Blondie Walks On The Wild Side

Sexy Southern hotwife lets black bartender boyfriend pimp her out

As explained previously, the Blondie series of stories grew out of the real-life adventures of an actual, highly promiscuous hotwife and her cuckold husband. In order to convey the sometimes gritty essence of their adventures, the language and events depicted may occasionally be found offensive by some, as in the use of the term

nigga

in some stories, a term constantly used in the black community. It is also widely heard in general public usage in the lyrics of rap and hip hop. There is no intent here to offend, but rather to provide authentic dialogue, as I also attempt to do with my liberal inclusion of French and Spanish terms and expressions in settings where they are commonly used.

It was another warm Saturday afternoon in South Alabama when my lovely, blonde, thirty something wife and I exited the crowded shopping mall, the two of us in agreement that as five o'clock neared, a cold adult beverage was in order before heading down Dauphin Island Parkway toward home in our bayside neighborhood. The first place I spotted as we were driving away was a sports bar we'd never patronized, sports bars not being a favored venue of ours. In the pressing needs of the moment, however, Blondie and I decided it would suffice, a decision that would prove consequential.

This one was a hybrid sports/fern bar featuring the requisite stained glass, potted ferns and palms, Tiffany lampshades, faux antiques, signs and posters for the affectedly trendy as well as countless jumbo video screens and tote boards for the sports crowd. We chose two stools at the far side of the semi-empty, U-shaped bar opposite a sparse assortment of raucous young sports fans, both black and white, all of whom were checking out my foxy blonde wife as we passed. Settling onto our stools, we were soon warmly greeted by a solicitous and strikingly handsome bartender, a relatively light-skinned young black man with arresting green eyes who smiled broadly and said in a smooth, laidback manner,

"Hi, I'm Gary--what can I get for you fine folks today?"

I glanced at my wife as I queried, "Vodka tonic?" She nodded wordlessly, her own eyes locked on the young bartender's. I said, "Make it two," thinking to myself I'd just witnessed a soundless transmission of carnal desire flash between my sexy blonde Cajun cutie and this good-looking young man, a communication silently sent and received by both. Having witnessed countless such exchanges before, as well as having gotten my share of those kinds of looks from women over the years and knowing what had frequently followed, I knew with certainty what had just voicelessly transpired

Sure enough, as he turned away, I felt Blondie's long red nails grip my thigh as she murmured,

"

Mon Dieu

(My God), what a

cutie

, Rick! Did you see those

amazing

eyes?"

I confirmed that I had and she continued, "An' that golden, curly hair--he's almost a blonde. Gotta be half white. That sweet boy is absolutely

gorgeous!

"

Knowing my little hotpants wife all too well, I replied drily, "I don't suppose you'd care to fuck him?"

Blondie squeezed my leg again and whispered, "Of course I would. But I don't just

want

to, sugar, I'm

goin'

to, and if you have no objection, I'm gonna fuck that sweet baby

tonight

if he's available and willing."

She smiled, "An' may I assume, that as usual, you

won't

be objectin' to mama gettin' herself a little strange, now will you, darlin'."

She winked and purred, "Not as long as I can persuade him to let you watch, hmm?"

At that moment, Gary set down our drinks with a mellow, "There ya are, folks!"

Before he could take his hands away, Blondie captured one on the polished bar with her own. Giving him her sexiest, luscious, full-lipped look, she flirted in her best Louisiana drawl,

"Forgive me for bein so forward, sugar, but I don't believe I recall

evah

seein' a Negro man with eyes quite like yours. They're positively

striking

, you

know?

"

I stiffened, thinking Blondie's habitual Deep South usage of the outdated term

Negro

had probably just killed any chance of her taking this kid home. Silly me...as per usual in such matters, I was foolishly underestimating the power of my wife's beauty and ripe sexual appeal to excuse her bad behavior and social missteps. The kid glanced shrewdly at me, his hand trapped under my wife's, then responded with an easy smile,

"In that case, I'm proud to be first--mos' definitely for a pretty lady like yourself, ma'am."

Blondie grinned, "You charmer, bet you flatter all the old broads that come in here,

doncha?

"

The dude parried nicely with, "Ma'am, you a long way from bein' an ol' broad. In fact, you the hottest married lady to grace these green eyes in a good while."

He glanced at me evenly and muttered, "Meanin' no offense to you or your wife, suh, but she mos' definitely one fine lookin' lady."

