Shelly's Diagnosis pt. 1

Shelly cleared her throat, took a sip of cold water from the glass Dr. Martin handed her, and sat back in the leather chair. She accepted the tissue that the large Black man offered, wiped her tear-stained face, and sniffled quietly. ?I apologize for my outburst.? ?That?s fine, Mrs. Roye,? the psychiatrist said warmly. ?I understand how all of this is emotionally stressful for you. Please take your time and continue when you?re composed.? He shifted in his chair, trying to hide his erection from the gorgeous white woman sitting before him. Despite the fact that she was married and ten years his senior, the 30-year old psychiatrist had always found Shelly Roye?s sessions to be very challenging to his self-control and professional detachment: where most of the white women he worked with seemed determined to have the hard, angular bodies of teenage boys, Mrs. Roye was all thick curves, milky thighs, and swollen hips. Looking at her body reminded the young Black man of the Willendorf Venus, with its distinctly pear-shaped body, wide hips, small breasts, and intensely erotic energy. It wasn?t enough that his patient had the type of body that made him salivate, but she also kept her dark hair short, crisp, and bristling?a style that he had always found attractive on white women. Needless to say, with her looks, the tight, clingy dresses that she always wore, and her husky voice, Darius Martin was finding it really hard to listen to his patient objectively without wanting to bury his throbbing cock in her pussy. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, the psychiatrist nodded for his patient to continue; his eyes traveled up and down her body, appreciating the long, cerulean dress that she was wearing, the curve and sweep of her hips, the hint of hardened nipples against sheer fabric, and the musky sweetness of her sweat and perfume. Clearing her throat again, Shelley continued her story... You already know the story with Fritz and me. He works too much and doesn?t want to have sex with me; my demands are pushing him farther and farther away from our marital bed. It?s hard to believe we?ve been talking about the same problem for over five months now. I tried all of your suggestions. Fritz didn?t want to attend the couple?s group with me, he was appalled when I suggested we visit a swinger?s club, he refuses to read any of the material that you recommended I purchase, and we still haven?t had sex in a year. Well, that?s not entirely true. We tried to have sex last month, on Valentine?s Day, but he fell asleep while I was giving him a blowjob. Do you have any idea how hurtful it is for your husband to start snoring while you?re sucking his dick? Well, no, obviously you wouldn?t have had such an experience. A year has passed since Fritz and I have had sex and I?ve finally taken things into my own hands. That?s why I?m here, Dr. Martin. I think that I?ve gone too far and I need your help. What have I done? I?ve started fucking other men, Dr. Martin, and not just any men?Black men. Over the last month I?ve slept with six different Black men and, honestly, I?ve enjoyed each encounter more than the last. Why Black men? I don?t know, Dr. Martin. As I?ve explained before, Fritz is about as open-minded and tolerant as the Gestapo: he?s a redneck trapped in a yuppies body. He thinks the word nigger should be taught in English class and that every Latino person in the United States should be forced to prove that they?re legal citizens. I think that I?m being punitive: I?m giving myself to the one type of man that Fritz would be the most disturbed and ashamed to know had fucked his wife. I don?t know. Does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just wanted to try something really new. If I fuck another white man, it?s almost like being with Fritz; Black men are exotic, spicy, intense, forbidden. Before this month, I had never even been kissed by a Black man. Over the last few weeks I?ve allowed myself to be used like a white whore and loved every minute of it. Does that make me a slut? Probably. The reason I?m talking to you about all of this is because I don?t feel any guilt over what I?ve done. Doesn?t that mean something is wrong with me? Maybe I don?t have a conscience. How can I fuck other men, let them cum inside my mouth and pussy, and not feel guilty about it? I?m sorry. I shouldn?t use language like that. I even sound like a whore, Dr. Martin. I don?t want to be a slut, or a whore, but I don?t know if I can stop sleeping with other men?with Black men?and that scares me. Darius kept nodding, even when he realized that Mrs. Roye had stopped talking for a full minute. He was afraid to open his mouth but knew that he had to say something, anything, to