I was rather slow when it came to dating. My love life moved at glacial speed until I met my wife. In high school I was skinny and too short to be any good at sports. At school and in the town I grew up in outside Sioux City, I got pushed around a lot by other boys, all of which translated into a lack of confidence. Particularly around women.
When I got to college I felt like the only virgin on campus. I heard other guys brag about their conquests, but really didn't get it. I guess I must be old-fashioned. I always thought you met the right girl, married her, and settled down.
Another reason I got picked up on is that I am a Sioux Indian. I have always been proud of my heritage, and have always kept my beautiful black hair long, down to my shoulder blades. Over the years people have always mistaken me for a guitar player. Or a girl.
To get away from my crappy childhood, I went to college in the east, to State University. I lived in the dorms, in a quad, with three other roommates. One of roommates was a poor black kid named Doug from Newark, New Jersey. He was 6'4" and on a basketball scholarship. He was a good looking man, with loads of personality. Even though he was a year younger than me, he had more sex with girls in a weekend than I had experienced my entire life. He was everything that I was not. I could not help but look up to him.
For some reason Doug took pity on me, and actually hung out with me on occasion. He laughed the first time we were in line at the dorm cafeteria and the cashier called me "Miss."
"Doesn't that piss you off?" he asked. "That would make me nuts."
I just shrugged and blushed. "I'm not a big, macho guy like you."
"Maybe you should cut your hair off dude," Doug said. "You're such a small fry, and with that long doo, it's no wonder half the campus thinks you're a chick."
"I don't want to cut my hair," I said. "It's an Indian thing."
Doug and I took our cafeteria trays to a table and sat down. "I don't know Denny. You need to get out of the Indian game and into the dating game. You dig?"
"Girls don't like me."
"Dude, you're in college away from home and you spend all day in our dorm room, playing Sony Playstation," Doug said as he munched on a rock hard piece of pizza. "You come out with me to the Delta Tau House this Saturday night. I'm going to get you F'd up. And I'm going to get you laid. A'ight?"
I gulped nervously. "Sure!" I said.
That Saturday night, at the Delta Tau frat party, I only pretended to drink all the plastic cups of beer Doug kept feeding me. When he wasn't looking, I poured them in a plant.
Toward the end of the night, Doug put his strong arm around the neck of a wobbly, drunken junior named Nancy O'Hara.
"Yo my man Dennis. This is Nancy. She is digging you man. Ain't you Nancy? You like my roommate Denny here, now, don't ya?"
The girl's eyes tried to focus on me. She could have been cute if her long brown hair didn't look so wild and she didn't smell so much like beer. She looked like a drunken Janis Joplin. I'd actually seen Nancy around before. She'd been in my English Comp I class freshman year. In class she'd spoke with intelligence and confidence. I think she was even Pre Med and a sorority girl.
"Oh yeah," the girl slurred. "You want to walk me home? I've got a TV. You want to watch some Seinfeld reruns?"
Using a very slick dance move, Doug spun Nancy around, so that she landed at my side. He gave me a thumbs up, and mouthed the words, Go for it dude!
So I walked Nancy the two blocks down Allen Street to her place at Highland Towers. Holding her up, and keeping her from falling (too much) turned out to be quite a challenge.
Once we were inside her two-room efficiency apartment, she staggered toward the bathroom. "Turn on the TV," she said. "I need to puke."
I hadn't had a Seinfeld fix in six months â€“ so the lure of Nancy's 19" Sony, was a great incentive to stay. Waiting on the couch in the dark, I played with the remote. Just when I thought maybe Nancy had passed out, and I was thinking about leaving, she reappeared. Her brown hair was wet from a shower, and she wore a red and black checkered flannel robe. She seemed revived, and smelled of clean soap.
To get my complete attention, she stood in front of the TV. With a grin, she let her robe drop to the floor. Nor was she wearing a stitch of clothes, not even panties!
"You look like a rock star," she said, eyes narrowing as she strutted naked right up to me. "And you're wearing too much clothes."
I nearly fell backwards off the couch. Cleaned up, Nancy wasn't half bad looking, in a hard sort of way. She had a pleasant round Irish face, pale freckled skin, square hips, and a tattoo of a black heart over her milky left breast.
"Come on cutie pie," she said, "let's see what you're packin' for momma." Her eyes drilled through my clothes, like she was trying to use her eyes like x-ray vision to see beneath my pants.
