A Country Club Cougar’s Interracial Affair

I am your average upper-class, white woman. I live in an upscale neighborhood and drive a late model Lexus. I guess, you could call me a country club gal. I also live in a deep red state in the South.

I grew up in the 1960s and I got married to my high school sweetheart, Bill. I missed out on the whole sexual revolution and the counter culture. I never dropped acid or got to experience free love, although I would have liked to have gotten the chance to experiment. Bill and I dated throughout high school, and then in college. All we did is heavy petting and french kissing and we didn’t go much further than that. Women were still expected to be modest when I grew up and the worst thing that could happen to a woman, in my small town was getting labeled a slut. Getting pregnant out of wedlock was even more scandalous. That shows you how old I am, since that is not even a big deal now.

Bill was a sweet man, tall, good looking and muscular. I found him attractive and after several years of dating, he surprised me with an engagement ring. My family loved Bill and his family also approved of me. They liked me because I came from the right stock. I was pretty, Baptist and also came from a prominent local family.

We had a big wedding, which involved both of our families, and then honeymooned in Vegas. It was quite an eye-opening experience for a small-town gal like me. I had never seen so much decadence and gaudiness in one place.. Bill took me to a topless Las Vegas review, which was exciting and scandalous. The showgirls looked so beautiful in their skimpy costumes and I got a thrill out of seeing their perky breasts. I had never seen a pair of naked breasts apart from my own. You have to understand that back in the ‘60s, women’s sexuality was hardly talked about, especially in the South. There was no Playgirl, no sex shops and we didn’t have hardcore porn piped into our homes via HBO.

We went back to our suite and made love. It was pleasant, but not as mind blowing as I had expected it to be. I grew up reading romance novels, and the writers always talked about women hitting incredible peaks when they were making love. I wondered, where was my peak? But I brushed the thought aside and just enjoyed being in love.

We went back home and settled down into married life. Bill started working with his father in the oil business and he made a good living. Our parents had helped us get a starter home. I settled down determined to be a good housewife, who cleaned house and always had a hot meal ready for Bill when he got home. We continued to make love and it was nice enough, but not earth shattering. I soon became pregnant.

However, things changed during my pregnancy. I noticed Bill drawing away from me. He started to work long hours, and when he was home, he didn’t want to touch me. I blamed myself and thought that he was turned off by my huge belly and leaky breasts. “Things will change when the babies come,” I told myself.

I enjoyed my pregnancy and all the attention I got. Bill and his family smothered me with gifts. The birth was fairly easy and we were soon the parents of two beautiful twins, who we named Joe and Kelly. We took the kids home and settled into the normality of suburban life. I traded my impractical coupe for a more functional station wagon, and eventually got a minivan. I became a soccer mom, before that term was even popular.

I became busy with a local mom’s group and met some close friends there. I was determined to be the perfect mom, who always picked her kids up on time and had cookies waiting for them when they got home from school. As the children, grew they became active with Little League and Girls Scouts. However, I found myself going to these events by myself. Bill was constantly gone on business trips or entertaining clients. I began to feel like a single mother, as I often ate my sumptuous meals by myself or only with the kids.

The years crawled by, as my boring suburban life droned on. Even though my life in the ‘burbs was humdrum, society was going through a major upheaval. We dealt with the Vietnam War and the protests at home, the Civil Rights movement and Watergate. The Civil Rights movement particularly fascinated me. My father was a prominent local lawyer and served as an attorney to the school board. He would often tell me about the battles they were having over desegregation. 

Most of the hardliners on the school board were against it, but when the federal order came down, they were forced to integrate. However, it took our local district about five years to integrate the small black school on the other side of town with the larger white school. However, many people wouldn’t put up with that. A Christian academy was established and many white people pulled their kids out of public school and put them there. Oh, they claimed it was to save them from the corrupting forces of secular education, but I also heard some people say they didn’t want their daughters going to school with black boys.

I couldn’t understand it. Why was it such as big deal? My parents had always been liberal Republicans, who supported Eisenhower when he forced the schools in Arkansas to desegregate. Our minister even preached about Civil Rights in church. He said that we were going through trying times, but the Negro cause was just. That didn’t go well and some members walked out of church that day

I followed the Civil Rights movement on our small black and white television. I was transfixed by black leaders like Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. They were so charismatic and fearless. I couldn’t imagine how much bravery it took to face fire hoses, billy clubs and dogs. That bravery was a major turn on, and like women of old, I found myself being attracted to these men, who stared death in the face. I secretly fantasized about what it would be like to actually meet these icons in real life.

