Husband's New Black Boss
When my husband, Craig, came home from work, he was irate. His boss of 15 years left his financial services company a few weeks earlier, and his team had been anxiously waiting to hear of the new replacement. My husband had thrown his name into the hat as a potential candidate, and not only had he not gotten the job, but it was given to someone from outside the company. His new boss, Keith, had started only a few days ago, but he was already making changes to how they did things. My husband was clearly not happy with the changes and had been making a few waves, not to mention, he was due for a raise soon. We talked a bit, and I convinced my husband that maybe now would be a good time to mend fences, as they say, and invite his boss and wife over for dinner as a welcome to the company and to show that he’s a team player. He reluctantly agreed and we set a date for a Saturday evening.
When the day arrived, I shopped for all of the ingredients to make a great meal and impress my husband’s boss and his wife. We showered and began to get ready, and with my husband downstairs making last minute preparations, I stood in the closet trying to figure out what to wear. At first glance it seems a simple task, but the more I thought of it, the harder it was to come up with something appropriate for the evening. I didn’t want to downplay the occasion by underdressing in something too casual, but I also didn’t want to overshoot and dress too formal. I wanted to look nice and of course pretty for my husband and to represent him well, but it’s a fine line between looking cute and sexy but not slutty and over the top. I didn’t want to appear lazy, but I also didn’t want to look as if I was trying to outdo my husband’s wife or make her look bad. I finally settled on a cute little yellow and white summer dress with enough of a plunging neckline to show off some cleavage from my big boobs, but not so much that it looked like I might fall out of my dress at any minute. I donned my trademark jewelry, sparkly silver bracelets, rings and a cute necklace, and pulled my hair back in a ponytail that said sophisticated but with a flair of fun, and finished it all off with a great pair of high heel sandals.
When I went downstairs, my husband gave me a look up and down and gave me that devilish grin that told me I’d done good. And he was right. I looked fantastic! We opened a bottle of wine and drank a few glasses of Malbec while we waited for our guests to arrive. When the doorbell finally rang, my husband went to answer the door while I stayed in the kitchen keeping an eye on the food. I heard them talking in the front foyer for a while until they finally wandered into the kitchen. I was surprised at who stood in front of me as a turned around from the stove as my husband introduced us. I turned to look up at fifty-something year old black man looking down at me. He was a large man who looked as if he might have been more at home on a football team during his glory days rather than working as a financial advisor. He was a thick man at about 250 pounds and maybe six-foot-five with broad shoulders, balding in the back and a bit of a beard. He smiled at me and reached out to shake my hand, so I reciprocated, and his big warm hand practically swallowed up my tiny hand. Keith was dressed nicely and wore a sport coat with no tie. He was alone and explained that he had never married, so all my fuss about outdoing his wife was for nothing. He had a smooth, deep baritone voice that matched his appearance perfectly.
After the initial introductions, I offered him a glass of wine which he accepted. My husband took this lull in conversation as an opportunity for me to play hostess and give him a tour of the house. Keith was gracious and said he’d love to see the house, so I walked him around showing him different rooms and explaining photos and doing the normal tour routine. He was a good looking man, though not overly handsome in any kind of way. As we chatted, he seemed very attentive. I could feel him looking at me as he followed me through the house. Looking at my legs, my ass, my neck and exposed cleavage. Perhaps it was just all in my head and that’s just what I wanted. For this large man, any other man, to be looking at me like that. He was probably just being polite by paying me attention while we talked. When we spoke, he always made eye contact, and in a way, when he looked down at me while we talked, I felt somewhat intimidated. He was my husband’s boss after all, and a man like that could easily overpower me, or my husband for that matter. He had a lot of power to wield, and I knew it.
