Black Power

Black Power

Okay, I admit it.  Our sex had gotten pretty routine, fairly automatic and lifeless.  Even our oral sex has been pretty uninspiring.  We have been together for twenty years and our daily life demands have taken their toll on our sexual excitement.  We do it kind of as an obligation these days, a thing married people just naturally do.  The times began to get automatic.  It was Sunday morning, time to fuck.  Afterwards we would roll apart and get off to the next "chore." No life, no excitement.

When we went to bed it was time for sex, not making love anymore, just having sexual intercourse.  Neither of us have an orgasm these days, it just kind of ends each time, when we both are too tired to go on.  My arms gets tired, her back hurts, I get exhausted.  That never was a problem before.

One day, in the middle of it, I said, "Not very inspiring, right." She nodded under me.  "We're not even old yet," I said.  "What's happened to us?"

"I don't know," she said.  "Daily life?  Maybe it is just meant to be this way.  Maybe that's the way it is."

"Can't be.  Life is too short.  Sex is good for people," I said.  "But it has gotten stale.  What can we do?" I asked.

"Lovers?" she said.

"Could you?" I said.

"Maybe.  Don't know," she said tiredly.  "Swinging?  Flashing?  Nudist club?  Bisexual affairs?  Porn?"

I laughed.  "You hate porn," I said.

"There's that," she said.  "I like romance novels.  Maybe erotic books.  Masturbation.  I don't know, maybe we could... ". She paused.

"Tell me about your most exciting sexual experience," I said, suddenly inspired.

"With you?" she asked hesitantly.

"With anybody," I said.  "Just most exciting."

"Well, there was... " she thought, paused, "The bus."

"Tell me about the bus," I said, becoming interested.

"I was eighteen, on a bus to New York.  It was an all nighter.  There was an empty seat and he motioned for me to join him in the back.  I finally went.  He was good looking, so I went.  We talked, then he reached under my dress.  I let him for some reason.  He put his fingers under my panties," she said.  "It was so exciting, but scary."

"That's part of exciting. Go on," I said.

"He put his fingers in me.  I liked it, but it scared me.  He put his finger in me and did my clit with his thumb," she said, excitement raising in her voice as she remembered his fingers in her. She told me about everything. When she was finished I kissed her.

"Thank you," I said.  "I modeled nude for an art class once.  Three fifty an hour to sit naked in front of people I didn't know.  There was a girl in class who kept smiling at me every day.  We eventually made love in the dressing room after class."

"Was she pretty," Julie asked.

"No, but she liked sex.  Said she'd done every male model the class had that semester.  We had sex while other people were in the classroom.  It was the most exciting sex I ever had.  Sorry," I said, "but it's true."

"That's okay," she said.  "The bus was exciting too.  Maybe that is what we need."

"What's that?" I asked.

"New sex," she said.  "You know, with other people."  We both  just looked at one another, processing the idea of sex with someone else.  "Maybe that would make it exciting again," she said.

"Could you?" I asked.

"Maybe.  I don't know," she said.  "Guess maybe."

"You ever have sex with another woman?" I asked.

"Once," she said. "At school.  Roommates.  We tried it.  It was fun, but only tried it once.  We should think about trying something exciting, you know, maybe new and daring.  Could put the life back in."

"Tell me about the biggest guy you ever had," I said.

She smiled, then she blushed.  "That would be Marlon," she said, her face reddening.  I waited for her to go on.  Finally, she said, "He was black.  His... well, his was about that long," she said holding her hands about a foot apart.

"Pretty exciting?" I asked.  She simply nodded.  "Many times?" I asked.

"Quite a few," she said.  "For about two years.  He worked where I worked, at the mill.  He was big, very strong, and hung like a... "

"Horse?" I said.  She nodded.  "Surprised you could take him, being so big," I said.

"Not all of him," she said with a grin.

"Ever think of that?  I mean, being with a big man, a black man?" I asked.

Again, she simply nodded.  "Sometimes," she said quietly.  "Sometimes I do myself and think of... Marlon," she admitted with another grin.

"Want to? I mean see Marlon again?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.

"I couldn't.  I mean, I am a married woman," she said reminding of something I surely knew.

"But, what if I gave you a pass?" I said.  "What if I said it was okay?" She looked at me, incredulous.  "We found our sex is lacking, right?  What if I gave you a way of spicing yours up?  We can work on mine.  I can't think of anything for that right now, but I can help yours if you think you'd like it," I said.  "Ever fantasize about a big black cock?" I asked.

