My Wife's Very Special Holiday Ch. 07

Dear Readers, new, regulars and loyal Followers of my works,

I remembered promising a number of you that I would continue my popular story about Kathy and Tom's holiday to Jamaica.

The story entitled "My Wife's Very Special Holiday" was my initial published work.

50 published works later, that very first one has garnered the highest readership and eventually led to five more chapters, three of which earned the "Hot" approval rating of higher than 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Unintended consequences of publishing my earliest works were finding out that a large percentage of my readers are married white women who are avidly curious, interested, and passionate about relationships with or casual sex with black men.

Also, a consequence was making the acquaintances of Curt B from the U.K. a writer and editor of prodigious talent, and three wonderful happily married white American women who now have become friends and with all of whom I am in regular contact.

Thank you, Julie V, for critiquing that first chapter and suggesting that I write more accurately about interracial desire from a white woman's perspective and not my own narrow male interpretation of the same. Your experience and reference material on the subject has been superb, most helpful, and very erotic to say the least!

Thank you, Suzi, for your guidance on a woman's submissive attractions to most aggressive black men, and for opening my mind on that subject. And finally to Annette who provided me with her eye-opening experiences with multiple black partners with her loving husband's adoring encouragement and support.

As a result, my writings are liberally rooted in fact, as well as doused with carefully phrased fantasies. I leave the challenge to interested readers to decide which is which!

However, I learned the hard way and now have blocked anonymous comments.

If you do not enjoy reading about the growing interracial scene please close up and leave now, no need to leave an unwelcome comment. TV advertising, music videos, magazines, websites, and virtually all media reflect that this lifestyle is obviously of interest to white wives, their daughters, and thousands of teenage students. Porn sites with well hung black men ravishing willing white wives and younger women and girls are the hottest on the net and growing in popularity every hour.

I am happy to receive constructive criticism or praise especially from my female readers which I appreciate very much.

If you are a first-time reader of my works I encourage you to enjoy Chapters 1 through 6 of 'My Wife's Very Special Holiday' and thus you will enjoy this piece more with the very detailed back story in mind.

Please click to become a 'Follower' of Wunderboi if desired.

Is this "The End"?

That will depend.

Enjoy.

W

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Monique Seaforth smiled at the tall, dark, and handsome Senior Concierge at the Private Club Area of one of the First Class Lounges in London's Heathrow Airport. She was a welcomed member, a frequent first-class flyer and she enjoyed being treated with Georges's special attention, which he delivered with respect and panache.

Georges was always impeccably dressed and with his almost fawning attention and fussing over her made she originally suspect he might be gay. Straight men were usually not as observant, in her humble opinion. However, as they got to know each other over the year or so she had frequented the lounge, she realized that he was anything but gay, as she often caught him admiring her full firm breasts when he thought she was not aware of his interest.

Monique found his French, cultured accent very attractive, perhaps even erotic and seductive for a young American woman who was schooled in an education system that proclaimed that her country was the best in absolutely everything.

She was fascinated to be exposed to other cultures and especially the sophistication of European men.

As for Georges, it was not often he enjoyed the attentions of such an astonishingly beautiful American woman. Most of the privileged white women who used the members' lounge acted as if they were entitled and swept past him as if he was a lowly clerk. Not Monique.

In appreciation for her friendship, he would do anything for her.

She teased him about his title 'Senior' and he commented that he had earned the privilege of looking after special clients, while his two beautiful cultured female Executive Assistants did most of the daily routine work.

As a result, Monique got whatever she desired. And often she rewarded him with a stunning display of her magnificent cleavage. Whenever he seated her in her favorite seat she would let him look down her front, and she clearly could see his erection growing in his pants. She would pull her arms back to emphasize her bust, not that it needed much if any, emphasis.

She faintly admonished herself for being such a cockteaser, and then smiled happily, knowing she loved doing it. And so, apparently did her black gentleman admirer. She had, since her introduction to black cock in Jamaica with various very passionate and talented lovers, she had become a huge fan of that genre.

