CHAPTER ONE: Background

Recently, Jenny, my wife of twenty-plus years, gave me a surprise birthday gift, a coed. Actually, she (the gift, not the wife) was a graduate student. This twenty-two-year-old’s desire to be deflowered prior to her nuptials was a ritual her dorm-mates claimed was de-rigure. The coed, Gwen, explained her reason for responding to our ad.

Our houseguest stated, “Every woman deserves at least one affair. My affair will be before I marry in six months."

I was wife Jenny’s first-and-only, maybe she deserved at least one more lover as well.

I thoroughly enjoyed the evening with Gwen and now it was Jenny’s time to enjoy another partner. Our challenge was similar to the earlier one: how do we find a lover for a spouse?

Jenny summed up the frustrations, saying, “Choices, decisions! We go two steps forward and one step back for weeks.”

I echoed, “Then it was three steps forward and one step back. The same will be true for us finding your Mr. Right.

For my wife’s gift of a guy-for-a-night, we considered then rejected her trolling for a debonair guy at a hotel bar. Out also was looking for a cute, be-speckled professor at the coffee shop. She rejected such behavior. Imagine how awkward it would be for Jenny to go to bars, coffee shops, and hotels ‘looking for Mr. Goodscrew’. How many times would we be out clubbing or sipping coffee with no result?

I said, “Let’s go online and find you a guy.”

I offered up good reasons, “We can go to the same sites as before, but vetting a one-night-stand can be tricky.”

Jenny proposed, “But what if my guy wants more than a one-off? Is that off the table?”

Jenny smiled as she presented her argument, “We expand our field if you don’t mind me with a darker-skinned gent or the guy gets me for a whole weekend?”

I asked, “What kind of guy do you want?”

My wife is smart enough to hold all of her specs in her head and released a stream of qualifications.

She said, “Geoffrey, the medical clearance is first stop. Don’t bring any stud, regardless of the size of his dick or his ego or prowess, near me without us being absolutely sure he is safe.”

She went on, “The bar scene and the random stranger scene is way too risky. And it must be a stranger. I am setting my travel limit at a rendezvous no more than a hundred miles away and no less than fifty. I am not going to chance another encounter with him after my affair.”

I said, “I know you’d be crushed if we went hundreds of miles and you got stood up. I think we need to stay within an hour or so of our house. And it can’t be here at our house either.”

Jenny countered with, “Doing it in our marital bed would be a rush in itself, but that is way too risky.”

My spouse said, “If we want to have a second night or a second time, I’m okay with that. Gwen said in the beginning it was going to be a one-and-done for her. ”

I felt control slipping away. I raised one eyebrow.

My wife responded to my non-verbal objection, saying “I offered you the same option when we found that girl for you.”

“I don’t remember committing to that,” I responded.

Jenny answered, “It was on the table and you didn’t veto the notion. Plus, earlier in our love play, you claimed that no one should be allowed to eat my pussy more than once, because if a guy ever got a taste of my love juices, he’d want to come back for more.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “But you pressed me, claiming that if he was THAT good, you deserved a second round.”

I acknowledged her point, saying “So true. Once a guy gets his nose around there, he will want to come back.”

CHAPTER TWO: Bingo

We went on with our lives as usual, but both of us (together at times, individually at others) surfed sites, looking for candidates. The search didn’t consume our every moment. We knew that, sooner or later, the right guy would appear.

A few nights later, I heard Jenny’s celebratory, “Eureka!”

“Bingo?” was my immediate response.

‘Bingo’ snapped up our posting. We got lucky.

Wanted: Guy for a One Night Stand with professional lady of reasonable age. You must be fairly intelligent: able to discuss world affairs, favorite cuisines, some sports. Husband is 100% in on this and would appreciate a modicum of interaction. Expect to spend the night, maybe two if you are good. Wife prefers husband not be present during actual fucking, but she wants the safety of him being close by. Lady appreciates all types of art, especially the art of seduction. She expects to be seduced, not just fucked. Only good kissers, non-squeamish guys. No fatties need apply. Let’s set your size limit as BMI less than 22. As this is wife’s first time, cut or uncut okay, but tie goes to uncut. If you are satisfied with your dick’s length and girth, so is she. Mutual oral expected. Pre-coital romance and post-coital cuddling a must.

