Taking a Chance

Here I am, standing in a bus terminal, my two preschool children standing on either side of me. We are waving at a bus as it pulls out of the loading station. We cannot see inside the bus. We are hoping that mommy can see us waving to her and that she is waving back. My heart is in my throat. My stomach is in knots. I would probably be panic stricken except for the two children standing at my sides. Just by their presence, they say, "Life goes on." But where is it going and how did I get to this place at this time? It will make most sense to begin with a look back.

I'm Jim. My wife's name is Patty. We met at college. It was a college associated with a Protestant denomination and was located outside the city of Chicago. I was not very experienced in relationships as I entered college. This was my first serious one. When I was sensing it was becoming serious for both of us, I felt I had to bring up the topic of sex in our relationship. One of the reasons I was not highly experienced was because I had a pretty good notion that my sex drive was more intense than that of many of my peers. I was afraid that I might very well have trouble disciplining myself in a relationship. Not having a relationship at all seemed safer than having a relationship with a girl and having that relationship get out of control. I wanted to respect women. I certainly wanted to respect the woman who would become my wife.

But once I felt that I was in a relatively serious relationship with Patty, I knew it was only fair to bring it up to her and talk quite frankly about the intensity and frequency of my sexual thoughts and feelings. I brought it up in this context: that I knew that I was a highly sexual individual and I would require a wife who also liked sex -- a lot. If that was not who she was, then we should break it off now, before our feelings became even stronger for one another and our pain upon breakup would be more severe. What would be even worse would be for us to get married with widely divergent views on the importance of sex to the relationship. It seems as though having divergent views would bring a constant source of conflict into the marriage. I did not want that. I did not think that Patty would want that either.

We had two or three talks about this over a period of a couple of weeks and each time she assured me that she, too, felt that her sex drive was higher than average. She was confident that we would be able to meet each other's needs and would bring joy to our marriage. These discussions were never meant to be a prelude to sex, and indeed they were not. It was not too much after these discussions that we talked about marriage and felt it would be best to get married sooner rather than later. Parental pressure and achieving a college degree postponed the marriage until the end of the spring semester. It was our sincere desire to be able to refrain from a sexual relationship until our wedding day, but a few times we slipped up.

Upon leaving school, I got a job and Patty almost got one too, but we discovered that she was pregnant. This was the mid 1960's. Few people wanted to hire a pregnant woman. We were scratching by financially, but at the cost of such things as date nights for ourselves. I also noticed that our sexual relationship suffered. Patty had to deal with morning sickness and the changes to her body. We also read that pregnancy interferes with the normal ebb and flow of a woman's hormonal balance. That probably also affected her sexual desire. Patty was not as easily aroused as she was before the pregnancy and was sometimes irritated by my sexual advances. In addition, while she never said so in so many words, we did have some conversations that led me to conclude that her own mental

image of what a good wife and mother should be like seemed to revert back to what she observed of her own mother and grandmother. And what she observed of these two role models was not a highly

sexual woman. They hid their sexuality (however much they had) very well. It seemed as though Patty's role models for being a good wife and mother appeared to be almost asexual. And that seemed to be the direction toward which Patty was also heading. She seemed to be almost purposely denying her own sexuality in order to be a good mommy.

To make matters worse, nine months after our first child was born, our second one was conceived. The obstetrician had told us that as long as Patty was nursing she would not get pregnant. I guess Patty was the exception that made the rule. The pregnancy was physically demanding on Patty, and then, after the birth, taking care of two little ones was exhausting. By this time birth control pills had been produced. The obstetrician was somewhat concerned with the amount of hormone that was used in the pills, but understood that it would not be good for Patty to have another child in the near future.

While Patty grasped at the promise of the pill as a way to keep her from getting pregnant again, I had the additional hope that over time, as the fear of becoming pregnant receded, her interest in sex would return. That did not seem to be the case.

