Learning to Sin

Trish's father, like many small-town people of his generation, was profoundly racist. He would have severely scolded her, or worse if he knew she was dancing with a black man. This fact caused me to smile, as if we were being naughty, like skinny dipping at the river when we were younger.

When the song started, there was a space of four to six inches between their bodies, but as it progressed, the gap appeared to shrink, and when it ended, instead of returning, they stayed out and continued to dance through two more. Slowly, their bodies seemed to grow together until it looked like her breasts were in contact with his broad chest. All the time, they maintained a conversation, and by her expression, she appeared to be enjoying herself. Finally, they split and walked back to the table with Trish once again leading the way.

"Very impressive," I laughed, giving a small ovation as they approached.

They both smiled and I could see Trish had a slight sheen of sweat on her face. Winston found a stool to drag up to our table, and we picked up our aimless chatting now with Trish more involved in the discussions.

"It's your turn," she announced to me after about ten minutes.

We danced one song together with me now being more self-conscious of my skills then went back to the table despite her protests to continue. Some girl must have grabbed Winston because he was missing, and I scanned the room before finally spotting him dancing with a thin, skanky blond that looked to be over fifty. When he finished, I saw him meander his way back toward us, turning down a request along the way.

"You're the popular guy here," Trish said to him.

"I have a hard time saying no," he answered with a grin.

"Well, I think that's a noble thing," I replied.

"Maybe noble but often painful," he said with a laugh.

"If I ask you to dance, will you be noble with me?" Trish asked, which made me turn quickly towards her, as in all the time I had known her, going back to grade school, I couldn't recall her ever asking a man.

"I'd be honored," Winston replied, and with that, they left me, again.

They picked up right where they left off, exhibiting a natural fluidity, while somehow anticipating the other's moves. Now, Winston was holding her with no visible separation between them, and they spent their time talking oblivious to the others on the crowded floor. Watching them, I once more thought about her father's likely reaction, and as close as they were, knowing his temper, I doubted very much he would stop at a scolding.

Trish always attracted a lot of male attention and almost every time we went out, I could end up in a fight if I allowed jealousy to take charge. Long ago, I learned to deal with it and had absolute faith in Trish's fidelity but when you've been together a while, certain thoughts might occasionally appear. When we were first together and then married, I never had any visions of other men with her, and then, with kids, the focus shifted to family. But now, as I watched Winston embrace my wife, it was like seeing a completely different situation, and strange thoughts began percolating in my head.

Sure, I had fantasized a few times about Trish and other men. However, those times had generally been about her effect on them. Like when she was wearing a bikini and men were staring at her I sometimes wondered if they masturbated later thinking about her. Now, it was more real-time, and Winston was a black man, forbidden fruit from our upbringing, and she clearly enjoyed his company. For a moment, I allowed myself to think that my wife might be thinking about him sexually, then I snapped back, realizing I had gone off the deep end.

Like before, one song became two and then three before they returned. I watched them closely as my mind churned, and I saw his hand slip lower until it reached the top half of her ass. When they returned to the table, Trish was a bit out of breath, and I wondered if she had picked up on the signals Winston was giving off, as there was little question, that he had an interest.

It was now well past midnight, and the crowd was beginning to thin out. They sat down and immediately our conversation started again.

"Winston, you want to come by the house for a nightcap?" I blurted out awkwardly in the middle of the conversation.

"Are we leaving?" Trish asked.

"Yeah, it's late. Time to go with all the drinking," I replied, trying to regain some momentum.

"Yeah, I'd love a nightcap," he answered, and since he had no idea where we lived, it reinforced my view that he held other desires.

"Let me give you directions," I said.

"I'll map it, just give me the address," he answered.

I gave him the address and we settled up with the waitress and left. All the way home, we talked about a lot of things, but not about the fact that this black guy, who we just met, was coming over. I tried to get adventurous and asked Trish to show me her breasts, but she declined and told me to watch the road or I would be spending the night in jail. Arriving home, I went to the bar and made myself a drink wondering what might happen and how I would deal with it. Trish went to the bedroom and my mind went to thoughts of her returning in a teddy or at least a robe. Instead, when Winston arrived ten minutes later, Trish emerged in the same clothes minus only her shoes.