The ‘60s was also marred by political assassinations. We lost John and Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. I was shaken by the Kennedy killings, but the deaths of King and Malcolm X left me in tears. I remember hearing about King’s death, while I was driving. I was so overcome, I pulled over and burst into tears. The twins, who were sitting in the back, couldn’t understand why I was so upset.

I gathered them in my arms and said, “Mommy just lost someone very dear to her.” I would never get to meet those great men.

When I got home, Bill was at the house for once, and he was watching the news coverage on TV. I put the kids to bed and joined him on the couch.

“Well good riddance, a good nigger is a dead nigger,” he said laughing. I was shocked and offended.  I had never heard him use that word and had no idea he was so racist. But Bill’s attitude was not uncommon in our town. Many people were also glad that King was dead. I think they wished the whole Civil Rights movement would die with him.

Our sex life had not improved over the years. We were averaging sex once a month, since he was gone so much. And it was always in the missionary position. I didn’t dream of sucking his dick and he would have never gone down on me. This was the ‘60s.

I started spending a lot of time with Cindy, a bubbly blonde I met at a neighborhood watch meeting. Cindy had a reputation for being quite scandalous, because she was on her third marriage. One night Cindy came over to my house and we were sharing a bottle of wine. I told Cindy how I was sad I had never got to meet King or Malcolm X.

Cindy laughed.“I think you had more than hero worship for them. You were a Civil Rights groupie.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said indignantly.

“Really,” Cindy said. “You were talking about them like they were the Beatles and you were a lovesick school girl.”

I thought about this for a while. Maybe Cindy had a point. I was tipsy from the wine and feeling a little adventurous.

“So wha? I may have thought they were hot as well as brave,” I slurred. “But is it true what they say about black men?”

“What, that they have bigger dicks?” Cindy said. “Well, the few ones I have seen were pretty big.”

“You mean you have had sex with a black man?” I asked.

“Yeah, when I was in Europe. I could never do it around here,” said Cindy, with a smile on her face. “I was in Paris and I met this black GI, who was shipping out to Vietnam the next day. He said he didn’t want to spend his last night alone and so we had sex.”

“How was it?” I asked in hushed tones.

“It was great! I still think about it,” said Cindy wistfully. “He rang my bell. I had three orgasms.”

I was confused. “What does it feel like to have an orgasm?” I said.

Cindy looked at me pityingly. “It’s hard to explain,” she said. “But basically you tense up and shudder all over. There is nothing like it. I love them, why do you think I have been married three times?”

Cindy loaned me “The Joy of Sex.” It was filled with lots of new information and graphic illustrations of different sexual positions that Bill and I had never tried. I felt cheated. This was never mentioned in biology class. And all my mother had done is show me how to use tampons and tell me to keep my legs closed until I got married.

I went to the library and checked out a bunch of books about sex, including The Kinsey reports and “Human Sexual Response,” by Masters and Johnson. I was determined to learn all I could about sexuality and the mysterious female orgasm.

When the kids were at school and Bill was gone, I started to examine my body. I looked down at my thick bush (nobody shaved their muffs back then) and spread my lips apart. Then, I slipped my finger inside and began to rub it back and forth. According to the books, I read there was an organ at the top my pussy that was the center of women’s pleasure. I touched my clitoris and felt an instant jolt. I continued to rub my newly discovered clit and within a few minutes of self pleasure I felt a wave of warmth spreading through my loins and I experienced my first orgasm. Afterwards, I stood there basking in the glow knowing that I had crossed a new threshold of pleasure.

I decided to wanted ti talk to Bill about our sex life, but he wouldn't hear of it. I asked him to play with me and offered to go down on him, but he said I wasn’t a whore.

“You're the mother of my children. Why don’t you act like it?” he said angrily and rolled over and went to sleep. The sex thing only drove a bigger wedge between us. Outwardly, we tried to keep up the appearance of the perfect family, but on the inside we were struggling to hold it together.

Bill started disappearing on the weekend and I knew my marriage was in serious trouble.

