Monday Night Football had just kicked off. I was on the couch in front of the sixty inch flat screen, ice cold Lone Star longneck in my hand. Pretzels, chips and dip, and a can of mixed nuts were on the coffee table. Pizza was on order, due to deliver around halftime. The Saints were a ten point favorite. All was right with the world. And then it wasn't.
Naked, Shelly came into the den and settled in my lap. I set the beer aside. My arms were full of a hundred and ten pounds of bright bubbly blonde. One arm went around my shoulders, the other slipped under my shirt to play with my six-pack abs. I lifted her, enjoying the feel of that magnificent ass, shifting her into a more comfortable position over my growing erection. Six years out of the varsity weight room, I was still fit and firm. She was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Holding her like this used to be the best thing in my world.
Now it seems we only do this when she wants something. She breathes in my ear, then tries to talk me out of something. Her body is still slim perfection. Her warmth and scent still arouse me on contact, but don't wrap me around her finger quite as easily now. My old favorite thing has become a contest of wills.
She nips my earlobe, licks. She blows on the dampness, sending a shiver down my neck. "Can we talk?"
I leaned forward for the remote, clicked. The motion sent a delicious jiggle through her luscious breasts. The up thrust nipples winked at me. "I'm all yours Babe, anytime. I hope you know that."
"I do Love."
"What do we talk about?"
"You played football in school didn't you?"
"Yeah. I played quarterback in high school. They converted me to wide receiver in college. I started my first three years."
"What happened senior year?"
"One thing you learn in sports. There is always someone bigger than you, taller, faster, stronger, or with better hands. That guy happened senior year. He ended up third string with the Bears. The way their season is going, he might get some playing time tonight."
"Was he Black?"
"Three quarters of the team were. Why the fascination with Blacks lately?"
"I don't know! I can't get away from it! Movies. TV. Ads. The girls at work talking about their BBC adventures. Every news program or talk show has a version of the fad couple: The cute little blonde girl, and the big black man. Kelly Ripa and Michael Strahan. Rick Fox and Eliza Dusku. Any Kardashian. Any "Dancing with the Stars" pair. Fucking Cheerios commercials."
"So what are you really asking?"
"Are the myths true? Are they really bigger? Are they better in bed?"
"Shit, girl! I did shower with them, but I sure as Hell didn't sleep with them!"
"But you did see them."
"Hell! I didn't make a study of it. I'd guess the average size was about the same. Most of the whites were average, more blacks were bigger or smaller. A few much bigger. I could run further than any of them, few of them were faster. How that relates to virility I don't know. Fom the locker room gossip, some of them were more active sexually and more accomplished. I don't know whether that was due to ability, or the curiosity of rebellious freshman girls!"
"So the big black studs are out there? Once you go black, you never go back?"
"Once you go black, you can't come back. We've watched porno, girl! They're out there! Sex sells, and that's the flavor that's popular right now. The monster black cock might be easiest to find. In this society, that may be the only thing the guy's got going for him. Porn star, internet bull. Can you imagine that being the only skill or ability you could make a living from?"
"That would be sick, but..."
"But you're still curious. You want the experience. The guy who's bigger and better than me is out there. He may even be Black. You know you can find him, and you want to. Don't you?"
She didn't speak. I felt her tears on my cheek. An eternity later she slowly nodded her head.
"How much do you want it? What is it worth to you? What am I, and our marrage worth to you?"
Her head fell to my chest. Sobs wracked her body.
I held her tight, for as long as I could. Eventually I had to let her go. "I know you. I don't own you. You'll do what you've got to do, regardless of what I may say or do. You'll pay a price for either choice. But, please, keep your eyes open. Whatever you do, do it intentionally."
She fled. I turned on the game, five minutes gone in the second quarter. I flung the remote through the screen. I finally slept on the garage floor, exhausted, after emptying myself pouring kicks and punches on the heavy bag.