Learning to Sin

Trish and I live in a large Texas city with our ten-year-old son, eight-year-old daughter, and our four-year-old yellow lab. Since both of us are working professionals, we live a pretty good life. Money is not a big issue, and besides indulging in some nice vacations, we manage to save a tidy sum every year. Our kids are healthy and smart and have no problem making friends, so all in all, one would have to say we have a pretty charmed life.

We grew up in the same small country town about two hours from where we are now. It was a nice upbringing, and we both learned good values and made some great friends that we still cherish. Trish's parents are ranchers and have a large place that someday she will inherit along with her sister. My father passed away several years back, but my mom still lives there, spending her retirement with her lifelong friends.

Trish and I dated in high school and throughout college, miraculously staying together even though we went to different schools. We got married right after graduation, moved back to our hometown, and prepared to live the same life as our parents. However, after a year, Trish announced one day that she didn't want to live that life anymore, and asked that we move to an urban environment that offered more variety and sophistication. I fought it at first, as my whole upbringing and education had prepared me to do exactly what I was doing, but after a year of seeing Trish miserable, I relented. We planned our move with no idea of what the future would hold, and compounding the dilemma, Trish was now pregnant with our first child.

Sometimes, life has an amazing way of working out, as despite being pregnant, Trish landed a good job, and after some soul searching, I decided to go to law school. Our parents helped a bit during my school years, although not too much, so we had to scrimp to get by, but three years later I graduated and landed a position with a good local firm. My country upbringing seemed to play well both with the partners and clients, and I quickly became a specialist in rural property matters. In addition, I got to help a lot with customer entertainment, particularly hunting and fishing trips around the state. As a result, I rose quickly in the firm, and by thirty-two I made partner which brought with it financial stability. At the same time, Trish was doing well, so after ten years together, and the addition of another child, we were reasonably set.

Any concerns about leaving the country life have long since vanished. Indeed, we really had the best of both worlds, with a great life in the city, and parents and property in the country that we could retreat to periodically. Although, at times, when the pressure of the job got high, I found my mind wandering back to the simplicity of country living.

Our parents adore their grandkids and our children love their grandparents. Every time they visit, they are treated like little princes and princesses. There are horseback rides, afternoon swims in the clear river, along with a never-ending supply of treats, and, of course, all our pleas about spoiling them go unheeded. For months, they had begged us to let their grandkids visit for an extended period over the summer, and after lots of discussions, we agreed that they were at an appropriate age. Their school was going to be out in mid-May, so we targeted the following week for the start of a two-week visit with the plan calling for me to drive them out on a Friday and then pick them up on a Sunday, sixteen days later. They would stay with Trish's parents as they had more room, but my mom would get to see them every day, and since our parents always got along very well, there were no concerns about the arrangement.

The Friday finally arrived, much too slowly for our excited kids, and I took off work at lunch, picked them up at home from the nanny, and headed out. Their excitement was contagious and we sang songs and discussed what they wanted to do during the drive. An hour after arriving, I kissed everyone goodbye with promises of daily calls and headed back to the city.

I was anxious to get back, as, just like the kids, I was excited about the opportunity Trish and I had for our vacation. It was amazing to think that in ten years it was going to be our first extended time alone together with no child responsibilities, and my mind had been alive for some time about our agenda. Of course, there would be sex, that was a given, and we always shared a good sex life, although with young kids it could be difficult at times. However, there were other things I wanted to do with my wife including some good dinners out, maybe some plays or concerts, as well as spontaneous decisions we could make on a whim.

As I mentioned, Trish and I started dating in high school. She was the girl every guy wanted and to this day I don't know why she chose me. Trish was a cheerleader, something she now felt a bit reluctant to admit, and elected most beautiful in our class, which she never brought up. After two kids, she still is very close to her high school shape at 128 lbs. on her slender 5'7" frame. She has black hair, like all the girls in her family, and dark brown eyes that seem to suck you in and take hold. There are cute dimples on her cheeks and she has a killer smile that stops men cold. Indeed, several times I've witnessed men lose their ability to speak when she looks at them and her smile breaks out. She has C-cup breasts that have suffered just a bit after breastfeeding two kids, and she talks at times about a boob job, although it's something I adamantly oppose. However, for me, her best feature is her long perfect legs that end at a butt that's kept tight from her thrice-weekly workouts.

