Hello, my name is Gillian Dupont. Normally, I’m a practical, very conservatively attired business woman. At just over 30 years old I still went to great lengths to hide my statuesque 37-22-34 figure from the male power mongers I have to deal with in the every day corporate world in which I dwell. I wear little or no make up, no perfume, and even keep my honey blond hair, dyed a donkey brown, up in a severe bun at the top back of my head while wearing these horribly plain totally useless eye glasses. I’m married you see, and I’ve always thought that my husband John was more than enough man for me to handle in bed, for one thing, and for the second thing, why bring sex into a business relationship when it only burns both parties, and achieves no goals. I loved my husband of seven years dearly, and didn’t think he’d appreciate my giving out sexual favors just for advancement on a few corporate ladder rungs, and too, him being a doctor, I’d have hated to come home one day carrying the clap, or something worse that I’d contracted from one of my peers.
Being left alone, that is to say, not being chased after, has allowed me a great deal of freedom that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, which is probably why I advanced so fast to such a top executive position as I did. No ones wife thought I was being chased around her husband’s desk, and none of the males felt threatened by my superior work.

• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 2)
• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 3)

So that by the time I was ensconced in the Vice Presidents Office in our company at the age of 29 there was little to no surprise, and more importantly no jealousy involved by my co-workers that it was I sitting there. I had earned more than their respect with my diligence, and hard work, I’d earned their fialty as well.
So it was until that fatal day, or should I say evening in bed, when John told me about this wet dream of his. We were on vacation, in the Carribian, as always I had dyed my hair back to its original honey blond only the morning before our flight took off, allowing the shimmering length to cascade down my shoulders and back to just above my butt crack for the duration of our vacation, and I’d treated myself to a full makeover with manicure, and pedicure as well as make up, and perfume.
In the islands one rarely is required to wear much more than the skimpiest of bikinis, and casual wear, but there are occasions when more than a diaphanous night gown is needed to attend a social event. For those occasions, I have always let John pick out my clothes, and weathered the glares from the other women attending as if it were of no real importance.
As you may have guessed, John went all out in displaying me in this slinky black backless number straight out of France for this social event, the dress basicly conforming to every curve of my body as it hung otherwise from the collar around my neck in front, splitting on the sides about mid thigh before reaching nearly down to the floor. I was obviously braless, but at the same time almost modestly covered in front, and though my firm full pink capped nipples poked out through the thin silky material for anyone to salivate over at a glance, what no one there but John, and I knew was that I was wearing these incredibly scandlous, totally slutty looking, garterbelt, and nylon stockings underneath, and no panties. Something to which I had never worn before in my life. (At my wedding I had barely conceeded to wearing a pair of sheer whte pantyhose, and at my job I wear flannel tights every day.)
I became the center of attention the moment we arrived at the function, and before I knew it separated from John for the better part of the evening as I was constantly asked to dance by every single, and not just a few of the married men there. Not that John was ever really out of my sight at any time as I could see him grinning at me from the side with that I told you so look of pride, and posession most men get when other men are chasing after their women without much chance of ever scoring. Since I was in a festive, party mood, I danced with whomever asked me, regardless of race, creed, color, religion, and so forth. I can drink a bullmoose under the table, so neither John, nor I were worried about my becoming so drunk that I’d do something stupid with any of these men, but that didn’t stop them from copping a free feel here and there during the fast dances, or poking their hard ons at me through the thin black dress while dancing slow.
In any event, you now understand how John got this wet dream of me fucking with another man from the evening after this social event. We were in bed, making love, and I was once again wearing the garterbelt, nylons, and high heels as John had asked me to, and I felt so wickedly depraved, and totally hot as his cock pumped in and out of my honey blond covered folds below. In fact, I felt like the perfect street slut servicing her John, as my John fucked me like he hadn’t fucked me in a couple of years. His penis was so hard you could have cut diamonds with it. But when he slowed down after my fourth or fifth orgasm to tell me about his wet dream, I went into orbit like never before.
