Gorgeous Blond Wife is Blacked

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Nothing could have been better; husband wasn't sure, though.
10.2k words
4.18
399.4k
176

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/29/2022
Created 12/10/2012
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I didn't realise the mistake I was making, when I asked Jethro from next door to help me around the house whilst my husband was away on business. But it was a mistake I would learn from though.

I had waited for two weeks before he went. I had all the changes planned in my head. I was having the builders, decorators and carpet layers in for 3 to 5 days, all the new paint and paper had been bought, new carpets ordered, and a timetable had been agreed with the contractors. My husband was away for nearly two weeks.

I wanted all the changes made before I finally purchased the furniture etc. I hesitated before making the final decisions because I wanted to see what the house would look like before installing expensive items in it. I had selected four options which I knew would work, so I wasn't worried about clashes. It just needed final tweaks, and I was set. My husband was in for a great big shock when he got home, but it wasn't as big as the shock I got while he was away!

My biggest problem was going to be moving the furniture around to here and there. I'm only a weak woman after all, so I needed a strong pair of hands. This is where Jethro came into the equation, he would get all the unwanted sofa's, chairs etc out into the yard so I could have them taken to the charity shops for resale to people less well off then we were.

So I was all set, I saw my husband off at 8am on the Monday morning, he wouldn't be home again until the week on Friday so I had all the time in the world. I knew that, but sod's law has always played a part in my life, so if something could go wrong, it probably would! I rang the decorators and told them it was all systems go, and they arrived 1 hour later. I had already set the programme for the work with the boss, his men went to work, and lo and behold they finished ½ a day early. I was so pleased I could have cried.

The following morning the carpet installers arrived with my chosen wares, and set to work. They had all the ground floor to do along with the stairs and upper landing. They couldn't tell me how long it would take them, but probably more than one day. I was okay with that, I made the requisite tea and sandwiches as I had for the decorators, and we got along famously. There was one of the men who was a real looker and he knew it, he let it be known quietly that he could come back after work to make sure I was alright, and to check on their work.

I pondered what he had said in about one second and politely refused his kind offer. But I did think afterwards that maybe he would be either fantastic in bed, or a total loser who only played on his good looks, I decided on the latter.

They came back the following morning and finished just before lunch; things were going great, far better than I had dared to wish for. I went out that afternoon and revisited the furniture shops again to refresh my mind. I returned home and did all the planning of what I needed and where, wrote it all down and went back to buy what I wanted.

I purchased everything I needed with the threat that if I didn't get it as promised, then the payment would be stopped and I would go elsewhere, it worked. I had everything by the end of Friday that week, that gave me the weekend and the whole of the following week to do what I had to do. I had also had the kitchen floor re-laid, with new doors on all the cabinets, redecorated, and it looked brand new. I was so pleased I had to go upstairs to relieve myself! Oh happy days.

I know I am making myself out to be a hard headed business type of woman, but I assure you I am anything but that. I had planned this to the nth degree, and it had worked brilliantly, the satisfaction I took from this was enormous.

I had better tell you who I am and all the rest of it hadn't I? You'll be wondering what's going on.

I am Nicole Brewster, yes I know I get ribbed off my friends for the name, but I don't care. I am 30 years old, I've been married 8 years and things are going along very well. I am mostly very happy and contented, and all the rest of the things that go to make up a fairly successful marriage. And I have never been unfaithful and don't intend to, or should I say I didn't intend to, despite all of the tempting offers put my way over the years.

I am 5ft 2" and blond haired, it's a honey gold blond and I love it, it's thick and bushy but in a silky soft way, not frizzy at all. I like to wear it down most of the time except when I'm busy around the house, which has been a lot just lately. I wear it in a shaggy sort of way, in different uncoordinated layers but that is done at the hairdressers, as it tumbles down between my shoulder blades to a fashioned taper.