Nancy joined me on the couch in a swirl of shampoo, squeaky clean skin, and wet hair. Grabbing my shirt, she pulled it off. She tugged on my belt, unwrapping me like a birthday present. I watched frozen on the couch as she unzipped my fly, and peeled down my jeans like the skin from a banana.
In just my jockey shirts, jeans bunched up around my ankles, Nancy pushed me back on the sofa and climbed on top of me. She began kissing me, with full, thick, saliva drenched lips. Her tongue seemed to be everywhere, invading me, exploring my tonsils.
As I fought to get my breath, her body thrashed and danced against me like she was a stripper working a pole. Nancy was my height, but twenty pounds heavier, and rather than turning me on, she was knocking the wind out of me. Her fingers fumbled inside my shorts, trying to find my penis â€“ which was trying to escape by crawling back up inside my body.
"Jesus, where it is?" Nancy said, breaking free of my lips. "Do you even have one?" she giggled. "Maybe you really are a girl."
"What are you talking about. I'm a man!"
The brown-eyed co-ed laughed as she found my member. "Not by much!" She began squeezing my frightened flesh like she was milking a cow. "God, I never felt one this small before. And it's not even hard."
Mortified, I wiggled and squirmed beneath her, trying to catch my breath.
She yanked down my undershorts. "Damn! You don't even have any hair on your body. I'm not going to get into trouble for molesting a minor, am I? What are you ... like twelve or something?"
"I'm twenty-one!" I said.
"God, you're tinier than my little brother," she laughed. "I'm sorry, but I've just never seen one this small before." She tried pulling at it, trying to masturbate me. "Why can't you get hard? Are you gay or something? Don't you like me? Aren't I attractive to you? Do you want to touch my breasts? Come on. I want to see if it gets any bigger."
Wiggling out from under her, I pushed her hand away and tugged up my underwear. "Please! Stop!"
Nancy chuckled, and let me slide out from under her. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I'm just a little disappointed, that's all. I was hoping to get laid tonight. But if you can't get it up..."
Feeling about ready to cry, I pulled up my pants and quickly drew my shirt over my head, and jumped from the couch. I wanted to run away.
Nancy picked up her robe, pulling it on, closing it over her nude form. "Don't worry," she smiled. "Tonight won't be a total loss. My girlfriends at the sorority are going to laugh their asses off when I tell them this story."
Nancy's laughter ringing in my ears, I stumbled out the door.
She leaned out in the hall and watched me run from her. "Good night... Casanova!"
I practically fell down the stairwell in my hurry to escape.
Great. Just great. My one opportunity to have sex, and I blew it, completely and utterly. And to make matters worse Nancy must have told the story to ever girl on campus, because I spent the rest of senior year on my own.
Things got worse. After what happened with Nancy, I refused to go to any more parties with Doug. While Doug went out and met all kinds of beautiful girls, all I did at night was stay in our dorm room. Alone, I could not help but think about Nancy dropping her robe in front of me... her full breasts... her hand inside my pants. Whenever I thought about this â€“ I got immediately aroused!
A bit too late to do any good, but I could not help but touch myself and masturbate. One night, while I was sitting at my desk chair, looking at some porno on the internet of naked co-eds, one of my other roommates, a freshman named Hank from Altoona, returned home earlier than usual and caught me with my dick in my hand.
When he turned on the light and saw what I was doing, he burst out laughing. He turned the light back out, and said, "I'll let you finish your business and be back later dude."
Mortified, unable to even finish what I was doing, I turned off the computer, and shoved my penis back into my pants. Oh my God!
The rest of my senior year could not go by fast enough. Hank obviously told Doug and the rest of the guys in the dorm, so that I basically spent the rest of the year trying to be invisible.
After college I got a job at an engineering firm, where I met my future wife, Jody. Thank God. I was so thankful that no one at the office knew of my college experience. It was like starting a whole new life, with a clean slate on dating. A second chance at romance!
Jody was older than me by seven years, and was the marketing manager at the firm. She was already well established, had her M.B.A., her own home, a good income, and a lot of respect and friends within the company and community.
Admittedly, Jody was a little overweight. By about 30 pounds. And she dressed like an old school marm and wore her dirty blond hair in a conservative style. But Jody had an incredibly beautiful, angelic face. Her features reminded me of Jody Foster. Plain to some, but beautiful to me. She sung in the local church choir, and was involved in a half dozen professional organizations, which she admitted to me, she only did them to fill her time, because she didn't have a husband.