I'm 5'11" tall with a receding hairline and a slight paunch from too much sitting and not enough exercise. Other than that, I have always viewed myself as pretty average. Hence, the surprise and joy I have always felt that I was able to attract Trish. She always argues with me about my looks telling me that she finds me very handsome. She also says I have a caring soul, and I'm very smart, which women find sexy.

Trish has always been particular about birth control. When we first became intimate, she forced me to be very disciplined about condom use. After we got married, she went on the pill, but it was evident almost immediately that it affected her libido. Not wanting some foreign device in her vagina, we opted to follow a Family Planning program where we used condoms during her fertile days. Fortunately, she had stable periods and the discipline to follow the plan, and so far, no accidents had occurred. As a backup, she kept a morning-after pill in the house in case we ever broke the rules, although doing so was exceedingly rare.

I got home before Trish and had a glass of wine poured for her when she walked in.

"Thanks, my love," she said taking the glass.

"The kids have already called," she said with a laugh.

"Oh, no," I said with a concerned look, worried that they were scared about being separated and that our two weeks had already ended.

"Relax, they just wanted to know which bag the movies were in," she replied, guessing where my head had gone.

I let out a deep breath, causing us both to start laughing, and we sat down and discussed how her day had gone while we drank the wine.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to get me in bed yet," she suddenly teased while looking at me with one of her impish grins.

I had consciously thought about not jumping to sex because I was afraid the two weeks would just all be about that and I was hoping for more. Still, now presented with Trish before me, likely horny, and with an empty house, I set aside those thoughts.

"Let's go," I said, jumping up and pulling her with me.

"Oh my!" she replied with a giggle, but let me lead her to the bedroom.

Thirty seconds later, we were naked, on top of the comforter with me kissing her from her thighs to her breasts, intentionally teasing her to make her squirm. Trish grabbed my head and tried to pull me onto her. She often does this when she is horny, preferring penetration to foreplay, and usually, I let her have her way, but this time I resisted, keeping up my kisses over her body.

"Come on baby. I'm ready," she whined, sounding frustrated.

"Patience darling," I answered, stopping just long enough to speak.

Trish started shaving several years ago, although she never had a heavy bush, and her vagina, even after two kids, looks like it did when she finally let me see it at eighteen. I could tell I was having an effect, as she was beginning to lubricate nicely, and I thought about going down on her, something she loves and which always brings her to a quick climax. Instead, I brought my kisses closer to her vagina, as if I was going to dive in, but never made contact.

"Quit teasing," she demanded, and looking up at her face, I could see her eyes pleading.

The pause allowed her to grab my arms and pull me towards her, and this time I didn't resist. I moved into position between her spread legs with my dick barely grazing her, then leaned forward and kissed her which brought it directly onto her vagina. Before I could stop her, her hand shot between us, grabbed my shaft, and brought it to her wet entrance. At that point, my resistance completely failed, and I pushed into her feeling the warmth and wetness envelope me and entice me deeper.

From my understanding of penis size, I would be dead center in the average category, although our fit always seemed snug. This time was no different, and even though she was lying still, it felt like her vaginal muscles were milking me.

"Ohhhhh..." we gasped in unison.

Trish spread her legs even wider, allowing me to completely penetrate her, and we started a slow, deep rhythm. Her heels were touching my ass and her arms were wrapped around my shoulders with her head buried into my neck. With her mouth close to my ear, I could hear each moan and gasp as we continued our coupling.

When Trish is beneath me, she usually allows me to set the pace, and this time was no different. However, even in this submissive role, she knows how to excite me and she did so by gently running her fingernails over my back from the top of my butt to my shoulders. Her touch made my back arch and forced a hurried sigh to escape from my mouth, while my dick seemed to grow an extra half inch, and was now so hard it hurt.

