Blondie Bags A Black Cherry

Blondie Bags a Black Cherry: Part 1

Southern cutie balls a black stud and his virgin nephew

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In response to previous installments of the Blondie stories, a few critics have complained that the actions depicted are repetitive and I must agree...quite thankfully agree, in fact...for the simple reason that my accounts of my beautiful hotwife's sexual adventures are, as I have noted previously, primarily a sexual

journal

inspired by real-life sexual events, which in terms of sexual

activities

, tend to be...well...

repetitive

. Most of our encounters utilized seduction methods involving lingerie, dancing, stripping and vibrators, which we learned through recurrent use were generally the most effective at achieving our desired outcomes with maximum enjoyment for all. I have long subscribed to that old Southern truism, "If it ain't broke... don't fix it." To those who complain of repetition, I can only say that in hundreds of times of watching my lovely Dixie Pixie in action, it never occurred to me that her performances were ever...well,

repetitious

. Not...one...single...time.

With the Blondie stories, I am trying to relate those encounters which I consider...for a variety of reasons...the most memorable, which leads to another area of criticism from my naysayers...that so many of Blondie's partners always seem to be very well endowed and exceptional performers. But there is good reason for that as well. Very early on in her hotwife activities, Blondie learned that such men made her illicit sexual escapades much more exciting, pleasurable and

memorable

, and is why such men appear in my stories...

they

made those occasions memorable

and

the most interesting to recount. I was extremely fortunate in marrying a gorgeous woman whose appetites for sexual adventuring matched my own. By posting these stories, I am sharing my good fortune with those of you who were...or are...similarly inclined but perhaps not quite so blessed.

In summary, I am an amateur chronicler of events written in a semi-fictional narrative...not a creative writer seeking artistic acclaim...and the Blondie stories reflect this. If they are not to your liking, then, by all means, read about someone besides my foxy wife. It's not like there's a shortage of material at Literotica, you know.

*

It was nearing noon on a Saturday and I was doing some last-minute house-straightening while Blondie was in the bathroom/bedroom getting ready for a Saturday afternoon blind date. A young local fellow who described himself as an offshore oilfield worker, had responded to our ad for attractive single males and his pic showed him to be one of those dark-skinned, dark-eyed, rakish Cajun types my wife had grown up among in Louisiana...a type not all that unusual to find working in the oil industry all along the Gulf Coast and South Alabama where we lived.

A bristling gunslinger moustache and thick, lanky, dark hair added to his outlaw look and after looking at his photo, Blondie had responded very favorably to my extending an invitation for him to come to our house for an afternoon of no-strings-attached, sexplay. Like so many other promiscuous women, my bayou babe has a weakness for men with that

bad-boy

look.

Finishing up in the living room, I stepped into the bedroom to behold the sensual sight of my alluring, blond, early-thirties temptress standing in front of the long, makeup-cluttered, bathroom counter. She was wearing a black shelf bra which cradled her modestly sized, conical breasts, pointing their rosy nipples upward and outward...a black garterbelt with dark nylons...and black lace bikini panties through which you could see the dark shadow of her mons. The black and gold platform heels elevated my diminutive mate to about five-five.

Blondie's hair was a naturally dark, Gallic brown...as evidenced by her dusky bush...but she had been bleaching it since high school in Baton Rouge and thus her given name, Belinda, had morphed into Blondie among both schoolmates and even family. She wore it in various styles, color combinations and highlights, but for today it was teased-out, platinum blond with ashy highlights in a glamourous arrangement popular with current porn stars. Together with her sexy lingerie and gorgeous face, it made her sensually stunning.

She was dusting on more blush, smiling at her reflection when I came in. She smiled happily,

"I was just thinking what a lucky woman I am to have a sexy, handsome husband who lets me get some strange cock when his

femme coquine

(naughty wife) gets just a bit too horny for him to handle all by himself."

She winked at me in the mirror and sighed, "I'm a lucky girl, indeed, cher."

I returned her grin and responded good-naturedly, "Baby girl, it's primarily self-defense...I'm a realist...I

know

there are plenty of younger guys out there with big dicks who we both know can fuck you better than me...and guys like that are

always

on the prowl for hot married women like you. So if I didn't let you get some of that action

openly...

once in a while...I know damned well you'd be doing it behind my back...as much as like strange cock..." I paused, "

And

big dicks."

