White Wife's Black Summer
Copyright 2025 by Stormbringer
Lisa Langston reclined on her cushioned lounge chair, the sun bathing her in a golden glow that shimmered across her exquisite form. The 32-year-old private Christian school teacher sighed with relief--another year in the books. "Class dismissed," she sighed, savoring the freedom of summer vacation, her fair skin beginning its summer journey toward a golden bronze. Her breasts, full and voluptuous, swelled against her turquoise bikini top, the thin fabric clinging to their generous curves, her nipples pressing firmly through the tight blue-green material. Her waist dipped into a delicate hourglass, flaring into wide, womanly hips, her rear end a firm, rounded masterpiece that filled her bikini bottom to perfection, the edges cutting into the plump flesh just enough to hint at its yielding softness. Her legs, long and toned, stretched out endlessly, glistening with sweat that caught the light, and her honey-blonde hair tumbled in thick, lustrous waves over her shoulders, framing a face that could haunt dreams--high cheekbones, full lips, and wide hazel eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Her husband, Mark, was away again, his endless business trips part of his grind for a promotion that would let them move to a better neighborhood and start a ******. Left alone in their modest home, her body ached with loneliness his loving touch.
She adjusted her sunglasses, relishing the heat seeping into her pores, when a shadow suddenly blocked out the sun. Startled, Lisa looked up, her breath catching as a giant black man towered over her--tall, broad-shouldered, his frame packed with muscle that rippled beneath a tight shirt, his presence radiating menace. "Lookin' good, Mrs. L," he said, smirking, his dark eyes sweeping her bikini-clad body. Her nipples stiffened embarrassingly under his gaze, poking against the fabric.
"Malik?" she gasped, staring in disbelief. He was far different from the scrawny 13-year-old who'd pestered her relentlessly in their small neighborhood before his parents' divorce took him away with his mom.
"Been a while, huh? Just finished a stint in the Marines. Spendin' the summer with my ***," he explained, his tone casual but his stare predatory.
She sat up, reaching for her towel. "Good seeing you again," she managed, flustered.
"Great seein' you too, Mrs. L," he replied, his eyes lingering on her curves as she wrapped the towel around her figure.
She muttered a quick goodbye and hurried inside, the glass door sliding shut with a soft thud, her pulse hammering. Malik's ***, Jamar Jackson, stared at her the same way--those dark, sunken eyes glinting with a lusty, predatory edge that made her skin crawl. Gray hair framed his bald pate, thick sideburns curling down his weathered face, and though he was powerfully built, his husky frame carried a protruding belly that strained against his shirt. After his wife left, that look had gotten worse, sharper, like he was trying to see through her clothes, his crooked sneer giving her the feeling that he both wanted and hated her. It felt invasive, creepy, a silent threat that had her avoiding the man at all cost.
Luckily, Jamar worked as a garbage man and wasn't home on week days, giving her privacy to sunbathe in the only sunny spot of her yard--visible from his rundown trailer next door. But now, with Malik back, that privacy felt threatened.
*********
That night, the house was a tomb of silence, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning. Lisa sprawled across her king-sized bed, naked except for her wedding ring and the cross around her neck, waiting for the a/c to cool the room, her body a masterpiece--breasts sagging slightly under their lush weight, nipples stiffening in the cool air, the flat plane of her stomach leading to neatly trimmed golden curls between her thighs. She missed Mark desperately--the rough scrape of his stubble, the heat of his skin, the way he'd fill her. Her fingers brushed her clit, stoking her arousal, but it wasn't enough. She reached for her dildo, kept under her pillow when Mark was gone, hidden in a drawer when he was home to protect his ego. Lonely desperation had driven her to buy it--an 8-inch, flesh-colored simulacrum, three inches longer and far thicker than Mark's modest penis, stretching her in ways he never could, delivering a guilty satisfaction. She parted her legs, her pussy slick with need, and slid it inside, moaning as it pressed every nerve. "God, I miss the real thing," she whispered, hips rocking as she fucked herself, one hand pinching a nipple until it throbbed. The orgasm hit fast and fierce, her cunt clenching the toy as she shuddered, but the hollow ache lingered.