communicate acceptance, understanding, and empathy. Before her story, his erection had been uncomfortable, but now it had grown to agonizing proportions. His cock felt like it would explode if he did so much as touch it, so he crossed his legs and cleared his throat. When she had called to make her appointment, he had guessed that she would reveal that she had decided to have an affair?it was a common solution to marital dissatisfaction?but knowing that the older woman was sleeping with other Black men, and relishing the experience, was almost enough to make Darius offer his own cock for her pleasure. ?You?ve been having affairs with other men because Fritz will not have sex with you. Being rejected by your husband has triggered a great deal of insecurity and anxiety in you, Mrs. Roye. I don?t think it?s too late for us to stop the train, but you have to want to change your patterns of behavior.? ?I don?t know if I want to stop, Dr. Martin,? the woman sighed, sipping more ice water and licking her lips. Darius almost moaned with excitement. Was he sweating? Did she notice his trembling? ?I haven?t felt this alive, this desired or out of control, in years. Sixteen years to be precise. Even when we were having sex, Fritz was predictable, uncreative, and boring in bed. The men that I?ve been sleeping with are amazing! I turn into a complete slut when I?m with them and I love acting that way! I feel so free and empowered with these other men! Fritz never gave that to me!? ?I?m suggesting that the feelings you are experiencing with these other men has little to do with sex and are more connected to the underlying messages of their attention. Beyond the physical sensations, these men are making you feel loved, appreciated, desired, and respected in ways that your own husband has failed to do. In a marriage, sex is a form of communication and that has broken down between you and Fritz; with no other source of emotional connection, you?ve reached out to other men in a search for validation and support. That doesn?t make you a whore or a slut; that makes you a human being and a woman. ?What I would like us to do, Mrs. Roye, is discuss these men and your involvement with them. You don?t have to give me details if it makes you uncomfortable, but the more I understand the specifics of your affairs will help me counsel you in better ways to cope with the problems in your marriage.? Darius tensed. He wanted to hear details, wanted to hear the stories that his patient would tell him about the Black men that she had been fucking, but worried that he had gone too far: what if she could hear the waver in his voice? What if she noticed him panting, or his erection barely hid beneath the fold of his leg? Would she storm out of his office in a rage? Would she report him to someone? Was he doing something wrong by asking to hear details about her affairs? Mrs. Roye smiled shyly and the psychiatrist breathed a sigh of relief. She shifted in her chair, turning her body so that the curve of her ass was facing the young man. He fought to maintain eye contact and smiled to cover his tension. Something dark and hungry briefly flared in his patient?s grey eyes and then faded. ?I don?t mind giving you details, Dr. Martin. I need to talk about this so that I can finally work through it, right? It?ll be difficult but I?ll manage. ?Where should I begin?? ?Well, why don?t we start with the first man you were with. How did that come about? What were you feeling at the time?? A brief smile flitted across Shelly?s face as she seemed to recall the details of her first encounter. Darius tensed a little, imagining where she might be going and wondering if it was a good decision for him to be encouraging her in this way. ?Hmmm. . . . the first time. . . Actually, it was on a train, coming back from a conference a few weeks ago. I?d stayed over night and was heading back home first thing in the morning. Because I didn?t have any meetings that day, I?d worn a pair of sweat pants that I love?comfortable, but very clingy and they always make me feel sexy. I didn?t wear a bra either, just a tank top and a zipped up hoodie.? Darius had a hard time concentrating on Shelly?s words as she spoke, his mind absorbed with the picture of how Shelly must have looked that day. He imagined her sumptuous ass swelling into the curves of soft velour sweats. Or maybe she?d worn sweats that were made of nylon, the kind that were truly skin tight. He wanted to ask but thought that would betray his less than professional interest in her story. ?Go on,? he managed to croak out. ?Well, that morning I?d had an argument with Fritz on the phone. I don?t even remember what it was about. Something stupid, I?m sure, but really a cover for