HIM: On a recent episode of Dan Savage’s ‘Savage Love’ podcast, he took a call that was both shocking and poignant. A black man in the Southern U.S. phoned in to talk about his experience working as an escort while in college to help pay his bills. One night, a client — a middle-aged white woman — asked him if he was willing to do anything to please her. He agreed, not sure what she had in mind. Arriving at her home, she asked him to join her upstairs in the bedroom. When he walked in the door, he was surprised to see the woman’s husband sitting on a chair in the corner. She asked if it was ok for her husband to watch and, though he felt somewhat uncomfortable, he agreed. Once they were having sex, however, the husband started saying racially-charged things to his wife like “fuck that n—-r dick”. Although he was troubled by the turn of events, the young man persevered. Afterward the woman tried to explain that her husband wasn’t a racist, but that he simply got off on the taboo. Now, many years later, as a husband and father, he feels traumatized by this memory he had managed to suppress for such a long time.

HER: Like many of the episodes of Savage Love, that story really got us talking. Race relations is an issue that’s obviously getting a lot of attention right now, as it should, and stories like this remind me of how deeply entrenched racial tensions can be, even in our sexual imaginations. So it was interesting when, two days later, we got an unsolicited message online from a single man named Justin. Although we had turned down many requests from single men in the past, there was something different about his note. He was intelligent, sensitive and funny.

And he was black.

HIM: Justin’s e-mail got my attention right away for a completely different reason. I had recently become interested in the idea of finding a single man for you. In the past, we had included a male friend so that you could have the experience of having sex with two men at once, but now I wanted to see you with an attractive man who was different from me. Perhaps he would be younger, or taller, or have a bigger cock – I conceived of it as a kind of sexual treat for you. And this time, I wouldn’t be involved, except as an observer. Although the impulse was coming from a generous part of me — I love making you happy — there was more to it than that. I wanted to see you immersed in a completely sexual encounter without relating to me at all. I thought it would turn me on. So here was a man who indeed was younger, taller and had a bigger cock. Race was simply never part of my fantasy.

HER:  Of course, fetishizing race isn’t new. We all know of men who are sexually obsessed with Asian women. The Big Black Cock (BBC) scenario is another common one, and, in porn and the lifestyle, it often gets paired with cuckolding or humiliation by bringing in a take-charge ‘bull’ whose sheer size is meant to demean the usually white husband’s smaller cock. I hate everything about this.

HIM: Well, thankfully neither one of us is into humiliation of any kind. I think the BBC thing is actually funny. We’ve been to Hedonism in August when there are more Jamaicans at the resort, and while there are lots of Big Black Cocks, there are also plenty of Medium Black Cocks and even Small Black Cocks. And you don’t have to watch too much porn to realize there are plenty of Big White Cocks out there too.

HER: I know — my first husband had one, and the oversized cock thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

HIM: So tell me, did it mean something to you that Justin happened to be black?

HER: Despite the fact that one of my biggest middle school crushes was a Jamaican boy (who had the coolest Fresh Prince hair cut), I’ve never been with a man of colour. And after hearing that man’s story on Savage Love, I wanted to carefully examine my motivations. If I’m honest, when I look at a group of people, I always find myself most attracted to white or black men. So, I guess I do have a racial preference. That preference isn’t about cock size, though, nor does it have anything to do with humiliation, hatred, or objectification. Nothing in my life is about those things. When I considered meeting Justin, it was because I was drawn to his long, sensitively-written profile right away (I’m definitely a words girl). And when I looked at his pictures, I loved his lips and his strong arms. His skin is beautiful, and it certainly adds to the aesthetic appeal, but it wouldn’t have been enough on its own to make me want to meet him. It was just one part of the whole sexy package.

HIM: So it didn’t take long to decide that we should at least take the first step: you wrote Justin and asked if he would be interested in meeting for drinks and conversation at a nearby bar the following Tuesday evening.

HER: It was a great first date. He was tall, handsome and an excellent conversationalist with an interesting job. At the beginning you and I sat on the same side of the table across from him, but later, when I came back from the washroom, you suggested I sit on his side. That allowed me to do a little more subtle touching and flirting, and I think other people noticed. Even the piano player came over to chat with us at one point, something that had never happened before when we had been there as a couple.

HIM: It was definitely an interesting conversation, and I’m sure the people at the next table nearly sprained their eardrums trying to eavesdrop. To me, one of the most fascinating things to arise from our conversation was how much race was a factor for Justin. He was a connoisseur of every nuance of the interracial threesome scenario, and regularly watched videos made by white husbands filming their wives having sex with their black lovers. I wouldn’t pretend to know how that dynamic works for him (I barely understand how my own sexual tastes work for me), but he clearly found it very powerful. He was taking a year off of regular dating to explore the possibilities of the lifestyle.

