An odious blonde (Blake Lively)

[Worlwide Beauties]

London, August 2024

Blake was radiant as ever and attracted all the intense light surrounding her. The sun shone like never before, something unusual in the ever-foggy London. Not a single cloud could ruin the perfect scene or overshadow the attention that she crave. The blazing sun rays and the incessant flash of the photo cameras focused on the breathtaking blonde. There was so much white light that her perfect blonde hair and perfect smile stood out even more than usual. Not to mention her spotless white outfit. Tailored trousers that perfectly contained her perfect legs and an open, light jacket that showed a todas luces that underneath she wasn't wearing a thing. Not even a simple bra!



However, what wasn't quite so bright was her attitude.

“Hey!”—she snapped at the nearest photographer—“Why are you taking so long to get set up? I don't have all day!”

“Ahh, umm… Just give me a little time…”—he muttered, somewhat afraid.

“I’m giving you a job already!”—she grunted, harshly.

“OK, sure…”

“Get a bit further over there”—she ordered him abruptly—“That way you won’t miss my best profile!!”

The photographer lowered his head and hurried to obey.

“Well, all of you!”—she continued shouting—“I can't tell you how to do your job! Do it yourselves!!”

I watched the scene, unfazed. From my modest view, Blake was being unfair to the photographers, who were doing the impossible to get as many photos as possible while maneuvering heavy cameras and bulky spotlights. Not to mention the unbearable heat and the strong sun rays beating down on the backs of all our necks. But of course, I was nothing more than a simple security guard hired to watch over Blake during her visit to the city. No one was going to ask for my opinion.



“Y'all better hurry up and take the pictures!”—Blake kept shouting—“You don't have all day!”

I didn't like the diva's attitude at all, though internally at that moment I appreciated it. Like everyone else, the heat was getting to me. My shirt, previously white and spotless, was sticking to my hairy chest thanks to the sweat. Thick drops of water began to run down my cheeks. I couldn't wait for the photoshoot by the river to end so I could follow Blake to somewhere a bit more… indoor.

“I always have to tell you what to do!”—the blonde protested. “Every… single… time”

The photographers were annoyed. They didn't say anything, but it showed on their faces. Luckily, no one said anything and everyone hurried to finish their work. Everyone wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Then Blake stopped posing and started walking toward us. I went on alert, but she headed straight to the photographer she had scolded a few minutes ago. When she was less than a couple of yards away, the guy managed to mutter:

“I think… I think I’ve got it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got it”—she replied—“In fact, it’s so good we're already done. It’s over!”

Then she kept walking and left the circle of photographers, without hesitating or looking back. The photographers looked at each other in astonishment, and shrugged as they watched the blonde walk away, swaying her hips rapidly.

I quickly grabbed my cell phone to contact Blake's agent to inform her that the photoshoot had over. I had barely dialed and managed to bring the device to my ear when Blake's manicured hands grabbed my wrists tightly.

“Get me out of here”—she snapped at me.

Perhaps more flustered than usual thanks to the heat, that response brought out my bad temper. I couldn't help but answer her.

“Would you say ‘please’, milady?”—I replied.

Instantly after those words left my mouth, I regretted it. Had I gotten myself into trouble?

To my surprise, Blake didn't yell at me; she merely looked at me smirkingly. The shadow of a smile flickered across her face, though she quickly recovered her tough-woman pose. She didn't say anything, she simply kept swaying her wide hips in the direction of the limousine parked a few meters away.



I recovered from my confusion and ran after her. Fortunately, I arrived before her and opened the rear right door for her. She didn't even look at me as she got into the car. Before closing the door, I heard her instruct the driver:

“To Oxford Street, please. Go as fast as you can.”

The hustle and bustle of Oxford Street seemed to shrink as we passed, reduced to the simple parade of storefronts that she, with her ego inflated by the platinum of her cards and the gold of her curls, refused to overlook. Blake walked forward clad in a white cashmere coat, dragging me like her two-meter shadow through every luxury boutique she found within reach.

