tagInterracial LoveDee Purple - A Faithful Wife Undone

Dee Purple - A Faithful Wife Undone

byAgvaniva©

This is a story I have written for my gorgeous friend and fellow writer and perve; Dee Purple. Its based on Dee's fantasy of being seduced and corrupted by her handsome, charming black boss. If you have read my other piece of work 'The Awakening', you might recognise him. The other main character in this story is Dee herself (obviously changing names and details, etc) and lots of Dee's own voice, her creativity, dark thoughts and kinks have been wound in this tale.

Dee's message:

One of my favorite Literotica authors has honored me with writing me a story which I find highly arousing. I know you'll enjoy it as much as I have. Hopefully this little bit of teamwork will result in a nice, sexually-laden series, which we can all enjoy

DP

We hope you like.

Ag and Dee

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The phone buzzes on my desk, and I sigh softly. I know who the text is from without having to read it. Chris must text me at least a dozen times a day. Soppy, romantic messages, asking how my day has been, telling me how much he misses me, etc. Today is no different. In fact, if anything, he is worse. It is just after noon, and this already is the what; tenth text of the day? Although, to be honest I have lost count. He is like a giant puppy at the moment, excited about the surprise birthday party at our place tonight for his father James. It is going to be a big affair, as both sides of our very large extended family are coming over to celebrate my father in laws birthday. Chris has planned it meticulously, like the devoted son he is. But the constant stream of texts to my phone has become even more tiresome than usual, so when his second message arrives almost immediately, I groan inwardly. The slightly irritated voice in my head grumbling "what now?"

Reluctantly, I reach for the phone, ignoring the first six unread texts, and with a bored expression I skim the last two messages. And frown.

'Forgot to say, I'll be this side of town to collect the canapes, so I'll swing by and pick you up about 5. Love you baby xxx."

My eyes close, and I exhale deeply. My inner voice exclaiming irritably;

"Oh shit no."

I quickly pick up the phone, my gaze lifting to the large glass screen just a few feet in front of my desk, and lingers upon the magnificent black man sat at the desk behind it. As if he can sense my gaze falling on him, he looks up from the papers he is reading, and flashes me that little smile. The same smile I had fallen for the very first time I had set eyes on him. My stomach no longer flips when our eyes meet across the office like they did in the early days, but now my nipples begin to tingle and I feel a warmth in my loins. He can do that to you. Just with a look.

Any annoyance I feel towards my husband dissipates swiftly, and I return his smile, with a coy little smirk of my own. A few months ago, I was deliberately very careful to make sure any lingering looks and flirty smiles went unnoticed in the office. But over time, I worried less and less what my colleagues might think, and found myself starting to openly flirt with my boss. Initially, it was limited to the relative privacy of his office, but more recently, it has spilled over into the the large open plan space. At my desk, at the copier, the water cooler, the staff rest room. Anywhere, and everywhere he is. And I secretly love it. I am under no illusions that that many of my co-workers suspect I am a little more than just the bosses personal assistant. And quite frankly, I want them to think that.

I grab my phone off my desk, and pace purposefully to the staff restroom. Thankfully it's empty, so I open the door, step inside, lean against the wall, and dial my darling husband.

"Hey baby."

"Hey sweets" I coo chirpily in my sweetest, most loving voice. "Just a quick call...look I'm going to have to stay a little longer again tonight. So don't worry about picking me up."

His voice begins to go all shrill and whiny again, which I loathe, so I just carry on talking over him.

"Don't worry baby, I wont miss the party, I just need to stay late and help Charles with something."

I cant help myself. I seem to derive a strange pleasure out of mentioning Charles to him now. Early on, I was very careful not to talk about Charles at home. I didn't want Chris to notice the crush that I was so blatantly developing on my boss. But recently, his name is on the tip of my tongue constantly. In fact, I am surprised Chris doesn't hate the man by now, based on how I gush about him constantly, and the amount of time he has deprived him of his wife in the last six months. But no. For all his faults, Chris always was, and still is a reasonable man by nature, and is genuinely pleased and proud over how well his wife is doing at work. So I allow him a few grumbles every now and again, kiss his forehead, and ask him if he wants me to go back to teaching. And of course I know he doesn't. He likes the salary I bring home too much.

"Ohhh, OK baby. Something big come up again?" He asks innocently, and in that very serious tone of his.