all the serious things that are going on between us. I got onto the train and grabbed one of the first seats I saw. My mind was on the argument and on how disgusted I am with everything that?s been happening. A few minutes after I sat, this really attractive Black guy stopped and asked if he could sit next to me. I?d noticed him before we got on the train and thought about how hot he looked. There were plenty of other places where he could have sat, but I thought, ?What the hell? This could be fun,? so I told him to have a seat.? ?What happened next?? asked Darius. ?He started talking to me. Just basic chit chat, asking me where I was from and where I was going. He said his name was Jason. He was a pretty big guy, tall and muscular. Wore glasses?which I really love?and had a neat trimmed beard. He was funny and smart and we were really getting along well. I liked talking to him.? ?So how did you go from chatting on the train to something . . . sexual?? prodded Darius, eager to move on to the more interesting parts of the story while still trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. The pressure was building in his cock and he was dying to hear more. ?It was weird, really, looking back on it. I guess at first I became aware that our bodies were touching. I felt like I should lean away from it, but I was really attracted to him and just feeling very pissed and like I wanted to take a risk to see what would happen. So I leaned into him a little, just to signal something back to him. I could tell when he noticed it because he stiffened a little in his seat and stopped talking for a second. I had my coat on my lap, sort of spread out, and I felt his hand go under the coat and onto my thigh. When he did that, I thought, ?Shelly, you have a decision to make here. You can stop things right now or you can move ahead. If you stop it, you may never get this chance again and you may never know what it?s like to fool around with a Black guy. If you DON?T stop it, you?re going to end up cheating on your husband.? ?So what did you do?? ?I could feel his hand on my thigh and it was really warm and strong. Something just sort of gave way in my chest and I could feel this incredible lust building up inside of me. I?m almost embarrassed to tell you this because it feels so . . . animalistic or something. But that?s really how I felt. So I just decided to go with it. I felt tired of playing it safe.? ?So what happened next?? Darius?s mouth was dry and he moistened his lips with his tongue. As he did so, a fleeting thought of using his tongue on Shelly?s pussy crossed his mind, but he pushed it firmly out of his head. He questioned again the wisdom of how therapy was proceeding, but like Shelly, found that he couldn?t stop where things were going. ?This is where it gets kind of raunchy. I?m not sure I should tell you about the rest of it,? Shelly said slowly. Darius could see doubt flickering across her face, but also the lust she?d mentioned. He sensed that with a little more pressure from him, he could get her to continue. ?I understand that you?re feeling concerned, but I assure you that it?s important to our work together that you share all of the details. It?s in the details that I can find clues to what will help you. You want to be able to move on, don?t you?? ?Yes . . . . I guess so. . .? Shelly was quiet for a moment, weighing what he?d said. He saw her take a deep breath, as though she were drawing courage from somewhere, and then she plunged back into her story. ?Well, his hand was on my thigh, under the coat, so I put my hand on his and pulled it to my pussy. I actually pulled my pants down a little and put his hand inside my panties so that I could feel my skin. I have to tell you that his hand felt amazing and I was immediately more excited than I?ve been with Fritz for a long time. Jason?s eyes got really big when I did that. We?d sort of just been talking normally, but he stopped dead when I put his hand on my pussy. I guess that would definitely be a conversation stopper on a train.? Shelly giggled a little at the memory and at her daring. Darius thought his breathing was going to give him away, but she continued. ?He moved his fingers down on me and started playing with my clit a little. I?m not even sure that Fritz knows what a clit IS, so I can tell you that I almost passed out when I felt Jason start fingering me. It felt so GOOD . . .? Shelly?s eyes narrowed a little and Darius could tell that she was very much back in the moment on the train. He was afraid to say anything, not wanting to disturb the momentum of her story, so he waited for her to go on. ?We sat like that for a minute, with Jason just touching me gently and I could feel myself started to get really