Eventually, my thoughts wandered while we talked, and I began to think about what it would be like if he did actually physically overpower me. What would he do to me? What would he make me do? Detailed thoughts about sexual scenarios with him began to flood my mind, only for a few moments, but I got flustered and distracted just long enough for my eyes to have wandered over his body and inevitably to his crotch as I imagined in my head what such a large man had between his legs. It was just a fraction of second and innocent curiosity, much quicker than it takes to write out these words, but it was all I needed to see that he did indeed have a package to match. And it wasn’t the typical lump in his pants…more like an outline going down his leg. It wasn’t anything like you see in those porn movies where the man is wearing pants obviously too tight and he has a fully erect anaconda in his pants, but it was certainly plain to see that Keith was working with more than any man I’d ever experienced. When I returned my gaze to his, I felt the blood rush to my face in embarrassment as I thought perhaps he’d seen where I was looking. I suddenly wondered if he somehow knew the thoughts that flashed in my head just seconds ago. Did he know the dirty things I’d just imagined him doing to me right here in our living room? We stood in front of a wall of some photos, and he pointed to one in particular and asked where it was taken. It was a shot of my husband and I on the beach in Aruba. A fantastic vacation spot where we had gone a couple years earlier. We were on the beach standing near a boat wearing only our swimsuits. I had on my “vacation” bikini…the one I wear when I’m feeling good on vacation…lots of drinks, lots of surf and sand, and lots of skin showing. I told him where the photo was taken and that we were getting ready to go snorkeling, trying my best to sound nonchalant as if it didn’t bother me that this man I’d just met was looking at me practically naked. He smiled and winked at me and said, “Nice. I think I could really get into that.” Again, I thought to myself. Did that just happen? Was he talking about Aruba? Is he flirting? Or am I just imagining it?
Suddenly I was standing in my living room imagining my husband’s new black boss standing behind me, and reaching around me and groping my big boobs with my husband in the next room. There was no working up to it. No flirtatious back and forth or sly innuendos. He just went straight to taking what he wanted. I imagined his big dark hands roughly squeezing my breasts, then reaching into my summer dress and pulling one breast out, freeing it from its confines. I think of him pulling on my nipple and his hands all over my body, and as his hand squeezes my exposed breast, his other hand begins to wrap around my neck just as my husband walks in the room. The thought of my husband catching me in this scenario quickly jerks me back to reality as I finish up the tour.
Soon we polish off the rest of the wine and open another bottle as we sit down to dinner. Again, being the enthusiastic cook and housewife that I am, I play the diligent hostess as I present different courses and show off my dishes. All through the meal I imagine myself dressed in nothing but an apron and heels as I serve my husband and his boss at our dining room table. I imagine Keith squeezing my ass in front of Craig whenever I bend over to put something on the table, knowing my husband doesn’t like it but is powerless to stop it. I imagine him pulling me to his lap, again his hand around my neck, on a bare thigh or squeezing my breasts. I imagine him grabbing me by the hips as he sits in a chair at the table and lifting me up and sitting me down in front of him and smiling at my husband as he spreads my legs open wide and runs his hands up and down my thighs while he stares at my white pussy before using his long, thick, rough fingers inside me. All the while my husband stares at what his boss is doing to his wife. Each time my mind wanders, I’m brought back to reality by a question asked or conversation directed at me or a dessert to be served.
Finally, dinner is finished and the two of them head to our back patio for some more wine and business talk while I load the dishwasher up and put some things away. Keith offers to help, and in my mind I think of him bending me over the kitchen counter, lifting my skirt and pulling my panties to my ankles to do whatever he wants to me from behind. Quickly, I thank him but decline so they can talk shop for a bit. In reality, I just need to compose myself because over the past hour I’ve managed to excite myself with all my dirty thoughts and my panties are absolutely soaked!