“It was really weird,” John said, trying to explain his dream after I told him to let it all out, “we were in this sleazy hotel room, and there you were dressed up like a ten dollar hooker in sheer nylon, and fishnet, or some such thing, but down on your knees in front of this stranger, a very black stranger at that, with half of his gigantic black cock going down your throat like some sword swallower as I sat in a corner watching you suck that cock, and jerking myself off while I did.”
The fact that in his dream he’d chosen a black man really had my hips lifting off the sheets. It had always been one of my favorite fantasies to be the plaything of some dominant black bastard, and that more or less came from my southern upbringing, and the social taboo connected to white women having sex with the former African slave race I’m sure. However I hadn’t thought that John, being from up north, and as a doctor of medicine who was as liberal as a democrat on cocain, that he would even think that way about the differences. After all, he wasn’t a rascist, just horny to try something different, and his mind came up with this scenario during his wet dream. However when he saw the effects of his telling me what he’d dreamed of me doing, well, let’s just say things got pretty down and damned right filthy from that point on, and through into the wee hours of the morning with the two of us. We even talked seriously about my trying on one of the locals while there on vacation, or sometime in the future, but nothing happened before we were on our flight homeward bound.
However as we drove home from the airport, John asked me a question that would change our lifestyle together from that point on.
“Do you really have to frump yourself up now that you’re the VP?” He asked. “I mean, after all, you’re at the top of the ladder now, and no one can say you didn’t earn it. Right?”
I had to think about that, and I did, all the rest of the way home. He was right, of course, I could stay pretty much the way I was, as long as I didn’t step out of character, or go beyond what people expected to see. I’d still have to wear a pair of useless glasses, but they could be more fashionable now, and I could leave my hair in its natural honey blond color, but still wear the tight bun, and as long as I continued to dress more or less conservatively on the outside, I could use a little make up and perfume as well, and most people would think that I was just trying to keep up a good face for the company. It also meant that I could throw away all of my flannel undergarments, and wear the silkiest blouses, or any sexy lingerie John could get his hands on from now on.
“Okay, I’ll go along with a slight make over John,” I said at last, “but just don’t expect me to start dating the high priced help around the office.”
“Actually,” John said, with a grin that split his face in two, “I was thinking more on the lines of the custodial people that work there after everybody has gone home.”
“I knew it!” I said. “I should never have told you about that fantasy I had of Jason.”
Jason is the janitor in charge of all house cleaning in our company’s building, and as well as being a first class stationary engineer, he’s one of the blackest men I’ve ever met in my life, and as cock sure of the fairer sex’s attraction to his divinely muscular body as any stud muffin in the backfield of the NY Giants football team. We’d met many times in different parts of the building over the years, and I always had this feeling whenever he was around that he saw right through my little disguise, and was just dying to ask me why I was hiding such luscious goodies underneath all that cotton, and wool. Not that he chased after me, no, that wasn’t his style at all, but he did have a way of making me sweat between my legs whenever he was around with just a glance over those sunglasses that he wore everwhere while at the same time licking his thick upper lip with his wickedly pink tongue. He’d given me more than one sexual fantasy to think about while working there, and during our vacation I’d told John, as it was only fair after he’d told me about his wet dream.
“All I’m saying Gillian,” John said seriously, “is that if the opportunity ever arises, and you feel the urge, then you have my blessings to pursue it, as long as you are discrete about it, and tell me everything, in detail afterwards. Okay? I don’t want you to think that I’m pushing you into something you don’t want to do, but on the other hand, I love you very much, and don’t want to restrict your actions either just because of some false set of values that don’t really apply to us any more. We’ve kept the faith between us, we haven’t strayed, nor deceived each other. I’ve never been a jealous man, and I don’t think you are superficial by any stretch of the imagination. However, we’ve been married now over seven years, and we know each other almost too well. We need a little spice in our lives to get those juices flowing again, and that’s all that I’m talking about here. And just so we’re both on the same channel, I’ll follow your lead. Okay?”