wet and my heart starting to pound. I definitely wanted more, so I leaned over and whispered in his ear that we should meet in one of the bathrooms where we?d have more privacy. He nodded, so I got up and went first. After I closed the bathroom door behind me, I had a few seconds to wonder if I was making a good decision here. I mean, what the hell was I doing? But then I heard this little knock on the door and I imagined where we?d go next with it and I just basically said, ?Fuck it. This is what I want.? So I let him in. Shelly?s eyes were closed now as she totally entered her story. Darius watched her face and could see it flushing a little. He noticed, too, that her nipples were hardening through the sheer fabric of her dress and his cock throbbed in response. He took a chance and touched himself through his pants, stroking his dick a little and watching her face as she continued the story. ?I opened the door and he just pushed me right back against the wall. It was like we were just ravenous for each other. In about two seconds he had my pants and panties yanked down and his face buried in my pussy. I put one foot up on the toilet and just pushed myself into his tongue, grinding myself into his face. I could hear him making these little noises, like he just loved licking me, and that turned me on even more. And he knew how to use his hands, too. While he was licking me, he was also squeezing my nipples up under my shirt. Fritz has never figured out that I love that and it was like this guy didn?t even know me but knew exactly what would turn me on.? Darius saw Shelly shift a little in her chair. He could tell that her story was getting her worked up and he wondered if he should stop the discussion or divert her into an analysis of what had happened. But his dick was hard in his hand and he couldn?t make himself stop. He needed to hear the rest of it. ?Then what?? he asked very quietly, trying to sound clinical and detached although what he really wanted was to bury his own face in Shelly?s pussy. ?Well, we went on like that for a few minutes and then he stood up and pulled his cock out of his pants. It was HUGE and rock hard. Not too big, though?just a lot bigger than Fritz?s little dick. I immediately got down on my knees and started sucking him. At first it was a little strange. He smelled and tasted different?every man does?but it was a good strange. And I have to say that I got totally into it. At first I tried to just go slowly and tease him a little, but to be honest, we were both so intense at this point that I couldn?t do that for very long. Basically I ended up just gulping and slurping at him like some whore in a porn video. There was this little part of my brain that was appalled, but it was also weirdly liberating and a huge turn-on. He seemed to love it, too. He had my head in his hands and was just fucking the hell out of my mouth." Shelly opened her eyes and looked directly at Darius as she spoke. His hand was in his lap, rubbing his dick, but fortunately he had the clipboard with his notes placed so that she couldn?t really tell what was going on. Or at least he didn?t think she could tell. ?I should probably stop with this,? she said. He wondered if she knew what he was feeling right now. ?Well, I guess it?s up to you, but you?ve come this far.? He gave her one of his professional, encouraging smiles, praying that she would continue. ?Yeah, I guess you?re right . . . Well, I guess I sucked him for a little and then I think we both decided that we needed to take it to the next level. Somehow we ended up with me bent over the sink in the bathroom and him fucking me doggy style. It was crazy! He?s fucking me and I?m rubbing my clit while he?s pounding away at me. He?s twisting my nipples and growling in my ear that my white pussy feels SO GOOD on his nigger dick. I thought I was just going to pass out from how hot it all was. I think that it only took like 30 seconds for me to start cumming and he just kept pounding me harder as I?m trying to not scream out it felt so fucking good.? Darius could tell that Shelly was practically in another world at this point, as her language changed and she got raunchier. He imagined what she would be like in bed and thought his dick would explode. He was afraid to touch himself, was dying to touch himself as he looked into her gray eyes and listened to her talk. ?So he feels me clench on his dick and he leans into me and says, ?Yeah, that?s right you little white bitch. Come all over my black dick. You like that nigger cock don?t you?? And I?m saying back to him, ?I LOVE that nigger cock. FUCK me with that hard black dick? and I?m cumming again. And then I feel him start to cum and he?s just grinding himself into me and I can