Blondie’s First Black Dick/a Rewrite

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Southern wife’s interracial adventures

This story is a rewritten version of one I posted here at Literotica in 2003 writing as Raven 222. I hope readers will find this reworking, with its enhanced detail and dialogue, to be an improvement. As with my other Blondie adventures, this account is taken from an actual event that occurred much as depicted, my wife’s first interracial sexual encounter. 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 South Louisiana, 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 made her first hotwife seduction at age 25, 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.


Foxy young Blondie and I had been married four years when, looking to add some sizzle to our already very active sex life, we first began fantasizing about her dancing and doing stripteases for other men, both of us fully aware, of course, that such sexual provocation was invitation, in fact, which would inevitably lead to her having casual sex with them. Our initial venture into this hotwife lifestyle was with a handsome, Hispanic police officer, whom she seduced during her 25th birthday party in our townhouse, which he attended in the company of one of Blondie’s attractive coworkers.

To my surprise, Blondie had begun flirting with this fellow soon after his arrival, and once she’d consumed enough alcohol to overcome her inhibitions, she’d managed to get him alone just long enough to quietly proposition him, promising to fuck him that very night if he could ditch his date. That angry young woman left in a huff around midnight, and shortly after the remaining guests had departed, my wife took young Officer Franco upstairs to our bedroom where he spent the remainder of that remarkable night making love to her in our marital bed.

On that inaugural night of many firsts, I discovered the indescribably stimulating thrill of watching my lovely blonde wife having impassioned sex with another man. We both enjoyed that first adventure so much that we invited Franco back for an encore performance the next weekend. Blondie then had her first opportunity to act out our fantasy in full: She gave him the total treatment, greeting him at the door that Friday evening in a short sexy miniskirt and spike heels, then dancing and stripping to black garter belt, nylons and shelf bra before giving him an enthusiastic lap dance/fuck, another great blowjob, and then more intercourse before he departed.

In the years after that initial walk on the wild side, we had tried many variations of sexual experimentation with more men, usually by themselves but sometimes multiple males: pairs, and on a few occasions, even triples or more, after my dishy Dixie vixen discovered the depraved delights of simultaneously and/or serially accommodating multiple males. We also would swing with couples and even, infrequently, after Blondie was introduced to the soft sensuality of sapphic sex by a comely young coworker, a few attractive, bisexual women attracted by her glamorous lipstick lesbian appearance and her gender-bending sensual allure.

Couples sex too often proved fraught with the usual marital dynamics of jealousy and insecurity, and seducible, sexually-liberated women were still rare finds in the Deep South of those days, so following extensive exploration, we finally agreed that while we both enjoyed it all, the most exciting, hassle free scenario for both of us was Blondie having sex with a man or multiple men while I watched, photo’d and got my turn after she’d attended to their needs.

For this voyeur husband, watching a live sex show put on by my lovely little Cajun kitten, then followed by the most exquisitely erotic, sexual sensation there is: that of entering her hot, semen saturated vagina, mere moments after another man had ejaculated in her, proved incomparably exciting. So that was the decadent routine we settled into, where Blondie was the one actively engaging other partners, escort fatih an arrangement she found perfectly suitable and rarely failed to exploit when an opportunity arose.

Let me describe my sweet little babe in those days. Readers of my accounts of these adventures will note that I frequently use that term little when describing her, a descriptive based as much in the way I, at six-plus feet, had come to view her as a diminutive dynamo of barely-contained sexual energy seeking frequent illicit release, as much as on her actual physical height of just under five-feet three-inches. She may have subconsciously shared my perception as she sometimes referred to herself as little Blondie, little Cajun girl or little bayou babe. I’ve also observed in my extensive business travels that the frequent use of the expressions little and little ol’ tends to be a fairly common Southern mannerism seldom heard elsewhere. Thus you will see it frequently in my stories.

Apropos the subject of speech, while not raised in rural Acadiana like her parents, Blondie grew up in a household where French was occasionally spoken and French terms and expressions were liberally interspersed throughout conversations. In addition, she had taken French courses in both high school and college so she frequently sprinkled a hodge-podge mixture of Cajun/classroom French into her everyday discussions, particularly when she was angry or sexually aroused as the questionably-translated dialogue in this story confirms.

So, my little Blondie was a very pretty, very sexy, bottle blonde who wore her hair in various styles with lengths varying from pixie short to porn star big hair, changing the fashion once in a while, but only rarely the color away from varying shades of blonde with frequently differing highlighting effects. As she liked to say, she might have been born a short Frenchie brunette but she was a big ol’ brassy blonde at heart, a very hot blonde, but one who still retained Gallic pride in her naturally dark brown and luxuriant poils pubien (pubic hair). I found the stark contrasts in color from top to bottom to be richly erotogenic as did most of her lovers.

The given name bestowed upon her by her South Louisiana family, old Acadiana farmers with fortunately enough oil royalties on their Terrebonne Parish land to send her father to engineering school at LSU, was Belinda, but from the first time she had bleached her hair in high school, she had become “Blondie” to one and all, friends and family. Appropriately enough, she actually bore a bit of resemblance to the pretty cartoon character and had taken to the nickname easily.