I know I am very attractive, hence I get lots of unprovoked offers of various kinds, but it flatters and pleases me that I have what it takes to pull any man, not that I do, well not since I've been married anyway. There had only ever been one issue if you can call it that, because I had half agreed to go along with it, but never had. Francis, my husband, had mentioned having a threesome. Not me and another woman but him and another man, or if it suited me he would watch. While another man made love to me, and we would see where it went from there.

I wasn't very happy but to be honest, but when he started talking about it while we were in bed making love one night, I got massively turned on. He had turned out the light and told me he was someone else and to fix another guy in my mind. I must confess I went ballistic and had huge orgasms because of it. So while I hadn't agreed I never said no either.

But please, let me continue telling you about me.

My face is my best feature, well I think it is, it's lovely even though I do say so myself. And I always make sure I am looking good at most times of the day, even when the workmen were here. That's why 'good looker' tried his luck.

My eyes are a deep sea green, wide and bright. My eye brows that curve over them are in sweeping arches. I have high cheekbones that accentuate my face too. My nose is small and pert; my lips are proud and full above a very slightly square chin

I have a good body, it fits with my size, I'm not underweight, I hate skinny women, but I don't carry excess either. My husband says he loves something to get hold of. So I am the size he likes me to be. I love giving him whatever he wants to grab a hold of anytime he wants, which sadly isn't quite as often as I would like really. But we can't have it all can we, it wouldn't do for us all to be alike.

My boobs are just the right size for me, a good handful but that's all, my nipples are like most girls my age, very sensitive, and my hormones run amok when they are under attack. We don't have children yet, that's still for the future, so we practice safe contraception. He wears a condom, or we fuck bareback when I can't conceive, well that's the plan anyway. But I am well aware of the biological clock in me ticking away.

Saturday morning I spent arranging in my head the piles of furniture I had stacked in the hall and rooms; I didn't want to move it more than once if at all possible. So I called Jethro from next door and asked him over, I had arranged with him that I would want him as soon as I could get him in to hump and shove, pull and push and do what I asked of him.

The first task was to get all of my unwanted gear out of the house and onto the drive. While he was doing that I called the shops and told them it was all there for the taking, and could they come around as soon as they could in case the weather broke. I didn't think it would, it was a gorgeous sunny day. My husband had phoned the night before, we had a good natter, but he had no idea what he was coming home to, I was so looking forward to seeing the surprise on his face when he walked into the house next Friday.

Now, let me tell you about Jethro, he is 19 or 20 years old, lives next door and his parents are either Nigerian or one of the close by countries, I'm not sure but I thought I heard him mention Nigeria.

He is a powerful looking lad, he's very nice, polite and quiet in demeanour, I suppose you could describe him as being the silent type. But I soon had him chatting to me. He's well over 6ft tall, shaven head that looks like a billiard ball, it's so shiny but it suits him. He is quite good looking in his black dark skinned way; I found it difficult to be honest to say how handsome he was because he was the only black man I knew to talk to. So my experience with black folk was limited to say the least.

It was also easy for me to see he was attracted to me, well most men are to be honest. But never the less I was flattered. He would stand there in front of me while I told him what I wanted him to do. If an outsider was looking on I'm sure it would have been rather comical, me a tiny blond telling a big black man what to do and how I wanted it doing.

We got on like a house on fire, and soon he was chatting away, he started telling me silly stupid jokes which I found hilarious, and he had me almost on my knees with laughter. By the end of play that Saturday I suggested we stop work and have dinner, he looked a little nonplussed and stammered out an apology that he would have to go home.

I agreed and let him go but promised him a slap up meal the next day Sunday and I would not hear any arguments about it.

The next morning I was up with the larks, I was so excited about my project and planned and replanned it all, I was adamant it would be perfect.

At 10am Jethro appeared at my door and I ushered him in. I had him sit at my table and made him a huge breakfast, he wolfed it all down which gave me a huge measure of satisfaction. Then we went to work, I had him placing things here and placing things there, he was keeping me laughing with his silly comments and jokes.