I made him a drink but Trish declined anything and they sat on opposite ends of our large leather couch while I sat in an easy chair. We talked through one drink and then another before Trish announced she was going to bed. I had tried hard to think of a way to inflame the sexual chemistry in the room but had completely struck out. The energy in the room took a major hit with her departure, and I had one more drink with Winston before he announced that he needed to get going. I'm sure he had thought there was some opportunity in the cards when he agreed to come over and in my demented state, I wondered if my wife had perhaps given some signals.

After cleaning up, I went to the dark bedroom and could sense that Trish was still awake. Because of this, I stripped down before sliding into the bed, and snuggling up against her, I was pleased to find that she was naked as well.

"Are you going to finish what you left earlier?" she asked as my hand found her breasts.

I pulled her onto her back, as my dick jumped instantly to life, and kissed her hungrily before moving my mouth to her tight nipples.

"Put it in," I commanded as I moved between her legs.

Trish's hand quickly found my dick and brought it to her opening. Pushing forward, I found her slit nice and slick, exactly as I had left it earlier that evening.

"You're so damn beautiful," I said as she wrapped her legs around my waist.

"Mmmm... no talking. Just make love to me," she answered.

"Did you enjoy your dancing?" I asked after we had begun to move together, unable to stay silent.

"I did. Thank you," she responded and moved to kiss me.

"You looked so good out there," I said before thinking.

"Looked?" she asked.

"Yes, with Winston," I replied boldly.

It was a risky statement, and if Trish took it the wrong way, I was dead but the alcohol and horniness I felt fueled my courage.

"We were just dancing like everyone else," she said defensively, and I felt a slight shudder sweep through her body.

"The other girls weren't dancing with a black guy that was holding them close, rubbing their butt, and trying to seduce them," I replied, going for broke.

"He wasn't..." she tried to answer.

"Yes, he was," I said, cutting her off, and then after several seconds of quiet, I continued, "You liked the attention, didn't you?"

"No more talking," she demanded, now moving her hips in a way intended to capture my attention.

I kissed her hard on the mouth, breaking down her defenses then stated, "Answer my question."

"Quiet, sweetie," she replied.

"Answer," I said forcefully, again.

"A little...some...I don't know," she replied with obvious embarrassment.

"Did you feel him rubbing against you?" I asked, continuing to push hard.

"No, now stop it," she answered and her body arched in an attempt to throw me off.

Instead, I put my hands on her shoulders and forced her down which she accepted with a frustrated sigh. I picked up the pace of our lovemaking and before long she began to respond. Kicking the covers off, she wound her body tightly around mine and soft mews, then whimpers started coming from her mouth. I kissed her neck, ears, and mouth while telling her how beautiful she was, which heightened her arousal and made her more engaged.

By now, I think she felt the questioning was over and she could enjoy the sex. I knew it was best to remain silent on the black man and enjoy my wife, but my mind had worked itself into a frenzy, and I was certain there was more in her head she wasn't sharing.

A colleague at work had once described during a night of drinking how he and his wife would pretend a scene during their lovemaking that might involve a strange place or a fantasy lover. He said it was amazing how hot the situation could become, and now my thoughts went to his descriptions as I moved in and out of my wife.

"Winston told me he wanted to have you," I blurted out awkwardly.

"What? Seriously, stop it, Pat," she demanded but kept rolling her hips into mine.

"Would you like that?" I asked, my lust now completely overwhelming my brain.

"No, we're married," she replied immediately, and then added, "Cut it out."

"Put your hands to your side and close your eyes tight," I commanded.

I expected an argument, but surprisingly, after a brief hesitation, she complied.

Then after several seconds, I said. "Pretend it's Winston inside you."

"Enough," Trish said, as her eyes shot open, and again, she pushed on my shoulders, but I took her hands, spread them out, and then ordered, "Close your eyes."

Trish looked at me for what felt like a minute and then closed them and relaxed her arms. When I took my hands away, she left her arms extended, and I let another minute pass before I spoke.