After several seconds, she nodded.  "Yes," she said.  "It is one of my favorite fantasies," she confessed.

"Okay, that's settled.  Let's get Marlon back," I said.

"You could do that?  Let me be with Marlon, or someone else like him?" she asked.

"You said maybe we need new sex," I said.  "New old sex.  Maybe that's the key," I said.  "Maybe Marlon is the answer.  Maybe a big black cock will bring back the thrill.  Maybe that is the medication you need." I watched her face and there was a slight smile. "You are thinking of Marlon sliding into you right now, right?"

With the slightest movement her head nodded.  "I am starting to get excited for you," I said.

"Really?" she replied.  "You find it exciting?"

"For my wife to enjoy sex again?  Of course," I said.  "It just thrills me to think of a big, black salami filling that lovely pussy of yours.  It is almost better than porn," I said, admitting something I just became aware of.  "I haven't been this excited since Hector was a pup.  Since our trip to the Caribbean where we fucked for two days straight and didn't get out of bed except to eat and go to the John."

I looked at her and smiled.  "Ever do any other soul brothers?" I asked, realizing her smile was broad enough to account for others.   Finally, she nodded.

"Two," she said so softly I could barely hear her.

"So you were fond of colorful sex?" I said.

Coyly, she smiled.  "A bit," she said.  "I liked basketball.  So I 'knew' the team," she said with a naughty grin.  "Three of them.  Marlon and his two roommates," she said.

"Do you know how to find Marlon?" I asked.

"He lives in Santa Maria," she said.  "He coaches basketball at Hancock.  Not far from here," she said.

"Then we will need to get ahold of this Marlon person," I said.  "We need to spice up my wife's sex life.  Maybe he can help us with that.  You think?" After a brief pause, she nodded.

I found Marlon on the basketball court.  I asked if there was a time we could talk.  He was going to his office and motioned me to follow.  Inside I sat across from him and crossed my legs.  "I am married to Julie.  You know her as Julie Wilson.  Now she is Julie Phillips.  We are having a problem I hope you can help us with," I said.

He looked curious but didn't say anything, just waited for me to go on.  "This is the age of sexual consciousness," I said.  "People are a lot more sexually free these days, don't you think?" Cautiously, he nodded.  "Couples often open up their marriages.  Our marriage has gone through some lulls, shall we say.  You seem to have given my wife some good times," I said. He only nodded, like, of course.

"Well, I am wondering if you'd consider giving her that again?" I said.  Funny thing, but as I was asking him to fuck my wife to put life back in her sex, I got turned on more than ever by the idea.  I actually began to fantasize about him doing her.  I became one of the men who actually enjoy seeing their wife being fucked.  I didn't understand it, but it was undeniable.  I actually was enjoying asking him to fuck my wife for me to help her restore her desire.

He put his big hands on the desk, his fingers of both hands intertwined into a fist.  "You are asking me to fuck your wife for you?"

"Correct," I said.  "She remembers you well.  She thinks of you often.   She remembers your time together," I said, avoiding actually saying anything about fucking.

"So, you think black men fuck better than white men?" he said, his hands still clasp in front of him, a scowl on his face.  "You think our cocks are bigger so we fuck better?  We are more macho?  We fuck white women better than white men do?  We don't just fuck whatever breaths," he said angrily.

Surprised by his apparent hostility, I stammered a bit, then tried to explain.  "I don't mean to insult you.  I don't know about any of that other stuff, but my wife seems to have an opinion on the matter. Look, I really don't know who fucks better, and it makes no difference to me, but if she does then that is what is important.  I have come to a place in my life when marriage fidelity is less important than how satisfied she is," I said getting on a roll.  "I didn't come here to offend you," I said standing up.

"I have come to the decision to give my wife the leeway to explore her sexual instincts without my interference from me," I said, getting on my high horse.  "We foolhardy middle-class white guys call that opening up our marriage.  I don't know if that is a good idea or not, but it is what I have decided to offer her, so if you would like to help make her sexually happier, then give me a hand.  If you would rather not, then let me know."