I thought to myself, what a wonderful person he is, so handsome, so attractive and so nice. My heart warmed to him, I liked being near him, when our fingers brushed I would feel an electric shock. But I didn't know I was feeling this or know what I was feeling either. It was one of those things that creep up on you and grab you by the scruff of your neck, before you understand that what you are feeling is really no surprise.

It was late in the afternoon when we had more or less, put things where I felt they were in the best place that things took a turn of events that floored me. Because as I looked around at my efforts at interior design work. I was just so excited and proud of myself, my whole body tingled and jingled, my pussy even got in on the act. I felt it squish and heat in the excitement of it all. I know my body and pussy. I also knew I needed to fuck and rut, my whole body was alive with the need for it.

I made some lemonade and sandwiches in the kitchen still in my trembling state, and we were chatting. I don't know to this day if he could sense my condition, or even smell it? I could taste my heat and arousal in my mouth, and I'm sure my nether regions were giving out the smell of woman juice and heated pussy.

I raised my glass to him and congratulated his help and friendliness, and how much I appreciated him and his help. We clinked glasses and toasted each other. He told me how brilliant, and wonderful he thought I was, and also how beautiful he thought I was too.

I was more than very pleasantly uplifted by his remark, and toasted him back by saying I felt the same about him. I never meant anything other than that, but Jethro just took it differently. He stepped up to me, took the glass out of my hand, I watched him put it on the table, then he put his down.

What happened next was in slow motion, he put his big hands on my shoulders. I watched myself being drawn slowly to him; I seemed to be in a cloud, a fog, a mist that he loomed out of. Then I saw him bend his head down, I watched mine rise up at the same but opposite angle to his, and then he kissed me. I know I kissed him back, I could feel my lips working along with his, but I didn't seem to be there, I was sort of outside myself.

I seemed to be watching a film of my seduction, here I was in my kitchen looking at myself and Jethro, and we were kissing! But the thing is, I wasn't protesting or resisting, Jethro now had his arms around me and mine were sliding around his waist. Then we were up close and personal with each other. I could feel all of his body up against mine, I disappeared into him, he was so much bigger than me, and there was also the bulge of him sticking into me where it mattered.

Being as small as I am, my face was really up in the air, as his was down. The kiss was leaving me breathless, the heat from his body was firing me up and the power of him probing between my legs was scattering my brains. I couldn't think straight, not that I seemed to be trying too much. My body was concentrating on his kiss, the heat, his cock and the feel of his strong young frame that I was folded into now.

But the moment was broken when he moved his lips to my neck, his hot breath and soft lips was all it took for me to collapse inside and want to make love in any way I could. I was at home all on my own, no chances of being disturbed, my husband away. And I was kissing a young black boy as passionately as I could, and do you know what? I didn't care, especially when he felt for my breast then nipple, I exploded in a shower of arousal. I needed love and to make love desperately.

"Jethro, come on, lets go upstairs I have more work for you to do," I told him breathlessly. I didn't know if he knew or guessed what I was meaning, so I grabbed his hand a hauled him after me. There was no way I wasn't going to get the bulge in his trousers that had been lodged between my thighs where I wanted it the most, not now.

I almost ran into my bedroom, the one I share with my loving husband, turned and threw my arms around his neck to kiss him. He didn't need any more encouragement than that, he went for it and for me. Soon we were scrabbling to get each others clothes off in between much kissing and fondling.

Somehow when we were almost naked lying on the bed, then he was suddenly stood at the side looking at me, he was naked, I wasn't yet. I saw the most magnificent sight I have ever seen in my whole life. He was stood there like a giant black oak tree, he wasn't hugely muscled but he was very defined, and very definitely well built, broad shouldered, narrow hipped, and strong legged.

But the most compelling sight was his weapon, his prick, his love pole. It was gorgeous, like a black log, thick, hard, heavy and superbly long. It looked like it had been crafted by a sculptor and drafted on to his body. It was stood straight out looking at me; and floating unsupported in mid air, as if to say. 'Come on then, you want me, come and get me, get me if you have the nerve.' The head was round and smooth, hot and black red. I just could not take my eyes from it, it mesmerised me, it also scared the life out of me too.