— “Don't just stand there like a piece of furniture, Marcus. Get in” —she ordered me with that derogatory and sibilant tone she used for everything, demanding that I follow her inside the most exclusive fitting rooms.



I, with my colossal shoulders, stone jaw, and bomb-proof professionalism, did not utter a single complaint. My silence was as imposing as my physique. However, the afternoon protocol suffered variations whenever some curious passerby tried to get too close to gawk or ask the socialite for an autograph. In those brief moments, Blake changed her tune: she suddenly panicked, grabbed my bicep with unusual nails and force, and hid her head on my shoulder like a frightened damsel. It was enough for me to fix my dark eyes, laden with silent and gelid hostility, upon the daring individual for him to turn around and flee in terror.

By dusk, the shopping had multiplied into an endless mountain of bags with high fashion clothing and velvet cases with jewels. With the official car already dismissed by Blake's own order, the woman looked around with annoyance before turning to me.

— “The driver is useless and already left. Do you know any quiet place near here? I'm not planning on walking loaded down through these filthy streets” —she snapped, crossing her arms.

I hesitated. There was a second of genuine resistance inside me, a flash of shyness and rejection at the idea of bringing that bossy harpy into my home, the only sanctuary where I used to recover my peace. But military discipline won out.

— “Yes... My apartment is a few minutes away” —I answered in a dry voice.

— “Well, take me there right now” —she sentenced, accepting no reply.

We walked in silence for ten minutes until we stopped in front of the facade of a small but elegant building in the heart of Marylebone. The apartment was on the first floor: modest, of reduced dimensions, but with a comforting warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the street.



Fortunately for me, my wife was not home. I wouldn't have to deal with awkward explanations or the unpleasant spectacle of seeing my boss insulting the environment of my own private life.

Once inside, Blake cast a disdainful glance at the hallway before demanding:

— “I need to change into something more comfortable. Where is the bathroom or a bedroom?”

I guided her in silence to a guest bedroom and left her there. As soon as the door closed, I walked heavily to the living room and let myself drop into my favorite armchair. The heat of the room was overwhelming. With a mechanical yet liberating movement, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of my shirt. Afterward, I approached the fine wood sideboard, poured myself a generous shot of bourbon in a low glass, and sank back into the cushioned seat. I stretched out as long as I was, let out a sigh of relief so deep it seemed to empty my soul, and took a slow sip of the whiskey. At last, the weight of the world —and that of the unbearable woman I had under my roof— seemed to dissipate amid the aroma of oak and alcohol.

I had almost forgotten that she was still there, enjoying my brief truce, when the bedroom door opened with a dry creak and Blake's high-pitched voice snapped me out of my newly minted peace:

— “Marcus...”

My eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. Blake hadn't just changed into more comfortable clothes. She was literally in lingerie! The only thing she wore was an elegant mint green lace lingerie set. Her bra carefully supported her perfect, full breasts, while the tiny, thin thong choked her vaginal lips, while in the back a minuscule string got lost between her rounded buttocks.



“Blake?”—I muttered, astounded.

“I didn’t get to show you this set”—she purred, as she approached at a slow pace—“I bought it at the last store.”

“What… what are you doing?”—I moaned, desperately.

Blake didn't answer. She merely swayed her rounded hips with a harmonic rhythm, as if she were dancing to music only she could hear. My brain desperately begged me to get up and leave the room, ending this madness, but my legs wouldn't respond.

“You know?”—she spoke while continuing to dance slowly—“From the moment you scolded me at the photoshoot I was mad at you… but I admired your courage. Not everyone dares to stand up to me.”

While saying that, Blake lowered the straps of her lace bra and surprised me by revealing her tits. The moments it took me to look away were enough to realize she had dreamlike breasts. Those big tits looked perfect, round, voluptuous, soft, golden…



Although my intention was still to leave the room, that had triggered a monumental erection. The mere sight of Blake's breasts had made me hornier than any woman (including my wife) in my entire life.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To prove you're not as icy as you pretend.”

“I'm not, but I'm a professional. I was hired to guard you, not to get involved with you.”