Blondie’s lovely face had a high, intelligent forehead, large expressive hazel eyes and a pert, slightly pointed nose. But the prime jewel in this lovely crown was her luscious, full-lipped mouth, with lips so soft and naturally rosy, they begged to be kissed or put to other, even more intimate uses. Through our multiple decades of sexual shenanigans, I’ve had more than one man tell me he could get an erection just thinking about that glossy, red or pink lip-sticked mouth.

Having once worked very briefly as a cosmetician at the old D.H. Holmes department store on Florida Boulevard, Blondie was usually skillfully made up, wearing heavier makeup than many women in the property management end of the real estate business, but always in such a way as to emphasize and enhance her inherent sensuality without going trashy blonde. She did tend to apply it with a heavier hand when she was entertaining lovers, with darker blue or purple eye shadow and lashes, rosier cheeks and especially thicker lipstick, going outside the lip line to emphasize that tantalizing mouth.

Blondie took no special pains to exercise so she was a tad too softly buxom to be considered petite, but hers was a pliably, ripe voluptuousness that seemed to exude an aura of fecundity and fertility. Her breasts were moderately sized and well formed, conical in shape, and as she matured into her thirties, they naturally began sagging some, slightly but sensually, in dipping curves from firm round bases back up to pleasingly tapered rosy points, centered with perky nipples that had served as inviting pink beacons to a many a stranger’s seeking lips.

Beneath them she had a nicely indented waist, flaring out over shapely hips that had slightly widened with age. In her early thirties, she began to develop a slightly protruding tummy, typical of women of that age that, if anything, only added to her sexual appeal, and beneath that ripe, round little belly nested that bushy vee of dark brown Gallic pride. She had a well-rounded bottom and shapely, well-formed legs tapering down to small feet. For a woman entering middle age, my little bayou babe was an altogether, eye-catching, foxy package that turned most male heads wherever she happened to be.

The man who did the most to escort istanbul open up an entire new dimension in our sexual adventures was one of Blondie’s regulars, a slim, attractive, very well hung lawyer/CPA named Charles, who had a libido to match his dick size and an overburdened spouse, a young mother of three, who cared no longer to accommodate either his large member or his needs. She knew he was straying but was unconcerned that he was expending all that excess sexual energy with someone who actually wanted it, like my willing wife, making it easy for him to spend nights in our comfortable contemporary home in a bayside neighborhood south of the city.

When Charles rang the door chimes, Blondie would greet him in one of her sexy ensembles, usually spike heels and high-top hose worn with or without a garterbelt or corset/waist cincher, under a sexy, body-hugging slip or a see-through negligee. Most of the time she wore black, but occasionally she’d go all white or pink, which looked absolutely dynamite with her blond hair and hot pink or frosted pink nails and lipstick. On rare occasion, she actually met him fully clothed but that was indeed unusual.

Like most voyeurs and willing cuckolds, I totally loved watching my wife get ready for these liaisons with other men, or sessions, as we referred to them, knowing as I watched her prepare that she was both enthused and aroused, full of carnal cravings for whatever man might be on his way to her bed, or occasionally, she to his. Whether it was Charles or another one of her handful of regulars, or even a complete stranger found by discreet ad, made no difference—I knew she’d be lubricating in eager anticipation of serving as another man’s hot, foxy, little piece of ass for a sexy afternoon or evening, even hopefully for the night, and, on rare occasion, a weekend.

Most of these adventures began with Blondie’s well-practiced dancing, stripping and teasing routine before the sex ensued, although if it were Charles she’d frequently be too aroused, too ready for the pleasures of that big dick for such preliminaries. When he pulled his Mercedes convertible under our portico, she’d be eagerly waiting, impatient to get him inside our home and inside her. I’d fix drinks, fire up a number, then sit back and watch while he and Blondie got the party going, quickly engaging in their usual steamy foreplay, French kissing and fondling, with him sucking those erect pink nipples and massaging her moist vulva through her filmy panties.

She would be moaning softly with desire as she probed his mouth with her tongue, rubbing the quite impressive bulge in his slacks, a bulge she’d developed an inordinate fondness for during their extended relationship. Inevitably she would unzip his fly, take out his erection and start fondling him while they continued kissing hotly and wetly. Then my Cajun kitten would drop her head to his lap and begin licking and kissing his erect member until he was begging her to suck it, which, of course, she was always happy to do, giving him a form of pleasure his wife would not, knowing that he would later return the favor, using that big cock to give her a deeply satisfying pleasure her husband simply could not.

Over time, I had come to realize that watching my winsome wife in heated foreplay with another man was almost as titillating as watching their actual intercourse. Blondie was a wonderful kisser with that full-lipped mouth, and watching her kissing another man, whether heatedly, before or during sex, or lovingly and tenderly afterwards, was a uniquely stimulating form of eroticism. I found this to be particularly true when she was stroking a Charles’s cock while she kissed him, whispering encouragement and endearments in her bayou French. How I loved to hear her purr,

“Oui, oui, oui, embrasse-moi bébé (Yes, yes, yes, kiss me, baby); mon Dieu, tu me manques et ta grosse bite (my God, how I miss you and your big cock)!”

