It took me a few weeks to figure out how to pull it off. I wasn't hesitating, scheduling was just a bitch. My husband had come down with the flu, so he was home all the time and I had to play nursemaid. Eventually though, he started feeling well enough to go back to work, and I started working on a plan to get my hands around Coach Barret's big black cock again.
It was a simple desire, I suppose. I'm not a complicated woman, just an agonizingly unsatisfied one. I refuse flatly to make any excuses for my actions. I'm not pretending to be the victim here. I'm not. I'm just a woman who figured out what she wanted, and decided to get it. I'm not a saint by any stretch, and my husband didn't intentionally do anything wrong. My infidelity wasn't his fault, it was simply a result of me having needs he couldn't meet. I suppose that everyone is the hero of their own story, and this is mine.
Teasing him every morning at the carpool drop off had been fun. Last Wednesday I'd 'accidentally' backed up into him, and rubbed my ass on his crotch. The day after I'd waited until I was the last parent left, then I approached him. When I got close, I leaned in and whispered in his ear.
"I need you, Barret. I need your hard black cock."
He'd followed me back to my car, but I just told him "soon", and drove off. Then I went home and masturbated. It was fun having this much control, but I needed to close the deal soon or I'd run out of patience and jump his bones in the parking lot.
The plan I eventually settled on, was as simple as the desire that motivated it. In fact, it was beautiful in its simplicity. It hinged entirely on Coach Barret's professional position, and my son's lack of coordination. The idea came, as most good ideas do, in the shower. Specifically, it came to me just after I finished masturbating in the shower. The post-orgasm clarity is not to be underestimated.
My son, taking very much after his father, was woefully uncoordinated. Frail, would also be a description that suited both of them. Gangly. Lean. But, like his father, he was tall. Very tall for his age, in fact. This presented me with a unique option. I called the school, and had the receptionist patch me through to Coach Barret.
"Beck- Mrs Johnson, hey, what can I do for you?" He asked, stammering slightly.
It sounded like he wasn't alone. School had already let out, so he was probably in the teachers lounge or something.
"Oh, I think you already know what you can do for me, Coach." I said, making my voice as breathy as I could.
"I uh, I'm sorta busy right now Mrs-" He started, but I cut him off.
"You don't have to say anything incriminating, just listen." I said, stretching out on my bed. "You're going to call me in for a parent-teacher conference. Something to do with my son, you want him to try basketball or something. It doesn't matter. You call me in, and I'll show up like the good parent I am. You just make sure your schedule is clear for the rest of the afternoon."
"I think I can do that." He said, "Let me just-"
"You better. Because I plan on making it worth your while." I moaned, sliding my hand inside my bathrobe and finding my clit.
His breathing was getting heavy, so I hung up. Then I started to wish that I had his cell number. It would at least make it significantly easier to tease him. I made a mental note to get it from him, and started to masturbate again. When I brought myself to toe-curling orgasm while thinking about his huge black cock, I realized that I definitely had a thing for black guys. Or at least their cocks.
The very next day, my son brought a note home requesting my presence in a parent-teacher meeting. Nicolas, my husband, looked it over slowly, adjusting his eyeglasses four or five times.
"I think I can get off work early enough to drop by. I don't think I've spoken with this teacher yet." He said, scratching absentmindedly at a stain on his tie.
"Don't you worry about it, sweetie. I'll take care of it." I started, taking the note out of his hand.
"I want to be involved in our son's education, Rebecca. I mean, I didn't even know he was in gym." He continued, looking up at me.
"I appreciate that, but I'd really prefer if you let me handle this. I see the coach just about every day, we have a... rapport." I said as calmly as I could manage, though the fear of missing this opportunity was starting to build.
"What sort of rapport?" He asked, adjusting his glasses again, then taking them off and cleaning them on his dirty tie.
"The kind you get when you talk to the man every morning for a year. He's the carpool monitor." I shot back, perhaps too quickly.
"I see. So you don't want me to talk to him?" He asked, his blue eyes flashing.
My husband is a lot of things, many of which are negative, but he is not stupid. He'd been an insurance investigator for over a decade. Catching people in lies was his whole job. I had to handle this correctly.
Of all my husband's flaws, his most exploitable one was his very situational spine. From the other side of a desk, or over the phone, or through a strongly worded email, he could be a genuinely intimidating presence. However, when confronted in person, he tended to fold like origami.
"Sweetie, you know I love you. But I already said I would take care of it. If you keep pushing it, I'm going to think that you don't trust me to handle things." I replied sternly.
"It's not that I don't trust you to handle things, Rebecca. It's just that this seems like a pretty big deal, and I-" He started, speaking slowly and diplomatically.
"I can handle big things too, sweetie. I promise." I said, trying to make my growing grin seem reassuring.
"I know... I'm sorry." He replied, glancing down at the table.
"There's nothing to be sorry about. You're just trying to be a good dad. But you already are. You just have to let me handle certain things. Some things require a woman's touch." I said soothingly, stroking his arm.
"I understand. Besides... It is gym and-" He started, after a pause.
"And gym was never really your subject. But it was mine, remember?" I replied warmly, squeezing his slight bicep.
"Of course, dear. I'll wait until there's a parent teacher conference with someone in the math department." He chuckled, turning his attention back to his newspaper.