Still looking in the mirror as she brushed her wild blond tresses, she pouted, "Would

not!

" Then, with a sidelong leer, she admitted, "Yeah, you're right, babe...I prolly would be...bad girls like me need some variety in their sex life, you

know?

"

She grinned impishly, taunting, "Specially if it turns out to be..." She winked, "A more

fulfillin'

experience than what hubby can provide,

n'est ce pas vrai

(is it not true)?"

Pausing her brushing and looking at me for reaction, she went on, "Sorry if that steps on your manly toes, sugar, but you

know

it's true."

I replied, somewhat defensively, "Of

course

I know it, babe. Hell, virtually

all

these young bulls you're screwing are a lot younger than me...most of them

several

years younger than

you,

as far

as that goes, my dear...so

sure

they can fuck you better than I can."

Blondie, who was more than a half decade my junior, couldn't resist sticking the needle in. Riffling through her jewelry box, she taunted,

"Not all of 'em are younger. What about Mac?

He's

your age...an' so is Charles...an' you said it yourself...you like watchin' me with them 'cause they

both

fuck me better than you do."

Tilting her head to fasten an earring, she goaded me, "An' I need not remind you, both of 'em got bigger dicks 'n you,

too

, sweetie pie."

Mac was a divorced attorney who came over to the house occasionally to plunder my Blondie's sexual treasures. I later learned she was also sleeping with him when I was traveling on business, although she vehemently denied it. Charles was a married lawyer/CPA she entertained regularly, both in our home and hotel rooms. But she was correct about both: they were very well endowed and could energetically pound her pussy for hours on end.

As she put on the other dangling rhinestone earring, she said with a throaty chuckle,

"And I won't

even

go into the black guys—even Charles and Mac can't compete with

them

."

My wife had a black bull in New Orleans, Victor, whose cock was enormous, almost a foot long whom she'd met with several times. She'd been with a few other blacks and, invariably, they'd all been fairly heavy hung, virile and vigorous in their lovemaking. She chuckled again,

"An' don't go forgettin' Johnnie...my little Cajun boy's

fantastic

in bed

an'

a great kisser...an' he's close to your age,

too

, cher."

Johnnie was another lover from New Orleans that Blondie had acquired on her own...one that I'd never met...an oil company executive who came to Mobile on business frequently. Most of their trysts took place when I was traveling myself, but occasionally he'd come to town when I was home, which made no difference...Blondie would still go to his hotel for the night...coming home early in the morning to regale me with all the sexy details of their impassioned lovemaking.

Coming back at her, I said, "Well Johnnie proves my point...as promiscuous as you are, if I

didn't

let you fuck around, you'd be doing it anyway behind my back. You picked

him

up on your own and kept it a secret from me for more than a year time, you sneaky little bitch."

Blondie just grinned wickedly at her reflection in the long mirror as I continued,

"And do you think maybe...just

maybe

...that those guys fucking you better than me might have something to do with the fact that

you

might just happen to fuck your

boyfriends

with much more passion and enthusiasm than you do your poor old

husband

?"

Conceding my point, she laughed, "Ya

think?

'Course the big dicks help out just a

little

in that regard, you

know?

Hard for a girl not to respond a little more enthusiastically when those boys are really gettin' way up in there like those two do. "

Looking her up and down, I said, "What I think right now is that this young dude

today

is gonna come in his pants as soon as he lays eyes on you."

Blondie eyed me in the mirror and tittered, "Better not 'cause I want him doin' all his comin' where it counts, don't

you?

" She bantered, "Silly question...

course

you do...you dearly love watchin' guys gettin' their nuts off in me,

dontcha?

" She went on slyly,

"But not

too

soon, you know? Not until that bad boy's given Mama the really good hard workout she needs an' has been cravin' ever since you set up this little Saturday matinee."

She smiled languidly and said, "You

know

, babe, I don't think I'm even gonna put on a dress. I think I'll just wear that black lace peignoir over my

sexies

(what we called her sexy underwear), so this boy gets a good look at Mama's goodies soon as he comes in the door."