One night, Bill came home with a serious look on his face. He confessed he had been seeing his personal trainer and was moving out. He said I would be taken care of but he wanted a divorce. I was stunned. I had tried to be the perfect housewife and mother and now I was being left high and dry.

I spent the next few weeks in a daze, walking around in a housecoat and surviving on cereal. The kids would have starved if my mother hadn’t swooped in and started cooking meals for them. Finally, my mom suggested I start seeing a therapist and helped me find a nice Jewish man called Howard Stein. Dr. Stein helped get me through a rough period in life and I learned a lot about myself.  He helped me realize that our relationship was fraught with problems and lacking some major components. When I discussed our sex life, he said that I had been ignored.

“I think Bill divides women into the whore and mother archetypes,” he said. “Its common in a lot of men of his generation. They have a hard time having sex with women they view as wives and mothers. However, they feel more comfortable having sex with women they put into the whore category.”

Well, that explained why Bill had been so reluctant to try different sex positions with me. I guess he saved all of his sexual energy for his whore, the personal trainer, a bleached blonde with fake boobs.

After months of walking around in a funk, I decided to go back to school. I enrolled in an MBA program in a nearby university. It was a great experience learning new skills and interacting with young people. This was just around the birth of the PC and the Internet, so I became proficient with those tools, which would help me in the job market. It was interesting being in school, even though I was a middle-aged single mother. I still got a lot of attention from men, even much younger students. I guess a lot of them had a fantasy of being with a cougar and I was the oldest woman in class.

I still worked out and had kept my figure even after I had my kids. With my short blonde bob and tanned legs, I found I was still attractive. But I brushed aside all potential suitors. I was too busy with school and kids to find time for dating.

After I graduated, I got a job at a large government agency. I worked in a four-man accounting department, which was headed by Jim, a short, balding ex-military man. Jim liked to run the department with military efficiency and we often butted heads. I had been at the agency for about five years, when one day Jim introduced James, a new hire, who was black. There were few blacks at the agency. They liked to white they knew. It got so bad, that they were almost hit with a civil rights lawsuit and I guess that is why they hired James.

James turned out be an immigrant from Ghana. He was a whiz with figures and a hard worker. He was also very funny, knowledgeable and had traveled around Europe. James also spoke several languages, English, French and an African language, I had never heard of. He wasn’t bad to look at too. He was about 5ft 10 inch, had rich, dark, chocolate-colored skin and short cropped hair. He wore glasses and snazzy suits to complete the look.

I developed some female friends at the agency. At happy hour, we would often talk about what men we wanted to fuck at the office. James’ name always came up.

“I wonder if he has a big dick?” said a secretary. “I hear black men do.”

A lot of women had flirted with James, but he never seem to take them up on it.  Even when we went away to conferences, James would be content to stay in his room at the end of the day while other conference goers got drunk and hooked up.

James and I started to get closer to each other. It started slowly, at first we would go to lunch together and complain about our boss, Jim. Other times, I would see him out at local bars and say hi. We once met at a local club and he asked me to dance. The DJ eventually put on a slow song and James pressed his body up against mine, as we swayed to a sensuous tune. His body felt rock hard against mine and when the dance was over, I had to peel myself away from him. That night I thought of James as I masturbated.

On another occasion, I bumped into James at the local gym. He waved hello and headed off to the treadmill. I must admit, I stayed a little longer at the gym just to watch him work out. It turns out James had been hiding muscles under those business suits. He was wearing a vest and basketball shorts and I marveled as I saw his dark skin glistening with sweat. When I was in the shower at home, I thought of James as I soaped my body and had the urge to masturbate again.

James and I became very close, much too close for co workers. Essentially, we started an emotional affair. We exchanged Valentine’s and birthday gifts and James would tell me about his frequent dates. Even though he was a black man living in a small southern town, he didn’t have trouble getting women. He said he used the Internet a lot, and seemed to have a different woman every month. I was jealous at the thought of those women getting to enjoy his wondrous body.

One day, James told me his washing machine had broken down, so I invited him to my spacious home to wash his clothes. The house felt empty since the kids had gone away to college. We sat and watched TV as he waited for his clothes to dry. I offered him a glass of wine.

He asked me if I dated. I said no, I had put all my energy into my kids.

“But your kids are away at college now,” James said. "Don't you have a boyfriend?"

