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Office Cuckold

Interracial, Cuckold, Impregnation Erotica

Copyright 2018 Bobbi Love

Published by Bobbi Love at Smashwords

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Book Themes: Interracial, Cuckold, Hotwife, Black, Mind Games, Size, Dom/Sub, Impregnation

Table of Contents

Office Cuckold

Other books by this author

Office Cuckold

Kristin and I have been married for several years now —and before Lamar entered the picture, things could not have been going better.

I suppose you could say that I married out of my league. That's not just a funny feeling I sometimes get. Instead I know that I married out of my league because people are always telling me how Kristin is way too attractive to be married to an average Joe like me.

Just look on my cell phone.

I probably have at least 200 pictures of my photogenic wife —anything from casual shots of her working in the garden, or having a martini on a rooftop bar, or various vacation pictures, and even some more risqué shots of her in various string bikinis, or even some of her provocatively posing in the boudoir while wearing some costly silks which were worth every fucking penny.

From my perspective, the fact that Kristin doesn't even consider herself that attractive only makes her that much hotter.

A former self-described tomboy, she grew up in a rural community surrounded by acres of trees, fishing ponds, and three roughhousing brothers who were always up for a good prank when it came to their little sister. In my opinion, I think when she looks in the mirror she still sees that tomboy face and those dirty jeans. The rest of the world, I can assure you, sees something completely different.

Kristin is neither very thin, nor very voluptuous, but somewhere right in the middle. Her body is quite curvy, with wonderfully shaped natural D-cups, thin shoulders, some muscle tone in her arms, a flat and pierced tummy, flared thighs, and an ass which both men and women seem to enjoy staring at for as long as possible. Her face is beautifully proportioned with bright blue eyes, wide cheekbones, pert nose, with an always radiant smile playing on her full sensual lips, and the long silky blonde mane of a Greek goddess. Also, for the record, I should mention that in high school and college she played soccer, so her legs are something to behold, strong but soft, very shapely, and always incredibly tanned.

At first, when people acted surprised that someone like her would be in a relationship with someone like me, I responded rather poorly. It hurt. It bothered me. But after a while I found myself getting accustomed to the furtive eye-rolling and disbelieving teeth-sucking and incredulous head-shaking. I stopped defending myself by telling people that I used to be a bit more handsome when we first met in college. I stopped telling people that real adult mature relationships aren't entirely based on the most superficial aspects of ourselves. And after a while, I even started to believe some of this myself.

The other interesting thing about my wife is that she works for the same company as me.

Seriously. Her cubicle can't be more than five or ten feet away from mine. The good news is that I can keep an eye on her that way. I suppose you could say that my wife has an effect on men and nowhere is that more evident than our boss, Mr. Stumph, a short, bald, red-faced alcoholic who is currently working on his 3rd marriage.

My boss loves Kristin. Loves her to death. Most men do though.

One day, shortly after I started working for the company, Kristin decided to surprise me by coming to the office with a picnic basket full of goodies. And before I knew what was happening, old Mr. Stumph was wiping drool from his mustache and offering Kristin a full-time position despite not knowing anything about her education and work experience. Things like that are always happening to her. I suppose you can call it "The Kristin Effect."

Anyway, after a hectic morning of not answering phone calls and playing Tetris on my computer, I looked up to see my wife approach my desk. She was wearing a long black pencil skirt, high-heels, and a blouse which was almost too low-cut for the corporate setting. Despite using almost no make-up at all, her face looked unblemished, almost pure, with a golden glow from her naturally tan skin. Which is all to say that when I saw her, my penis gave a little twitch of lustful recognition.

Plopping that beautiful round ass on the corner of my desk, she said right away, "Are we still on for lunch?"

Threading my fingers behind my head, I leaned back in my swivel chair, trying not to notice how much thinner my hair was feeling every day. If I didn't do something fast I was going to end up like bald Mr. Stumph. "You know it," I answered my wife. "I already booked us a table at one of the finest Italian restaurants in town. It's this cute little mom-n-pop place nobody knows about. It's called The Olive Garden."

She laughed, throwing her head back in a way that was both graceless and sexy as hell.

Then our conversation died for several moments. There was only the sound of ringing phones, paper shuffling, and other ubiquitous office ambience. Kristin was still sitting, scanning the layout of our office floor. What she said next shocked me to the core.

"Have you ever noticed that black guys usually have really great bodies?" she asked, looking at me, really looking, obviously waiting to read my response.

Taken aback, I tried to maintain a neutral expression while looking at Kristin. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"You know what I'm saying. Surely I can't be the first person in the world to ever recognize that. Just look at Lamar. He never exercises, he eats junk food all the time, and that guy is shredded."

Lamar was this black guy in our office. Him and I had never really got along very well, not that I didn't try initially. Typically I always try to be at least civil with co-workers. But right from the start Lamar proved himself to be this arrogant, pushy, self-obsessed jerk who quite frankly (in my humble opinion) was a little underqualified for the job. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence that HR had recently started this new diversity training right before his hiring.