"Speeds things up...an' damn it, I'm horny...have been all week...just waitin' to get laid,"

I replied, "Works for me as long as it doesn't give the young man a heart attack."

"It better give him a

hard

-attack," she joked with a lewd smirk. "Multiple times." The

hard-attack

was an old, timeworn joke between us, but with

very

good reason.

As Blondie continued her preparations, I stood back appraising her still captivating sexuality. Her once heart-shaped face was becoming more ovoid as she matured, and her slender jawline firmed up more. She still had large expressive hazel eyes and that perky, slightly upturned nose, but the prime jewel beneath all that blond hair remained that wide, succulent, full-lipped mouth, with warm soft lips just begging to be kissed or otherwise put to use. In the many years she'd been having sex with other men I'd frequently had them tell me that my wife's red-lipsticked mouth was her sexiest feature.

Blondie hated all exercise

except

fast dancing and, of course, sex...which she playfully called the horizontal boogie...so her body was soft, with a creamy, ripe curviness that exuded an aura of sensuality and fecundity that with her milky skin formed an ineffably erotic contrast with her black lingerie. Her breasts still were well-formed and conical in shape as she matured into her thirties. They were growing somewhat larger and heavier, now, showing some pendulous, yet sensual, descent down to tapered roseate points, centered with

rubbery

pink nipples which hardened pronouncedly erect when she was sexually aroused.

In her twenties she'd begun forming the hint of what was now a ripe, round, belly above the neatly trimmed, dark hairy vee of that well-practiced and proficient pussy. I found that slight swell of belly an exquisitely sensual reminder that...even in midlife...without the protection of her birth control pills, her womb could

still

prove to be a fertile incubator for the seed of any of the several younger men who were frequently between her thighs.

Blondie had a pale well-formed bottom and shapely legs tapering down to small feet. She had been a lovely young thing when I married her and now in her thirties she had grown even lovelier and most certainly...with my tutelage and encouragement...much more sensuously erotic. She was becoming a true cougar with her growing preference for younger sexual partners, like the darkly sexy bad-boy whom she was waiting to shock with all this blonde sensuality.

But the shock that Saturday was not to be the young man's, but

mine

, when I answered the doorbell. Blondie's newest boy-toy had a quite evident optical condition called

strabismus

, or lazy eye, on his left side. Other than that, he was good-looking in a dark, lounge lizard sort of way; but the left orb was assuredly an eye catcher, pardon the pun, and it most certainly had not been evident in the photo he'd furnished, where he'd had that side of his face turned away.

When I escorted him into the large open, L-shaped, living area where Blondie waited at the table in the dining alcove with a Bloody Mary...eagerly anticipating an exciting afternoon of illicit sex with a total stranger...I saw the surprise register

immediately

in her own eyes. For his part, this guy, Jeff, was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat at this voluptuous blonde vision who'd invited him over for an anonymous afternoon hookup. He took a seat across the table from her, leering obliquely at her sexy mouth and those perky pink nipples peeking through the peignoir. As I went into the kitchen to make him a drink, they began making small talk.

I brought his drink in and as we sat there imbibing, toking and talking, getting to know a little bit about each other, I recalled another fellow like this that my wife had picked up in a bar one evening after work, several years before. While enjoying happy-hour in Mobile's downtown entertainment district with some of the

"girls"

from the commercial real estate office that Blondie operates out of...as property manager for a portfolio of coastal condos...she'd called me about eight o'clock, a bit tipsy, murmuring,

"How would you feel about havin' us a little party tonight, sugar?"

When Blondie suggests a party, it carries special meaning regarding the attendees: her, me and whoever the lucky guy is she's decided she wants to bring home and fuck.

Perking up instantly, I said, "Sure—I'm good with it—what's happening?" to which she tipsily giggled,

"Ever since the other girls all left, I've been flirtin' with this big ol' rugged cowboy from Wyoming. Him and his buddy are passin' through town, headin' down to a cattle ranch job in Florida. I've been rubbin' my goodies all over him when we dance an' lemme tell you, this young ranch hand is flat out, pantin' hot to get him some a that blonde

Southern belle

pussy he's heard so much about."

