#1 in the new Blondie Saga
Beautiful young Southern wife eagerly agrees to cuckold her voyeur husband
The Blondie series of stories are taken from actual events that transpired much as depicted. The main characters are based on real persons and their behaviors are generally authentic. Their dialogue has been reconstructed from a fully fallible memory, yet grounded in known word usages and speech patterns from the times portrayed. For instance, many southerners like my wife, from Louisiana's Cajun country, use colloquial contractions such as "'em" for them and drop final consonants such as "d" from "and" to form "an" or the "g" from words ending in "ing." It is not an affectation, merely a regional manner of speech, used in these stories for authenticity. Some liberty has been taken with geography but most settings are authentic. The Blondie character is based on a beautiful woman, who became an enthusiastic hotwife on her 25
th
birthday just as depicted here, then continued her pursuit of stimulating sensual adventures for several pleasurable decades, leaving a long trail of men with fond recollections of some truly memorable one-night stands or extended sexual relationships. She is now a retiree with many exciting memories NOT to be shared with her grandchildren or gossipy fellow seniors at the clubhouse—just you Literotica readers.
The steady rhythmic movement of the bed brought me out of deep sleep to a sight I'd never witnessed: Lying mere inches away, my beautiful, young, blonde wife was quietly engaged in early morning sexual intercourse with another man, a fellow she'd met at work, but a stranger to me until the previous evening. She was wholly into it, unaware that I was awake and watching, kissing her handsome new lover, a municipal police officer, passionately, as he steadily pumped in and out of her. Both were moaning softly with pleasure and Blondie, between tender kisses and pleasured gasps, was whispering, over and over, "Yes, yes, oh yes, baby, oh yes, cher!"
When I lightly touched her shoulder, she opened her lovely hazel eyes, gazing into mine with fervid lust, her full lips twisting into a naughty-girl smile, more like a child caught in some minor, hand-slapping infraction than a young wife cuckolding her husband right there beside him in their conjugal bed. For my part, I was thrilled to the core that she was finally doing it, at last giving some of her wonderfully tight pussy to another man, fulfilling our long-imagined sexual fantasy of sharing her blonde beauty and ripe young body.
This newest development in our lives had its inception almost a year earlier, on a night when Blondie was dancing for me. Several years my junior, my comely young wife loved to shake her booty, but with me fast approaching thirty, I was growing burned out on the club scene, disliking the crushing crowds, the suffocating body heat and the deafening noise of those dance clubs she so favored. So this was our compromise: My young wife boogied out her youthful exuberance while I sat there watching my private go-go dancer, all relaxed and taking in the sexy spectacle.
On such nights, always weekends, we'd get mellow, turn the music up, and my lovely blonde temptress would dance provocatively, doing sensuous stripteases, gradually working her way out of short dresses, or miniskirts with revealing blouses or snug sweaters, down to sexy underwear: lacy bras, panties, garterbelts, nylons and heels, frequently ending her routines in nylons, heels and jewelry only. Throughout it all, I got to sit there in my robe, playing with my erect member while watching the show. And of course, the grand finale to my play always came in the bedroom in her marvelously tight and talented pussy. For a husband, it was the best of all worlds.
One night some four years into our marriage, while watching my little Dixie pixie prance about in our small apartment a mile from the LSU campus, I asked her if she'd ever done anything like this for any of her previous lovers. Possessed of a very strong sex drive, Blondie had revealed to me early in our marriage (once I'd convinced her it didn't bother me) that she had been sexually active since her teens and had more than a few boys and young men on her sexual scorecard. She characterized her hypersexuality as, "Honeychile, I just purely do love to fuck."
Blondie had further confessed another night that even after we began sleeping together, but before we'd made any marital commitment, she'd continued to have casual sex with a guy she'd previously dated, a local ladies' man, a Cajun Casanova named Duane, while I had been away several months on reserve military assignments. She had assured me that it had meant nothing to her, that, "It was solely because I was
corné
(horny), cher."
I had respected that she could look at sex as matter of factly as I tended to do, as a physical need separate and distinct from one's affections. I attributed her laid-back attitude to her Gallic heritage and the infamous insouciance of the French toward extramarital sexual activity. She was pleased that I could understand and accept her infidelity, consequently becoming more open to talking about the fairly broad extent of her experiences for a young woman just past twenty.