We met, and although I was only a junior graphic designer in the advertising department, we quickly realized there was a unique chemistry between us. We found ourselves drawn to one another in a most magical way.
We began eating lunch together every day, going out to movies, bowling, and going to the beach together. Within a few month's time were inseparable. By a year's time I considered Jody my best friend. And after two years, after much begging on my part, Jody agreed to marry me.
For thirteen years Jody and I lived an extremely normal, routine life. We decided against children, and raised a cat instead. I though our sex life was fantastic. To me, Jody was just incredible, and I loved every minute with her. Of course, like with most married couples, I suppose our sex life became pretty routine. We did it once a week, every Saturday night, in the same missionary position, with no real variations.
During those 13 years, I thought everything was perfectly fine with our love life. At times it seemed to me that Jody went through the motions of our weekly couplings as if it were a routine she did like making dinner, but she never said anything, so I thought everything was just perfect.
Then suddenly Jody hit 40 and her sexual appetite noticeably increased. I'd always been the one to initiate our weekly bouts, and I'd always traditionally been on top. After her 40th birthday, I noticed Jody was constantly trying to get me to go down on her... something I'd done only rarely, but I'd never realized she enjoyed it so much. And if I was tired and said I had a headache or wasn't in the mood, Jody got pissy with me!
Jody had always been beautiful to me, but after 13 years she'd put on even more weight, till she was tipping the scale at 180 pounds. Which had never bothered me, skinny or with a little extra meat on her shapely butt, I loved my wife with all my heart and soul.
But now suddenly at 40, Jody seemed to go through a Renaissance. She went on a diet, and for once she stuck to it. She became incredibly driven and started going to the gym three times a week, working out, swimming, and taking aerobics and yoga classes.
In nine months time, she looked like an entirely different woman. She'd dropped 50 pounds, and at 5'8", 130 pounds, she'd never looked better in her life.
For the first time since I'd known my wife, she began taking a sudden interest in fashion, and clothes, makeup and shoes. She got her hair and nails done every week. She even started wearing sexy dresses, hip-hugger jean flares and sexy heels that strapped up her calves.
Here Jody was 40, but looked 28, and pulled it off magnificently. There was a bounce in her step and a confidence in her eyes that made me feel incredibly proud of her. Admittedly, married to Jody for 20 years, I couldn't have been happier or more in love. It felt like the perfect life.
The next thing I know Jody announced she was having a Sex Toy party at our house. I really didn't think too much of it, till the night of the party arrived, and my wife told me, "I think you'd better go out to the movies or something darling. I don't think you're going to want to stick around for this. The women are going to get pretty wild." She laughed. "I doubt you would be safe."
Just then the doorbell rang. "Your guests must be arriving," I said. "I'll just go down to the Regal and catch a flick."
"It's probably Nancy, the hostess," Jody said opening the door.
It was Nancy all right. Nancy O'Hara.
The past 13 years had been good to Nancy. She was decked out like a Dominatrix, all in black leather, with 4" heels on her knee high boots. She was in great shape, and dressed as she was, she reminded me of Bette Paige. Later I would find out from Jody, she'd met Nancy in her yoga class.
"Good to see you again," she grinned, shaking my hand vigorously. "I wondered if you might be the same Denny Crowe I knew in college."
Jody pushed me out the door. "I talk to you later darling," she said giving me a peck on the cheek.
I stood outside on my front step, speechless. I just stood there for a few minutes as if paralyzed. Nancy O'Hara was a sex toy hostess? And she was talking to my beloved wife! Oh my God. I thought I'd escaped my embarrassing college years. If Nancy dredged them up and tried to ruin my marriage... I'd... I'd...
I sat in the movie theater not even watching the picture. It was a comedy but I didn't feel much like laughing. It could have been in French, I wouldn't have known. I sat there staring at the screen, replaying over and over in my mind the train wreck of an evening I'd spent with Nancy in her apartment...
After the party and the ladies had cleared out I came home to find Jody cleaning up from the party. Cocktail glasses and empty beer bottles littered the den. My heart dropped. There was Nancy sitting in my chair, legs crossed, grinning at me.
"Ah, she's home," Nancy said. "Stop Jody. Get your little hubby to do it."
