you okay with something ongoing like that?"

Weighing that for a moment, I decided that now that we were fully committed, I could level with him about the extent of Blondie's promiscuity and my cuckolding. I chuckled,

"Beau, I don't want to hurt your feelings but this is nothing new for her—she already has a couple of guys in Mobile, lawyers, that she sees on a repeat basis," I responded.

"She actually has one here in New Orleans, Cajun like her, an oil company exec—been seeing him for a couple of years fairly regularly and I haven't had any problems with any of that."

"So, other than you being my boss, and you and I having our occasional differences, it's no big deal, okay? It's whatever she wants as far as I'm concerned. If she wants to do this on a regular basis, then I can live with her spending the night with you once in a while—I mean, after all, it's not going to be that often, is it?"

Shaking his head, he said, "No, of course not..." then grinned sheepishly, "Not often enough to suit me, that's for sure."

Grinning back at him, I said, "Good pussy isn't it?"

He replied, "Oh man, is it ever—best I've ever had—fantastic kisser, too."

He looked a bit startled when I said, "She mentioned the possibility of meeting you somewhere, Atlanta, maybe. You wouldn't be asking her to do something like that too often I hope?"

Shaking his head slightly, he asked, "You okay with that if it's just once in a while?"

I responded, "You wouldn't be the first guy she's met without me, so yeah, I can live with it."

Just then the door to his room opened and Blondie called out, "What do you wanna see, boss man, sweet Blondie or bad Blondie?"

Beau looked at me quizzically and I told him she meant what color lingerie, bad girl black or sweet girl white and he immediately called out, "Bad Blondie!"

Laughing, she said, "Shoulda known," then, "You boys be patient—I'll be out in a few minutes."

Picking up the remote, I muted the television then took our glasses to the bar for a refill, turning on our boombox there, letting the sounds of easy rock fill the big room's background. When Beau and I resumed our drinking and our conversation, I told him I'd drop him off at his aunt's tomorrow then go make some calls to cover his butt. His response was a distracted yeah, thanks, whatever, and I knew from the way he kept glancing at his closed bedroom door that his mind was on my comely mate, not on visiting his old aunt.

Blondie kept him waiting another twenty minutes before sweeping into the room looking like she'd just stepped out of a men's magazine centerfold. She wore a full-length, black lace negligee with a sheer black, ribbed corset with built-in underwired bra cups that put her pink nipples up on proud display. Her high-topped black nylons were attached to the eight garters of the corset and her small feet were encased in a pair of glossy, black patent leather, platform heels. With her blond mane teased out in a big hair style and the heavy makeup, she looked very much like a top-drawer porn star.

I knew that the gusset of the sheer crotch of her corset was completely removable making it possible to fuck while wearing her sexy outfit. It was a favorite of her two lawyer boyfriends and she wore it for them frequently—in fact, I'd watched her fuck one of them while wearing it just recently. Beau was duly appreciative, twisting his head around to follow her as she sauntered past the sofa to the bar and poured herself a fresh glass of wine. Strolling back to the sofa she struck a sexy pose.

"You wanted bad Blondie—this bad enough for you, boss man?"

Grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, he answered, "Oh yeah, baby, you are bad, bad, bad, you gorgeous thing."

Plopping down between us on the couch, she crossed her nyloned legs at the knee and began bouncing the shiny black platform heel enticingly. She reached over and squeezed his crotch, then looked at me and confirmed he was hard by murmuring delightedly,

"Oh my, I do believe your boss likes my outfit, sugar. Handing me her wine, she turned to him and kissed him affectionately while massaging his erection through his slacks. I got up and moved to one of the easy chairs facing the couch, both to give them full use of it in case they decided to fuck there, and to afford myself a better view of whatever they chose to do.

However, much to my surprise, when things started heating up, Blondie pulled back, saying,

"Hey, fellas, before we get this show goin' again, your bad girl badly needs to get some fuel in her, d'accord?" Looking at me, she said, "Find me a room service menu, sugar."

Knowing how volatile my little French firecracker could get when she drank on an empty stomach, I quickly found three menus on the sideboard beside the dining table and after a brief discussion ordered a dozen each Oysters Rockefeller, Oysters Bienville and raw oysters plus a six pack of Michelob to wash them down with.

They went back to more necking but after a few minutes she suggested we indulge in a smoke to make their kissing even sexier and the food even tastier when it arrived. I fired up a joint and after we finished it we just sat there looking out at the darkening river vista, my nearly naked wife cuddling in the crook of my boss's arm, all of us weary. None of us had gotten much sleep though my reasons were considerably different from theirs. As the dope began taking effect, Blondie looked up into Beau's face as she kissed his neck, and said dreamily,

"You know, this is kinda romantic..." then glanced over at me and said impishly, "In a kinky sorta way of course..." as she pulled his face down for another long, lingering, amorous kiss.