Blondie's response to my question about sexy dancing for another guy was, "Nope, never did."
When I responded, "Not even for Duane?" she scoffed, "Hell, that cheap
Coonass
(Cajun) is too damn cheap to pay for a motel room an' he lives with his mama, so how could I dance for him?"
At the time, Blondie still had been living with her parents in their sprawling ranch-style home near the LSU campus, so their lovemaking had taken place in Duane's backseat on bayou backroads. I let it drop, but a little later when she came to the couch for another toke, I said,
"You know, babe, you are just so totally, gorgeously sexy, dressed like that, up there dancing so provocatively, you could be a pro; damn shame I'm the only man who gets to watch you do it."
As she leaned to put the joint back in the ashtray, she cut her eyes at me in a sultry sidelong look and said softly, "Mmmm, you think, cher?" a bit warily, so I just let the matter drop yet again.
A couple of weeks later, on a Friday night, Blondie was dancing for me again when I was just so taken with her erotic beauty that I couldn't stop myself from saying, during a pause in the music,
"You are just so incredibly sexy, it's a crying shame that I'm the only guy who gets to see it."
Again, she responded with a noncommittal "Mmm," but this time conveyed in a somewhat warmer tone, leaving me to wonder if it was one of interest. When she returned to the room after her next pee break, she plopped down next to me on the sofa and grabbed her drink from the coffee table. After a long silence, she cast an oblique glance at me and said somewhat guardedly,
"You know, Rick, that's the second time you've brought this up, this business about me dancin' an' strippin' for another guy, an' I'm startin' to wonder if you're really serious an' if you are, have you really thought it through, like what it might lead to. I mean, are you really sure you want to let another guy come in here an' watch your wife prance around in her underwear?"
Before I could formulate a response, she continued, "Because to be perfectly honest, you got me to thinkin' about it when you first brought it up, an' I have to admit the idea of doin' somethin' so totally
débauché
(sluttish) an' so totally, totally
dépravé
(depraved) like that does kinda turn me on, cher."
She grinned, "We both know that deep down your little Blondie is
une fille très coquine
(a very naughty girl) when it comes to sex, an' I suppose like most girls, I've got a streak of exhibitionist in me, you know?"
One of my beautiful little Cajun cutie's charms was her occasional—usually when she was aroused—use of her bayou-inflected, Louisiana French to express herself in sexual matters. Her coquettish Gallic expressions and endearments that I had soon become familiar with, gave her a unique charm that had always enhanced her sexual attractiveness for me. Although Blondie and her older brother had been raised in Baton Rouge, her parents had been reared deep in the bayou country of South Louisiana, speaking French, and in spite of her father's engineering degree and international pipeline construction travels, conversations in the home still reflected that heritage. And in addition, Blondie had taken French in school as it provided easy credits for her.
Taking my free hand and placing it in the crotch of her black bikini panties, she giggled,
"See?"
My eyes widened in pleased surprise as I said, "
Kinda?
Feels like more than
'kinda'
turned on."
Her pussy was creamy wet, a very, very good sign, just the sort of response I'd hoped for. But before I could say more, one of her favorite songs began to play and she jumped to her feet, shimmying away across the room, leaving me to ponder her brief, tantalizing demonstration of interest. However, the heightened sensuality of her dancing quickly confirmed her arousal, with her really getting into the hip movement, churning her pelvis temptingly, her eyes slitted, with a sly salacious smile on those full, luscious red lips.
Reaching back, Blondie unsnapped her bra, deftly shucking it down her arms and tossing it in my face with a bawdy smirk. During the next number, she slipped those sheer panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them, kicking them at me as well, leaving her in garterbelt, nylons and heels, her dark brown, hairy bush on proud display. As always, I found the contrast between my wife's bleached blonde hair and dusky brown beaver to be incredibly erotic. I was thrilled to death with the way my fantasy was progressing, happily taking it all in while sliding my hand up and down my hickory-hard erection.
As that disc ended, she turned down the player and came to the couch. Sitting next to me she took a swallow of her drink, cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at me and inquired in a saucy tone,
"I'm just guessin' here, sugar, but may I assume this plan of yours includes our guest seein' me dancin' in the altogether like this, hmm?"
She smirked, "An' him doin' what you're doin' there while I'm strippin' for him, right?"
I just grinned and said, "Well now, that's all up to you, babe," to which she rejoined,