“Above all else, I’m a woman.”

“I’m… I’m married.”

“Marcus, nobody rejects me.”

“I… I am faithful to my wife.”

“Take my word for it, a timely release can save your relationship.”

“But I don't like you. I dislike your attitude, your arrogance…”

“Your eyes say otherwise.”

“You're crazy if you think I'm going to cheat on my wife.”

“Don't you look at my tits?”

“Because you showed them to me by surprise.”

“Touch them.”

“No.”

“Come on, treat yourself.”

Her insistence was wearing down my resistance. I had never touched such large tits nor felt so much morbo as with Blake's. I wanted to do it, but I didn't dare. Faced with my indecision, the blonde diva grabbed my hand and shoved it under her bra, making me feel her soft, supple breasts. Finally, she stripped from the waist up and I was able to knead them with both hands.

I didn't know how we had reached that point, but Blake, the most detestable person I had ever met in my life, had managed to make me let go and fondle her famous bust. She smiled triumphantly as I dared to take her dark, erect nipples into my mouth. I had never sucked on any breasts like that before. I was enjoying it immensely.

Blake started stroking my hair, but her hand slid down until it reached her target. After unzipping my fly, she freed my throbbing dick and held it between her hands. She seemed ready to swallow me whole.

Blake proved to be an absolute expert in oral sex. The first contact with the coolness of her abundant saliva sent a shiver all down my body. I abandoned the task of continuing to fondle her huge tits and let her do whatever she wanted with me.



We were lying on my large sofa. I had one hand behind my head, resting on the back of the sofa, and the other on the back of Blake's neck. I didn't need help to shove it deep inside her, but it turned me on to push downward, feeling that I was the one forcing her to swallow my cock. After a while receiving her blowjob, I felt I couldn't take it anymore.

I didn't know if she wanted to swallow the cum or not, but cumming in her mouth I took it as a small personal revenge for so many disrespects. The orgasm she gave me was brutal, accompanied by a powerful ejaculation that made Blake swallow every squirt of semen. Far from complaining, she enjoyed licking up every last drop.



When my orgasm passed, I took a few seconds to try to catch my breath. I was terribly agitated and breathing was hard. As oxygen returned to my brain, I realized what I had just done, and regret returned.

“Blake!!” —I shouted, furiously— “Get out of my house right now!!”

“What did I do?” —she asked in a little-girl voice, feigning innocence. Meanwhile, she sketched a half-smile and licked her perfect lips. Something whitish peeked out behind her sweet lower lip...



I was angry, but that image slightly dismantled my pose of an enraged man. I felt my penis come back to life and throb, half-erect.

The blowjob the blonde gave me was pleasurable, vastly better than anything my wife had ever done to me, but in my plans to lead a calm and trouble-free life, infidelity was never included, much less with a bitch like Blake.

“This was wrong. It never happened. Get out of my house before I have to throw you out by force.”

“Would you throw a defenseless woman out on the street… and naked?”

“Get dressed” —I replied dryly, ignoring a fresh throb in my penis.

No matter how much I had started desiring her, hating a person with a character so opposite to mine turned out to be very easy. Even so, it wasn't easy for me to maintain an impassive posture. I avoided looking at her naked breasts and perfect hips, but her dazzling face kept causing contractions in my cock. I was in a real mess.

Then I made the only possible decision: I left the living room. I needed to get away from that woman's intoxicating presence. My steps led me to my refuge: my own bedroom. I sat on my bed, holding my head. I was desperate. Meanwhile, I listened to Blake's movements in the living room. It sounded like she was changing. It was time! Hopefully, she would leave my house, and my life.

Sitting on my bed, I heard her footsteps in the hallway. To my misfortune, she didn't open the front door, but I noticed she was getting closer and closer. On this occasion, she didn't bother trying to convince me, she simply opened the door and sneaked into my bedroom. She was naked. Her breasts levitated, seeming to float in the middle of that well-formed body.



“Are you going to keep refusing?”

“Yes, I remain faithful to my wife.”