Forgive me this long, verbose lead-in, but its purpose is to establish some sexual history and set the sensually supercharged setting and mood when, on just such a night, Blondie was putting on a show for Charles in our dimly lit, darkly paneled, sunken living room with its wide, floor to ceiling, stone fireplace. It was a pleasantly cool evening and the tangy coastal breeze, laden with the swampy sweet scents of the Dog River estuaries emptying nearby into Mobile Bay, gently wafted in the open sliders facing the water, added to the relaxed sensuality of the moment. A Fleetwood Mac album was playing softly.

Blondie was lying back against the end cushion on our modern sectional sofa, nylon encased legs widespread, one shapely leg bent ninety degrees, her shiny gold platform heel braced on the floor, the other sexy shoe resting on the top of the back cushion, while quietly applying her vibrators to the dark hairy shadow beneath the gossamer escort bayan taksim gusset of her skimpy panties.

She was watching a favorite porn video featuring a small, beautiful, heavily made up, thirty-ish blonde and an impressively muscled, very heavy-hung black man. The diminutive white woman somewhat resembled Blondie, my primary reason for purchasing that video, a resemblance she certainly had not missed and an association probably accounting for the multiple orgasms she’d achieved with her multiple vibrators when viewing it on prior occasions.

Like Charles, I was only partially following the video, finding the show my sweetie was putting on there in the low lamplight far more intriguing and stimulating than any filmed depiction could ever be, especially as her low moaning and increasing hip-twitching movements were indicating impending climax. Her rapt gaze was turned toward the television, watching the clichéd scene intently as the huge stud pounded his prodigious penis into the small white woman who was loudly and profanely urging him to greater effort.

When the black man began his furious thrusts of ejaculation, Blondie’s moans and movements became more frantic and when he rolled off the blonde, with the camera closing in for the messy creampie shot, she let out a loud groan and began bucking her hips against her firmly gripped vibrators, crying out,

“Oui! Oui! Oui! Oh mon Dieu! Oui! Oui! Oui! (Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my God! Yes! Yes! Yes!).”

It occurred to me, watching and listening to this, that my wife had become much more vocal and openly expressive about her feelings and desires after I had introduced her to porn movies. Then when she began having sex with other men, she had quickly discovered the turn-on value of such naughty vocalizations with her male partners, particularly married men whose wives never, ever would consider such whorish behavior no matter how plaintive their husbands’ pleas. And even more pointedly, most of the little Cajun kitten’s lovers were particularly titillated by her dirty French delivered in that throaty, husky voice she employed when sexually engaged.

Charles threw me a meaningful look, then we sat there idly stroking our own members as her orgasmic tremors gradually subsided. With a knowing grin at him, I playfully baited her,

“You know, if I didn’t know you to be such a real stickler for traditional Southern values, I just might think that video turns you on more than most, babe.”

Blondie cracked one eye open and responded, “Va te faire foutre, espèce de connard!” whichmeans something on the order of, “Fuck off, you asshole,” but I noted she was smiling slightly.

When I remarked to Charles that one of my own, unfulfilled fantasies was that of watching this gorgeous little creature dance and play with her pussy like this for a black guy, something she had heretofore absolutely refused to even discuss, Charles was immediately intrigued, saying that he’d always wanted to watch a beautiful, blonde, white woman get fucked by a big-dicked black stud in a real life situation, a fantasy I suspect harbored in many Southern males. And females.

We began joking with Blondie about the prospect of getting some black dick, maybe one even bigger than what Charles had; and she played along good-naturedly, joshing back, asking,

“You boys really wanna see that, huh, watch me fuck a black guy?” She smiled mockingly,

“You two white boys think you could keep up with that kinda competition, big ol’ black stud like that one, do ya hmm?”

I was pleasantly shocked—she’d never before even deigned to consider the actual possibility, much less joke about it. When we both eagerly assured her we could and gladly would take that risk, she mused,

“You know, boys, back at BRH (Baton Rouge High), all us girls used to giggle about how black guys were supposed to be hung like horses an’ fuck like some kinda sex machines, but none of us ever had the courage to find out ’cause it was still such a huge no-no in Louisiana.”

Blondie then completely astounded me when, with a taunting smile she purred to Charles,

“Well, I’ll tell you what, cher, you get over here an’ fuck me with that big ol’ white pecker right now an’ maybe, just maybe, mama will think about fuckin’ a big ol’ black one for you, okay?”

The remainder of our three-way, evening tryst proved to be even more exciting than usual as the continued conversation about Blondie having sex with a black guy made the action even steamier than the norm. In the wee hours of the morning, after he had fucked my insatiable wife three times with that big cock, one that I feared she might be growing to like just a bit too much, and was preparing to leave, Charles asked,

“Y’all serious about finding a black guy for some fooling around?” He paused then said,

“Cause if you are, I just happen to know a young black dude who works security in our office building, who’d probably be more than willing to help us out here, especially if I had a picture of Blondie to show him.”

Blondie hesitated when she realized this was going beyond the fantasizing stage, protesting,

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