"Mmmm...ohhh..." soft whimpers began to escape from her mouth.

"You feel so good," I whispered into her ear, wanting to communicate with her in some way.

I began moving with more purpose, although still not fast, and was delighted to hear the slurping sound coming from my wife's pussy. Trish can get very wet when she is highly aroused, and it seemed like she was this evening. Maybe like me, she had been anticipating the time we were going to enjoy alone.

Before Trish climaxes, she usually gets quiet and her body becomes stiff as she concentrates. She was now getting into that zone, and I witnessed it unfold. It started with her feet rising from my butt and hanging suspended in the air. Looking down, I could see her eyes tightly closed, her head arched back and her hanging partly mouth open. When her hands, which she had been using to stroke her fingernails on my back, locked onto my shoulders, I knew she was close.

Normally, at this point, I would try to maintain a steady rhythm to let her achieve her orgasm. However, a thought started to invade my head from a source I couldn't explain. It was telling me to not let her climax, to be different this time and keep it for later. Since it was only early evening, why rush things? The trouble was my balls were aching for release, too. Plus, watching Trish orgasm was one of the biggest turn-ons in my life. Still, the thought was there and it was strong.

Trish was close and her body went rigid as she neared the peak. I took three more hard strokes, as deeply into her as I could, and then pulled out completely.

"What? Don't stop...come back!" she said in total surprise, with her breath coming out in frustrated gasps.

"We can finish later. Let's go to dinner," I announced, ignoring her stunned look as I began to move off the bed.

"Patrick Bishop, is this a joke? Get your butt back here," she replied, using my full name, which was never a good thing.

Standing next to the bed, I looked at Trish still lying on her back with her legs spread giving me an incredulous look.

"You're an ass," she said loudly, with obvious frustration.

"Come on let's go do something. If we finish we'll be too tired," I explained, hoping to rationalize to her why I had stopped.

"I won't be. So, finish your job," she demanded.

"Come on," I said, turned my back, and walked towards the bathroom.

"You will pay dearly for this Pat," she threatened, which made me cringe.

I jumped in the shower expecting Trish to come in and try to seduce me, but she didn't. When I came out, she was in a robe in the kitchen sipping on a freshly poured glass of wine.

"Ass," she said looking straight through me.

"What should we do tonight?" I asked, hoping to move on.

"Well, I can tell you there will be no sex tonight," she stated.

"No, I'm serious honey. The first time in ten years with no kids, let's do something different," I tried to explain.

"Like what?" she replied, and I fought back yelling a hurrah, counting it as a victory that she was engaging in the discussion.

"Well, I guess what we used to do before kids. Or what we thought about doing but couldn't because of the kids," I said.

"Before kids, we spent a lot of time trying to have kids," she replied which made me laugh.

It was true. We both wanted children quickly and didn't really worry about birth control.

"How about we go country dancing?" I said, with the thought coming to me completely from the blue.

Trish loved to dance and was very good at it as well. Although we had grown up learning to dance from a young age, she had a natural gift, while I was an eager participant but lacked much natural ability.

"We haven't done any dancing outside of the house for a long time," she replied in a way that made me think she was interested.

"Exactly! That's how we should spend our kid vacation," I almost yelled.

"Where should we go?" she said, and I knew I was over the hump.

"That place on the West side, it's still there," I suggested.

"Okay, but you better be ready to dance. Don't act like you usually do and quit after a few times," she demanded.

"Go get ready. I'll make a snack for us," I told her.

At nine, we left the house having finished the wine and eaten a Caesar salad and cheese plate I prepared. The drive to the dance hall would take twenty minutes or so, depending on traffic. It was a venerable old place on the outskirts of the city that somehow survived the ups and downs of current fads.

Trish had put on jeans, simple sandals, and a white blouse along with a strand of pearls. I was in jeans as well with a button-down dress shirt and ropers.