In the language of the streets, she loved big black cock.

However, this day she did not want to play the flirting game and was dressed quite conservatively. She had tied a new very expensive silk scarf around her luxuriously long black hair in a loose ponytail and wore dark glasses doing her best to hide her stunning beauty and indeed, her identity, She just wanted to get back to Jamaica as soon as possible, with as little fuss as possible.

This trip had been different.

Monique was tired, nervous, and also quite sexually frustrated, which added to her feeling of being on edge. Her initial thrill at the thought of international travel, fine wines, casual sex with rich prosperous and very generous men (and sometimes women), expensive hotels and, fun clients had largely been dashed. Most of the time the huge fees she received for her attention seemed like a bonus.

This day she felt used, abused, and questioned why she was doing this?

She had received a nasty fright late the previous night.

Sensing she 'wasn't 'herself' Georges kept his distance instead of hovering over her making unnecessary conversation. He was naturally disappointed.

In the months since she had parted ways with her longtime husband Tom, her latest Jamaican friend and black lover, 'The Dr', had recruited her as one of his special very well paid 'consultants'.

As such, she was assigned to meet wealthy, usually married men in other international locales to provide 'companionship' with all that generality entailed. In addition to her stunning beauty and remarkable body, she was friendly, erudite, and well educated and could converse with ease.

As a necessity The Dr had gotten her a Jamaican passport, officially changed her name from Kathy to Monique, opened a Swiss bank account for her, and sent her to visit his special clients around the world. Her past was if not erased, very well hidden. The Dr had been true to his word and they both had financially benefitted very handsomely from his connections with the rich and sometimes famous. She enjoyed the travel, meeting men, and sometimes women, and participating in the freedom to do what she wanted, while always doing what they wanted, which usually meant having sex with them.

Monique certainly did not miss 'the windy city' of Chicago. The Dr had wanted her to call him by his Christian name but she demurred and preferred to use 'The Dr' which in his case meant the fixer, rather than anything to do with being a physician. It also, in her mind, kept a certain professional relationship between the two of them although, of course, she had slept with him many times, a most enjoyable exercise of interracial sex between a black, well-endowed man and a white willing wife who was twenty-five years his junior and was at the time married to a boring white businessman.

On her travels, she had countless opportunities to 'pick up' horny men, especially uber-wealthy Asian men who openly offered vast sums for her to sleep with them, but unless they had the Dr's stamp of approval she would never consider it.

From the time she was a teenager with a well-developed figure, she was used to being stared at, ogled by older men of all ages who undressed her with their eyes full of unbridled lust.

Her upbringing had not prepared her for those experiences and she shyly looked away, or down. How was she to know that made her look even more attractive, vulnerable, virginal, and stoked the fires of desire in them?

'All men are alike' her mother would tell her. Be careful.

Now her safety was paramount.

On this trip, there had been a close call when her safety, perhaps even her life may have been at risk, and she had been badly frightened.

Monique had met an Arab oil sheik in London and had provided him with companionship for dinners and meetings, acting as his Executive Assistant during the day, and his passionate lover at night. Her sexual acting skills were paramount especially when she didn't particularly like the client once they met, thus the passion was one-sided as he didn't care about her sexual satisfaction and just used her for his.

However, after one night of debauchery, on the second night, he crossed the line and she felt threatened to do with what she was most uncomfortable, and frankly, his drunken demeanor scared her.

She made an excuse and hurriedly locked herself in one of the suite's bathrooms and despite it being three o'clock in the morning she texted The Dr. one word 'Help.'

Just a few minutes later there were reassuring voices in the suite and a security man slipped his business card under the bathroom door. It checked out with the emergency contact on her phone. The sheik was restrained in one room while she was assisted by a woman security guard who gathered her clothes, helped her dress, and hustled her out of the suite. Another security guard produced an envelope of U.S. cash for her, much more than the agreed-upon sum, and she was transferred in a plain black SUV limo to another hotel where a room was booked in the Dr's name.