‘Bingo’ had a name, Jerome. He was a Black businessman who lives about an hour away. Jenny and I saw a dozen degrees of separation, so we were safe from further contact. Within a week, we’d shared email addresses (bogus, ad hoc ones). Jenny had one stipulation I was leery of, but acquiesced to: Jenny and Jerome were allowed to chat online without my seeing the exchanges. Jerome and I could also message back and forth. All of us needed to express feelings freely.

CHAPTER THREE, Meeting Number One

We chose the upscale hotel in Jerome’s town, seventy-five miles away, to meet for lunch. Jenny and I had planned to arrive by noon, assess the possibilities, make a decision and be home before winter darkness at six that evening.

We finally rolled into our garage after ten that night. This is why: Jerome was urbane, knowledgeable and smart enough to take his time. During lunch, Jenny mentioned a movie sequel that she was dying to watch, but we’d not had time to see it yet.

When Jerome excused himself to the restroom, we both thought he was the one for her. He had flirted shamelessly with my wife, asking her about her career, taste in clothes, political views. He was bold, but not obnoxious. Race was a non-issue. He smiled a lot, especially when Jenny returned his comments with enthusiasm. Both were eager to see the latest episode of their favorite post-movie series. While in the restroom, Jerome used his cell to buy three tickets for that afternoon’s matinee. We felt obliged to accept his offer, so we did, insisting we drive separately to the movie complex. Jenny and I followed Jerome’s car. It was not time yet for those two to travel together. We resolved to tarry no later that day, but come straight home. We had planned to be home by dark. With the cinema, we would be home much later, sensing that Jerome would be The One, but kept quiet.

Jenny sat between us two guys.

She was bold enough to say something about being on a date with two guys at the same time, with, “Wow. Dating a Black guy and a white guy at the same time would have gotten me shot a generation earlier.

Jerome was urbane enough to say, “No, sweetheart. I might have not survived my ride home. But as Morgan Freeman in SHAWSHANK said, “Get busy living or get busy dying.”

“I am busy living,” he boasted.

Typically, Jenny hates people talking during a movie. Any chatting/whispering is verboten. Apparently, that rule flew out the window. If either cared to be seen, a forty-ish woman whispering into a Black man’s ear and him whispering back, they did not seem to care.

Did I care that for emphasis, she’d grab his knee or he’d momentarily draw her close with that big paw of his? Maybe.

I was shocked, post-movie, post credit roll, post end of music, when they stood in the narrow exit aisle and made out in front of me.

When we were comfortably on the interstate, I opened the conversation, “Well, it looks like Jerome’s the one, right?”

“Right!”

Jenny’s immediate response startled me. All I could say was, “You’re sure?”

That question brought a torrent of words, a stream of consciousness reminiscent of what giggly girls would babble on about after the male halves of the double date were home.

Believe it or not, I was not insulted, hurt, or jealous. This is what Jenny had offered me and what I was offering her.

I thought, “Maybe this isn’t a one-off.” I kept that idea to myself. She mused, “I wonder if it is proper for me to reach out to Jerome or should I wait for him to text me?”

I shrugged and said, “It’s time to exchange phone numbers.”

CHAPTER FOUR The Main Event

Three weekends later, we met at the same hotel restaurant as before. This time, it was for dinner. Jenny and Jerome had chatted online and on the phone. They talked about that movie series, the next installment and a few other things.

Jenny was open, “Yeah, we exhausted the movie stuff and eventually we got around to what he liked in a woman in bed, what I liked: foreplay, talk, first moves, how to undress each other, positions, even if I swallowed cum.”

I followed up with, “Did you tell him anal was out of the question, no water sports? He needs a clean bill of health, that sort of thing?”

My wife responded, “This will be his first extramarital time. I am sure he is clean. One time, on the phone, I could hear some kid chatter in the background, so we had to cut the conversation short. He is married, but separated. He had the kids one day, but he called me anyway.”

I was startled and could only sputter, “Wait a minute. You talked with him on the phone, with his kids there? Are we going to do it with a married man?”

She softened a bit, saying, “No. I am going to do it with a married man.”

Jenny turned on the charm, saying “We talk on the phone almost every day. I like him. I hope you got the penthouse suite, with the two separate bedrooms. This may be an all-nighter Friday night. And, oh yeah, book us for the weekend, please.”

We arrived early, unpacked, chilled some champagne and bottle of merlot. We had time for a short lie-down on the king bed in the master suite. We held hands and stared at the ceiling.