feel him spurting inside me. I?m telling you, Dr. Martin, it was like I was another person or something at this point.? ?So were you?? asked Darius. ?Do you think that somehow you WERE someone else? Someone more out of control and passionate?? ?Yeah, I guess I was. I mean, we finished and he just turned and walked out of the bathroom. I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs and I just kept thinking about what I?d done.? ?What did you think about?? ?Well, this is embarrassing, but. I actually masturbated after he left. I just put my hand down between my thighs and got myself off with his cum. And I thought ?I?m truly crazy for doing this, but I don?t care.? As Shelly finished her story, Darius could hear his next patient entering the waiting room. He hated it, but he was going to have to end her session for the day. And live with his throbbing hard-on for another hour. ?No, I don?t think you?re crazy,? he told her. ?But I DO think we have a lot to talk about next time.? After Shelly left the office, Darius spent the next hour listening to an overweight housewife tell him why she believed her cats, of which she owned thirteen, were actually beings from another world; according to Mrs. Harch, her felines were trying to communicate important, world-changing information to her through her erotic dreams. After her appointment, Darius locked his office door and pulled out his cock, which had managed to stay rigid throughout the painful hour spent with Mrs. Harch and her stories of alien intelligences. Recounting Shelley?s story about her raunchy fuck on the train, he barely had to stroke himself before he was cumming all over his dark hands and into the garbage can; he hoped that Kerry, his receptionist, hadn?t heard his loud moans of relief. Finished, he wiped himself off with tissues, tucked his cock back into his pants, and sat back in his deep chair. What was he going to do about Mrs. Roye? He knew what he wanted to do about her, and too her, but the fear of losing his practice, of being branded a sexual predator in the community, was enough to make his cock wither. For all he knew, she could be intentionally goading him on, trying to make him cross his professional boundaries, trying to pull him into trouble. And then what? Once he crossed the line with her?if he crossed it?things would already be way out of his control. Sighing, Darius shook his head and massaged his suddenly aching head: he needed to maintain his distance, keep playing things safe, and think about the big picture when it came to Mrs. Roye. 2. Darius nodded to Shelley and lifted his pencil above the waiting notepad. ?Whenever you?re ready.? She smiled shyly, cleared her throat, and began. ?Well, I feel really strange about our discussion last week. I?m a little embarrassed about the way I was talking last week, but it also turned me on; I was actually looking forward to coming in here today and telling you more about my?problems.? ?Sex is a very highly charged topic for many people, Mrs. Roye,? Darius said smoothly. Today she was wearing a sand-colored, wrap around dress that hugged her wide hips like a second skin; turquoise jewelry and leather sandals completed the spring outfit. Shelley nodded. ?I know. I?m just sharing. I?m fine with this, Dr. Martin. I actually felt better after our session, last week.? ?Excellent. So you told me about the first time you cheated on Fritz. How long ago was that, exactly?? ?Two months, now? I?m not sure.? ?Okay. Let?s say the first episode occurred two months ago. What was the next thing that happened?? ?I think what happened on the train scared me. For the next week I poured my heart and soul into my marriage; I blocked everything out of my mind?the Black guy, the train, his cock inside of me, the fact that I had cheated with a stranger. I tried so damned hard to be perfect for Fritz, as if there was something wrong with me. I did everything but wear a collar and hand Fritz the leash. I was scared at myself?I mean, who was this woman? I had never done anything so sluttish, so wild and irresponsible! Not even in my college days! Not even with my own husband! It scared me. I started thinking that something must be really wrong with me, that maybe I was pathological or something. I don?t know. I did everything I could to force my way back into our marriage.? ?And did anything change?? Darius asked. ?Of course not; Fritz ignored me. At worse, he got annoyed with me. I stopped talking to him for a few days and, suddenly, all of my mental blocks fell away. I started dreaming about the guy on the train, started masturbating in the shower while thinking about the taste of his black cock in my mouth, the feel of his rough hands on my soft breasts, his hot breath in my