“That’s what my vibrator is for," I said.

We both looked at each other startled. I had a crossed a line, but James didn’t say anything.

“Will you be my boyfriend, James?” I said half joking.

“I might,” he said and placed a hand on my knee. I was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt and not looking my best, but James didn’t care.

“Ava, I have a confession to make, I have always found you attractive,” he said. “But I never wanted to do anything, because I take my work very seriously. I just thought it would be complicated if I started dating you. I respect you so much, I wouldn't want to do anything to offend you.”

I pressed my hand over his. “You could never offend me,”  I said as I looked into his dark brown eyes.

His hand moved up my leg and settled in my crotch. I was silent as he lifted up my T-shirt and felt my breast.  Finally, James leaned in and kissed me. I felt his huge red lips envelope mine and I bit and sucked on his in return. I had never felt anything like this before. The only other man I had sex with had been Bill.

We slurped and sucked on each others mouths for a while enjoying the sensuality of the act. James leaned me back against the couch. He pulled off my sweat pants and revealed I was wearing a pair of cheap, cotton panties with flowers on them.

“I hadn’t planned on this happening, otherwise I would have worn something sexy,” I said nervously.

“I still think you are sexy,” he said.

He helped me pull my T-shirt over my head. James shed his clothes and I soon got a look at his muscular body. He had dark, strong arms, huge pecs and a perfect six pack. I looked down at his crotch and saw a dick that must have been at least 8 inches. Cindy hadn’t been lying about black men.

I stroked it with my hand.

“So this is what you’ve been hiding under those business suits,” I said.

James just laughed. He kneeled between my legs and eased his bulk on top of me. He reached down and fingered my pussy, while he sucked on my small breasts. I felt my nipples getting hard underneath his tongue.

“You're getting nice and wet,” he said.

“That’s all you,” I said huskily.

James entered me with a quick thrust. I gasped in pain, as I felt his cock fill me up. It had been such a long time since I had sex, I think things must have closed up down there. James began stroking his dick, back and forth. I could hear my pussy making sloppy, wet noises. It was so embarrassing, but I didn't mind.

James had tremendous stamina and was building a steady pace fucking me. I reached up and cupped his face lovingly. I also held my knees up against his chest so I could feel him even deeper inside me.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “You are so deep.”

"You feel good," said James, as continued to ream my dripping pussy. Soon, I began to feel that familiar burn creeping up my body and then my back arched as a bolt of lightning shot through me. I had my first orgasm from a man. James barely skipped a beat, as he kept pounding away on my cunt. He soon groaned, tensed up against and spurted into my pussy.

James rolled off me and settled on the couch. We embraced, our bodies covered in a film of sweat. I could feel warm jizz leaking out of my battered pussy. I felt so dirty but adventurous at the same time. We didn’t say anything, but just lay there for a while, listening to the hum of the dryer and the TV blare in the background.

Finally, I said, “I have been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Me too,” said James. “I just hope it won’t change our professional relationship.”

“It won’t,” I assured him as I held his face gently against my breast.

I reached for his dick and stroked it until it got hard again. I got up and led him by the dick to my bedroom.

“I haven’t had real sex in years,” I said excitedly. “There is so much I want to try.”

I pushed James down on the soft duvet, and knelt between his legs.

I looked down at him and said, “I have never done this before.”

“I am sure you will do fine,” he said.

I enveloped his cock with my mouth and started licking and caressing the shaft. I remembered what I had learned from my sex books and instructional videos, and I slowly licked the shaft with the blade of my tongue.  It seemed to be working, because James was moaning with pleasure. I continued my oral work for several minutes until James said, “I am gonna cum.” I let him shoot his load in my mouth and I gulped it down. I really didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t want him to think that I wasn’t as freaky as all the younger women he had been with.

James laid back on the bed gasping for breath.“That was amazing!" he said.

“It’s not over yet,” I said grabbing his dick. It soon got hard in my hand. James was about 20 years younger than me and seemed to be raring to go.

“I want to do cowgirl now,” I said. I climbed on top and slowly slid myself onto his prick until he was balls deep in me. I then started grinding my hips and working my clit against his hardness. It felt great to be in such a commanding position and taking control of my sexuality. I rode his dick for a long time before I started to feel pulses of energy spiking through my body. My body shook as my eyes rolled back into my head and I was rocked by the best orgasm of my life.