The next morning, Lisa tended her yard, the sun warming her bare shoulders. Her cropped tank top stretched obscenely tight across her chest, tits spilling over the neckline, nipples stark against the white cotton. Her denim shorts hugged her ass, the lower curves peeking out as she bent forward. Sweat trickled down her cleavage, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Yanking weeds, she froze--a crushed daffodil lay beneath her bedroom window, a sneaker print pressed into the soil, and the siding plastered with dried semen, thick and crusted, streaking down in heavy ropes. "My God," she gasped, trembling. Her brain raced through suspects in the neighborhood--Old Man Carter was a bit of a lech, the teenage Miller were neighborhood hooligans, and Jenkins several houses down was a drug addict and on the sexual offender register though classified as low-risk. Then it hit her: this hadn't started until Malik came back, and the footprint's size suggested a very large man. The sheer volume of cum only deepened her suspicion--it had to be him. Her stomach twisted with dread and a darker stirring as she hosed it clean, the image of an unseen stranger jerking off while watching her, burned into her brain.
After a shower to clean the sweat and dirt off, she walked naked into her room, staring out the window. She liked the curtains open--her yard backed onto forest, with the Jacksons' trailer out of sight of her bathroom window. She closed the thin curtains, unhappy, and opted for housework instead of sunbathing with Malik's car parked in the driveway. She cursed under her breath, fearing his predatory stares would ruin her summer tan.
That night, unease turned to restless heat. Naked on her bed in the dark, she couldn't get the image of Malik staring at her through the window, his cock in his hand, as big as her dildo, jerking it off, cumming all over her siding while she was cumming all over his dildo. Lisa squirmed on the bed as her arousal grew. No doubt she was the masturbatory fantasy of a lot of men, but none had ever done it while actually staring at her. Lisa dressed like a nun for school and conservatively when out in public. She only wore her bikini in private when her neighbors weren't around. Why being watched was making her so horny, confused her.
She got off the bed and peeked out the window--nothing. She opened the curtains wider, lifted the window slightly, and flipped on the light. After a quick shower, she returned, dropping her towel to stand nude facing the window, hefting her DD breasts as if examining them, putting on a show, heart racing at the thought of him watching again. Her pussy gushed. Sliding onto the bed, she spread her legs, reaching for her dildo, plunging it in, moaning, "Oh fuck me," working the shaft hard, nails raking a breast. Is he out there? she wondered, her brain picturing the large black man jerking off while watching, the thrill pushing her over the edge. "FUCK!" she cried, climaxing, legs splayed toward the window. A shadow moved--or didn't--as she turned off the light.
Morning revealed fresh semen, wet and voluminous, pooling at the foundation. "Jesus," she murmured, "he came that much from one go?" Her pussy throbbed with dark curiosity as she hosed her siding clean again. Later, seeing no cars at the Jacksons', she oiled up in her bikini, put her hair back in a scrunchie, and laid down in her cot, dozing off with erotic dreams--kneeling in her bedroom, sucking her husband's cock, now as big as her dildo, eyes flickering to the window and wondering if she were being watched. Waking horny, she stretched languorously, happy she'd gotten some sun, and then she saw Malik's car had returned. Sure enough, she caught his gaze over the fence, leaning casually, one hand out of sight making her wonder what it was doing.
Lisa sighed. She needed to put an end to this right away. "Malik, can I speak with you?" she called, wrapping a towel around her torso. "Come on inside for a minute."
The fence was mostly built to mark the boundary in their tight-knit neighborhood. Malik walked over from the Jacksons' lot. "You need me for something, Mrs. L?" he asked, grinning.
"Come inside for a moment," she replied, holding the door for him.
He lumbered into her kitchen, his size overwhelming--broad shoulders, thick arms, smirking down at her, so different from the skinny kid who'd been eye-level with her tits the last time he'd been in her house, asking for cookies.
Lisa stepped back to give him room, and when she turned, he was towering over her. "I was wondering when you were gonna invite me over." His hands seized her hips, yanking her against him, his bulge pressing into her belly as he bent down, broad lips inches from hers.
Lisa pushed back against a chest as hard as a brick wall to get away from those broad, ugly Negroid lips. "What the hell are you doing?" He released her, and she stepped away, adjusting the towel around her body, her chest heaving, her pulse racing so fast she could feel its beat in her ears.
"You don't wanna fuck?" he asked, seemingly genuinely surprised.
"God, no, Malik. I'm a married woman, for Christ's sake."
"Then what do you want?"
"It's about you watching me," she said firmly, adopting her teacher voice.