Jody blushed at me. "Would you mind helping me darling?" Jody asked.
"Sit down, and let him do it," Nancy commanded. "He's been out sitting down at a movie, while you've been running ragged serving your guests. Take a break. Denny, will you please finish cleaning up. Wash the dishes. And empty the trash."
I looked at my wife, who could only shrug. My face reddened at being ordered around like this in my own house. Fuming, I picked up a martini glass, and empty bowl of chips and carried them into the kitchen.
Behind me, I heard Nancy say, "See. Was that so hard? He was born to serve. And you my princess, were born to rule."
Quietly, I cleaned up the den and kitchen while the two women chatted in the other room. Unfortunately they whispered, so I couldn't hear much. Finally, Nancy left. I heard her say, "Just read the book. It's all in the book."
Afterwards we retired to our bedroom, where we both began getting undressed and ready for bed. As I stepped out of my shoes, I noticed a new hardback on Jody's night stand.
As Jody went back and forth in and out of the bathroom, getting washed up and changed, I picked up the book. "Female Supremacy by Edith Scarsdale," I read. "Honey? What's this all about?"
"What do you think," Jody said undressing and pulling on her shortie nightgown. "Look what else I bought." She lay seven pairs of women's panties on our bed... each with a day of the week written across the front... all of them appeared to be standard women's bikini underwear, except for Saturday's which was made of see-through black nylon mesh.
"Very sexy," I said. "Can't wait to see you in the black one's."
"No silly, they're not for me, I bought them for you. From Nancy. She suggested them."
"Oh come on Denny, let's have a little fun. Our sex life has been so vanilla for years. Let's put a little spice into our life. We don't have any kids. We can do whatever we want for a change. Remember how we used to make love outside in the pool? We haven't done anything romantic like that in years."
"And you think me wearing women's underwear is romantic?"
Jody grinned at me devilishly. "Nancy said she thought you would look quite sexy in them, and I agree. I can't wait to see you in them."
"What else did you and Nancy talk about?" I asked nervously.
Evasively, not looking me in the eyes, Jody pulled back the sheets on our bed. "I don't want to talk about that right now. Let's just say that she's given me a couple of very good ideas on how we can spice up our love life."
"Our love life is fine! It doesn't need spicing!"
Jody looked at me incredulously, like I had to be joking. "Honey, come on, you have to admit, our sex life is pretty boring. We've been doing it in the missionary position for the last 13 years! You have absolutely no interest anymore. You just go through the motions. I feel like I have to practically beg you to go down on me."
"That's not true!" I said defensively. "I look forward to it the nights we make love! Jody, you know how much I love you. I'd do anything for you."
"You know I would. I'd walk though fire for you."
Jody chuckled. "Alrighty then. That means you won't have any trouble throwing away your nasty old skidmark underwear, and wearing these panties for me. Right?"
Shaking my head, I sighed and agreed. "Okay dear." If it made Jody happy, it made me happy. "But that's as far as I'm going!" I cried. "I don't want to get into any of this weird, kinky sex stuff."
"Of course darling. Oh, and something else," Jody added. "We're going to read that book. Female Supremacy by Edith Scarsdale. Nancy told me she and her husband Doug read it together, and it totally saved their marriage."
"Doug?" I asked. No, it couldn't be. Not my old college roommate? "Nancy didn't say whether her husband was black or not, did she?"
"No, she didn't," Jody replied. "Why, do you know him? Do you want me to ask?"
I shook my head no, and shuddered. I looked at the book in my hands. Beneath the title was the subhead, which I read out loud: "Female Supremacy. A look at female dominate and male submissive relationships."
I opened the cover to the table of contents and read through the headings. "Chapter one, The Submissive Male Sissy... Chapter two, Female Domination Through Discipline... honey, are you sure you know what you're getting into?"
Jody's eyes narrowed. "Of course. I know exactly what I'm doing. We're going to read that book together. Starting tonight. Put on a pair of your panties, and let's get into bed and read the first chapter together out loud. It'll be fun."
We did too. I wasn't sure I was completely buying everything this Scarsdale women wrote. She threw around all kinds of statistical figures, claiming women college graduates were up... males were down. Women were naturally smarter... stronger... more suited to command. To listen to Edith Scarsdale, you'd think all women were the superior gender for a million and one reasons. And just as naturally, all males were good for â€“ was serving women.