My wife said, “I can’t thank you enough for giving me this time. I don’t know what is ahead, but I will always love you, your body and your mind. That includes the dirty parts too, being willing to share me. I am as nervous as I was on our honeymoon.”

I answered, “You deserve this, not only because I got the same ‘present’ earlier, but because you need to have a fling yourself. This might bring us closer. I know we fucked like minks after that time at the beach with the coed.”

Jenny squeezed my hand and announced, “Jerome and I will take this room. But I want you close, just in case. Maybe tomorrow night, if there is one, you can watch.”

Dinner reservations were for eight. They ate light: broiled fish and salad, no dessert. I had a steak but barely tasted it. I knew room service was open all night if anyone wanted anything later.

By Jenny’s and my prior agreement, I was to leave the table first and busy myself as I pleased for at least an hour before returning to our suite. Also, Jerome and Jenny would refrain as much as possible from heavy petting. Mutual respect is a quality we both treasure. She did not disappoint.

Husband and wife had one more caveat: she would try to tell me everything when the time came. I’d made sure there was plenty of stationary, so that (if she cared to) she could give me a running commentary on her evening of wanton behavior.

One hour after I left the table, I knocked first, then entered the room. I expected everyone to be fully clothed, but tipsy and a bit stoned. I wasn’t wrong.

The balcony was open. Jerome and Jenny did what she and I always did, share some weed before romance.

They were on the balcony, seated at the patio table chairs, watching the skyline and the arriving/departing flights from the nearby airport. Holding hands. The champagne bottle was empty.

Jenny giggled, “Glad you are here: we were tempted to start without you.”

Jerome rose, shook my hand and whispered, “You are still in charge, my man. You let me know how far is too far for you to watch. Give the word and I will escort your bride to more private quarters.”

Loud enough for both to hear, I said, “Thanks for the heads-up. If you want, finish smoking that bowl and you two can be excused. I will sit out here a while. Leave the sliding door open, though. I will be in the foyer if either of you need me.”

Jerome took my wife’s hand and led her to the master suite.

CHAPTER FIVE, A ‘Dear John’ (actually, Dear Geoffrey) letter.

I found this letter in the foyer, Saturday morning around nine. I learned Jerome and Jenny had gone out already. I had a day to read it.

Dear Geoffrey,

It’s seven in the morning. My lover is asleep! We had a sunrise session. You and I need to start doing that again; it was fun! Afterward, we showered together and he went back to sleep. I can’t.

Geoff, you were glad to see me in the wee hours. Aren’t you glad Jerome is not a serial killer or something? I am still alive, but after servicing Jerome twice and you once, I am sore. The ‘other things’ we did really wore me out.

I remind you that you promised to ‘take Saturday off’ and let us have the daylight part. You’ll get a full report, as usual.

Meanwhile, this is my affair so far.

Thank you again for letting me have this fling. I’ll carry the whole experience in my head for a long time.

You told me you could handle the gritty stuff, so I’ll start with last night after you went to your room.

I have never been undressed by anyone before. For a while, I felt like a model or actress being disrobed by an assistant. I don’t think Hollywood or Broadway has males to do that job, even if they might be gay. With every inch of my skin that Jerome revealed, I felt more exposed, more alive than ever. My white blouse came first, button by button by button, accompanied by hums of approval, gentle touches, and kisses. Then he started with the nips, little bites on my bare shoulders and arms.

Jerome told me, “Slave buyers would assess the merchandise in this way, to see how pretty a young wench might be and how receptive to her new owner.”

I found this role reversal intriguing. Here I the white girl was being measured by the Black man.

Jerome did the loveliest thing as he unsnapped and released my bra. Of course, the elastic indentations were evident. He started on my back, smoothing the creases, stretching my skin to its normal texture. By the time he’d worked his way to my front, the soft touches made my pussy tingle.

Jerome knelt and said, “These are beautiful! Your tits have a perfect shape.”

“They are getting old,” I replied.

“NO!” Don’t ever say that again, to me or especially to Geoffrey. You have the breasts of a goddess. Now I am going to inspect the lower part of my goddess.”

My lover stayed on his knees and removed my skirt. The pot and the champagne and Jerome made me unsteady.

I said, “I might faint.”

He put his big hand across the cheeks of my now bare ass and petted my pussy with his other hand.

Jerome looked up and said, “I know a special lady who can take care of all this cunt hair, painlessly and quickly. I prefer my women to be clean shaven.”

