Oregon

How it Happened

This is the story of our IR experience, how- and perhaps why- it happened.

We think it is a beautiful story with a happy ending: Mary is now two months pregnant with her first black child. And we are very happy about it. We feel very fortunate that we have been able to develop an experience that suited us perfectly. It wasn’t easy and we were very lucky. We hope that by sharing our experiences, we can take one more step towards a new understanding between the races and the sexes.

We will tell this story from our own, individual perspectives, so that you get a more balanced picture. Because her sire wishes to remain nameless, we will avoid using his real name, out of respect. Likewise for us as we are professionally respected, law abiding members of our community with low key interests. Given this, here is our story- at least some of it!

Mary: It starts with me, I guess. I am a 37 year old happily married woman. I love my husband of 8 years. Together, we have built a good life. This is the second marriage for both of us. This time, I think we got it right. I am white, fit, and attractive. I am a mother of one son, age 14, from a previous marriage. He is white and lives with his father. In every outward appearance, I am a normal suburban milf, with one small twist: I have an open marriage and I Iove black men.

My interest in black men arrived simultaneously with puberty at age 14. Circumstance had me staying home for that summer, babysitting my little brother and sister while mom and dad both worked. I remember feeling like it was a big responsibility for me at the time. I took it very seriously. That summer, we had two men dig a drainage ditch all around the foundation of our house. As a part of my ongoing chores, I would take them lemonade from time to time. One of the men, Jerome, talked to me and teased me while the other kept his head down, never saying a word. Both men were black, something that we rarely saw in my upper middle class neighborhood. Jerome was a big, strong, hard working man, with broad shoulders, strong arms, and a sweaty ‘wife beater’ t-shirt. I don’t think that my parents gave a second thought to leaving us at home, alone, with a work crew at our house. I grew up in a close knit neighborhood and everyone kept an eye out, more or less. It was a perfectly normal circumstance.

I remember being taken back by Jerome’s brash personality. His swagger and seeming lack of concern for anything or anyone was attractive to me. He used words that I didn’t know- words from his part of town. He told stories of being stationed in Okinowa and that sounded exotic to me. he stressed stories about his Japanese girlfriends, but I didn’t really grasp what he was getting at back then. Most of all, he teased me with his words, prodding me constantly. I don’t quite know why, but I felt drawn to his teasing even though it often made me want to run away too.

Over the period of a couple of weeks, I found myself spending more time during my visits to deliver lemonade. I spent time at night thinking up good questions that might serve as a reason to linger by Jerome’s ditch. I was confused as to why I did this, but I couldn’t stop myself. As this situation evolved, I made sure to look as good as possible in my summer dress when I made my lemonade deliveries. This was all very confusing and conflicting to me at the time as I had never even kissed a boy and was the daughter of somewhat bigoted parents who saw Jerome as a black ditch digger, period. I thought he might be something else, but I didn’t know exactly what.

One day, after lemonade and my silly questions were all delivered, I did something very rash: while standing there on the edge of Jerome’s ditch, I lifted the hem of my summer dress up to my chin, exposing my freshest pair of white cotton panties to Jerome. I don’t really know what I expected him to do about it, but I wasn’t prepared for his laughter. Squinting through the cigarette smoke that closed one eye, he tilted his head and gave the sight of me a soft laugh. Then he went back to digging. I was crushed, humiliated, and hurt. I was angry that he had rejected me. I felt a swirl of emotions- all new to me. I wasn’t even as good as his Japanese girlfriends (whores). After a couple of shovels full, Jerome stopped, took the cigarette out of his mouth and reached forward to me. He touched my sex gently with his dirty thumb, leaving a smudge on my Beverly Janes. I saved them that way.

For the next week, Jerome and his partner were on another job and I didn’t see them. I tried to put the entire incident out of my head. I figured it had gone as far as it would go. I certainly knew that I was out of my depth with this swaggering black man. I felt smug, fortunate to have escaped this blind temptation that I did not understand. But it made me wet later, when I would lay in my bed at night and think about it again and again. Nonetheless, I went back to my duties as junior home maker with a renewed sense of purpose. I figured that it was over. But Jerome had other plans for me.

When they came back, things were different. The teasing was gone and so were the excuses to hang around the ditch. Jerome talked to me in a different voice and I stopped asking silly endless questions. Jerome began coming into the kitchen for his lemonade, taking longer breaks. Eventually, he kissed me. Over the next month, Jerome taught me how to please- and be pleased by- a man. I was a more than willing student and Jerome was a thorough teacher. Jerome took my virginity and set me on a different course. We never used a condom and, technically, this was child rape. But it wasn’t. I made it happen, even though I had no idea what I was messing with at the time. Eventually, I would have gone out to the ditch without panties on. That was one plan. I just felt that I could handle whatever might come with this strange man and I wanted him more than anything else, ever. After all, I had seen Japanese women smaller than me.