She phoned The Dr from the limo. He told her to 'come home to Jamaica' and that he had booked a flight for her scheduled to depart later that same day from Heathrow. He also reassured her that 'they' would never deal with that man or other members of his family again. Monique told him she was "very tired of all the travel and of being on call all the time, and asked that she take 'an extended holiday and review of her role.'

The Dr agreed immediately.

Monique was impressed, relieved, and grateful. It was in the middle of the night in Jamaica and he was always there for him.

"Oh, and Monique, please keep an eye out for two young grads from an English private girls school, I helped out with a couple of the girls' overseas education and they should be on your flight."

She recalled the grad 'party' the previous spring and promised him she would send him a text when the girls arrived with photos if appropriate and/or possible.

She rarely ever thought of her husband, Tom.

Monique put her head back in the plush leather chair and closed her eyes.

It was time for quiet reflection.

Where to start?

High school dates with guys Kathy's age quickly became ultra boring for her and on the advice of her mother, she moved to date older boys who, for the most part, often expected sexual favors. She didn't mind necking with them and letting them feel her breasts, what was the harm in that? When asked nicely she accommodated them with what they described as a 'handjob' with their brief obvious explanation that 'all the girls do it'.

A nice older boy showed her how to apply a liberal amount of saliva to her hand and to apply it to his hard six-inch erection and then stoke it slowly, faster and faster, and then to continue after he ejaculated his sperm in her hand to be sure she drained it all.

Some of the girls compared notes in the lunchroom, and usually, it was about the size of their dates' cock, how long he lasted before 'coming' (she thought it should have been called 'going') and whether or not it led to her giving a 'blowjob?'

Since she didn't know what that meant she didn't answer. She asked her friend if a six-inch erection was normal and she was told it was 'on the bigger size for a white guy.'

Since she did not know what that meant she didn't ask.

When she met Tom he was a Junior in College and his parents were new to the neighborhood. She graduated from high school and the next year they were married. He had also lived a privileged and protected life up to then, so they had a lot in common. There seemed to be an expectation from both sets of parents that they 'were made for each other'.

She didn't question much and kind of just went along with it.

Their marriage of convenience gently slipped into mutual respect and while they occasionally expressed their love for each other it wasn't connected with much passion.

She felt safe and the days and months slipped seamlessly into years as nothing ever changed. Their sex life, such as it was, did nothing special for her. Tom would enter her and pump away for a few minutes, spend his seed, and roll off and fall asleep.

She assumed that was all there was to sex, as usual highly overrated, exaggerated and hyped by ads in the media, but real life wasn't a Hollywood movie.

Anything but.

Tom was obsessed with his work and was very successful in building the import-export business his father had started. He never said he 'loved' his work.

He never said he 'loved' her anymore,

Life was just that, one boring day at a time.

So the thought that he would take her to Jamaica on a business trip to her seemed a bit absurd. He would be mostly working and so she would be bored out of her mind alone in a hotel room or at most sitting by the pool.

He didn't even ask her if she wanted to go and had forgotten that she was a very weak swimmer and didn't like to get her hair wet. She went along with it, as she thought she might as well be bored in the sun as at home in freezing, windy Chicago with nothing to do.

Then Tom did something impulsive for once, and as a joke bought her a black cock sex toy which he had teased her with before they left. He encouraged her to masturbate herself and to look down at it while it slipped in and out of her wet white pussy. It was much bigger than Tom's cock and she got very wet and then unexpectedly she climaxed bucking to an orgasm with the black love tool. It was her first orgasm in years. As it glistened in the low light and she fantasized for the first time in her life that she was having sex with another man, one other than her inadequate husband,

A black man.