I slid off James and we cuddled.

“What are we going to do?" I asked.

“We are going to act like nothing happened and keep this secret from people on the job,” said James.

I curled up next to him and entwined my legs with his. I felt incredibly close to him. We had been emotionally close for years and sex had made us even closer.

Finally, James said he had to go and get ready for work. He pulled on his clothes, gathered his laundry and went home. The next day at work, we were cordial and acted like nothing had happened. But after work, I got a text from James saying I had looked hot in my business suit. I invited him over.

When he arrived, I welcomed him with a kiss and we tore off our work clothes leaving a trail to the bedroom. James lifted me on the bed and turned me around.

“I want to fuck you doggy style,” he said.

I said yes, because I had never done that before.

He quickly got between my legs and nudged his dick into my pussy. I felt it pushing deep into my cunt, he was able to penetrate deeply from that position. James started pumping back and forth, as I moaned and groaned from his efforts. It felt incredible being fucked like that. It felt so animalistic and raw. I gripped the sheets and thrust my face into a pillow to stop myself from screaming. The feeling was so intense that I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. It didn’t take long before I lifted my head back and let out a guttural scream that must have shocked my neighbors.

James pulled out and lay next to me.

“I missed you today,” I said.

“Me too,” he replied.

We made love throughout the night. I was like a kid in a candy store, wanting to try out every flavor. I pulled out a sex manual, pointed out which positions I wanted to try and James was happy to oblige. When it got late, he kissed me deeply and left.

We continued our clandestine affair and frenzied love making for weeks. It wasn’t just sex. James and I actually enjoyed each other’s company. When we weren’t screwing, we laid in bed together and ate pizza. We talked politics (I was a Republican, he was a Democrat) discussed our favorite movies and talked about past loves. We also shared gossip about co workers.

“You know a lot of the women at the office dream about fucking you,” I told him one night after a round of enthusiastic sex.

“Well, that makes you the lucky one,” he replied.

“Yeah, too bad I can’t tell anyone,” I said.

“So, what does this make us?” he asked, playing with my hair.

“I don't know, friends with benefits?” I said. “This is all new to me.”

The truth is, we didn’t date, we were never seen in public together and never held hands. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of James, he was beautiful, but I was scared of the potential backlash. I didn’t know what I would tell my family, my church or how I would explain to my children, I was dating a man closer to their age. Maybe I was just a coward and not brave enough to admit this was who I wanted. But I am from the South and we are slow to accept change.

James seemed to be okay with it. He had figured out the dynamics of our small town, which was still pretty racist and didn’t want our relationship to suffer any negative reactions.

“I’m okay with being your dark secret,” he laughed.

But, I eventually got bolder. I invited James to a  Fourth of July party at my family’s lake house, saying he was a friend from work. We sneaked away and had sex in the bathroom while the fireworks were going off.

James pushed me against the wall, ripped off my panties and hiked up my skirt. He entered me and I wrapped my legs around his hips. The sex was quick, furtive and passionate, but such a turn on knowing I was fucking him just a few meters away from my children.

James and I continued our secret relationship for four months, until one day he came into my office looking sad. He told me he was moving to Atlanta, saying he was tired of the racism in our town and the lack of advancement at work. I couldn’t really blame him. James was very talented but had been stuck in the same position for years without promotion.

I was so upset that I ran to the bathroom and burst into tears. I couldn’t believe I was going to lose James. I had gotten so used to his humor, his body and his love making. I had fallen in love with him. That night, we made love one more time. It was a frenzy of bodies slamming against each other, sweat, spit and cum. I guess we were both angry that our affair was going to come to an end. When James left, I knew it was probably the last time we would ever make love.

He moved away and eventually settled down, got married to a beautiful black woman and had kids. He sent me pictures on Facebook.  I sighed with happiness knowing he had found what I couldn’t give him.

I started dating too and eventually fell in love with an old high school buddy, who had gotten divorced and returned home. He was an old hippy, so he knew his way around a woman’s body, but it wasn’t the same as with James.

James actually comes back to town and visits me from time to time. But things are not the same. I am with someone else now and would never cheat on my current lover, no matter how much my body hungers for James. And even when I am old and gray, I will always look back and think about my passionate affair. A gal has to have something to hang onto.