Note: This work is copyrighted to the author LuckOfTheDraw in the year 2003.
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The Cure
Let's call him NSD, his real name would be too long and too unpronounceable for a story like this. NSD was frequently described as a good-looking guy. His black hair was wavy, he had green eyes, good facial bone structure, and a body that he kept in reasonable good shape by working out in the gym, when he could, and getting in a game of squash, when he could. When he could, because he also worked very hard at his job, which involved a lot of travel in the US and Europe and Southeast Asia. Exactly forty years old, NSD was conventionally successful, and was pointed out as one of the guys who would definitely make it pretty high up the ladder, albeit a little slowly.
NSD was married, with two young kids. His wife held down a full time job, was successful at it and had an independent personality of her own. They managed their family life without effort, due to the fortunate circumstance of grandparents who were willing to pitch in and help support the children. This involved living alternately with one set of in-laws or the other, but both NSD and his wife reached into themselves for the maturity and tolerance that this demanded.
NSD was proud of her and himself as well for this, because, if the truth be told, NSD was also a pretty idealistic kind of fellow, whose values were decidedly liberal. His face and eyes showed that kind of sensitivity and intelligence, and he had enough of a sense of humor to be able to laugh at himself when the occasion arose. That was why he would rise a little slower up the ladder than the other, more consciously macho jocks who inhabited the industry in which he had chosen to make his profession.
And yet, behind this apparently rosy façade, NSD was unhappy.
He was unhappy because his sex life was going nowhere.
It was going nowhere because NSD, who when younger had been an OK lover, had developed premature ejaculation and didn't know what the hell to do about it. Worse still, this affliction attacked him only when he was with a woman other than his wife. With his wife, it didn't happen so abruptly, but it was no Olympic marathon either with her, let alone a 400 meters sprint.
It hadn't been like that earlier. He'd had a couple of affairs before getting married, discovering in the process that his penis, at seven inches erect, could be accurately described as above average. The first five years of his marital life had left his wife pretty much satisfied. In point of fact, she'd been able to divine his moods from his lovemaking style. "You always make love in a particularly intense kind of way when you're having problems in the office" she once told him.
Down the line, things had got a little boring, as it does for all married people. Their frequency had dropped, as had either encore performances or the duration of coitus, as an Internet doc had once termed it. And, as a man who had discovered the joys of masturbation via Playboy and Penthouse in his youth, like millions of others around the world, NSD had allowed his mind to wander along the path of fantasy.
So it was, that while inside his wife, NSD would imagine that he was in fact in an incredible fantasy fuck with a blonde, blue eyed, tanned busty goddess with minimal pubic hair, a Sharon Stone look-alike. That would sustain him for a while and than, wham and bam, he'd be done. Once in a night, which more often than not, was less than once a week.
Five years earlier, he'd surprised himself by suggesting to his wife that they watch an erotic film together. To his even greater surprise, she had agreed. That night had been a first in many ways, including the fact that she had mounted him and experienced the joys of abandoned female superiority. It had also been the first time, unfortunately, that he'd lasted less than five minutes, coming as he craned his neck to watch the moaning blonde on the TV screen. A good start, or so he'd thought, but children and grandparents made certain that the experiment was never repeated.
What he needed was real life variety, not just the fantasy thing, he convinced himself. It hadn't been easy to decide to stray, because, after all, NSD was basically a nice guy who still loved his wife and children. He'd finally managed to hook up with a blonde in Amsterdam.
Alas and alack. So overcome was NSD at finally living out his fantasy, coupled with a sick feeling of guilt in his guts, that it was over even as she took him in her mouth as a prelude to the real thing. The look of utter surprise on her face, even as a huge load of semen dribbled down her chin, had been enough to send him scooting. She hadn't been happy about it, and had expressed herself rather eloquently.
From then on, it had been downhill all the way. His experiments had extended to well over a dozen blonde women, some whom he'd had to pay for, and the story had been uniformly the same on each unhappy occasion. The first stroke was followed by the first orgasm, always. With his wife, on the other hand, it lasted longer, but his frustration had eaten into their relationship. They fought much more often, and he had the suspicion that his wife was pretty close to having an affair, if she hadn't done so already. The ugly D word came unbidden more and more often to his mind. He couldn't imagine anything he dreaded more.
NSD had tried a lot of remedies. He had been to doctors, who told him he had to see a psychiatrist. He went to psychiatrists who referred him to sex specialists. They examined him up and down and pronounced him physically in perfect health. The recommendations they made did not sound helpful at all. NSD even went to an 'alternative therapy' practitioner. The 'therapist' had suggested desensitizing himself, and asked him:
"Are you in the habit of fondling your organ in the shower?"
"No, I am not" replied NSD formally and exited the consultation.
Now. NSD had just taken his seat on the airplane. He was flying Kuwait Airlines with a change of flights and a two-hour stopover at Kuwait. Not the best of flight plans, but it had been touch and go in the busy season to manage a ticket. He wondered idly who he would have as his companion in the business class window seat next to his own aisle, but his luck had been lousy always in that respect. Thanks be to the Lord he wasn't traveling coach on a full flight, he thought to himself, as he buried himself in a magazine. He was a little on edge as the flight was already over an hour late because of weather.
"Excuse me". An ever so slightly accented voice interrupted him.
The speaker was a woman. She was tall, her slim figure attired in a dark green printed wraparound skirt that came down to that indeterminate region between the calf and ankle, topped by a white blouse. She was black.
This would be a first for him. He'd never sat next to a black woman before. He rose courteously to his feet and made way for her to go through, noting in the process the quiver of a fine, rounded derriere. He'd never had much of a thing about black women, but he had to admit that she had a great butt.