ears. That?s when I realized that it was going to happen again: I was going to cheat on Fritz, again.? ?How did it happen?? ?Do you remember me telling you about Debbie, my friend from college? Although Frank, her husband, doesn?t like to do much beyond watch football and gamble, Debbie is in love with the Philadelphia club scene. Even though she?s 41 years old, that woman gets hit on more than her teenage daughters! Black men are really attracted to her and give her more attention than anyone else. She?s taller than I am and has larger breasts, but she has an ass like me and, according to the Black men I?ve been fucking, that?s a magnet for them! ?So Debbie called me one evening and asked me to go out with her. She has been trying to get me to go out with her for years and I always turned her down in the past, but this time I accepted. She was so excited! Fritz was doing his usual, which included ignoring me and complaining about work; according to Debbie, Frank was having guys over for poker and was more than happy to see her leave for the evening. ?Debbie told me to dress sexy. She said we were going to a club in West Philadelphia called The Down Low. At the time, I had no idea what the word meant. I was in for a big surprise! ?I showered and put on a light dusting of make-up; just enough to warm up my features and thicken my lips. I put on black stockings, garters, a black thong, and a black, lacy bra. I wore black leather boots, a short, dark blue skirt, and a sheer blouse of creamy silk. It wasn?t hard to see my bra through the blouse but I left it open, low and revealing. After a few sprays of musk, I quickly worked my hair into a short bristle and put on the finishing touches with an onyx ring and matching pair of earrings. It sounds silly, but I looked damned good!? ?That?s not silly, Mrs. Roye. A healthy self-esteem is really important in a marriage. Did Fritz compliment you?? ?Not at all! He barely even noticed me except to ask why I was wearing my grandmother?s ring to a ?nigger club?. I didn?t waste my time answering him. Debbie lives a few blocks away and was waiting for me on the front porch when I pulled up. When she got into the car, I couldn?t stop staring at her outfit. ?Frank let you leave the house with that on?? I asked her. She laughed and started giving me directions to the club. I couldn?t believe what I was seeing: Debbie was wearing a black skirt that was so short and tight I could see her thong every time she moved in her seat. Like me, she was wearing stockings and garters but her skirt was so short that everyone would be able to see her bare skin! A thick drape of white silk was wrapped around her shoulders and hung to barely cover her ample breasts; her belly was fully exposed and a gentle tug would have stripped her completely naked! As always, her makeup looked professionally done and her blonde hair was piled thick and curly around her neck and face. Gold jewelry flashed from her earlobes and wrists. ?You look like a porn star!? I said, still shocked. ?Good!? she laughed. ?Tonight is going to be special, Shelley!? I had no clue just how special it was going to get!? Finding The Down Low was like being in a low-grade spy thriller. First we drove into the city proper, Debbie directing me to a trendy lounge in the historic section of Philadelphia. We pulled up to the curb and I turned on the emergency flashers. Laughing, Debbie told me to stay in the car while she ran inside, pushing through a crowd of suburbanites waiting to enter the popular nightspot. My stomach was filled with butterflies and I kept checking my face in the rearview mirror. After what seemed like hours, she came striding out of the lounge with a massive Black man following close on her heels. Imagine a black bull wearing an expensive Italian suit, Gucci eyeglasses, and more platinum on his fingers and in his wide mouth than most people ever saw in their entire lives?this is who Debbie led to my side of the car, her face bright with excitement. The Black man tapped on the window and I suddenly realized that I had been staring at him, my mouth hanging open dumbly. I thumbed the window down, swallowed hard, and looked at Debbie questioningly. ?Shelley! This is Rocco!? Debbie said, patting the large man on the back like an old friend. ?Let me see some identification,? he said in a soft baritone, poking his head through the open window to scan my body and clothes. My initial discomfort at his blatant attention quickly melted into warm, tingling anticipation: it felt good to have Rocco looking at me, his eyes caressing my body hungrily. I shifted in my seat to show him more of myself and smiled warmly, invitingly. After a few seconds, I handed over my driver?s license for his