“After the blowjob I gave you?”

“That was a slip. It won't happen again.”

“And still you believe your miserable role as a faithful husband?”

“I am going to be consistent with my marital duty.”

“I don't believe you.”

Blake lost her patience and came at me with everything. Almost in slow motion, I watched her naked body drop onto my bed to trap me in her arms. She started kissing me everywhere, licking me, touching me in areas she knew were every man's weak spot.

My head might still be in "resist" mode, but my cock was stiff and ready for action. Without any subtlety, she took off my clothes and began kissing my neck, my chest, and everything she encountered along the way until reaching my groin. When the coolness of her saliva came into contact with my hottest zone, I could no longer keep resisting.

If I was going to fuck that blonde diva, giving her the satisfaction of getting her way, it would be however I wanted. Blake tried to dominate me, but I was clear that this time I was in charge. I pinned her arms and legs so she would stop moving, placed her sideways on the bed, and got behind her. Then I grabbed my swollen cock and penetrated her hard, no holds barred.



Perhaps it wasn't the most ingenious or daring position, but the idea of dominating gave me a huge rush of morbo. The blonde wouldn't stop moving in search of her own comfort, but the more she struggled to find it, the hornier I got and the harder I gave it to her seeing her so defenseless.

“Don't resist, it's what you wanted” —I said, agitated.

“But I'm used to being in charge.”

“Well, that's over, now you're nothing more than my whore.”

“Very well, Marcus, it was about time you woke up.”

When she finally resigned herself and stopped moving, I freed one of the hands I was holding her with and began squeezing her swollen tits. I was doing whatever I damn well pleased with her: I had her subjected to my will, curled up like a ball. But she wouldn't stop moaning with pleasure at every one of my thrusts.

All of that drove me wild, but the crown jewel was bringing that sculptural blonde to orgasm and screaming obscenities at her while still not letting her move. It was then that I hit her with the last strength I had left, until I came inside her mature cunt. My intention was to keep humiliating her, until the bedroom door swung open.

“¡Marcus!”

The last person I wanted to see in the world at that moment had just walked into the room: my wife. Her voice fluctuated between fury and disbelief, but the first tears appeared on her astonished face.

“Honey… it's not what it looks like… it's a trap…”

“You're a cheat” —she replied indignantly—“I never want to see you again in my life.”

I detached myself from Blake's body and leaped off the bed. My wife turned around and ran out of the room. I ran desperately after her, but my still-erect penis was wobbling and slowing me down. I didn't make it in time. When I was barely a couple of yards from my wife, she managed to open the door and slam it behind her with so much force it almost unhinged it. I reached for the door handle, but realized I couldn't go out after her like that. I couldn't go out into the street naked, with my penis bouncing around!

“I think you're a single man again” —said an acid voice behind me, startling me.

I looked at her with hatred, and with clenched fists. But unfortunately, I knew she was right.

That slam changed my life forever. My wife didn't hesitate for a second, grabbed her things, and went to live at her mother's house. Blake left minutes later and I never heard from her again. Minutes later, her agent let me know that I would no longer be her bodyguard in England.

But that wasn't all: the next day, the head of the security agency I worked for informed me that I was fired. Apparently, Blake had gone to them with the story that I had acted unprofessionally and that I had mistreated her, physically and verbally. There wasn't much proof, beyond what I had said to her in front of the photographers during the morning session. But the agency was interested in continuing to work with American celebrities, so they chose to believe the actress's story and get rid of my awkward presence. Justice took a back seat to business.

Thus, I had simultaneously lost my marriage and my job. My attempts to mend the relationship were as fruitless as finding new employment. When an agency fires you with such serious charges, others prefer to stay away from you, no matter how much experience you have in the sector. Every inquiry ended in rejection, just like my attempts to communicate with the woman who had been the love of my life. I was left alone, lamenting every bad decision I had made in life. There seemed to be no solution for me other than to live eternally bitter. In any case, I deserved everything bad that happened to me, for letting myself be tempted by that odious blonde.