Karen and I had a rather uninteresting sexual life; the first bloom had worn off, and sex was sort of relegated to an occasional weekend night. It wasn’t that she was not an attractive woman. She was a very lovely woman, tall with curves in all the right places, and she was the subject of many admiring glances from men we encountered.

Her face was an attractive oval, framed by dark hair, and her breasts were a thing of beauty, medium-sized but firm. Her waist was slim, and she had full, rounded hips which were a delight to see in motion. Her long legs were gorgeous, displayed in sheer nylons and skirts that came just above her knees, hugging her beautiful hips.

Our male friends were always complimentary, and I know they would love to get her into bed, and I think our female friends were jealous of her beauty. I know admiring men often hit on her, but she always repulsed them, usually telling me about the incident. However, I think she enjoyed the attention.

So why didn’t we have sex more often than we did? We were still young, and married only five years. Part of it was that we both had demanding jobs, and were often tired at the end of the day, and perhaps we didn’t have the enthusiasm we did early in our marriage.

Karen was also a bit of a tease, flashing her legs at times, especially getting up or sitting down when her legs would open for a moment, giving a view of stocking-clad thighs, her garter straps over naked thighs, and at times a quick view of her sheer panties. She didn’t like pantyhose, saying her vagina couldn’t breathe, and she distained thongs, saying they were no better than toilet paper, preferring sheer nylon briefs which hugged her lovely, rounded ass.

Most of our friends were young married couples, mostly upscale yuppies, but we were friends with an attractive black couple, Mark and Dawn. Both of them worked and had very good jobs. Like our other male friends, Mark was attracted to my wife, and I’m sure she was aware of his glances; she would catch him at times stealing a glance at her legs, and she would blush. She even seemed a little uneasy when he was around. I wondered if his being black aroused her.

At one point I braced her on it, asking if she found him exciting. She paused a moment before replying and said, “I guess I do find him interesting, and maybe because he is black, but he is also attractive. Perhaps because it’s sort of a forbidden area, you know, crossing racial lines, and hearing that quite a few black men are well endowed. But you know I’ve always been faithful to you, and you know I’ve had lots of opportunities to stray.”

“Do you ever fantasize about doing it with a black person?” She blushed so I knew I was on the mark.

She said, “Well, it’s one thing to fantasize, and another to live out those fantasies. I think a lot of people have fantasies about sex, and imagine doing it with other people, and maybe exploring different ways, so I don’t think I’m unique.”

That was the end of that conversation, but it got me wondering about my wife, and I was somewhat surprised to find that the subject of having intercourse with a black person might be arousing to her.

About a month later she and Dawn had lunch together, and later she related some of their conversation. After a couple of cocktails Dawn said that I seemed to be attracted to her husband, and I know he’s attracted to you. I started to protest but she just smiled and said that wasn’t unusual as quite a few white women were attracted to him. Then she confided to Karen that Mark had been with other women, mainly married white women, and she condoned it.

My wife was stunned by that remark, but Dawn said she wasn’t worried, that he always came back to her. And besides, she said it gave her a rest, gave her pussy a chance to return to normal. She said he was really big, and always stretched her out a lot, so she was glad that having sex with other women gave her a chance to recover.

Karen was astonished at these declarations, but Dawn said she wanted to stay married, so she didn’t say anything to him about his philandering, and so he was open about his conquests. And Dawn added that she enjoyed hearing about them, hearing how he seduced white women and describing it in detail, and that he was only interested in married women, knowing that their husband’s performance wouldn’t match what he was able to do for them, and he was sexually very skillful.

She said there are a lot of white wives out there that love to get serviced by well-hung black men, and there are even some white husbands that love the idea of their wife doing it with black men, even wanting to watch some black studs having their way with a compliant wife. I was amazed at our conversation.

When they were having coffee and dessert, Dawn asked my wife if she had ever heard of the Mandingo Club. She said no, she had never heard of it. Dawn said it’s a club of well-endowed black studs who appreciate servicing consenting white women, usually married ones. She said she was acquainted with a woman whose hobby it was to connect some black studs with a white couple who wanted to experience the sex that these men could perform on a white woman.

When we were leaving, she said to my wife that she wouldn’t mind if she wanted to have sex with her husband—she was very open about it. Karen said she couldn’t; she had always been faithful. I was surprised when my wife told me about their conversation, and I was surprised to feel a little tingle of lust. That night we had intercourse, and I found her very wet and receptive, and I didn’t last long. I think the story she told had both of us excited.

We didn’t talk about this again. About two weeks later, Dawn called about going to a supper club for dinner. We were free and agreed to go with them. We met them at the club after a couple of cocktails; we ordered dinner with wine. We had a pleasant glow on when the dancing started, and I danced a couple with Karen, and then Mark asked her to dance, and she agreed.

Throughout the rest of the evening, we continued to change partners. Dawn remarked that my wife and Mark danced very well together, but what I noticed was that as the evening progressed, he held her closer, his hand slipping down from her back to her waist. Also, Dawn was coming in closer as we danced.