I grinned, "None taken, and you don't know the half of it when you say she's hot."

Blondie, cueing off that, teased, "Well I don't know about that, but hot enough at least that it occasionally requires a little somethin' new an' different to put this old broad's fire out."

Gary's jade eyes widened as Blondie kept his hand trapped, giving him a smoking hot smile,

"Lucky for me, my husband's a very understandin' man, so unusually understandin' in fact that he hardly ever objects when his wife gets

une petite démangeaison pour quelque chose de nouveau et de différentan'

(a little itch for a little somethin' new an' different)."

When the kid looked baffled by her French, a combination of her Cajun heritage and formal classroom high school and college language courses, she leveled her gaze at me and purred,

"Why don't you translate that for him, cher? Might help make my point,

tu sais

(you know)?"

I gave the bartender a conspiratorial wink and said, "My wife's a Cajun, from Baton Rouge, and she lapses into French frequently, especially when she's saying something sexy. What she just said was that I, her husband, don't mind when she gets a little itch to try something new and different."

Gary's handsome young face remained passive and he did not respond, those green eyes flicking back and forth from Blondie to me. Her eyes stayed locked on his face as she purred,

"In fact, I bet he wouldn't even mind one little bit if his wife decided to invite some handsome young stud to come home with us this evening to provide her with a little somethin' new an' different, you know, cher?" In her languid Southern drawl, that

cher

came out

shay-uh

.

She giggled, "Or even better, a

lotta

somethin' new an' different."

Giving me a sidelong look, she asked, "You wouldn't mind that, now

would

you, sweetie?"

As I grinned and shook my head, a crafty smile began to curl crookedly at one corner of the kid's full lips. He looked to both sides, up and down the mostly vacant bar, shook his head, grinning, and said in a low voice,

"I truly am not believin' this shit is happenin' ya know? You hittin' on me pretty lady?"

Blondie smiled serenely, nodding, as Gary shook his head in disbelief, chuckling,

"I get married chicks hittin' on me occasionally, sure, any barkeep does, but this is the first time I ever had one do it with her husband sittin' right here listenin'." He paused, then said, "An' for sure not a fine lookin' woman like you."

Locking eyes with my wife, he grinned charmingly and said, "You are drop-dead gorgeous, lady-- what's your name anyway, pretty thing?"

"It's Belinda, but everyone calls me Blondie," she replied, "For obvious reasons...and this is my husband, Rick."

She waited a beat then smirked, "As I said, my

very understandin'

husband, so you can speak freely here, cutie."

She smiled foxily, her fingers continuing to massage his, and asked him in a throaty purr,

"You go to titty bars, Gary?" and when, after a moment, he nodded, she teased, "Like to watch naked ladies dance,

hmm?

" When he again nodded, Blondie said slyly, "I

love

to dance naked."

She glanced at me and said, "An' Rick loves to watch me dance naked." She squeezed his hand and said, "Especially when I get all dressed up in somethin' sexy like a miniskirt an' a see-thru blouse, or maybe just a sexy bra an' panties under a negligee, with a garterbelt an' nylons, an' then strut my stuff for him while I take my time gettin' get naked."

As part of her hotwife lifestyle, Blondie had amassed an extensive wardrobe of sensual lingerie which she wore when entertaining other men. We'd found that it played a very helpful role in seduction, as virtually any man was putty in the hands of a beautiful blonde in sexy lingerie, especially nylons and garterbelts with their fetish appeal.

We'd long ago found that lingerie, dancing and stripteases were highly effective means of getting strangers that we...or she...had picked up, to loosen up and quit worrying about my presence. Plus, the exhibitionist in Blondie loved taking off her clothes for strangers. Over the course of a weekend of entertaining a male guest...or multiple male guests...Blondie might wear a half-dozen different sexy outfits and dance for them several times. It certainly helped keep our guests

up

and ready to service my insatiable wife yet again, which after all,

was

the objective.

Now with a sultry leer she teased the young bartender, "An' my

'understandin'

husband loves it even better when I dress up like that an' dance like that for other men." She had young Gary's full attention when she asked sweetly,

"How

'bout

it, baby, you think you might like to come over to our house this evenin' when you get off work, an' sit there an' have a few drinks an' smoke some weed while you watch this ol' broad prance around an' do a hot little striptease for you?"