Alone in the kitchen, I pour myself another glass of wine and tidy up. I stand at the sink looking at the two of them sitting on the patio talking, daydreaming about Keith. I imagine sitting out there with them while they talk and think about Keith standing up, towering over both of us. In my head, I see him stepping in front of me and unbuckling his belt. My husband sits there puzzled as he watches his boss unbutton his pants, unzip his fly and reach in to extract his huge black cock and big, heavy balls. He looks down at me, smiles, and reaches out to grab a handful of my hair and pulls my forward with authority. Without hesitation and without even glancing at my husband, I open my mouth and let Keith push his big, warm, uncut pulsating cock into my mouth. He slides it in slowly, then back out. Then again. My husband sits there dumbfounded, shocked and appalled at what is happening. His prim and proper housewife is willingly taking an enormous black cock in her mouth. But within moments, I’m doing more than just taking Keith’s big cock between my lips. I’m letting him use my mouth for his pleasure as he pumps his thick tool in and out, moaning and grunting as he watches me struggle to take him down my throat. I moan too…sounds of struggle mixed with sounds of lust. He reaches down and pulls my boobs free and alternates between groping them each. Keith looks down at me, then at my husband as he says, “Damn Craig…your wife is a nasty slut! She sure does like this black dick!” Ashamed, my husband says nothing as Keith grabs my hair harder and fucks my mouth vigorously. I gag and do my best to suck his cock until finally, Keith lets out an a****listic groan, stands back two feet and pumps his huge cock in his big hand. He foregoes previous decorum and his gentlemanly ways and demands, “Open your mouth, bitch!” And I do just that as the first wave of his hot cum splashes across my face, a bit going into my mouth but most of it across the bridge of my nose and forehead. A next wave lands in my hair. He steps forward for better aim and the next spurts go straight into my mouth before he follows with his cock, pushing it down my throat as he empties his cock in my mouth. He slides in and out a few more times before pulling out his black cock, and I look up at him and smile and lick his cum off my lips, then look at my husband, mouth agape, staring at his wife, face and hair covered in cum, dripping down onto her big boobs and cure summer dress.
I return to reality again as I hear the men coming back into the house for more wine. The rest of the evening is filled with wine, conversation and my dirty thoughts until Keith leaves. After getting ready for bed, I spend a good 30 minutes alone in the bathroom with a left over cucumber from dinner and getting some much needed sexual release as I imagine countless dirty scenarios of Keith and his enormous black cock. I didn’t even have sex with my husband. I’ll be suggesting to my husband more dinners with his boss, and may have to make some special trips to visit him at the office and perhaps “innocently” forget when he has meetings offsite on some days.
When the day arrived, I shopped for all of the ingredients to make a great meal and impress my husband’s boss and his wife. We showered and began to get ready, and with my husband downstairs making last minute preparations, I stood in the closet trying to figure out what to wear. At first glance it seems a simple task, but the more I thought of it, the harder it was to come up with something appropriate for the evening. I didn’t want to downplay the occasion by underdressing in something too casual, but I also didn’t want to overshoot and dress too formal. I wanted to look nice and of course pretty for my husband and to represent him well, but it’s a fine line between looking cute and sexy but not slutty and over the top. I didn’t want to appear lazy, but I also didn’t want to look as if I was trying to outdo my husband’s wife or make her look bad. I finally settled on a cute little yellow and white summer dress with enough of a plunging neckline to show off some cleavage from my big boobs, but not so much that it looked like I might fall out of my dress at any minute. I donned my trademark jewelry, sparkly silver bracelets, rings and a cute necklace, and pulled my hair back in a ponytail that said sophisticated but with a flair of fun, and finished it all off with a great pair of high heel sandals.
When I went downstairs, my husband gave me a look up and down and gave me that devilish grin that told me I’d done good. And he was right. I looked fantastic! We opened a bottle of wine and drank a few glasses of Malbec while we waited for our guests to arrive. When the doorbell finally rang, my husband went to answer the door while I stayed in the kitchen keeping an eye on the food. I heard them talking in the front foyer for a while until they finally wandered into the kitchen. I was surprised at who stood in front of me as a turned around from the stove as my husband introduced us. I turned to look up at fifty-something year old black man looking down at me. He was a large man who looked as if he might have been more at home on a football team during his glory days rather than working as a financial advisor. He was a thick man at about 250 pounds and maybe six-foot-five with broad shoulders, balding in the back and a bit of a beard. He smiled at me and reached out to shake my hand, so I reciprocated, and his big warm hand practically swallowed up my tiny hand. Keith was dressed nicely and wore a sport coat with no tie. He was alone and explained that he had never married, so all my fuss about outdoing his wife was for nothing. He had a smooth, deep baritone voice that matched his appearance perfectly.