Physically, he was a specimen though. He was at least 6'1" or taller, and probably around 220 without an ounce of fat on him. He obviously took a lot of pride in his physique —which is why he openly loathed those button-up dress shirts in favor for short-sleeved Polos which were invariably tight around his bulging biceps, the front usually stretched taut across his bodybuilder's chest muscles. However, in my experience, it probably would have been better for Lamar to have less quick-twitch muscle fibers and more neurons in the brain.

I looked at my lovely blonde wife and said, "Yes dear, but Lamar is also an idiot."

"He may be an idiot but he also has six-pack abs year round."

I wanted to ask her how she knew this. But something told me that it was best just to let the comment slide. And yet, I still couldn't help myself. "How do you know he has six-pack abs year round, Kristin?"

"Facebook," she said simply. "He's always posting stupid pictures of himself. Well, him and his bimbo girlfriends. It's really annoying."

"You guys are Facebook friends? I didn't know that."

I started shaking my head, careful not to show how truly upset I was by this information.

"He sent me a friend request. What was I supposed to do? It would have been sort of awkward to turn him down since we both work in the same office."

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

"Well I have six-pack abs," I said dolefully, trying to break the tension by looking down and shaking all the loose skin around my midsection, most of which I'd acquired since graduating college and settling down into a comfortable job at a mid-level office supply company. "Well, at least somewhere under all this extra padding."

We both enjoyed a good chuckle at my expense and Kristin even rewarded me with one of her famously exaggerated rolls of her gorgeous blue eyes.

"You know what we should do? I think it would be so funny if we played a prank on Lamar."

"What kind of prank?" I said suspiciously.

"He needs to be taught a lesson," she said, arms crossed over her chest.

"I couldn't agree more."

"The way he's always treating women like crap, using them just for sex, just for their bodies, and then dumping them. It's really disgusting. Someone should do something about this."

"Dear, I've never seen this side of you before. I sort of like it. It's sexy."

Kristin said, "Well get used to it, because I have an idea."

Then she gestured for me to lean closer so that she could explain. Nodding as I listened, my eyes grew with wonderment the more my wife elaborated on her master plan.

* * *

Looking back on it, the plan was naively ambitious and decidedly simple.

Lamar was the target. Kristin was the bait. And I considered myself to be the crafty puppeteer pulling the strings from the shadows. Ultimately, the goal was for Kristin to convince Lamar to pay for all three of us to go on a vacation with the promise that once he did so she would know he was serious about her and she would sleep with him. Then, when the time came, she would come up with a thousand excuses why she couldn't sleep with him. And thusly we'd be granted, more or less, a free vacation on Lamar's dime.

Since I trust my wife, who was without a doubt my soul mate, not to mention the hottest girl who'd ever let me feel her boobies, I agreed to her plan with the stipulation that she could have free reign as long as Lamar didn't lay one of his coal-black fingers on her.

In other words, she would have to make sure that she was never caught alone with Lamar. Because there was no way that a gorilla like that could ever restrain himself with a woman like Kristin. Unless Lamar was the weirdest black man on the face of the planet, then he would probably go bonkers for a cute white girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, big tits, and a nice round booty.

In the beginning, it was actually pretty fun and exciting. Even the strategizing was something we both enjoyed, probably because it allowed us to escape from our drab little office drone lives and pretend were some kind of international spy network who specialized in tricking bad guys.

Kristin started in the most devious way possible. Honestly, I had no idea that my seemingly naive wife had access to such stratagems. But the first thing she did was go on Lamar's Facebook page and start 'liking' a bunch of his pictures —at 3 A.M.!

"Why so late though?" I said, not getting it at first.

She shook her soft hair at me. "Because that way he'll think that I'm thinking about him late at night. See?"

"Oh, holy fuck, you're good!"

Yeah, maybe too damn good.

What followed was a six-month campaign of flirty office interactions, Facebook messages, and late-night texts. All of which, Kristin proudly showed me. I have to admit that it really did seem to be working. We even agreed that she should respond only to about 25% of his messages —a figure we thought would be enough to sustain his interest without committing to anything too serious.

Some of the best stuff, in my opinion, was the little heartfelt messages Lamar sent to Kristin in the morning (the morning!) via text. Usually they would say something like, "Good morning, beautiful. Ready for another fantastic day?" Or, "If you change your mind about going to the gym this afternoon, you know where I'll be. Not that a woman like you could ever get any better looking."

Oh, how this bull crap made us roar with laughter.

* * *

I suppose things started going south for me the day that I walked by Kristin and saw her gazing at the picture of a big black cock.

We were at home.

"Kristin!" I blurted, stopping dead in my tracks. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

Wrinkling her nose at me then, she simply said, "Lamar sent it to me."

Surprisingly, she didn't look embarrassed, like the fat kid who'd just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Instinctively, I registered this as a good thing. Instead, she looked more curious, like a scientist studying a new species of cocks which the scientific community had yet to discover. This relaxed me somewhat and I started to calm down from my initial shock. After all, no husband in the world wants to come home after a long day's work and find their beautiful wife, the future mother of their children, carefully studying big black dicks.

"Dick pics, huh?" I said, nodding my head with new understanding. "He must be getting desperate."

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