He sat for a minute, then smiled.  "Touché," he said.  "Yes, I did know Julie, and I enjoyed her company.  I misread your intentions, and I apologize.  It is just as bad for me to misjudge you because you're white as the reverse.   Your efforts to open your marriage are personal and that is your right, of course.  I am happily married and will not be helping you satisfy Julie, but I applauded your efforts to help her achieve sexual satisfaction.  Thank for giving me the chance," he said.

He shook my hand and walked me to my car.  "Please tell Julie my decision has less to do with her than it does with my convictions about marriage and my wife." I assured him I would and I thanked him for at least hearing me out.

As I drove away I thought about my surprise at his turning down my suggestion.  I expected a quick answer in the affirmative.   I expected a hot black stud eager to fuck a white wife of someone else.  He was somewhat right about the prejudice involved, although I had no bias against her being with a black man, but I did have preconceived notions about his sexual disposition.  I expected him to jump at the chance to nail a white woman.  I thought he would macho-man the white guy's wife.

I began to think about what I was going tell Julie.  If possible, I wanted to avoid saying, or implying, he didn't want to fuck his old girlfriend.  I would focus on his wife, especially because it probably had as much to do with that as anything.  He was now married. He needed to be faithful.  A noble motive.  It had nothing to do with Julie.

When I got home I parked in the driveway.  I could see her at the window and went straight to the side door.  She met me in the laundry room.  The question was on her face.  "Marlon is now married," I said.  "His wife is Joy.  They have a baby coming."

All of that was true.  He had told me about the baby as he was standing next to my car.  I explain our conversation, leaving out his racial comments.   I said he thought of her often and sent his warm regards.  She listened, smiled, and nodded.  "He never mentioned you had a sexual relationship and neither did I," I said.

"When I heard he was married I didn't mention our conversation," I said.   "He seems like a nice guy I said, but you want to see if we can find either of the other two?" I asked her.

"Clevon," she said.  "He is a really sweet guy," she added with a smile.  "He was one of Marlon's roommates.  He is very thoughtful and gentle, always very polite with me.  I would like to try and find him.  If you are still serious about this, yes I would like to see him again," she said with a winsome smile, as if she was recalling the good times.

I assured her I still wanted her to find someone she would like to be with.  We began looking for him in the phone book, online, and through basketball websites.  We found him at a basketball camp in Southern California. When I called him, I explain what we wanted, that she remembered him fondly, and would like to see him again. I was very honest with him, explaining my feelings and why I wanted her to find him.  I said we had come to the decision to open things up.

He remembered her and asked how she was.  I said she was sexually frustrated and I would like his help to give her an experience she would enjoy. He said he understood the new open marital philosophy and would do all he could to help.

We met him at a Marriott and had dinner together.  It was fairly comfortable with the three of us and he did seem like a thoughtful and considerate person.  "You look wonderful," he said. They hugged and I felt pretty good about bringing them together again.  We were pretty open about wanting him to have sex with her, and he was gracious and considerate, seeming to care about her sexual needs and feelings.

He agreed that sex can get dull and routine after many years of marriage, and I was impressed with his understanding of our predicament, saying that it was thoughtful of me to want to give her a sexual outlet.  "I would be honored to help," he said, showing none of the bravado I had halfway expected.  We agreed on a time, made arrangements for a room, and decided to let them meet for dinner, to let her have a chance to reconnect in private.

I agreed that if she liked it, they could have it become a ongoing affair.  I took her to the hotel, met him before dinner, and left them in the restaurant.  I didn't go home, but got a room myself and she had her cell phone to call me if she changed her mind.  I did not get a call.  We met together, the three of us for breakfast, and it was clear she had enjoyed her night with him.

I was grateful for his attentiveness, and he was gentlemanly and respectful to her.  I was eager to hear about it and as we drove home she couldn't stop talking about their time together.  "He really is a good lover," she gushed.  "He is not as big as Marlon, but he knows how to please a woman."

"Did you have an orgasm?" I asked.  She said many and was very forthright with me about what they did.  I was pleased she could be so open about her sex with another man.

"He really is skilled orally.  I had many orgasms at his tongue," she explained honestly.  "Oh, we had normal sex, but his pussy eating is masterful.  Now we are going to have to work on your sexual satisfaction," she said.  "You have any ideas on that?" I kissed her and said I would think about it.

We haven't done anything about that yet, and she is with Clevon about once a month, but since she started back with him, our sex has been much less routine and boring.  Maybe there is hope for old people to reignite the flames of desire.  All it seems to take is a little outside assistance, especially from a tall dark lover.