I cant help but smirk as I reply.

"Oh you know Charles baby, its always big, and I'm going to have to handle it all for him again I'm afraid. I'm going to have my hands full again..."

'And my mouth'...I think dreamily.

"Well OK babe, but make sure you aren't late. Are you getting a taxi back, or do you need a lift?"

"Oh don't worry Chris, Charles will drop me off again, I'm sure."

"OK baby. Invite him to the party if you like?"

Oh now that would be fun!!

"Sure baby, I'll see what he says. OK, gotta go...see you later. Love you."

"Lov..."

I cut him off, and smile. I know he's there, so I turn slowly and give him my one of my devastatingly smouldering looks. Charles smiles. That arrogant, cocky smile that makes me melt. He closes the door, and walks past me to the drinks machine, breathing in that low, deep baritone voice of his...

"Don't tell me. He wants you to invite me to the party?"

I go to stand next to him, and my hand brushes his as he passes me a plastic cup.

"Mhmmm."

"Might be fun." He smirks. Dark eyes full of mischief.

"I told him something big had come up again, and that you needed me to stay late. He was going to come pick me up and drive me home." I giggle.

Charles deep, dark eyes hold me. Like they always do when I look at him. It had taken three months before I could look at him and not blush. Those early dictation sessions were painful, but addictive. I could barely stop myself gazing at him. Leering at times. His very presence affected me massively, and I was completely unprepared for how I would feel, and how it would change my life. I had no idea, when I saw the advert online for the role of PA, that my life would have taken this path. I had been a happily married mother of two young boys, and a teacher up until just nine months ago, when I had decided I had fallen out of love with teaching, and needed something more fulfilling.

It turned out, the part time stop-gap solution I discussed with Chris, was proving to be devastatingly fulfilling in so many ways I could never have dreamed of. I had quickly stopped thinking about my next career step. It was meant to be temporary. But almost a year on, even Chris had stopped asking me what my plan was. It was just as though...this was it now. I was a PA at a large, successful hedge fund firm, working for a man who I am slowly falling in love with. What had started out as a crush, an overwhelming crush...has bloomed into a deep, carnal lust, and even now, is evolving into something much deeper.

If anyone...a stranger had asked me...do I have a man? I would have automatically thought of Charles. My boss of nine months, and my lover of six. Not...my husband of ten years, and father of my two children. Chris is my husband. My soul mate...maybe. Although, even that is now clouded. He is my friend, my steady ship. My life partner. But this man here...looking at me like he is going to devour me. He is my man.

And what a man he is. I don't really remember the interview. I do know I'm still mystified as to how he gave me the position, as I am sure my mind went to mush in his presence. His charm, his wit...his handsome, smouldering good looks. His...masculinity. That was the first thing that struck me. Just how confident and capable he was. As a man. And my gosh, that was an attractive combination. Not that Chris isn't. In his own way. But Charles would eat him, and spit him out without even thinking twice. He has it all. Money, looks, intellect, charm, a sense of humor that make people love him. I know every one of the women in that office, married or single...lust after him privately. And I know that every one of the guys...want to be him. And a few probably lust after him too.

And he is an incredible lover. Like most black guys I suppose. But Charles has gifts other men, black or white...don't possess. The first afternoon he asked me to stay late...he did things to me that I didn't know were even legal. He made me feel things I didn't know were possible. He touched me in ways that no man had ever come close to.

Chris, on the other hand, is not a sexual person in the slightest. He is quite repressed when it comes to sex due to his religious beliefs, and as a lover, my husband is the exact opposite of Charles. Chris is built for, and prefers slow, gentle love making to passionate, hard, raw fucking. Charles will chuckle on a Monday morning when I walk in to work, as he knows Chris is a once a week, Sunday morning before church, missionary kinda guy. He might last 10 minutes, if I'm lucky. Or unlucky. In...out. No finesse...no passion. No clue. And that's the thing. He's lovely, but utterly awkward and clueless in bed. I think he used to try his hardest, but now its as though sex confuses him, and even scares him a little. I first noticed it a few years ago, after our youngest child Austin was born. He began to look uncomfortable if we attempted to have sex. It made me feel like, I had done my job; I have borne him two sons, and now I had served my purpose, sex began to feel wrong, unnatural between us.