inspection. Satisfied, he nodded, took a last, long look at my body, and turned to Debbie. ?She?s good, Deb. They?re going to love her at the club. Tonight?s password is ?Modigliani?.? ?Fancy!? she laughed. ?I liked the fucking movie,? he snapped, smiling warmly. ?Now get your slutty ass out of here and go have some fun! Take care of yourself, Debbie!? He hugged my friend then playfully slapped her on the ass before marching back to the lounge and vanishing behind the waiting crowd. ?That was weird!? I said, pulling away from the curb and doing a U-turn on the empty street. She resumed giving directions. ?Is this place one of those underground clubs?? ?Definitely!? Debbie laughed and winked at me. ?Does Frank know about this place?? ?Of course not, silly! And you better not tell Fritz about it, either! It?s my secret and I?m inviting you to share it with me, but I don?t want you to talk about it with anyone else. Seriously, Shelley?this has to stay between you and I. Okay?? ?Okay! Okay!? I laughed nervously. ?Only the members even know that the DL exists. It?s BYOB but women drink for free. Every week the password changes and Rocco is the only guy who knows it.? ?How did you find out about this place?? I asked, intrigued by her explanation. ?I met Rocco at a bar last year. He was bouncing that night and pulled some guy off me. I thanked him by sucking his cock in the alley behind the bar!? This last she said slowly, her eyes searching my face for a reaction. I wonder what was going through her head when I didn?t comment or respond; I drove in silence, trying hard not to smile and failing miserably. Finally, at a red light, I turned to look into her eyes and said: ?Did his cock taste good?? I hadn?t realized that she had been holding her breath until she expelled it in a loud burst of laughter and relief. She clutched her chest. ?I thought you were going to be angry with me or something! You didn?t say anything!? ?I was thinking about what you said. Who am I to judge you, Debbie? I haven?t been the best wife, either.? ?What? You?? she was incredulous, shocked. I told her about my experience on the train, about the way I had fucked a stranger and let him cum inside my pussy, about how loveless my marriage had become and what I had decided to do about it. ?Well, I understand why you?re cheating,? she said seriously. ?And I?m sorry that you have to do it, Shelley. Seriously. I know it?s not what you would prefer but you have needs and Fritz is being an asshole. I can?t really say that I have a good reason for doing it, though. Frank is good to me. We have a decent sex life and he?s a good guy. I?m the problem in our marriage. I?m a slut, born and bred, and for years I tried to stay straight and faithful; it didn?t work. Considering how I was in college, I should have known that I couldn?t be a one-man girl! Do you remember how much cock I got in school? Even when Frank and I started dating, I was fucking a different guy every weekend and loving it! I?ve finally come to accept what I am, what I need, but I don?t want to hurt Frank or ruin our marriage; that?s why it?s so important that we keep this a secret between us.? I nodded soberly. I was excited and really turned on by what we were admitting to each other, but I was also sad. Here we were, two married women dressed like whores, driving around Philadelphia and talking about all the reasons why we felt compelled to cheat on our husbands?both of whom were pretty good guys, despite their shortcomings. What man doesn?t have some major flaws? Where had we gone wrong? Maybe Debbie was right and she had always been a slut, but I had wanted a good marriage, children, a nice house, and a stable life?all the things I had never experienced as a child growing up with alcoholic parents. Now, years later, I was actively, consciously working against everything I had dreamed of having! What was wrong with me? Was it really that bad between Fritz and I, or was I making excuses to do things that I had always dreamed of doing, anyways? Debbie was my best friend: if she was a slut, born and bred, then maybe I was one also? And what did being a slut really mean? Before I could open a new conversation about our choices and their consequences, Debbie exclaimed, ?We?re here! Park somewhere close. We have to walk a few blocks.? Thankfully, the night was warm and breezy. On our way to the club, Debbie filled my head with stories about her and Rocco: she had started fucking him a year ago and had just stopped seeing him last month. According to her, his huge cock had always left her pussy sore for days and she wouldn?t let Frank touch her during that time. Compared to Rocco?s brutal pounding, sex with Frank was gentle and soothing but, after a few days, she had