After the initial introductions, I offered him a glass of wine which he accepted. My husband took this lull in conversation as an opportunity for me to play hostess and give him a tour of the house. Keith was gracious and said he’d love to see the house, so I walked him around showing him different rooms and explaining photos and doing the normal tour routine. He was a good looking man, though not overly handsome in any kind of way. As we chatted, he seemed very attentive. I could feel him looking at me as he followed me through the house. Looking at my legs, my ass, my neck and exposed cleavage. Perhaps it was just all in my head and that’s just what I wanted. For this large man, any other man, to be looking at me like that. He was probably just being polite by paying me attention while we talked. When we spoke, he always made eye contact, and in a way, when he looked down at me while we talked, I felt somewhat intimidated. He was my husband’s boss after all, and a man like that could easily overpower me, or my husband for that matter. He had a lot of power to wield, and I knew it.
Eventually, my thoughts wandered while we talked, and I began to think about what it would be like if he did actually physically overpower me. What would he do to me? What would he make me do? Detailed thoughts about sexual scenarios with him began to flood my mind, only for a few moments, but I got flustered and distracted just long enough for my eyes to have wandered over his body and inevitably to his crotch as I imagined in my head what such a large man had between his legs. It was just a fraction of second and innocent curiosity, much quicker than it takes to write out these words, but it was all I needed to see that he did indeed have a package to match. And it wasn’t the typical lump in his pants…more like an outline going down his leg. It wasn’t anything like you see in those porn movies where the man is wearing pants obviously too tight and he has a fully erect anaconda in his pants, but it was certainly plain to see that Keith was working with more than any man I’d ever experienced. When I returned my gaze to his, I felt the blood rush to my face in embarrassment as I thought perhaps he’d seen where I was looking. I suddenly wondered if he somehow knew the thoughts that flashed in my head just seconds ago. Did he know the dirty things I’d just imagined him doing to me right here in our living room? We stood in front of a wall of some photos, and he pointed to one in particular and asked where it was taken. It was a shot of my husband and I on the beach in Aruba. A fantastic vacation spot where we had gone a couple years earlier. We were on the beach standing near a boat wearing only our swimsuits. I had on my “vacation” bikini…the one I wear when I’m feeling good on vacation…lots of drinks, lots of surf and sand, and lots of skin showing. I told him where the photo was taken and that we were getting ready to go snorkeling, trying my best to sound nonchalant as if it didn’t bother me that this man I’d just met was looking at me practically naked. He smiled and winked at me and said, “Nice. I think I could really get into that.” Again, I thought to myself. Did that just happen? Was he talking about Aruba? Is he flirting? Or am I just imagining it?
Suddenly I was standing in my living room imagining my husband’s new black boss standing behind me, and reaching around me and groping my big boobs with my husband in the next room. There was no working up to it. No flirtatious back and forth or sly innuendos. He just went straight to taking what he wanted. I imagined his big dark hands roughly squeezing my breasts, then reaching into my summer dress and pulling one breast out, freeing it from its confines. I think of him pulling on my nipple and his hands all over my body, and as his hand squeezes my exposed breast, his other hand begins to wrap around my neck just as my husband walks in the room. The thought of my husband catching me in this scenario quickly jerks me back to reality as I finish up the tour.