I wanted...no; I yearned and ached to be taken. To be touched, to be worshiped, to be treated as the sexual, feminine woman I knew I could be, but had never had the opportunity to be. I was entering my sexual prime, and I was bored, and frustrated. I was dying inside if I'm being brutally honest. I ached to escape from the confines of my vanilla, mundane, tepid sex life. I wanted to feel alive. I wanted to feel desired, and attractive. I wanted more than just laying on my back and feeling nothing. I wanted to know what it felt like to be taken. To be fucked. To be fucked properly. By a man. A real man. A real man, with a huge cock who could fuck for hours. I wanted to know how it felt to be stretched, to be filled, and to be fucked senseless. I wanted to know what it felt like to orgasm with a cock inside me.

I wanted to know what a real man's cock looked like, how it felt, how it smelt and tasted. For years, my nickname for Chris' manhood was 'little guy'. Strangely he didn't seem annoyed or belittled by it. I think he thought it was a term of affection. Which, maybe in the early years it was. It was also, entirely appropriate. I actually measured Charles' ring finger, and its thicker and longer than my husband's erect penis. Whereas Charles on the other hand...has a cock made for the god that he is. Its fucking huge. Like 3 soda cans stacked on top of each other. Its thick, and long...and heavy. And voluptuous, and black as sin. And it touches me in places no man has, or ever will touch me. And I am head over heels in love with his cock. Its addictive. The first time I saw it...I just gazed at it in awed disbelief for about ten minutes. I followed every vein, every ridge...every lump and bump. It called to me. The size of it, the color...its the most erotic and beautiful thing I have ever seen. For in all its brutal, primal ugliness...its touches me. It speaks to me. As a woman. Its so absolutely, regally male. The absolute embodiment of alpha masculinity. It makes me feel sexy, and feminine like nothing else ever has. I'm like a bitch in heat around it, like a feline, purring and snaking my way around his body, rubbing his scent on me.

And I'm willingly risking my marriage, my home and my future to keep it. Which is why...at five pm...I will saunter unashamedly into his office while my colleagues are packing up for the day...and sit down in his office waiting for him to finish his tasks...before he gives me permission to unzip his trousers...carefully take out his beautiful black cock and wrap my lips around it. Only it wont end there. I will continue to feast and slurp hungrily on it in his large range rover as he drives me back to my husband. And I wont leave his side until he erupts inside my mouth. Until I've swallowed every drop of his potent seed, and cleaned his magnificent cock clean.

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It is always the same. As the afternoon drags on, and it approaches 3pm, I start to get twitchy. By 4 pm, I can barely keep still. I struggle to focus or concentrate on any tasks he sets me, but of course he knows this. I flit from job to job, from desk to desk. Trying to find anything to contain my excitement. I start to become moist from lunchtime on-wards, and as it gets nearer to my time...my arousal amplifies and I begin to get wet, very wet by the time he is ready for me. My nipples are aching, and hard and prominent. And, I have my little ritual which I know drives him wild.

At a quarter to five each afternoon, I make sure he is watching from his office, which is literally in front of my desk, albeit behind a large glass screen. So we virtually face each other all day long. At first, it was agony. I couldn't stop gazing at him. But it also meant I could read his moods, his expressions from afar. And it wasn't long before we would catch each others gaze...and my shy smiles would become bolder. Holding his gaze for a few seconds longer than normal. And one day, when I knew he was watching, I decided to take our eye flirting up a notch. I retrieved my favorite lip gloss from my bag, and made a deliberate show of coating my soft, full lips in shimmering baby doll pink. Rolling my lips together, pressing them tight...puckering them very carefully, in my vanity mirror. With one eye on Charles. His hungry look, told me he liked what he saw. So from that day on, it became my thing for him. And eventually, it has become my ritual. My lust trigger. It lets him know I am his. I am preparing, and preening myself for his majestic cock. And my pussy floods with arousal as I do it.

My colleagues know too. But mostly, they probably think I am angling after a pay rise or a promotion. But I quite like that deep down, the secret thrill I feel, imagining that secretly they know. And that I am the talk of of the office. I know the other women would be jealous. Going home to their Sunday morning husbands. And the men...I like to think they all share a joke about the big black boss screwing his horny, married secretary. And maybe...they snicker when they think of Chris. Poor old Chris. Poor sap I bet they think, and I cant help but smile to myself. I know that's what Charles thinks. He isn't a bully. Or overly vindictive. Its just his way. He struggles to understand 'weak' men. Which tends to be most other men, as every single other male he encounters, is quite simply another beta to his alpha.