Again pausing for effect, she closed the deal with, "An

all-the-way

striptease, sugar--take it

all

off for you--an' you can sit there an' play with yourself while I do it. Who knows, when she gets all her clothes off, maybe little Blondie will sit on your lap an' give you a nice, warm, sexy, lap dance,

hmm?

"

Gary grinned his agreement as Blondie purred, "An' our place isn't like the regular titty bars you're used to, where the girls keep their G-strings on an' you can't touch their bodies when they're sittin' on your lap. At Miz Blondie's titty bar, when our stripper gives you a lap dance, baby, she does it bare-ass an' you can suck her titties an' kiss her all you want."

She winked at him, crooning, "An' our stripper won't stop you even if you try an

inside

move when she's ridin' you. An if you don't, she'll probably do it herself--she

loves

to play cowgirl."

Blondie flashed me a naughty grin, "An' my husband just loves to watch his cowgirl ride

un beau goujon

(a handsome stud), doncha, sugar?"

As I explained that term, she said, "An' to top it all off, at Miz Blondie's titty bar, there's no cover charge an' the booze an' weed are free all night long. Oh, an'

on ne ferme jamais, chérie

(we never close, honey)."

As I grinned and translated, someone called for a bartender. Gary slowly pulled his hand from under Blondie's and muttered, "Don't you

dare

go

anywhere

, gorgeous--I'll be right back an' bring you fresh drinks." He winked, "On the house,

okay?

"

As he hustled down the bar, he called over his shoulder, "I'm outta here around six-thirty."

When he returned a few minutes later, he grinned as he set our drinks down, looked at my wife and said, "For you, sexy lady, on the house."

She smiled back and said, "It's goin' on six. We live quite a ways south of here, in a bayside neighborhood off the parkway. You have a car,

chéri

(darlin')?"

He nodded and asked, "Doesn't bother you at all that I'm black, huh?"

My totally decadent wife replied, "

Au contraire

(on the contrary), it

does

bother me," and with a wicked grin, purred, "Got me all

hot

an' bothered soon as I laid eyes on you, sweet boy."

Gary grinned and said quietly, "Lady, I'm from Milwaukee an' I gotta tell you, you are truly somethin' for a Southern chick--that's some surprisin' stuff comin' outta that sexy mouth. You ever been with a black guy?"

My wife turned to me and asked, "How many black guys an' how many times, cher?"

I responded, "Several different guys and I'd guess a couple dozen occasions or more total."

The kid gave her a look of wonder, said, "Lady, you just fulla surprises." He grinned at me and said, "Real

nice

surprises." He turned back to Blondie and said, "You sure not like

mosta

these Southern white women that's for sure."

With a smug smile, she glanced at me then quietly told Gary, "Well, darlin', I have to thank my husband for introducin' this little ol' Southern girl to the extra pleasures of black lovin' an' the special talents so many black men seem to have in that regard. Growin' up in Louisiana, I'd always heard about black men bein' specially well developed an' real handy in the use of those, um, developments.

Taking a slow pull from her drink, Blondie eyed him over the rim of the glass, murmuring,

"But I never had the nerve to find out for myself 'til my hubby an' one a' my white boyfriends got me to agree to try it--an' on our next date, my boyfriend brought this black guy over to our place."

My little slut reached out and caressed the kid's arm and purred, "That was all it took to convince this ol' white broad she'd been missin' out for

waaay

too long, sugar."

Looking up and down the bar to ensure no one was listening, she whispered, "That big stud had ten inches an' boy, did he

ever

know how to use it."

Clutching his forearm with her long red nails, my wife asked softly, "You got a big cock, Gary? So far every black guy I've been with has, but you're so cute I don't really care whether you do or not, you handsome devil."

Startled a bit by the brazen bluntness of this white woman, he responded, "Yeah, I'm strapped pretty good, but not quite as big as that dude--never had any complaints though an' I promise, you take me home with you, beautiful, you ain't gonna be sorry--ol' Gary gonna get the job done, give you that somethin' extra you been talkin' about."

With a sudden look of concern he asked, "You guys got any condoms? I don't have any with me. They at my apartment."

Blondie replied, "Don't worry, sugar, we're not gonna need 'em--it's a lot hotter for me goin' bareback--I like it nice 'n natural."

His toothy young grin was radiant.