As she regained some health and strength, she did engage in an exercise regimen that returned her mid section to almost pre-pregnancy proportions. She was capable of being very attractive, but hardly ever used any makeup. While her body was shapely, her usual attire was sweat pants and a sweat shirt. She never initiated sex. There was no passion when we made love.

I felt it was up to me to try to re-ignite the spark. By now the influence of the pill began fueling the sexual revolution. Hence, we could now go into bookstores and find a number of books on how to achieve better sex. We bought and read some of these books that caught our eyes. Sometimes we read together, sometimes she would read a book written more for women and I would read one written more for men. Following a suggestion in one of these books, we purchased and read (usually together) erotic literature. I purchased adult magazines. We purchased a few sexy outfits for her. We tried different positions. We tried role-playing. We oil wrestled a few times. To encourage her to go to the beach in a revealing bikini I purchased a men's posing suit for myself to wear with her. At times in bed we would tell fantasies about ourselves or about our partner. And to help her have the energy to spend with me, I also helped with child and house care, doing my share of the diapers and vacuuming, of doing the dishes and putting the children to bed. I tried to take her out to places where she could dress up, look her best and catch the admiring eye of other people, both men and women.

While my helping her with the daily chores was a regular thing, achieving an evening of mind-blowing sex was once-in-a-while at best. And sometimes, after a night of very satisfying sex, she would be moody the next day. One day she explained it: ". . . you catch me off my guard and I lose control." It solidified my conclusion that she was now in the grips of the notion that a good wife and mommy kept her sexuality tightly under control -- so much so that if she had a good night (or day) of sex, once it was over she was flooded with guilt over having lost control of herself. That was our life for the next few years.

While I had received my degree, Patty was still a few courses shy of getting her degree when we got married and started having children. My job took us away from Chicago. And so it was that when the children were around 5 years old we thought it might be a good idea for Patty to return for an

intensive summer semester and finish the course work that she needed to finish on campus to complete her degree. Classes started the second week in June. We were living in the Detroit, Michigan, area.

We left as a family to take Patty to the college, helped her get situated and said our good-byes. The children were not the only ones who were crying when we left. This was at a time before cell phones. There was no daily contact. However, Patty would come home for an extended Fourth of July Weekend. She came home by bus and the children and I picked her up from the bus terminal on the Friday before the Fourth. She was due back at school on Wednesday the sixth. When she got off the bus I was not disappointed. In fact I was elated. The children took precedence in running up to greet her and in demanding her attention with their stories of what they had been doing.

But Patty came off the bus wearing her tightest pair of jeans and a shirt unbuttoned enough that I was given a tantalizing view of her generous C cup tits offered on the platter of a lace push up bra. As I hugged her I told her how gorgeous she looked and thanked her for dressing so nicely. All she could get out before the children demanded more of her attention was a sincere, "I've missed you so much."

And then I gathered her suitcase and we were on our way home.

This was mid-afternoon. We got home and Patty suggested that the children put on their swimsuits so that they could play in the back yard running through the sprinkler and splashing in the kiddie pool. It was a warm sunny day. She quickly explained that the bus was air-conditioned and her jeans and shirt were fine for the bus, but now that she was out in the heat of the day, she was going to change into swimwear, too. I had made sure that all the housework and laundry was done so that she would not have to feel like she would have to come home to clean up after the kids and me. By the time the kids were changed she was too -- into her skimpiest bikini. As she came out she told me that I was way overdressed for the rest of the family and I had better change, too. I did. As a matter of fact, when Patty bought this skimpy bikini, I had noticed that it was very stretchy. It was on a rack where bottoms and tops were sold separately. I bought another bottom and cut the lining out of it. I was then able to put it on and it was so stretchy that it stretched over my junk. When I came out, Patty said, "That's more like it," and gave my cock a squeeze. For the rest of the afternoon, when we thought the kids were not looking we were teasing and grabbing at one another.