And so, when it comes to my marital sex life...everything Charles does to me, with me...belittles what Chris and I have. And secretly I adore it. On the third day of our affair, after I had strutted into his office at two minutes to Five, he had deliberately ignored me. Until every last colleague had left. And then wordlessly, he stood and walked past me. Stopping at my desk, he picked up the photo frame...the white, ornate one...and brought it into his office. Placing it in the middle...facing us. I gazed at that photograph. Me...looking radiant, and happy...and young. In my expensive wedding dress...and veil. And there was Chris, or Christian as I called him back then...happy, slim, handsome even. Eyes sparkling. The two of us...surrounded by our family...and friends. The same group of loyal, loving people that were hours away from filling our home.

And without saying a word...he pulled me to him and swirled his talented tongue between my lips. French kissing me. Tasting me...exploring me...claiming me right in front of my husband, and all our friends. Captured so many years ago in a photograph now residing on my black lovers desk as I moaned and mewed into his kiss like a whore.

The photograph remains in his office. Locked away in his expensive desk. And this is his ritual for me. I don't touch him until he retrieves it, and places it on its rightful place on his desk. And then, in full view of my husband, and his parents, and my parents...I become another man's black cock slut. I perform sex acts on a black man, that I would never have dreamt of performing on my husband. I orgasm...louder, and harder in front of my husband, than I ever could with him.

Sometimes, my phone will buzz whilst I am with him. Its always Chris. I always ignore his texts...but Charles has told me one day he intends for me to call Michael when I am kneeling before him. And he is going to brush my cheeks, and lips with his swollen black cock while my husband tells me how his day has been, how he misses me...It would be suicide to talk while I had him in my mouth. My guttural moans and groans would give me away. Charles has turned me into a noisy, greedy cock sucking fiend.

Which is very different to how I used to be. Fellatio with Chris was and always has been a serene, sombre and quiet affair. Very little fuss. Very little noise. When it actually happens. My husband's family are all quite religious. Not zealots by any means, but they have very strong views on their faith, which has shaped a lot of his morals and thoughts about sex. He feels particularly strongly that it is demeaning for me to perform oral sex on him, and although this hasn't stopped him enjoying it, its a rare, almost mechanical act on my part. I literally hold his penis between my thumb and forefinger and barely have to open my lips. There is no passion there at all.

Whereas with Charles...its a devastating, mind-blowing, sloppy, whoreish tsunami of saliva and thick pre-cum. Firstly, I don't tentatively pinch his 'penis', I more...devour his cock. I lash at it greedily with my tongue, wrap my soft, full lips around it and force it down my tight, bruised epiglottis and beyond until my eyes water tears of lust, and spittle explodes from from my esophagus as I gag on his cock, until it coats his dark shaft, hanging like thick spider webs until it falls and pools on the floor at my feet. I draw my cheeks in hard...and suck like my life depended on it until my lips release his mighty cock with a loud...POP!! And then I fall on it all over again. Angling my head...working his swollen crown around the inside of my mouth, so my cheeks bulge obscenely. I want his musk and pheromones to coat every bit of my most intimate places, so when I kiss my husband (as is his marital right), I know my man has been there first.

It would be impossible to talk on the phone when Charles is inside me. The waves of sheer physical and intense mental pleasure that wash over me when his cock is inside me, causes such a cataclysmic reaction that would be impossible to try and contain or mask. It comes from within. From a place I never knew existed. From my very core. From the very essence of what makes me a woman. A sexual, feminine woman being mated by such a primal, alpha male.Its an avalanche of pure animal arousal and unbridled lust that only a man like Charles could trigger. The sounds he draws from me...are raw, rasping and agonised in their pitch and frequency. But they are sounds of pure ecstasy which go beyond purely the physical euphoria of being stretched so completely, of being filled so utterly, and being fucked so perfectly by a strong, bull of a man with the stamina and cock of a thoroughbred stallion. They too come from within. Drawn from me by my man. My lover.

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byAgvaniva© 4 comments/ 52540 views/ 43 favorites

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