I couldn’t argue with that kind of logic, and dedicated adoration both, so I agreed in part to see what would happen next. The ball was basicly in my court, and I could run with it, or do absolutely nothing at all. It was my choice now. Strange, isn’t it, that just when things come to a head, and decisions are made, that opportunity has a way of falling right into your lap.
As John expected, I received a great many compliments on getting what most of those around the office perceived as a long overdue make over. Even my boss was delighted, saying that I ought to go on vacation more often if this was the results of my taking off time from work. I did continue to wear my usual outer garb, but as the days grew on into weeks, I had them taylored to fit more to my actual curves without being overly bold about it, and was amazed that most people thought that I was on some wonder diet when I’d never weighed more than 105 lbs. my entire life. I guess once they started to really look at me, they just couldn’t understand that most of my height was due to the platform knee high boots I wore under my floor length skirts all those years, and that I was really only 5’5″ tall in stocking feet otherwise. So when the skirts were shortened I had to switch to high heeled pumps just to keep in character, and even though I refused to let the skirts go much higher than mid shin I still received several well intended, and good natured wolf whistles on an almost daily basis now. So it was, that two months after John and I had returned from that make over vacation that my life suddenly took a dip in the road more jarring than any spring pot hole could have conceived.

Chapter One:

Fiscal year’s end always means late nights for me, and this one was going to be no exception. I called John around lunch time to tell him not to expect me home for an early dinner, and to just put my share in the fridge for when I got home. By seven things were winding down so I let Caroline, my secratary, go home, with the promise that I would leave everything on her desk to work on first thing in the morning. Alone in that big office with a view I could at last take off my suit jacket, and glasses, and pull up my skirt to tie up a few loose ends at my leisure. The blouse worn underneath was more daring than I had ever worn to work as it was white, and completely sheer, but under my jacket I looked modest enough, and very shiek.
I was deep into a computer print out of figures when I heard the custodial help out in Caroline’s area emptying her trash, and so on, but I gave it little or no thought. In fact it wasn’t until I heard the sound of total silence that I looked up from my desk in total curiosity, and right into the eyes of a very large, very powerfully built young black man. My first thought was that it was Jason starring in at me, and looking up under my desk at my scandlous slutty lingerie, now showing because I’d hiked my skirt up around my lap to get more comfortable, but it wasn’t. This man was much too young to be Jason, unless…
“You must be Jason’s son,” I said, smiling good naturedly at the college boy. It was common knowledge that Jason’s son Henry was on the payroll, working nights here to help pay for his higher education.
“Yes ma’am, and you are?” His grin was like a spotlight in the night, all teeth, and pointing my way.
I suddenly felt totally naked before this total stranger who was gawking at me as though I were a stripper working a runway, and about to let him slip a folded bill into my bikini panties. A rush of excitement ran through me knowing full well the thrill was exhibitionistic in nature, as this young man could see all the way to my thong panties above my stockings under my desk, and the lacey bra under my blouse over top of the same desk was almost transparent.
“You can call me, Jill,” I replied.
“Ah you must be the secratary,” he said, and there was a distinct change that suddenly came over him, almost as if someone had rung the school bell for recess, as he became instantly more charming, and much more direct, “I guess the old battle axe really works the shit out of you, don’t she?” And he moved into the office to start cleaning it.
In as much as I was the old battle axe, I had to agree with that last statement, and I nodded my head accordingly while smiling charmingly back, and letting my own eyes do a little undressing of their own as he strutted around my office doing his job. Though to be honest, I wasn’t completely unaware of Caroline’s reputation around the building, and the rumors that she’d drop her panties at the hint of a bulge in any mans pants before she got married to Nathan six months ago, but I didn’t feel compelled to correct this young man’s obvious faux pause by telling him who I was either. After all, his interest in me was purely physical, and more than just a bit flattering to my ego of the moment. In fact I think we both knew the moment that our eyes locked that this young man had just won the pussy lottery. It was only a matter of where, and when he would collect, and here and now seemed as good a time and place as any. After all, I did have my husband’s enthusiastic permission, didn’t I? But just to make sure, I picked up the phone and called home.