Soon we polish off the rest of the wine and open another bottle as we sit down to dinner. Again, being the enthusiastic cook and housewife that I am, I play the diligent hostess as I present different courses and show off my dishes. All through the meal I imagine myself dressed in nothing but an apron and heels as I serve my husband and his boss at our dining room table. I imagine Keith squeezing my ass in front of Craig whenever I bend over to put something on the table, knowing my husband doesn’t like it but is powerless to stop it. I imagine him pulling me to his lap, again his hand around my neck, on a bare thigh or squeezing my breasts. I imagine him grabbing me by the hips as he sits in a chair at the table and lifting me up and sitting me down in front of him and smiling at my husband as he spreads my legs open wide and runs his hands up and down my thighs while he stares at my white pussy before using his long, thick, rough fingers inside me. All the while my husband stares at what his boss is doing to his wife. Each time my mind wanders, I’m brought back to reality by a question asked or conversation directed at me or a dessert to be served.
Finally, dinner is finished and the two of them head to our back patio for some more wine and business talk while I load the dishwasher up and put some things away. Keith offers to help, and in my mind I think of him bending me over the kitchen counter, lifting my skirt and pulling my panties to my ankles to do whatever he wants to me from behind. Quickly, I thank him but decline so they can talk shop for a bit. In reality, I just need to compose myself because over the past hour I’ve managed to excite myself with all my dirty thoughts and my panties are absolutely soaked!
Alone in the kitchen, I pour myself another glass of wine and tidy up. I stand at the sink looking at the two of them sitting on the patio talking, daydreaming about Keith. I imagine sitting out there with them while they talk and think about Keith standing up, towering over both of us. In my head, I see him stepping in front of me and unbuckling his belt. My husband sits there puzzled as he watches his boss unbutton his pants, unzip his fly and reach in to extract his huge black cock and big, heavy balls. He looks down at me, smiles, and reaches out to grab a handful of my hair and pulls my forward with authority. Without hesitation and without even glancing at my husband, I open my mouth and let Keith push his big, warm, uncut pulsating cock into my mouth. He slides it in slowly, then back out. Then again. My husband sits there dumbfounded, shocked and appalled at what is happening. His prim and proper housewife is willingly taking an enormous black cock in her mouth. But within moments, I’m doing more than just taking Keith’s big cock between my lips. I’m letting him use my mouth for his pleasure as he pumps his thick tool in and out, moaning and grunting as he watches me struggle to take him down my throat. I moan too…sounds of struggle mixed with sounds of lust. He reaches down and pulls my boobs free and alternates between groping them each. Keith looks down at me, then at my husband as he says, “Damn Craig…your wife is a nasty slut! She sure does like this black dick!” Ashamed, my husband says nothing as Keith grabs my hair harder and fucks my mouth vigorously. I gag and do my best to suck his cock until finally, Keith lets out an a****listic groan, stands back two feet and pumps his huge cock in his big hand. He foregoes previous decorum and his gentlemanly ways and demands, “Open your mouth, bitch!” And I do just that as the first wave of his hot cum splashes across my face, a bit going into my mouth but most of it across the bridge of my nose and forehead. A next wave lands in my hair. He steps forward for better aim and the next spurts go straight into my mouth before he follows with his cock, pushing it down my throat as he empties his cock in my mouth. He slides in and out a few more times before pulling out his black cock, and I look up at him and smile and lick his cum off my lips, then look at my husband, mouth agape, staring at his wife, face and hair covered in cum, dripping down onto her big boobs and cure summer dress.
I return to reality again as I hear the men coming back into the house for more wine. The rest of the evening is filled with wine, conversation and my dirty thoughts until Keith leaves. After getting ready for bed, I spend a good 30 minutes alone in the bathroom with a left over cucumber from dinner and getting some much needed sexual release as I imagine countless dirty scenarios of Keith and his enormous black cock. I didn’t even have sex with my husband. I’ll be suggesting to my husband more dinners with his boss, and may have to make some special trips to visit him at the office and perhaps “innocently” forget when he has meetings offsite on some days.
před 2 roky/let