We cooked hamburgers on a grill for supper and we had ice cream and strawberries for dessert. We played outdoors with the children and then sat around the kitchen table and played a board game before putting the children to bed. Their bed time was 9 PM and we held to that rather strictly, so we did not get much grief from the children over that. By 9:30 Patty and I were in bed, telling each other how much we missed each other and how much we loved each other. Talk was supplemented and then somewhat replaced by moans of contentment as we touched and stroked one another and explored our spouse's body. It felt so good to touch and to be touched. Eventually I was suckling at her breasts and teasing her pussy with my fingers until I had to move my head between her legs. It did not take too long with a combination of one hand working her nipples, two fingers stroking her G spot and my tongue and lips caressing and lightly sucking on her clit for her to begin cumming. And then at her invitation I entered her. I had learned to pace myself so that I did not cum right away. We started out in a missionary position, then moved to doggy before she rode me cowgirl. That was extremely visually stimulating for me and almost drove me over the edge. But we moved her onto her back and put her legs on my shoulders so that I could pile drive that pussy and we finished with a mutual climax. It wasn't a screaming climax. We didn't want to awaken the children. But it was a good climax for both of us and soon we were fast asleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night Patty got up to go to the bathroom. I was not far behind. I crawled back into bed. We were naked. She rolled over to face me. "Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied. "I'm not working tomorrow morning that I have to get up early and need to get back to sleep right away. What's up?"

"Did you see the bus driver?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"He asked me out. He wanted me to go with him once he was clocked out for this trip. Evidently he doesn't have to go back to Chicago until tomorrow morning, so I think he was wanting me to spend the night with him. I showed him my ring and told him my husband was picking me up. 'That's too bad,' he said, 'I'd have shown you a good time.' Can we fantasize about what that might have been like?"

Patty and I had fantasized like that a number of times. We had fantasized about people we had seen on a beach, or about some of the people -- both guys and gals -- that we had gone to school with. We had fantasized about sexy situations -- about what it would be like if Patty would be an exotic dancer. One fantasy that she brought up once and that was so hot that we would fantasize variations on it a number of times after that, was having sex with a black man. It just so happened that this bus driver was black.

We fantasized about him taking her out to eat, then to a predominantly black dance club where she would have taken off her bra and completely unbuttoned her shirt, and then went to the motel room where he would stay the night before driving back to Chicago and where he would fuck her with his big black cock. It took us about an hour to fantasize that all out and come to a very satisfactory climax.

Just as I was about to nod off to sleep Patty gently nudged me. "Can I tell you why I get so turned on by fantasies of big black cocks?"

That was enough to get my attention and bring me out of my sleepy haze. "Please do," I said. This could be interesting.

"When I was about 12 or 13 years old -- just entering puberty, I happened upon a magazine that one of my older brothers had purchased. It was about muscle building. It was just sitting there out in the open and turned to a page that had a full page picture of a black man posing to show off all his muscles. His body was all oiled. He was wearing the tiniest of posing suits. It was light blue and you could easily see the outline of his large cock in his posing suit. When I saw that my nipples got hard even though I was just beginning to get tits. My clit got hard and my pussy got wet and I ran to the bathroom and rubbed one out before I ever knew what rubbing one out meant. So just like for some men the visual fantasy woman may have long blonde hair, huge tits, a big round ass and a tiny waist, my visual fantasy of a sexy man is a big muscular black man with a huge cock. It is just the epitome of nasty, bad-boy sex. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It is actually very sexy to me to picture you having sex for sex's sake with a guy like that. I like to give you pleasure and at least in my fantasies I like to see you driven to the heights of sexual ecstasy. That's very hot. That's why I like to fantasize about you. Picturing you in sexual ecstasy usually pushes me over the edge and I cum thinking about it," I replied.

"Good," said Patty, "I didn't want our last fantasy about the bus driver to hurt your feelings."

"Not at all," I replied. "I thought it was as sexy as shit." She rolled over and I spooned up behind her. She went to sleep. I didn't. The thought kept rolling through my mind: "Maybe she needs to live out this fantasy in order to resurrect her sexual nature and overpower this asexual - good mommies don't enjoy sex - nature."