"Pat, if you do that again I'll castrate you. Remember, my dad taught me how when I was a girl," Trish stated in the middle of our drive.

"I'm not a calf," I said with a dismissive laugh.

"Same process," she replied pretending to be serious.

"Guess we're the early bird special crowd," I said a little later when we arrived at a half-empty parking lot.

Like the lot, the inside wasn't crowded, and I grabbed a longneck from the bar and a glass of wine for Trish, before taking a high table away from the dance floor. We spent the next hour out on the mostly empty dance floor while remembering the old times growing up in the country, and I marveled at my wife's skills. Despite our limited opportunities, she hadn't lost her touch, and although I felt my effort was passable, it lacked her effortless grace. Slowly, the place began to fill, and by ten-thirty, with three drinks in us, it had reached capacity.

"Are you having fun?" I asked Trish.

"Yes!" she replied, and I was pleased to see her dimples form with her smile.

We gave the waitress another drink order and then went out again. When we got back, there were two fresh drinks on the table, and standing next to it was a large black guy wearing an equally black Stetson. As we approached, he nodded at me and moved several steps away.

"How's it going?" I said to him over the din, trying not to appear like a hardass.

"Good...good, thanks. How are you folks?" he replied.

"Good as well," I answered.

Trish and I took our seats and started to chat, and after a few minutes, he wandered off. I watched him out of the corner of my eye thinking how much the world had changed to see black guys in a country place. Over the next hour, I watched him sporadically as he worked the room and noticed he had about a fifty percent success rate when asking a woman to dance. It was easy to see that he was an accomplished dancer and several times a second dance followed the first. When he finished, he always returned to his spot several steps from our table.

"Does it look like it's going to be a good night?" I yelled over to him while Trish was gone to the restroom.

"Average, but you can never tell for sure," he answered with a big grin.

"Gotta keep trying," I replied.

"Winston Miller," he suddenly said, offering his large hand.

"Pat Bishop," I replied.

"You guys come here much?" he asked.

"Never...it's our first time. Kids are with the grandparents and we have a free night," I explained.

I introduced him to Trish when she returned, and we all talked for a few minutes about trivial things before a dumpy white woman wearing a too-short skirt tugged on his sleeve. Very graciously, he accepted her invitation, and between conversations with Trish, I watched the couple.

"He's a good dancer," Trish said.

"Who?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"The black guy," she replied.

"Oh, yes. He seems to be. Seems to be a pretty nice guy, too," I stated.

Winston had to be over six feet tall and was solidly built, neither fat nor thin. He had broad shoulders and what looked to be a shaved head under his hat. He was wearing tight jeans and a red long-sleeve shirt, and I guessed that he was a few years younger than us, perhaps thirty or so. He remained with the woman through two songs and then tipped his hat and left her as she tugged at his sleeve. Like before, he returned to his spot several feet from our table, and a waitress brought him a fresh beer as he stood silently surveying the crowd.

"You're a good dancer. You must come here a lot," I said to him after a few minutes of silence that seemed awkward after our introductions.

"I do come here some, but I wouldn't say I'm very good," he replied with a short laugh.

"You are good," Trish chimed in from over my shoulder.

"Well, thank you. Coming from you that is a compliment. I've seen how good you are." he answered, and I noticed the way his eyes bore into Trish's.

"You want to join us?" I said, waving at the small table.

"Winston took the few steps over and was now standing alongside me. We chatted for a few minutes about various things, the bar, sports, and places to go around town. He and I carried on most of the conversation with Trish throwing in something occasionally.

"Oh, this is one of my favorite songs. May I dance with your wife?" Winston suddenly asked.

"Fine with me, Trish?" I said, turning to her.

Trish receiving an invitation to dance from another man was quite common although it usually occurred in our hometown from someone we had known our entire life. Rather than respond verbally, she got up from her seat and met Winston in front of the table. They walked towards the crowded floor with her a step ahead, and when they arrived, she turned and let him take her into his arms. His right hand landed respectfully on the small of her back and after entering the throng it soon became apparent that they were the class dancers on the floor.