"Damn, Trish, you dance in bed as well as you do on the floor," I said in a mock Winston voice. There was no reply, so I continued, "I'm glad Pat gave me a chance. Do you like it?"

This time I could see Trish biting her lower lip and a slight almost imperceptible nod from her head.

"You ever been with a black man?" I asked, and this time she shook her head, and it was swift and clear. I tried to think of a command I could give to further test her participation, and after a few seconds I told her, "Put your hands over your head, baby."

There was just a moment of hesitation before Trish's hands slowly went over her head until they were touching the headboard. For better or worse, it seemed she was playing along.

"Tell me what you want," I demanded, getting bolder, and when she didn't reply, I repeated the question.

"I want...you," she said very faintly between her soft moans.

"What do you want?" I asked her, needing specifics.

"You," she replied, this time without prompting.

"Who?" I followed.

"Winston," she answered, which made my dick pulse inside her and my body shiver.

She was starting to participate in the role-playing, which made me so excited, I wasn't sure how long I would last. I knew Trish needed to cum first, so I slowed and made deliberate thrusts.

"You like this black dick, don't you?" I asked, continuing to play.

"Yesss...." Trish said softly a few seconds later, nodding her head slightly at the same time.

Her words forced me to bite my lip to keep from cumming and stars began to dance before my eyes.

I could feel her body start to get rigid telling me she was close, so if I could just hold out a bit longer, it would be okay. I thought of dead skunks and vomit, anything to last just a little longer, and luckily her moans quickly grew louder as her knees pulled back, lifting her feet in the air, indicating she was only seconds away.

"Oh, make me cum," she whined.

"Whose making you cum?" I demanded.

"Winston," she replied loudly, and with that, I completely lost control and started slamming into her rapidly as my dick shot its seed harder than I had ever experienced.

"Oh, damn! Damn!" I forced out.

My effort had turned out to be just enough, and I was thrilled when I felt her body begin to spasm beneath me.

"Oh, God...yes...God, yes...yes...yes...don't stop...don't stop...unnnggghh..." Trish cried out as her legs kicked the air and her hands gripped my shoulders with her fingernails.

I could feel her vaginal muscles begin to spasm, squeezing and then releasing my dick over and over. It was a powerful orgasm for her and she struggled to catch her breath, as did I. After regaining some control, my lips went to hers and I mauled her mouth sucking on her lips and pushing my tongue deep.

"I love you," I said as I lifted above her so I could stare into her face.

"Say it again," she demanded.

"I love you desperately," I replied, and then kissed her again.

We fell asleep soon after, still tangled in each other's arms.

For the rest of the weekend, we relaxed around the house and enjoyed quiet time by the pool making love several times each day. Neither of us brought up the role-playing, but it remained a powerful vision in my brain. It had been a significant step for Trish, a far cry from her passionate yet conventional style, and I wasn't sure where to go with it but knew it was something I wanted to explore further. Sunday, Trish went to church, as usual, and I'm sure she prayed for our salvation from the sin we had recently experienced.

When Monday came around we were like giddy teenagers calling and texting hourly and making sexual innuendos about what would happen when we got home. All week, I took her to a different restaurant each evening, but we would return early and make love late into the night.

On Friday, we went to an early dinner, and then to a play, she had wanted to see. Trish had dressed well and of course, had attracted the normal looks from appreciative men. It was over by ten, and we debated whether to go for a drink somewhere or return home. We decided on home and had already arrived when I received a text on my phone while Trish was in the bathroom.

Was hoping to see y'all here tonight -- Winston

I had forgotten we had exchanged phone numbers, and that we had talked about returning to the club the following week after Trish had gone to bed. The text gave me an instant erection as the memory of the role-playing came rushing back and it spurred my desire to see her and Winston together. Maybe, I thought, the interaction would inspire her and lead to another role-playing episode. The problem was it was now approaching eleven and I had no good reason for suggesting we go out after just arriving home. Still, I felt it was an opportunity that deserved a try, so I pressed forward.

"Trish, I'm bored. You want to go dancing again?" I asked when she returned from the bathroom.

"I don't know it's already late," she answered, not enthusiastic but not saying no, either.