Eventually, our recklessness caught up with us and though I had barely started having periods, I missed one. I can still remember when it took: Jerome had me on my bed as my little sister napped on a quilt on the floor next to us. By then, I was very relaxed with Jerome inside of me. I miscarried after another month or so and my parents never found out. Jerome moved on to his next job.

Marc: When I met Mary, she was 26 and not really looking for a new relationship. Neither was I, even though I noticed Mary’s tall, lean body immediately. Both of us had just come off of bad experiences. Hers required a restraining order. But sometimes, you know, that’s just how the best relationships start!

Mary never told me about her first lover, but I knew that she had dated one or two black guys in college. We just never talked about it much and those didn’t sound like good experiences for her. Over time, we became good friends, and then lovers. Mary moved in with me after a year of dating and we married a year later. All together, we have been together for over eight years and I would say that, without a doubt, she is the best friend and lover that I will ever have. We just get each other on every level. This is the key to our success in having an open marriage- a solid underpinning in our marriage. Without any doubt, opening our marriage has pushed us to become excellent communicators. There is nothing that we cannot discuss openly so there is just no jealousy between us. I have been with a number of great women, but Mary is by far the best, most ethical person that I have ever met. And she fucks like a sweet little minx.

I don’t really know when it happened, but we began talking about our fantasies. This is step one for any couple who is interested in opening their marriage, I suppose. I never really wanted to be with another woman (or man), but I did admit to my bride that I had always fantasized about giving her away and watching. I was pretty surprised when Mary did not reject the idea out of hand but asked me instead to explain why I felt this way. I was at a loss to answer her honestly at the time. The conversation was left at that for another six months, when we were at a local New Years party. After a few glasses of vodka punch, I noticed Mary checking out a prominent doctor in our community, smiling lasciviously as she chewed the edge of her styrofoam cup. The doctor was a handsome black man, impeccably dressed. “Hmmm, could this be it?” I whispered into her ear. She smiled and nodded her head gently to the music, continuing her gaze across the room.

But it wasn’t to be. He didn’t pick up on Mary’s shameless half drunk gaze and we went home alone together. She fucked me like a woman possessed that night and I knew why: I was her handsome black doctor cock for the evening.

Of course, this event sent me searching the Internet for discrete ways to meet black men of quality for sex with my beautiful wife.

Mary: When we began considering inviting another man to our bed, it seemed pretty natural to both of us. After all, we had talked about it and had nearly made it happen- all without a clue as to what to do in the ‘swinging’ lifestyle. When we got home from that party, we made a solemn promise to never lie to each other, never to do anything without the others awareness of it, at the very least, and to never allow anything hurtful or destructive to come between us. I am happy to say that it is a promise that underpins the freedom I have to do what I want: date black men.

We met a couple of men online and eventually, we took one or two home for the night. But nothing really clicked as we had hoped it would. I am not sure what I was really looking for, but soon, it became obvious that online hookup services were too shallow for our wants. About this time, Marc found the Dark Cavern and the Breeding Club websites. It was fun to go there and see women who were taking things a step further than I had ever intended. They became regular stops for both of us. I began making friends there. It made me feel quite conservative, actually.

Our sex life was really great during this time. We even talked about having another baby. But Marc had been clipped a few years ago and after a visit to the doctor (a different one!) his re-attachment didn’t seem to produce results. After three months of trying- and monogamy- we stopped trying and settled back into an ‘us’ lifestyle.

Marc: The one thing that I have learned from all of this experience is to just let things happen naturally. Whenever we pushed for it, the results never lived up to our expectations. But when things just happened, great possibilities opened up to us.

Oddly enough, the following New Years, Mary and I decided to forego the usual party and went to a nice little local piano bar instead. The idea was just to dress up a bit and spend a quiet New Years as a couple, dancing to a little soft jazz. Mary looked great, dressed in a short emerald green metallic evening dress with matching jewelry and shoes. Her runners physique stood out under her tight and shimmering dress. I felt most fortunate to know what was under that dress. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the bar.

We had dinner and drinks and danced into the night, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. I was unaware that the piano player was watching us but later, Mary admitted to catching his eye when we first walked in. At the break of his third set, he introduced himself from table to table. When Barry got to ours, I could see his obvious interest in Mary. Warmed by three cosmos, Mary returned the compliments with warm flirtations and a squirm or two. I noted this with an approving smile and shook Barrys hand as he left us to return to his work. “Thanks for stopping by.” is all I said.

Mary went quickly back to her drink, cheeks flushed red, as if to avoid the next question. I let it pass and asked her to dance again. Getting a bit tipsy, she melted into my arms on the dance floor. I made sure to turn her ass towards the piano whenever possible and allowed my hand on the small of her back to hike her already short hem. Barry noticed, drinking in the sight of her tight little ass cheeks peeking out below her dress, framed by black lace panties. He looked at me, nodding his sincere appreciation for my efforts and played on with another, even more sultry slow tune.