always gone back to her bull for a good, hard fuck. Debbie had slept with other Black men during the past year, four to be exact, and Rocco had never found out about any of them; one of them, a semi-professional basketball player named Raheem, had enjoyed sneaking into Debbie?s house and fucking her in the bed she shared with Frank! Once, he had banged her doggystyle while she talked on the phone with her unsuspecting husband! By the time we reached the club, I was dripping wet and panting like a dog in heat. Debbie was unapologetically slutty and insatiable: not only had she cheated on her husband, but she had actually cheated on her lover also! She horrified me but I was also impressed by her hunger, her passion, and her devotion to seeking pleasure from men?Black men?wherever and whenever possible. The Down Low was located in the basement of a large restaurant on the outskirts of the city. During the week, the restaurant served Nigerian cuisine to white people who were excited to get a taste of Africa for less than what it cost to gas up their SUV?s. Tonight, however, and once a month, every month, for the last three years, the restaurant closed early and a different sort of cuisine was served below. A guy who could have been Rocco?s twin brother met us at a rear entrance, behind the restaurant and between two Dumpsters. He checked our IDs, looked us over, and asked for the password. Satisfied, he ushered us through a narrow, nondescript door, down a flight of stained, concrete steps, and into a long, dimly lit corridor of naked brick. Strangely, the air smelled like sandalwood incense. Debbie, giggling and excited, followed our guide without hesitation while I stumbled behind her; I was anxious, on edge, and kept glancing back over my shoulder at the steps leading up and out to safety. We turned a corner in the corridor and the steps vanished, filling me with dread. ?Is everything??? I don?t know what I was going to ask Debbie but she turned, took my hand in her own, and whispered to me: ?Its okay, Shelley. I?ve been here before. Believe it or not, all of this secrecy and security is for our protection. The club owners know that most of the women who come here are married, have important careers in the community, and would be ruined if anyone knew they were here. Last year, some bitch investigator smuggled a camera phone into the club, took some pictures, and was threatening to go public with the information.? ?What happened to her?? Debbie shrugged and smiled evilly. ?Rocco and his boys paid her a visit at home. When they were done talking to her, she had agreed to abandon her investigation and actually joined as a member!? ?What did they do, threaten to hurt her or something?? ?No! They gangbanged her little white pussy until she passed out and then offered her a free membership!? Debbie laughed and the sound echoed in the confined space. At that moment we came to the end of the corridor where a heavy steel door blocked our progress. I couldn?t hear any music, but I could definitely feel a rhythmic beat pulsing through the door as if a dozen giant drums were being pounded on the other side. The cloying smell of burning incense was heavier at this end of the hallway. Debbie was bouncing with anticipation and I was torn between feeling excited and being gripped with terror. Our guide half-turned to us, smiled, and unlocked the door with a large key. ?Welcome to The Down Low, ladies!? he said dramatically as a flood of pulsating music drowned us. Let me describe the club to you, Dr. Martin. The Down Low consists of three big rooms connected by short hallways. All of the walls are plastered and painted the color of a spring sunset. The floor in each room is covered by a thick white rug that feels wonderful on your feet?or bare skin. There are huge video screens in every room and a different porn movie plays on them all night long?interracial, of course. There?s a fully stocked bar in one of the rooms, another one has leather-cushioned booths where you can sit and talk?or fuck, and the other two have these giant round beds in them where ten people can fuck without ever bumping into each other. There are mirrors on all of the ceilings, incense and candles burning everywhere, and a sound system that plays jazz, R & B, and rap all night long. At that moment a rap song, heavy with bass, was pounding off the speakers and making my stomach churn. It didn?t take me long to realize exactly what the club was all about: it was filled with well-dressed, handsome Black men and white women of all ages, shapes, and sizes who, like Debbie and I, were barely dressed. Everyone was talking, smiling, laughing, dancing, touching, caressing, and drinking. I was in for a wild night! 18119 1.71/512345