I was shocked and answered, “So you won’t fuck me if I have any hair there? That wasn’t part of the deal. Don’t try to change the rules now, buster.”

He backtracked, smiled and turned up the charm, “Just an idea. Geoffrey and you might like the change.”

I climbed onto the middle of the bed and stalled, “You have the advantage of me, sir. I am naked as a newborn and you are fully clothed. I want you to undress yourself for me. Extra credit for a slow pace and a little striptease dance.”

I had him for a while, as he did as asked. I took the opportunity to sit up on the bed, prop myself on the larger pillows, pulled the duvet up to cover my tits.

Jerome’s ‘act’ was good: slow, eye-catching and revealed a toned physique that promised a good fuck.

He crawled up on the bed and smothered me with kisses, some deep, tongue-swapping ones that left me gasping. Others were gentle smooches on my neck and shoulders. Eventually, he worked his way down to my tits. He has this way of using his fingers to spread my nipples apart, exposing the tender nerve endings. His hot tongue lapped those, then lifted each and planted kisses on the undersides.

I could see his dick and balls swinging as he worked his way down my body, lapping across my clit, but not tarrying on it, yet.

I caressed his dick and stroked those balls. Those hairy balls had a mind of their own and moved as I lightly tickled them.

“Open your legs.” This was not a request, but an order. I complied.

I was rewarded with my new man crouching between my knees and, being still partially propped up on pillows, could watch him explore my lady-parts.

Again, I passed inspection. I could tell by his whispers.

“Umm. This is a sweet fuck-hole. See what happens when I spread her outer lips: the soft skin around them starts to redden.”

My undulations were invitation enough for him to go further, his soft voice spoke to himself sometimes. “Ooh Jerome, you can’t stay away from this, can you? You want it so bad, but you have to make her want it even more.”

When his broad tongue finally lapped at my cunt, I raised my hips. I offered him my whole sex.

“Take it. Take it. Take me,” I said as I grabbed a part of his face and pulled it to my sex.”

When my ebony lover sensed I was ready, he worked his way up my body until his chest was crushing my tits. I didn’t care about that; all I wanted was him, now.

“Taste yourself. Taste how sweet your pussy is. Lick your juices off my cheeks,” he whispered.

I discovered the primitive ritual of tasting myself. I liked it so much I dipped my fingers in my own cunt, brought them to my mouth and we shared sucking my fingers.

“Do the other hand,” Jerome asked.

I did. But at the same time, I took the knob of his dick and rubbed it across my pussy, then circled my hole.

“Ung! Ung! Ung.” With each grunt, he forced himself into me. My moist hand came back to our lips.

The rhythm came naturally. I like the missionary way and we were at it for maybe three minutes when I exploded. I couldn’t get enough of him. I grabbed his hips, beat on his ass-sides with my palms and demanded he fuck me forever.

Nothing lasts forever, though. Eventually, he knew I was done. I knew he wasn’t.

He rolled off me, onto his back. His dark body was such a contrast to my white one, as we lay panting.

Jerome’s dick is not much bigger than yours, Geoffrey. I started to play with it, using my closer hand. Now it was his turn to thrust upward.

I crouched over his naked body, knees outside his and sucked my first black dick. My fingers wrapped around the base, making his pole even longer.

“Hmm,” I said, looking up at his smiling face.

“Yeah?”

“You people don’t taste that different from white guys,” I said.

He countered, “You are tasting both of us. Milk me a while to get some black pre-cum baby maker and see if you still believe it.”

What oozed out of that thing I thought was him shooting his wad. Actually, it was just more lubricating juices.

I put those to good use, knee-walking up to him, daring him to taste himself. He did, as I lowered myself onto his pole.

“Jerk me off with that white cunt,” he ordered and I obeyed.

I could tell when he was ready by his now erratic motions.

“I’m going to do to you what you did to me,” he growled.

With that, he grabbed me by my hips, slapped my ass with his longer arms and ground his pelvis into mine, his dick rubbing one side of my cunt, then the other, then the top, finally finishing both of us off with the head of his dick rubbing my anal canal.

“Buckets,” I said.

“More buckets to come,” he said, amused by his own pun.

We did it one more time last night: a long, leisurely, rocking event that lulled us both to sleep.

I awoke around two or three, snuck out of bed, cleaned myself up a bit and found you to reclaim me.

I was sore this morning, so I begged off on any more intercourse. Jerome understood. We cuddled and I fixed instant coffee in the room.