The thought of that mighty thing, doing what I knew already that it could and would do, gave me the shakes. But there was no way on earth I wasn't going to try and get it all in me. I rose up on my knees, got a hold of his arms and pulled him on to my bed. He took the dominant position; he leaned over me, preparing me for what was to come. His over powering aura herded me to where he was waiting to coral, and put me into his pen.

It was then I really noticed the difference in our skin colour. It hit me like a projectile coming from space. The erotic feeling it gave me made me give way. I felt my shaven pussy blow liquid from me, it aroused me beyond redemption.

I made a very brief search for his prick and soon had it safely locked in my hand. I was barely aware of me urging him over me. I wanted his black love stick in me as fast as I could get it in. I was dripping, slick, and so very juicy. I do discharge a lot of love juice when I'm aroused, and this was no exception.

I was flat on my back suddenly looking straight up at him, and guiding his cock into me. I felt it nudge its way in between my pussy lips and let go. 'Do your worst,' I almost shouted as I raised my legs and feet as high over him as I could. And then I was impaled, he forced his way into me in one movement. It's a good job I was as wet and as slick as I was, or I could have been hurt by it. But I didn't care now, it was in me and I was so grateful I almost worshipped to him. It was all the way in and he was touching parts of me that had never been touched.

He leaned down and kissed me, he held that black assassinator in me, he was taking his time with. Oh how I love that, my husband does it and it's the most gratifying feeling a woman can have, except the ultimate orgasm. To know her man is putting her first is the finite in my opinion. Jethro held me for a long time and just stared deep into my eyes before he even moved the tiniest bit.

Then the smallest of smiles played on his lips, I smiled in return, he knew somehow that this is what I wanted, apart from being ripped into by his gorgeous young black cock. I made him move, by moving myself. I gave him an upward hump, he retaliated in kind, and then he was off! He started slow and increased the tempo so agonisingly slowly.

I was gradually wrapping myself around him so I was in the optimum place to be fucked, that's all I wanted now. He had seduced me, got me, and now he had me right where I wanted to be, underneath him with him so deep inside me. His hips began to rise and fall with faster and faster speed, he was up on his elbows now and banging into me. His prick was right up inside my rib cage some where with every thrust in to me.

I had an orgasm that I wasn't ready for; it nearly killed me as it ripped through me like a runaway train. I heard myself scream and call out.

"Oh Jethro," I moaned, "oh my god, Jesus Christ Argggh." My climax boiled and roiled around me from my toes to the top of my head. I had no defence, it battered me out of my mind, explosions were going off in me.

Jethro kept on, then I could see from the look on his face, the grimace the intensity that he was going to cum soon. I waited with bated breath for him to hit me with that last mighty thrust, as he erupted in me. And when he did I felt as if my back would break in half, my feet were already over him, but my shoulders left the bed he hit me so hard in my pussy. It forced another orgasm out of me that rivalled the other. That's when I went into a sort of suspended state of animation.

When the marbles had stopped rolling around inside of my head I looked at what I could see of him. His head was down at the side of mine. I gazed in awe at the black skin I could see, my hand was above my eyes around his neck, it was magical. The unbidden sight of black on white held me totally. I had never even thought of such a thing, but there it was right in front of me and I found it amazing, and so arousing.

I had heard about 'black men' and their weapons, but I had always said and thought, that they are no different to any other man in the world. Well now, in my case anyway, I had been proved so very wrong and so dramatically too.

Jethro lifted his head, gave me a smile and kissed me; I kissed him in a way I can't remember kissing another man that way. I could still feel him deep within me, our bodies tight together. I wriggled into him; I couldn't get close enough to him. The heat the sexuality, the sensuality coming from him was more than I could take in.

He eventually slid off me somehow and his cock did too. I missed it as soon as the head plopped out. I went with him; I rested my head on his shoulder and caressed his fantastic body with my hand sliding up and down over the curvature and contours of his very powerful chest and stomach. The sensation of my hand rising and falling as it travelled him filled me with more and more desire for him.