Mary: I knew exactly what was going on, of course. Do you think that I normally let my ass hang out in public? No, I do not. But I had this feeling like it was a time to really go for it, so I just let it be known that I was open to it happening. Bearing my ass was a small price to pay for the chance to make it happen with this beautiful man. I had an epiphany then too. I finally realized that if I made it their idea, let them take care of everything, I would end up with everything that I wanted in the end anyway. I was kind of drunk, sure. But towards midnight, I played it up a little too. At the stroke of midnight, I made sure that Barry saw me kiss Marc deeply, grinding my pussy against him shamelessly. I left no doubt that I was in the mood!

I must say, Barry looked beautiful to me from the first moment I saw him. At 6 feet 3 and 185 lbs, Barry is taller and lankier than my husband. At 54 years old, he is much older than Marc and absolutely fit as can be. He dresses nice, in a jazzy sort of way, with a nice jacket and turtle neck Ts and jeans. Mostly Jamaican in genetic heritage, Barry has a kindly, wise looking face that I associates with Jamaicans. He is a jazz musician, of course, so he is playing piano in bars all over the area. He is a man of few words, preferring to let me fill in the blanks, which mostly means just taking him at his word or his actions. His word has been the truth so far as I am concerned. Ours is not a bond that a good man breaks easily. Barry first told me he loved me when he first came inside me. And in that moment, I told him that I loved him too and that it is forever. Marc heard us say it and wept with joy for us. Barry did not just breed me, he became the third element of our marriage. I realize that this sort of thing is very unusual, but it happened to us.

Marc says that he had heard of him before, but until that night, I did not know of him. Yet the moment he shook my hand and said “Helllo, my name is Barry”, I knew that I was going to bear his child. I just knew it. If you had asked me right then, I would have told you so. But instead of saying that right out loud, I just blurted out “It’s him!” to Marc in a whisper as he left us. “I know, I know” Marc said, smiling. After that, I just shut up and quit trying to make it happen. That was the smartest thing I ever did.

Marc: I went over to Barry at the piano and handed him my business card. It has the address and number of my home office on the back, which I pointed out to him. I told Barry that if he felt comfortable, he ought to stop by after his last set. “You have a lovely wife...” he stammers in a soft voice as he scans my card for a name. “...Marc. Yes, I would love that. Thank you. ” For some reason, it excited me to know that we had just obliquely agreed for him to fuck my wife tonight, while I watched him do it, and he didn’t even know my name. I made sure we understood each other before I left. “Her name is Mary and she is a very good girl. So play nice?” I didn’t wait for his answer but turned back to the table where Mary waited, eyes big as saucers. I thought that I had pulled it off like a true pimp, but my palms were sweating. As I returned to her, sitting there, I found myself equally excited by her expression of anticipation- eager anticipation of his black cock, and his pearly black seed. She wanted him with a heat that burned. The prospects had sobered her and stirred something deep within me.

“I actually think that he will come over, Mary.” We gazed into each others eyes for a long time and held hands across the table. I had never felt closer to her than in that moment.

Barry played until midnight, when a Cuban band took over for the ‘dance the night away’ crowd. As we gathered our things to go, we didn’t see Barry. While I was relieved that we wouldn’t have to make small talk before we left, I worried that he might beat us home. So I hurried Mary along to the car. On the way home, I wondered if I had offended his sensibilities. After all, I didn’t really wait for his answer. Mary laid back in her bucket seat and closed her eyes, smiling softly. She smelled great, a mixture of soft lavender and sweet wet pussy. In the street lights, her black panties were stark against her soft white thighs. “Should I take them off?” It caught me off guard that she had caught me looking her over. “No, let him do it.” I said, without thinking twice. She closed her eyes again, smiling. “Right answer.” A few blocks went by. She stirs again: “You know I am going to fuck him, right?“ “Yes, I know you are going to fuck him. Fuck him bareback. I know that you are wet for him right now. I love that, hon. I will love watching him fuck you bareback in ten minutes, okay? He really wants you too. I think that this one is different. Classy.” She shoots back “And so you are okay if I really go with it, if I feel like it? Because I think that I feel like it.”

We live close to downtown in a good and quiet neighborhood. It is mostly established older folks on our street, so when we pulled into our driveway, the street was quiet. Thankfully, the driveway was empty when we got home. As Mary headed off to fix herself up, I doused the lights in the living room and lit some candles. Two glasses of wine were poured and I put some Wayne Shorter on the CD player. I left the porch light on and the front door open.

