The third person I ever had sex with was my husband so you couldn’t call me promiscuous. I lost my virginity aged 18 during a drunken student party and I was not at all impressed with the whole sex thing. The second man came along two years later; he was my first long term love, well a few months anyway. Then there was Paul, we dated; we got engaged and eventually married. I didn’t know and didn’t care if our sex life was good or not, it was good enough for me. We had and still do have sex regularly and he brings me to completion more often than not, I was content.
We were celebrating 10 years of marriage and my 35th birthday with a foreign holiday. We’d been trying for a child for almost a year and hoped that our trip to Rome would be the key but deep inside I knew that it wasn’t so. In quieter moments I had been pondering the inevitable ticking of my biological clock and was vaguely aware that perhaps something was not quite perfect, maybe something was missing from my life but I had no idea what it was. Throughout the plane and car journey home I’d been feeling particularly despondent and I knew that I was upsetting Paul with my sour mood on what should have been a very happy day for us.
Driving from the airport we stopped at a motorway service station. I’d just left the ladies room where I’d had a little weep when I first encountered the man who was to become my lover and my instant reaction was confusion. I should have turned away but his look of shameless desire lifted me in a way I really needed right then. I don’t know how it happened but we collided and we laughed as we both reached to steady each other and then apologise at the same moment.
A little later I was standing right behind that same stranger in the queue for coffee and I was overwhelmed with his presence. The shock I felt knocked me for six as my mind had him caressing my body, making love to me and impregnating me. I have never daydreamed of being loved by another man before and the intensity of this most unique daydream had me reeling. I had sometimes speculated from an artistic viewpoint what this or that hunk of a man would look like naked but I never considered sex, sex just wasn’t so important to me.
Paul guided us to the next table to that same man and as we drank our coffee he started to discuss the stranger, to talk about what he’s seen in the gent’s toilet. I was already guilt-ridden at my feelings in the queue and I just wanted him to change the subject. The animated way Paul spoke and his expression hinted of what he wanted me to do and I was frightened, I began to panic. No. I truly know that my husband loves me so I dismissed those terrifying thoughts and I put my irrational terror down to those wicked thoughts and my brooding mood and my panic subsided. I just couldn’t understand why Paul should be so interested in talking about the size of another mans penis though.
I glanced at him, admittedly he was a good-looking guy. Those speculations I’d had about men had rarely involved a black man, not that I didn’t find some black men handsome, certain movie or music stars and the like are nice and light reacts well to the darker skin colours. This man was very good-looking, tall and slender but well muscled, he clearly looked after himself; he was very well dressed and was obviously a confident man. He actually did look a little like one of those movie stars I thought of as being attractive. I realised that while I was studying him he was looking at me and smiling. He winked and I’m sure I flushed with embarrassment at having been caught out.
This made me even angrier with myself and I was getting more upset with Paul. I wished he’d just drop it so I began to tease him with a little reverse psychology; by telling him the effect this man had had on me I had hoped that I’d shock him into dropping the subject, well that backfired. His reaction told me exactly how excited he was and of what he wanted to happen, exactly how much he wanted me to have sex with this man. No absolutely not, I’d never considered infidelity I love my husband and would never contemplate another man.
Then he asked me and it was more of an appeal, the excitement in his voice and those words burned through my mind “Chris! Would you… really?” It was shocking, for some reason Paul wanted me to be unfaithful, to have sex with another man, not just any man but this allegedly exceptionally well endowed man in particular.
My immediate response was of disgust and then guilt for my earlier thoughts and I went with my heart and told him no. I was livid, the instant the word barked from my mouth his expression changed from flushed excitement to total rejection. I remembered that desire in the strangers’ eyes and that guilty flood of lust that he’d created in me. I began to feel quite naughty, I glanced back at the stranger and the words “Would you… really” echoed in my mind. – Would I? No… Definitely not, how could I even think such a thing? He really was very good looking and he was still watching me with those lustful eyes… absolutely not. I turned back to Paul and I could read disappointment on his face, he really wanted me to have sex with this man. No… Definitely not. But to my utter amazement I realised that I’d said “ok.”
It had taken almost no time at all from my venomous “no” to my soft “ok.” The whole cafe seemed to have gone quiet and I sat a few moments in stunned silence not believing what I’d said. What sort of woman am I? What sort of woman could agree to a proposition like that? I was upset with myself and with Paul for asking me and I was astounded that I could agree. What sort of person could consider having sex with a stranger? The very thought raised an illicit excitement in me and just as I asked Paul to ask the stranger to join us the man got up and walked away. I was extremely relieved and would be having strong words with Paul when we got home but to be brutally truthful I was perhaps a little disappointed.
A few minutes later we saw him again in the car park, how should someone behave in this situation? I’d agreed and I hated it, hated myself, a betrayal of everything I held dear, but to please Paul I’d agreed and Paul seemed so eager and I just couldn’t disappoint him so again I asked him to approach the stranger.
Paul spoke to him and he turned to walk away and the bottom fell out of my world. How strange that I should feel such disappointment over someone I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what came over me; this stranger had sparked wicked feelings that angered me and made me feel terrible inside and yet so very different, so very excited. With butterflies jumping in my stomach and a little flood of moist warmth I reached out to the stranger and shivered inside as I kissed him. Again that powerful feeling washed over me, that feeling of him making love to me and inseminating me but this time with the insight of what Paul had told me. I was trembling with fear and desire at the thought of his body against mine, of his penis, his huge penis within me.