He offered to show me his town, including an incredible French bakery with Saturday specials.

See you at eight tonight.

Love forever, Jenny

CHAPTER SIX Talking about the day

I let myself into our suite a little early and Jenny was in the master suite tub. She called to me, saying, “There’s a letter on your bed. Please read it first, then shower and shave. Join me on the patio when you’re ready. I have some munchies, champagne, and a pipe ready to go. Give me a few more minutes here.

This letter was handwritten in ink and I could tell by a few smudges, strike-thru’s and gaps in time, my wife was emotionally involved.

Darling Geoffrey,

I am back at the hotel after a whirlwind day with Jerome. I am writing you what you asked for, a summary of what happened after you graciously absented yourself for the day.

Jerome and I were up and out by eight, on the way to breakfast. He wanted to show me his town. I hope that was fine with you.

Thank you for giving me the space to work all this out. I enjoyed our little three a.m. visit and your ‘reclaiming’ me. Now, you’ll have to reclaim me again. LOL.

You were glad to see me in the wee hours. We were relieved that I was still alive! No, Jerome is not a serial killer!

I appreciate your ‘taking Saturday off’ and promising to leave us to own devices. You promised that after you got a good fucking. Yeah, you were in the throes of passion at the time and a little groggy, but we’d agreed already.

Saturday morning was brilliant: warm, sunny, breezy and I breathed it all in, with a new beau.

We hopped the shuttle bus and rode a short way to a newly renovated district.

First stop was the bakery. We shared a croissant with brie and a lox and cream cheese bagel.

“I want the onion included on the bagel, but you, Jerome, have to eat half, so both our breaths will be abhorrent to everyone but us!”

The district is multi-use. Apartments on second or third floors sport balconies where people watch people. Below them, folks are shopping, strolling, chatting, skating, riding those little rental bikes.

We passed a cluster of concrete-top tables with checkerboards imprinted on them. Some people played checkers and others chess. Several guys obviously were gambling.

One chess-player, a man of about your age, had rocks holding down Ones, Tens, and Twenties. Anyone with cash could challenge him to a match.

Jerome did not ask my permission, but rather sat down, pulled out a dollar bill and placed it under the dollar rock. Jerome challenged the guy to a match; the prize was a dollar.

The white guy had white pieces, Jerome used the guy’s black.

While the game was going on, Jerome took a call from a business associate, chatted away as he played. It irritated the opponent, but Jerome did not seem to care. He kept moving pieces within the allotted time.

Despite the phone distraction, my guy won. He handed me the winnings, saying as he put the bill in my hand, “This can be your souvenir of our time together.”

I said, “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly reciprocate. I’m not that good at checkers or chess.”

“You have other talents,” he smirked.

I was faux offended and offered the dollar back.

My lover-of-the-day held up both palms, “Okay. In trade, come with me to one more spot. Okay? Okay?”

“Okay,” I echoed the fourth okay.

He took my hand and we strolled across the football field size park and went through a door to an apartment.

I realized, “This is where he lives!”

My host brewed some tea and brought out the cookies he’d bought at the bakery. We sat on his balcony, munching and sipping.

The conversation started to flag. It was getting late.

I said, “This is going to be the fifth ‘okay’ of the day. Okay, take me to your bed.”

This time he was the aggressor. We were both eager to strip each other’s clothes off, get our bodies close together and fuck.

And fuck we did, like bunnies, like minks. Actually, like dogs.

I was naked first, climbed on his bed, stayed on my knees and waved my pussy around. I felt his aura before I felt that long pole nose around. He spit on it twice, then entered me. This time, I could control the pace, the depth, and the rhythm. I took my time, showing him what I knew and what I could do.

I was remarkable and more patient.

Finally, he screamed, “I can’t wait!”

I felt the flood oil my innards.

'Buckets,’ I thought. Though he kept thrusting, we both knew he was done.

“You still need more, don’t you?”

I nodded.

Jerome turned me over and lapped at my pussy with his tongue. He used his fingers on my opening, then inserted three into me at one time.

I gasped when he held those digits there and sucked my clit into his mouth. I did not last long. I was writhing in pleasure on my lover’s bed. The climax was stunning, as good as last night, but different.

Maybe it was the change of scenery or change of partners, but this special time might change us, for the better.

Meanwhile, I am famished, for food and you.

Thank you,

Love, Jenny

Taped to the back of the last page was a scruffy dollar bill.

I went to reclaim my bride.