Sex Stories

We learned about each other during a long, luncheon discussion. We learned that we were both married to partners who no longer cared for the physical side of a relationship and had supplanted that factor with other things – in my wife’s case, the spiritual life of a fundamentalist church group, in her husband’s case, an overwhelming vicarious experience in watching sports of any and all kinds. We looked at each other quite naively and expected that we would feel something and walk away from it at the end of the day. How wrong we were!

Our afternoon and evening were spent in a romantic hotel room with snacks and treats and an unbelievable marathon of sexual tenderness. She very quickly accepted the fact that at my age, actual intercourse was a sidelight to the big event and relaxed into a receiver’s role to my repeated onslaughts of oral attention. This, for some odd reason, had become an honest-to-God fetish with me over the past ten years or so. I find that I much prefer to ravish a woman orally – repeatedly – than to engage in any form of genital copulation that would be less than satisfactory to her. After a few polite protests, she understood that I could be fulfilled emotionally by providing her repeated peaks and valleys of delicious orgasm with fingers, thumbs, lips, teeth and tongue. It became evident that she was enthralled with the idea that she could take all she wanted from the afternoon and not be fearful of having let her partner down in her part of the bargain.

What I have failed to mention to this point is, she was black — my very first black woman of any consequence in a loving, physical relationship. And I learned very quickly in that long afternoon that black is, indeed, beautiful; and there is a taste and texture difference, which simply cannot be described by a mortal man with a limited vocabulary.

When we parted, we arranged to meet again at this particular conference. She would, again, be moderating a discussion panel and I would be a willing participant in the audience – until after the conference; and then my participation would take on a different attitude — or so we thought at the time.

Somehow, we lost contact for a while. E-mails dropped off in their frequency and I assumed that the interest had been fleeting on her part and she had decided that the rendezvous in Philadelphia was a poor idea. I accepted that. She had much to lose in her position, and I was treading on thin ice in my own marriage as my wife had already allowed suspicion about my online activities to take over her life. She had become a private investigator of the enth degree and had actually confronted me with her suspicions. So I, too, was not too certain this would be a good idea.