Mary: When he came through the door, I had just about given up that he would show up. I was half surprised to see him. So much so, in fact, that I just went to him and put my arms around his neck. He looked into my eyes and kissed me deeply, right there in the doorway of our home. When we broke apart, he said “Very nice to meet you, Miss Mary!” The strap of my dress fell off my shoulder and he noticed it fall, looking back into my eyes for a sign. I smiled and pulled him to the couch.

Marc: The details of their lovemaking are hard for me to describe accurately. And they almost seem less important to me as I think about them now. I remember feeling very energized to see them locked together. I remember noticing, with great satisfaction, that Mary had pinned her hair back before he arrived, just so that I could watch her take his cock down her throat without the visual obstruction of her brunette locks. Very thoughtful of her, I thought. Thoughtful and effective. It made me hard to recognize the depths of her willing acquiescence to this man.

By now, you know that these two were a very good sexual match. The details are less important than knowing that, by the end of their first night, they were consummate lovers. One truly remarkable thing happened that I will share with you- something that I had never seen and certainly hadn’t done- before. When the moment came for Barry to enter her for the first time, he hesitated at her opening and got a very serious expression on his face. His plum buried half way between her wet lips, the moment of sinking into her had arrived. Sensing some hesitation in Barry, Mary tried to gently push down over him, to encourage him on, but he resisted her efforts by gently but firmly by cupping her knees in his long black fingers. He held her still until she quieted. Eager to show her willingness, she tried again to push into him again and, once again, he held her back, more firmly this time. Now she was his, tamed to him, totally alert to his every cue.

Over the next two minutes, he moved further into her slowly, almost imperceptibly, and in doing so, he taught my wife everything she would need to know about him as a lover; how he moved, how he felt, his rhythm, his cadence, everything. I stood transfixed as he would withdraw slowly to the pink head, then slowly feed his black shaft into her until he was just a quarter inch deeper than the last stroke. Then he would hold still and feel her for a moment with his eyes closed before slowly withdrawing again to the head. By the time his black balls finally met her ass cheeks, she moved with him as though they were one and had been fucking forever. Her sex was completely open and relaxed to him and he took it. She had learned to obey him and, in turn, he gave her respect for it. Later, she told me that as a young girl, Jerome had taught her to accept his black cock in much the same way. She had forgotten about it.

I may write about the first weekend of 2008 at length someday, if I can ever figure out how to do it justice. Barry and Mary went to school on each other that weekend and I enjoyed many opportunities to watch him take her in many ways. Their sex became ritualistic, animalistic. She submitted to him, enticing him to mount her again and again. And, lionlike, he did. She took him in ways she had told me were not to her liking but she seemed to relish in it with Barry. Mostly, they finished with him carelessly spilling into her white womb. One time, as he fucked her doggy style, he withdrew from her almost completely as he came, letting me watch pump after pump of his semen disappear down into her dark warmth. It was a beautiful thing to witness his seed pour into her wanting pussy.

Barry left town the next week, to play in a hotel in Portland. But I knew that he would be back. And by the time he returned, Mary and I knew that she would breed to him and that we would raise his child together.

Mary: The only time I ever broke my promise to Marc, I called and talked Barry without telling him. But it was only to be totally honest with him to let him know what our real plan was. Marc was all for letting nature take its course, but I wanted to be full disclosure, all the way. So I called him. He thought that I was going to tell him that I was pregnant, instead of telling him that I wanted to get pregnant, so he was nervous. But I don’t think that my call helped his nerves much. I was alll blather as I blurted out everything, including my next anticipated fertility dates. Now he seemed really nervous and the conversation went silent. “I’ll think about it.” was all that I could get out of him. But he ended our conversation with a question., “What are those dates again?”

Marc and I began to chart my daily temperature to monitor my ovulation and read countless guides for sex determination. We wanted a beautiful, half black little girl, so we planned to stack the odds in favor of it.

Barry came to us two days before I came into estrous and he did not touch once me during that time. Instead, he just played our piano, complaining about its condition. When my temp elevated on Wednesday, we finally began our beautiful mating dance. We looked each other in the eyes whenever he came inside of me, locked in the wonderment if this was it. I could feel him fill me up and I could feel his seed moving within me. It felt warm and strong and I felt complete carrying him around inside of me. Afterwards, I rested for ten minutes with a pillow under my hips with Marc attending to my whims, offering encouragement. Barry is a magnificent and kind lover and I was proud to receive his magnificent, perfect seed. I wished our breeding would never end.

It took two delicious cycles for Barry’s sperm to get to my egg. In that time, Barry has stayed with us a lot. He and Marc have become good friends. While we are not a spectacle necessarily, at least one neighbor has seen me kissing him goodbye, deeply, with my body melted into his, in an open bathrobe, in the driveway. My waist is thickening. My nipples are darkening and swelling. Soon, it will be obvious to all that Barry is not just a local piano player.

So be it.

M,M&B

July, 2008