“Hi hon,” I said, once John picked up at his end, and continuing to admire Henry as he worked, “do you remember telling me that I could fool around if I found someone that turned me on?” That got Henry’s attention right away. “Oh yes, he’s very black. Like the inside of a coal miner’s nostrils. What’s that? Oh he’s cleaning the office here at the moment, and undressing me with his eyes, though to tell the truth there isn’t much left for him to imagine at the moment. What’s that? Oh yes, it looks pretty damn big from where I’m sitting tucked down most of his left jean’s pant leg the way it is. My guess is that he’s got at least ten inches, and very thick…”
By this time Henry had given up all pretense of working, or even trying to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping. He was openly starring at me now, and almost salivating at what he perceived as the luckiest day of his life as he slowly walked towards me, and began to unbutton his cambria shirt showing taunt rippling abs. I in turn stood up, and then after unsnapping my skirt, let it puddle on the floor around my feet before sitting back down in my chair.
“…yes, that’s right. He’s getting undressed now, even as I speak, and oh my, what muscles he has John. He’s built like a carved statue!” And by now Henry was lowering his 501′s, and he wasn’t wearing any underwear so it was like a curtain unveiling of a battleship the way his cock came into view. “Holy shit John! He’s got a redwood tree for a penis, and it’s already standing up tall. Huh? Oh, sure, I guess, but if all you hear is moaning don’t blame me,” which was when Henry went down on his knees inbetween my parted legs, and bent down to kiss his way up along my inner thighs, “Ooooooooooooh yeah baby, he’s gonna eat my pussy!” I groaned, though I’m sure it came out as a gargling sound as Henry pulled my thong to the side and dove tongue first right into my wide open seathing wet slit. I let go of the phone grabbing onto the back of Henry’s kinky head to pull his face tight to my honey blond forest, and began to cum right then and there as a total stranger took what only my husband had ever had the priviledge of tasting before that very moment.
My mind was a whirl with contradictions, black and white, as well as in living color, and the fact that John was listening in on our adulterous lust somehow made the whole thing even more hot than it already was. I felt like a total slut giving myself to this young man like I was, and in fact that’s what I was acting like, a total slut. And since I was consumating my rebirth to slut, or whoredom I figured why not go all out, and in moments I was on my hands and knees over top of Henry enjoying my first taste of black cock. Oh sure, I played with it like it were a brand new toy, my tongue licking and teasing at every vein, nook and cranny first, while trying to figure out how to get something that big into my mouth, but in the end, all I did was open my mouth wide as I slid my lips around that thick nasty monster, and lowered my head easing his big black prick to the back of my throat. I gagged a few times, choked a few more, but eventually my lust took over, and allowed me to deep throat that vast acreage of human cock to where I was poking my pert nose into his kinky pubic forest on every third gulp.
“Damn baby! You sure know how to suck a Nigger’s dick, don’t ya!”
I’d have bet real money that John was thrilled to hear that, and probably already jerking off as he listened to every heavy breath we took.
“Oh man, what a tight white ass you’ve got, and I can’t wait to suck on those big white titties of yours!”
I was so hot by then that I was ready to hump his leg. So when he rolled me over onto my back, ripped my thong right off, and moved in between my legs to where the head of his dick was snug up against the splayed lips of my pussy, I was ready, willing, and lifting my legs up over his back to pull him into me. Thankfully, Henry was in no real hurry, and took his time to enter my cunt with his ebony night stick. Inch by inch that bludgeon went in, splitting my pussy in two, until it went in beyond where John would have run out of cock already. I started cuming again, and this time vocally.