As for me, I think his color was a non-issue. Well, not completely – you show me an ad where a white person hugs a black person and I might just tear up. I like any sign of barriers being broken down between people, in any area of life, so that aspect certainly felt healthy and right. But there was nothing fetishistic about him being black.

HER: I might have been tempted to ask him back to our place then and there, but I had to be up early the next morning for work. Besides, we had agreed we wouldn’t do that on our first meeting, so after two hours we all agreed it was time to leave. Outside the bar, he shook your hand warmly and you headed for the car. He then leaned toward me for a gentlemanly peck on the cheek, but I went in for the full mouthed kiss with just a little tongue. I loved that this happened in full view of the restaurant window.

HIM: On the way home we agreed that he was everything we had hoped he would be. We decided to invite him over for dinner three days later on Friday.

HER: Yeah, why did we think Friday was a good idea? By the time Justin arrived I was tired after a long week at work. I definitely wasn’t giving him the same enthusiastic signals I had at our first meeting. However, he was great about suggesting that we could just chill and save the play for later, or maybe even another time altogether. I appreciated his sensitivity. After a couple of hours of relaxed conversation we wandered into the kitchen to open another bottle of wine. At one point I leaned back against him and lingered there. He caressed my shoulders then reached around to feel my tits. My exhaustion was quickly forgotten as he undid the top of my dress and I felt that big cock spring to life. We headed upstairs.

HIM: While you walked on ahead, I told him that I was not going to be involved but would only watch. I mentioned that it was a first time experiment for us and I got the feeling he preferred it that way. While I was honestly interested in observing, and achieving a kind of sexual objectivity, I also liked that there was no pressure on me. I could freely lose myself in the scene playing out before me without any performance anxiety. So we entered the bedroom and I sat down in a comfortable chair close to the bed.

HER: Justin and I began kissing in front of the mirror. He undressed me and spent a few minutes running his hands down my torso and looking at us together. He said he loved our contrasting skin. I took off his pants and went down on him while he watched in the mirror. After a while we traded places and he had me lie on the bed while he knelt in front of me on the floor. He was gently persistent with his tongue and fingers, but I rarely come from oral. I looked over at you to be sure you were okay before I suggested he get a condom. You gave me the smile and nod, so we kept going. His cock was big, but no bigger than my ex’s, so it wasn’t shocking or anything. But, with my legs over my shoulders and that BBC knock, knock, knocking on my cervix door, I was reminded of why yours is so perfect for me. A bigger cock just isn’t a better cock for me. But I did like that he was a take-charge kind of guy in the bedroom. I loved being repositioned like a sex doll. In fact, I came quickly and really hard, which rarely happens in a new situation. Everything was working quite well for me.

HIM:  I was having the opposite experience. No jealousy or angst, thankfully, but no arousal either. I was just coolly taking it all in. It would have been nice to be coming in my pants, because having him over would be an easy scenario to duplicate, but that’s not how I registered it. But I did make this simple calculation: if you’re having a fantastic time, and I’m merely neutral about it, then that is a success for us as a couple.

HER: But the story doesn’t end there. We spent the next day at home in the backyard, and you were on fire. We both were. We had sex three times: you came twice and I came…a lot! And when we weren’t having sex we were talking about sex, or touching each other, or taking naked pictures and sending them to our friends.

By 11:00 that evening we were sitting together in the moonlight, talking about this and that and totally enjoying just being with one another. It was one of our most satisfying, low-key sexy days ever.

HIM: I know, but that seemed to be just about us, about our own energy and connection.

HER: I don’t believe it was only that. I think you experienced something profound as you watched me and Justin together. Maybe you didn’t feel it in the moment because it was  happening at a deep level and had to be processed before it could be expressed. Once that happened, though, you were dealing with some very intense, very positive emotions. Watching me having sex with an attractive man clearly made you feel your love and desire for me more intensely, maybe out of a healthy sense of competition. I really felt it from you, and I don’t think you can say the events of that Friday evening had nothing to do with it.

HIM: You’re probably right. I’m definitely open to trying it again and seeing how it develops. So tell me, looking back on the experience,  did the color of Justin’s skin have anything to do with your enjoyment?

HER: Not really. I mean, his color is part of what makes him attractive, but I would have had just as much fun if he was a beautiful, intelligent, charming man of any race. I guess it actually worked out precisely the way you originally envisioned: it was a treat to be with Justin. He was definitely different, but in the most important way he was the same: like you, he’s a nice guy. That’s really my fetish. Human beings are just too complex to be reduced to a superficial aspect of their appearance like their skin tone.

Or their genitals, for that matter. In addition to having a great time with Justin, I was able to definitively settle one very important matter: I can now safely say I don’t have a ‘BBC’ fetish. Sure, I like his ‘Cock’, and I think it’s great that he’s ‘Black’, but as for the ‘Big’ part, well – nobody’s perfect.

Him and Her

Liam & Kate are a married couple, very much in love, writing honestly and insightfully about their adventures in the world of non-monogamy.

www.themonogamishmarriage.com