"We can go for an hour or so and burn off some energy. Last time it was still hopping till after midnight," I reminded her.

"You promise you won't just sit around?" she queried.

"I promise," I laughed, crossing my heart.

I had to wonder if she suspected anything, although if she did, she was hiding it extremely well.

Fifteen minutes later we left the house and twenty minutes after that we arrived. Trish had selected a jean skirt with a simple top and while she changed, I texted Winston that we might be coming. We got in, but since it was peak time there were no tables, so we stood near the bar and ordered a round then immediately went to the floor. I stayed out with Trish for four songs, which pleased her greatly, and hopefully dispelled any thought that there was an ulterior motive on my part. I hadn't seen Winston to that point and thought maybe he had already left but I finally spotted him dancing with an attractive woman making me wonder if had already made a connection for the evening.

After sitting out a couple of songs, we returned to the dance floor. I was scoring huge points with Trish and honestly having a pretty good time, as I felt I was moving well that night. This time, as we returned to our drinks we ran into Winston, and after I shook his hand, he gently hugged Trish who seemed completely at ease. Almost immediately, he asked her to dance and after a look at me for approval, they departed.

They were gone for some time and I lost count of the songs before I saw them headed back toward me through the crowd. I had found a high table, not too far from where we had been standing, and Trish and I sat while Winston stood on the other side of her. When Trish was sitting, the jean skirt only covered her to mid-thigh and I caught him several times staring at her beautiful legs.

After a brief rest, Trish pulled me out again, but after one song I feigned fatigue preferring to see her and the black together. Sure enough, as soon as we returned, he took her hand and led her back out. I was watching intently now, fueled by my building sordid thoughts, and was pleased to see they were quite close. I knew he could feel her breasts against his chest and she was likely feeling his manhood, too. His right hand was low on her hip and it seemed that he was slowly stroking the top of her ass but from my distance, I couldn't be sure. He held his head tilted down close to her, and they appeared to be talking, and in my mind, it was about something intimate. The scene made me think about the role-playing I hoped to enjoy later and I knew I would use some of what I now witnessed.

Just as they returned, the PA announced that it was the last call, and there followed an awkward silence as we sat around the table. I wasn't sure if Winston looked forward to another invite to our place since his last visit had proved uneventful, nor did I know how Trish might respond but having come this far it didn't seem right to give up. As I struggled to determine how to proceed, it was Winston who finally took the initiative.

"Can I return the hospitality from last week? Will y'all come to my place for a nightcap?" he asked.

"Uhhh...uhhh..." I stammered at first but recognizing the window of opportunity might quickly close, I decided to go with it, and said, "Sure...that sounds good."

In making the decision, I hadn't dared look at my wife and felt a little surprised when she offered no protest. After settling with the waitress and getting directions, we headed for the door but her silence let me know that she wasn't happy about the plan.

"Why did you agree to this?" she asked as soon as we were in the car.

"I don't know...he did come to our place," I responded, and then added, "You didn't say anything."

"It would have been rude," she replied.

"I see...well, we don't have to stay long," I answered, realizing I had made a mistake.

With that, the silence returned and we were halfway to Winston's house when Trish suddenly blurted out, "I'm not going to do anything."

"Uh, okay honey. Who said you were?" I answered, disappointed about her state and realizing the evening had ended before it even started.

"I'm just telling you, I'm not," she replied.

Winston's pickup was in the driveway when we arrived. The small bungalow sat on a narrow street in the middle of a lower-middle-class neighborhood but even in the dark, we could tell his home showed more upkeep than the others. The black man opened the door before we could knock and we stepped into a neat living room with a sofa along the back wall facing a coffee table and a recliner on the far end. A TV sat opposite and he had tuned it to a jazz music station that filled the room with a sensual rhythm. He motioned for us to sit and then disappeared and we moved to the sofa with me on the end and Trish in the middle. Soon, he returned with three small glasses filled with a dark liquor that he announced was Cognac, and after raising his glass in a toast, he moved to the recliner. I couldn't recall if my wife had ever tried Cognac but while Winston and I sipped ours, she downed hers quickly and our host dutifully rose and provided a refill.