“Oooooooh fuck yessssssss! Stick it all in there! I can’t believe how big your cock is, and it’s still not all the way in yet! Can you hear me John? His prick is in farther than yours ever went and he’s not all the way in me either! Cuming! Cuming baby! Oooooooooooh Fuck yeah!”
“Okay bitch! Here comes the rest!” Henry cried out, but whether for me, or the phone I had no idea, but more importantly, I didn’t really care as I came like an avalanche when he bumped up against my cervix, and I felt his large onyx black testicles rest up against my lily white ass.
“Uhn, uhn, uhn, so deep! Oh, uhn, yes! Yes! Yesssssssssssssssssssssssss! Fuck me you black bastard! Fuck me with your big black Nigger dick! Oooooooooooooooooo yesssssss!”
As if in a blured dream, I saw Henry smiling down at me then, assured of himself, and his prowess as a stud for any woman, let alone a white one, and he bent down to close his lips over my left tit, taking a suction on that nipple first as he began to move his hips to a savage jungle rhythm the likes of which I’d never known before. His pubic bone swiveling against my clit for a brief moment on every inward thrust, and his dick twisting every time he withdrew it from my hot wet confines. He turned me into a wanton animal in gutter heat, and I would have done anything for him, fucked friends, or strangers, even his father right then if he kept that maddening pace up as I was in multiple orgasm utopia, and had no intention of ever coming back down to see what the real world was like after that. I was a black man’s plaything now, a mere white sex toy, and it was like the heaven’s had opened up to let me in as I melted into the thick carpeting of my office floor.
I love my husband, but this was something that I had absolutely no control over whatsoever. To prove it, my body suddenly shorted out at every nerve ending sending me into the black void, and when I returned to reality, my pussy was leaking Henry’s sperm, but his cock was now stroking in and out of my asshole, and I was cuming as though I’d never stopped, or blanked out in the first place. No one, not even John, had ever fucked me in the ass before, and while it might have hurt if I’d been conscious when Henry first put it in, it only felt mildly cramping, wonderly wicked, and oh so terribly weird right then. I was so completely vulnerable, and at the mercy of this stranger whose big black cock was pumping in and out of my tight white asshole that anyone could have just walked right in and caught us, or maybe even heard us fucking through the ventilation shafts as I cried out anew with each tumultuous climax. I’m sure I called Henry every kind of Nigger in the book, and he in turn called me every kind of whoring bitch that crawled on the face of the planet promising even more filth than I could imagine once he got me broke in properly.
I’m sure John heard it all, and later he told me that he came three times himself just listening to us fuck, and swear at each other over the telephone connection. The last one happening while I was down on my knees, once again sucking Henry’s cock after it had just creamed up my butt, and promising my future devotion to his black ass as I assured him that I would be in this office every night for the rest of the week, and at his complete service from now on.
When I got home I was so rung out that all I could do was flop into bed, and let John undress me. I fell asleep in exhaustion while John’s tongue lapped away at both sore, abused port holes below. The smile on my face one of utter satisfaction, as John put it the next morning over breakfast.
“Are you really going to meet him every night this week?” John asked, passing me the toast, and from the look of the bulge in his trousers I knew his comment wasn’t one of concern for my welfare, or sanity.
“Do you think I should?” I teased, and opened my robe to show him what I was wearing under my work clothes today. Leg garters atop of seamed black nylons without any panties or bra, and I had trimmed my pubic hair, even shaving below my clit to leave my snatch totally bald.
“Abso-fucking-lutely! Oh, and wear that black see-through turtleneck thing. The one that only comes down to your belly button. That’ll drive him crazy.”
“You don’t expect me to just strip for action, and be waiting for him to take me after Caroline leaves do you?”
“Why not, that’s what a real whore would do for her Nigger lover, isn’t it?”