More than an hour later, we pulled under the portico of our bayside neighborhood home, a few miles south of Mobile. Not wanting to take a chance on his getting lost, Blondie had ridden with Gary in his older Grand Am while I followed in our Caddy. As I unlocked the front door, I noticed Blondie's long blonde hair looked windblown and her makeup a bit wilted.

She muttered, "Hurry up an' get that door open; there's no air conditionin' in that damn Yankee ass car," which explained why she'd stayed on her side of the car throughout the drive. I'd been worried that she might start necking with him, which could very well get them stopped by a redneck cop and hauled in on trumped-up charges just for their cultural effrontery. This was

still

the Old South after all.

Making up for her imposed abstinence as soon as she stepped into the entryway, my little bayou babe spun about, put her hands behind Gary's neck and pulled his face down for a hot, tongue-swapping kiss. He cupped her soft, shapely ass with his big hands and pulled her in close, her hips twisting and grinding her crotch against his thigh. I stood watching this familiar tableau, one I'd witnessed many times with many men, and a scene I found particularly titillating: my lovely wife passionately kissing a total stranger she or we had just picked up in a bar somewhere. I'd watched her do this here in our entry foyer and in hotel rooms countless times and it still always gave me an erection.

I stepped into the kitchen and came back out with a burning joint. They were still kissing hot and heavy and I told myself this was shaping up to be a very good night. I hoped the kid would stay until morning, maybe even all day Sunday. No telling how many times I might get to watch this young black stud fuck my lovely blonde wife if he'd just stick around a while.

I said, "Hey lovebirds, break it off for a sec and have a toke of this stuff--it's very sexy weed."

They stayed stuck together, Blondie sinuously pressing her body against his, while they shared the weed. Finally she stepped back, saying, "I gotta pee, baby, an' get fixed up for you, okay?"

Turning to me she instructed, "An' you get him ready for me--fix him a drink an' get him outta those clothes--get him your dark green velour robe--with that hair an' those eyes, he'll be sexy as

hell

in that." She kissed him playfully, squeezed his obvious erection and cooed, "I'll be back shortly to take care of this thing, lover."

After getting Gary the velour robe and showing him the guest bathroom, I returned to the kitchen and made a round of drinks. When I took his drink to him, I tapped at the partially closed door and pushed it open. He was standing at the sink wiping his armpits with a damp washcloth. The robe was open and what I saw in the mirror was definitely going to delight my wife. He was right when he told her he didn't have ten-plus inches but he had at least eight--and it was a very thick, meaty eight inches--my short little wife prized thickness as much, perhaps even more, than length. Of course, long

and

thick was her favorite but a thick eight plus inches would make her one happy little slut-wife tonight. And in spite of Gary's light skin, it was also a deep ebony and, like so many of the black guys she'd been with, uncircumcised, which would delight her even further.

Moments later when I stepped into our master bedroom with her drink, Blondie was seated on the edge of the bed pulling on a dark nylon. When I told her of her good fortune, she warned,

"You're just gonna have to settle for a little less dancin' an' playin' around to start off with, at least until after I've fucked that pretty boy the first time, okay, babe?"

Watching Blondie dance and strip for other men was one of my favorite cuckold activities. To sit in our home and watch the visual and psychological interplay between my wife and some lucky

"guest"

as she moved seductively to the music and removed her clothing was guaranteed to give me that delicious tingling in the testicles that I so looked forward to. Blondie enjoyed doing it, too,

except

when she was really horny and in a hurry to fuck. It was a conflict of interests that

always

went in her favor but she usually made it up to me once she'd gotten laid.

I didn't respond so she continued, "That kid's the best-lookin' Negro we've ever hooked-up with an' as it just so happens, I've been gettin' horny for some black cock lately, anyway. I've been thinkin' about tellin' you to call Victor for a date." She grinned, "Now you won't have to."

Victor was a black "gangsta" type in New Orleans whom she'd fucked several times, both at hotels there and here in our home. Like her first black lover, this tall, lean urban thug, Victor, had almost eleven inches and my voluptuous, little, 5'3" wife just couldn't seem to get enough of it. The sight of that tall, thin, gang-tattooed, street-nigga (as he referred to himself) pounding almost a foot of bare black cock into my gorgeous wife's short, white body as she grunted and moaned in his ear, passionately encouraging him to fuck her ever harder and harder, to fill her with his seed, was an erotic spectacle beyond description.