The Sexual Adventures of Ben Washin

We lay there for a while, and eventually moved to the bed. Sylvia wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my chest. I was surprised she wasn't throwing me out.

"So did you just take advantage of me?" I asked.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," she said, smiling up at me. "But we both had fun."

We spent the rest of the night drinking, getting high and fucking. When daylight broke, she finally fell asleep and I was able to slip out and return to my dorm room to get some much-needed rest. I was hung over and my groin ached. Sylvia was a tiger in the sack.

We became regular fuck buddies. Sylvia had an insatiable appetite and after years of marriage was excited to experiment. She essentially gave me a sexual education. She taught me how to bring women to orgasm and even how to give head. This was back in the 1990s when a lot of brothers had a reputation for being reticent to go down on women, but I soon got the hang of it and enjoyed licking and slurping away at her fire crotch. She was a good teacher and would give me explicit instructions on where to lick and how to suck on her clit. I was happy to follow her advice, my reward was watching her amazing orgasms. They were intense. She would moan, throw back her head, clutch the bed sheets and howl like a banshee. All of the other women on her floor must have her heard her screaming, but she didn't care. Women's orgasm seemed to be more intense than men's and I took pleasure in watching Sylvia in the throes of passion.

She also liked to be theatrical. One day she bought a cheerleader's outfit and let me fuck her while the game was on. And on Black History month I would dress up in African attire and play an African king who seduced her demure missionary. We had such fun knowing that we were playing with taboo issues.

In between marathon love making sessions we actually talked a lot about history, race and religion. It turns out Sylvia was an atheist. I found that strange her being a preacher's kid.

"It's all bullshit, there is so much hypocrisy that goes on in the church," she said bitterly. "When my parents stopped me from getting with my first love, that was the beginning of the end for me. For all their work in Africa, my parents still held some pretty racist views. They thought they were saving souls, but they were very patronizing. They honestly believed they were civilizing Africans, they were into that white man's burden shit. They never saw that Africa had a rich and ancient culture which had existed long before Westerner's arrived."

She also told me that there were many sexual shenanigans that took place on missions. She would hear stories of missionaries who seduced local underage girls and would be shipped back home when the girls got pregnant. There would also be stories of missionaries who had abused boys, but that was also hushed up. The missionaries would be sent home and never prosecuted.

"It's all about image and control," she said. "There is not a lot of love there."

While Sylvia and I continued our affair, I never shared the details of it with my mom. I don't think she would have been thrilled with the idea of her son fucking a white woman her age. Mom wasn't racist, but she believed that, with all the single sisters out there brothers should stick with their own. She had also grown up in the 1950s and witnessed the Emmett Till murder. I think she worried about the safety of a black man dating white women, especially in the South. The only person I could talk to was Uncle Brian. He wasn't phased.

"Yeah, that kind of thing happens a lot," he said. "A lot of these older white women want black dick. When I was in the service, I was fucking the base commander's wife."

"What?" I said.

"Yeah, he recruited me," said Uncle Brian. "One night he invited me over to their house for dinner and we were all drinking and he brought it up. He said he liked to watch his wife fuck black guys. I was shocked, but I was drunk, about to go on a bombing run the next day and his young wife was hot, so I did it. He just watched. And this was back in the '60s."

Uncle Brian even told me a story of a white couple who would cruise black areas of DC looking to recruit brothers to have sex with the wife in the back of their van. Shit was crazy. America had a crazy, convoluted history with race and sex. White men could screw anything that moved, including having their way with female slaves and house help. On the other hand black men were killed for so much as looking at white women. However, this had not stopped white women from lusting after black men. I guess it was the whole forbidden fruit thing. The more you told white women to stay away from black men, the more curious they became. This was before the advent of the Internet, so there was no way for me to research this. The school library didn't have many books on interracial sex. I would later learn that there was a whole subculture based around white men who enjoy seeing their wives fuck black guys, but that's another story.

Uncle Brian told me to me enjoy my time with Sylvia and look at it as a learning experience and that's what I did. Sylvia was a senior and soon got close to graduation. I watched her walk and she introduced me to her daughters who were closer to my age. I don't know if they ever discovered my affair with their mother, but they were very friendly.

That night Sylvia had a huge graduation party where the booze flowed like water. When all the party goers had finally departed, we made love. Sylvia had a special outfit for our last night. She had somehow found a nun's habit and a priest's costume for me. I lifted up her skirt and fucked her doggy style, while we got high on weed. It was hot steamy, sacrilegious sex.

Sylvia eventually got a job teaching English in Togo. We stayed in touch through ancient technology like long-distance phone calls on land lines and snail mail. I will always remember Sylvia as the woman who initiated me into a life of kinky sex.