So when Marcus came into her life, and especially the way he did, on day one of her holiday, by rescuing her from the pool in the Jamaican resort, holding her gently, stroking her arm and reassuring her she was alright. They spent hours chatting by the pool. They bonded and she was impressed with his vast store of knowledge. He was so completely the opposite of her husband that she was primed and ready to have the sexual awakening of her life.

She remembered every small detail of that evening, the flirting over dinner, the intimate dancing surrounded by black men dancing with other white wives, some of them grinding their partners' midsections like they were having intimate relations right on the dance floor. His hand on her breast when they kissed seemingly out of sight of her husband, and that night of unbridled passion when she let herself go, and to say it was life-altering would be to underestimate it in the extreme.

Marcus was the antithesis of Tom.

Strong, handsome, caring, compassionate, and a physical specimen the like of whom she had never seen or even been close to. He rippled with muscles and yet was gentle as a lamb. Strong and commanding yet loving and kind and just a sweet man with a sense of humor that was second to none.

His cock was huge and as hard as a rock. And stayed that way for ages.

When her husband meekly went to bed in the guestroom of their massive suite and left her on the balcony sitting on Marcus's lap french kissing him while her hand explored his massive hard black cock and his right hand was inside her panties.

Imagine!

Her husband simply leaving her with a black man, with his cock in her hand while his left cupped her full breast! At that moment she knew that she would never, ever return to her past reserved shy self.

That night Marcus treated her with such respect, gently talking, flirting, actually asking her what SHE wanted and then teaching her how to suck his cock, and then when he carried her to the master bedroom, put her on the bed and kindly put a pillow behind her head while she lay on her back and he knelt on the thick white carpet, kissing her bare thighs and then licking her between her legs.

His long pink tongue lashed at her vagina lips, parting them with ease, and then his big lips and tongue french kissed her engorged clitoris.

He asked her to open her eyes and look down to see his black cock enter her pussy and to watch him while he brought her to her first of countless massive orgasms.

She screamed with pleasure and awoke with a start.

"Mrs. Seaforth it is all right, I am here and you are fine, please relax. don't be scared."

"Oh, Marcus" she exclaimed, realizing tears were running down her cheeks.

"No, ma'am, it is Georges, you were sleeping and must have had a bad dream, please relax, you are safe with me." it was the soft gentle voice of the massive, handsome black man, his arms around her shoulder in the dimness of the private airport lounge. The act of kindness and reassurance seemed so similar to when Marcus had saved her in the resort pool. Her heart was pounding.

She wiped her face, embarrassed and flustered.

"It is alright, I have a private room where you can rest and recover."

Georges effortlessly lifted her from the seat and picked up her purse and carry on bag and carried her around behind the back of the servery to a hidden staff-only passageway. He pushed open the door to his private bedroom.

From the safety of his strong arms, she glanced back over his shoulder to where the other passengers sat, seemingly no one noticed or cared.

He carried her to the bed and gently laid her on it adjusting the soft pillows under her head.

"I'm so sorry Marc, er, Georges," she stammered, slowly coming to her senses.

He rose and got her a glass of cold water. They were alone. He quietly locked the door and returned with the water and a cool damp washcloth he placed on her forehead.

"Georges, I wonder if you would do me a huge favour.?"

"Of course."

"Could you stay with me, just for a few minutes until I get my bearings?

"Please don't leave me here alone."

She looked deeply into his eyes while her hand softly touched his cheek.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Seaforth, did you have a bad nightmare?

"Would it help to talk about it? Who is 'Marcus' and was he hurting you?"

His voice soft and reassuring, he almost whispered with his mouth just inches from her quivering lips.

She flushed.

It all came out in a rush, she trusted this man, she badly needed to have an independent friend one whom she could confide in. She asked him to call her Monique.

"No, dear Georges, I did not have a nightmare. Marcus was my first lover outside of my marriage, and before we met, I had no idea why so many white women consider black men to be superior in every way to their inadequate white husbands. There has been a massive cultural shift, and I have witnessed it, have experienced it first with Marcus and later with other black men."