More tipsy giggling, "Poor baby just about fainted out on the dance floor when I started rubbin' his dick an' told him I want to bring him home an' fuck him an' my voyeur husband would just

love

watchin' us do it."

She cooed, "He's game, cher, an' if his buddy looked a little better, I'd bring

him

, too. So how about it, sugar pie, you up for watchin' your sweetie get some honest-to-God, cowboy lovin' tonight?"

My dick already stiffening in anticipation of seeing my wife put on another live sex show with a young stranger, I said, "Sure, but it's a week night so we can't be staying up all night."

Blondie snickered in reply, "That's another good reason for not bringin' both of 'em—we'd be up all night for sure if I had two horny young studs takin' turns on me. See ya in a half-hour. Straighten up the place a little, will you, babe?"

As I began picking up around the house, I suddenly realized I was so aroused that she almost had me panting like her young cowboy. It excited me no end when my sexy little sweetie took the initiative and saucily informed me she was hot for another man.

When Blondie and her big cowboy came in the front door a short time later that night, she was beaming triumphantly as she announced,

"Honey, this is Buck—he's passin' through town and I invited him over for a little party."

On tiptoes she pulled the guy's face down, giving him a long, hot, wet kiss to break the ice, rubbing her body all over him and massaging his cock through his jeans, showing him it was perfectly acceptable to do it in front of her husband. Making a show of rubbing his erection, she glanced at me then put her lips against his and licked his mouth hungrily, growling,

"

See,

baby? Told you he wouldn't mind,

didn't

I?" Buck gave me an uneasy grin as she teased,

"Yeah, we're gonna have us a little party you're gonna remember, cowboy." Turning to me she said, "Fix him a drink, babe, while I change—I promised him I'd wear a garterbelt and nylons and put on a little show for him with my

little friends

(her favorite vibrators)."

It wasn't until I stepped forward to shake hands with young Buck, who looked to be a few years younger than Blondie, that I noticed the guy had a quite noticeably lazy, left eye, drifting outward. I also thought he looked just a bit bar-fly seamy rather than outdoorsy wholesome like a cowboy. But she surely had seen both the eye and the seediness, yet

still

picked him up and brought him home with the clear intention of fucking him—so it was

her

call.

What had later been even more noticeable, however, was how utterly crazy hot my twenty-eight-year-old strumpet got with this cowboy. She went wild when he got his dick in her, fucking him with a passion and intensity beyond her normal responsiveness to strange cock, and it had occurred to me while watching them, that perhaps his physical defect might be psychosexually stimulating her in some arcane manner. And she'd fucked him again just as enthusiastically the following morning before driving him back to his motel on her way to work.

Now here we sat, a few years later, on this early Saturday afternoon, with this similarly afflicted stranger, Jeff, and Blondie was behaving

quite

differently—acting a bit coolly toward him rather than super turned on. It was a given that she was

very

horny; she always was when we invited a new guy over...plus she'd clearly stated earlier how eager for sex she was. So I could only assume she was put off by the eye. Moments later she stood up and said she had to pee, poking me meaningfully in my back shoulder with a long, red fingernail as she brushed past, clearly a signal for me to follow. I gave her a minute's lead, excused myself, and went to the bathroom.

She looked up from the toilet and blurted out, "I don't want to fuck him!"

I said, "The gimpy eye put you off?" and she replied,

"Not really, I just don't like him. He just seems sorta scuzzy, you know?"

I reminded her how hot she'd been with the lazy-eyed cowboy a few years ago, and that he'd also been a tad

scuzzy

. She smiled fondly with the returning memory and murmured.

"Oh yeah, that guy Buck. You're right—the fella from Wyoming—he was

really

a good fuck, wasn't he?

Lordy

, Rick, I've screwed so many guys since

then

, I'd forgotten all about

him

."

She was smiling.

"That really

was

some hot lovin' I got that night from that young cowboy."

"More like that really was some hot loving

you

put on that big ol' cowboy," I countered.

She paused then sighed, "Next mornin', too, remember? I went to work with that cowboy's jizz still in me an' sat there all day daydreamin' about fuckin' that boy again."