This type of thinking tossed and turned through my mind as I tossed and turned in bed in a fitful sleep. I couldn't stand it any longer. It was about 5 AM. I woke Patty up kissing her. I was afraid I was too late. Our previous pattern had become that if we had a good night of sex, if we slept in the next morning, when she woke up she would be in a foul mood because I had caught her off her guard again and had caused her to lose control. Maybe by waking her up at 5 AM, that thinking had not yet settled in. She gave me a big smile. Good sign.

"What do you want, Lover?" she asked.

I could ruin the whole weekend right here. But maybe this is what we needed to move forward into a more sexual relationship. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," I said to myself.

I kissed her and looked her in the eyes. With all the love I knew how to give with just a look into her eyes, I said, "We could make it happen -- at least maybe."

"What?" she said, now fully awake.

"We could make your fantasy of being fucked by a black man a reality," I said.

"Hear me out," I said. (The reader must understand that this is now around 1970 and the sexual revolution is in full swing, thanks to the pill. "If it feels good, do it," was a mantra that more and more folks were living by. AIDS had not yet raised its ugly head. The 50's as we had experienced it had in some ways been ultra repressive. Out of that repression had grown the present era of cigarette pants, skin tight jeans, hot pants, tube tops, bra burning, go-go dancers, dirty dancing, mini skirts and the like.) I went on, "This is something you have fantasized about for a long time. Here's a guy who is able and willing to make your fantasy come true. He's an upstanding citizen with a responsible job. You'd get to have your fantasy and keep it with you for the rest of your life. We could replay it over and over. And maybe, just maybe, this may rekindle the desire you once had for a vibrant and rich sexual relationship in our marriage. Think about it."

Patty lay there silently for quite a while. "You'll still love me?" she finally asked.

"Of course," I replied, "it was my idea."

"What if I told you it wasn't?" she asked.

Seize the Opportunity6

"Huh?" I said, stupidly.

"What if it wasn't your idea? What if I brought it up because it was my idea in the first place? Would you still love me?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, slightly in shock, but quickly comprehending.

"Will you still love me if I enjoy having sex with him?" she continued.

"That's the idea," I replied. "I would hope that you would enjoy the sex you had with him. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth doing."

"How do we make this happen?" she asked.

"We go back to the bus terminal tomorrow (well, today, now) and you inquire when the next time he will be here to take a bus back to Chicago. Then you exchange your present ticket for a ticket for that bus, and hope that if you offer yourself to him, he will have a place where he can take you in Chicago and fulfill your fantasy. Does that make sense?"

"I will probably have to go back to Chicago earlier than we had planned. Can we do that?" she asked.

"Do you think it would be worth it?" I replied.

She bit her lower lip and got this devilish twinkle in her eye as she nodded her head and said, "Uh-huh."

I couldn't help it. I almost pounced on top of her. "You sexy little wench," I said. I was almost immediately hard and she was filled with cum and her own juices, some of which she was now producing at the thought of fucking a black guy.

She guided me into her and said to me in almost a growl, "Fuck the shit out of me!" It didn't take long for us to cum again and then we fell asleep until 9 AM.

When we awoke, the children were up watching Saturday morning cartoons on television. I got dressed quickly and started making breakfast. Patty took a quick shower and put on a pair of sweats and joined us. After breakfast the children were eager to return to cartoons. Patty and I proceeded to clean up after breakfast. As we did, I asked her, "Are we going to try to make this happen -- for real?"

She guided my hand to the waistband of her sweats and then brought my hand down to her pussy. It was sopping wet. "There's your answer," she whispered to me. Then she kissed me. We started making plans.

We would call the bus terminal to find out what time the next bus was leaving for Chicago. Then we would go to the terminal and Patty would talk to the driver. If it was the driver that brought her to Detroit she could ask him when the next day and time would be that he would be driving from Detroit