I could have almost blushed at John’s brash comment, and I probably would have a day ago, but the more I thought about it, the wetter my pussy got in antisipation. I didn’t even keep Caroline on overtime just so that I would be able to keep my mind on business while waiting for the time to drag on, but even so I finished everything up all by myself with plenty of time to spare. As I have a bar, and a fully functional bathroom connected to my office, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to freshen up just a bit before Henry arrived. The bidet soothed my itch, and made me feel fresh as a daisy, so I got out of my frumpies, and put on my make up, and perfume, much more than I’d dare ware around work during the day. I heard the mop bucket out in the corridor, and hurried over to my desk. It was clear of all non-essentials now, and made a wonderful prop to perch on as I waited breathlessly for Henry to enter as if posing for a centerfold lay out in one of John’s dirty magazines.
Of course there was a moment of thrilled terror on my part, as that could have been anybody out there in Caroline’s area emptying her wastebasket, and tidying up. Whoever came through that door was going to get one hell of an eye full because there was no way that I could stop them now. And that’s when my phone started to ring, just as Henry’s body filled the entrance to my office.
“Hello? Oh hi John. Yes, he just arrived. Yes, I’m drapped over the desk like a trophy deer after a successful hunt. Yes, I’m wearing exactly what you suggested. What’s that? Oh, let me ask him,” and holding out the phone in Henry’s direction as he stripped naked, “my husband wants to know what you think of this outfit.”
“Tell the motherfucker my dick’s hard, and dripping just looking at you. Now put down the phone and get your cute ass over here sucking on some big black cock, bitch!”
I nearly swooned, and rushed to do this black bastard’s bidding. There was no doubt in either of our minds now that I was hooked on dark meat, it was only a matter now of seeing how low I was willing to degrade myself for its pleasure, and mine. Once again Henry fucked me in every hole that I have, cuming in both my pussy, and up my butt doggy fashion as I held onto the edge of the desk standing, and bent over at the waist. Then, just like the first night, he had me clean his filth covered prick with my mouth before cuming for the third time, and this time he came all over my chest covering the black nylon turtleneck in his sticky discharge as a parting mimento.
“Tomorrow you meet me over at Joey’s Dinner at eight sharp. You know the place?” I did indeed. It was a blacks only bar, and grill, and very dark inside at night if the rumors were correct. “Oh, and wear something slutty, so everyone there will know what you came for. Just tell the bartender that you’re waiting for me, he’ll assign you a table to sit at, where no one will bother you, and you pay for your own drinks. If you aren’t there when I arrive, well then, I guess you and I are through fucking around.”
I was nearly in shock from what he’d just said as he closed my car door, and returned to finish up his work. It was obviously some kind of test for me, but I wasn’t certain just how John was going to take all of this, as just as obviously Henry was cutting him out of the link, at least for now.
“He’s turning you into a whore, and me into your cuckolded husband,” John explained, taking it much more calmly than I had.
“What should I do then?”
“That’s up to you, and it’s also part of the test, I think, that this be your decision, and not mine. I’ve heard the two of you together, remember, and I can tell you this, he’s the black bastard of your fantasies. A very dominant black bastard at that. But then that’s what you really wanted, wasn’t it?”
I had to give that a lot of thought, but when I made up my mind, I had to know one more thing from John.
“Would it bother you to be a cuckold?”
“It hasn’t so far,” he lifted his head out of my sloppy cunt and answered with a grin dripping with slime. It was at that very moment that I had an epiphany as I realized that my husband of eight years was already submissive to my every whim, and always had been. I got this immediate thrill then of the absolute power I held over John, and vowed to make his life a thrilling hell hole here on Earth from now on. I’m sure the evil grin that came over my face then told my husband what to expect in the future from my little sexual escapades with Henry.
No one asked me about the gym bag I had strapped over my right shoulder the next day when I came to work, or any day after that in fact. But then I suppose female escorts do the same thing when they leave the house to go out to work on their backs as well.

• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 2)
• Gillian’s Makeover (Chapter 3)

Tags: Alone, doggy, fantasies, Fuck me

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