Conducting The Survey

When I was in college, there was a big push to teach students statistics and survey principles and techniques.

I imagine this was thought to be important so that we could mine the silent majority for trends and ideas before making our mark on the world. Also, the field I was considering going into was highly dependent upon ratings, surveys and audience evaluation.

So, by enrolling in a class on research methodology, we were all subjected to an appeal by the teacher to sign up to help conduct occasional research in the college community. The positions were paid, part-time, and very temporary.
I raised my hand and volunteered to help on one rush job.

The teacher and several others had contracted with the local cable TV company to do research on their "public access users" and to find out a bit about them. Oh, the company had records on who they were, where they lived, phone numbers and generic data so they could be counted and found, but they knew nothing much about who was using their services.

So, one afternoon, I was trained by the teacher and a grad assistant on how to conduct a survey without biasing the respondent. It made perfect sense, and they were paying me minimum wage to conduct about ten such surveys. We had less than 10 days to complete the research before the numbers would be crunched and the report prepared.

The form was nothing special, but fleshed out education , income, political leanings, further plans to use the system, satisfaction with the cable company, that sort of thing.

I had done two or three of them, when I came upon a listing that would forever change my life. I knocked on an apartment door of an upscale condo, and it was opened by a white woman in her late 20s, a little older than I. She welcomed me in, and learned who and what i wanted. I was surprised, cause I had called earlier, and the man who had answered was black and said I could come over about dinner time.

As I arrived, he was clearing the dishes off the table. They had just finished eating. He was the contact, but the woman was very interested in the form and the survey as well. We all sat on the couch and I launched into the questions.

I got a picture of them after a short while. He was an employed state office worker, and she was a former grad student who was studying for a law degree. They were living together, and had been for almost two years now. (They turned and kissed in front of me for effect.) The man had been involved in public access just for one or two shows that had happened in the prior two years, and he was satisfied with how the shows had gone down. She had helped in the background.

I realized that his income from the State was the support for this couple, and it occurred to me that I didn't know any other interracial couple at all. This was 1978, as I recall, and interracial dating was not all that common yet.

As we talked, I put down the form and told them how surprised and pleased I was to meet such a together in-tune with one another, so comfortable living together, and so un-concerned with the obvious racial contrast. They looked at me surprised.

I back tracked and explained that I was from a small town about an hour away, and that I had never met an interracial couple, let alone had much interaction with a black person in my home town. He nodded, and I blathered on, revealing that just by noting it, I was showing my racial segregation background. I realize this, and apologized, assuring them that I was just so surprised and happy for them that I wanted to share my amusement.

We went on with the survey form and shortly, it was done. When it ended, the woman asked me if I would like a drink, and I declined, saying I wasn't much of a drinker (tea-to-taller, if the truth be known) and then the man asked if I wanted to smoke a joint. I told him I didn't smoke either, and he asked if I minded if they did.

Against all my background, I told him I didn't mind, and that it was his house and to go ahead, if he liked. He responded that they usually smoked a joint after dinner, and before they made love.

It hit me like a ton of bricks, but I tried not to show it. I just sat there with my legs crossed, watching him roll a joint while we chatted. "They just admitted they have sex" my mind kept telling me. "Well, why not," I asked myself, "They are a committed couple."

I started to ask them about their relationship, how they had met, what they thought would happen...if marriage was in the future, kids, or plans for the future. I didn't get a real firm answer, cause I don't think they had nailed it down yet. They weren't married, and they both agreed that they would probably not have kids without getting married, but that there were no immediate plans yet.

I decided to be bold, and asked what they'd do if a child came along. There was an awkward pause, and the guy asked if this was for the survey. Oh no, I replied, I was done with that. I was just really intrigued by the whole subject.

He said that they were careful, and she said they practiced birth control...of a kind. I looked quizzically at them, and she said, when it's necessary... and I got it that they used some form of birth control when she was fertile.

Instantly, all sorts of images popped into my head of him screwing her, their two-tone flesh uniting in various positions, and them coming to an ****** together. I began to wonder just how large he was, and if that was the attraction. "Well, I guess if you're in love..." I started.

But he interrupted me and said, "You've never been in love, have you? In fact, you've never had sex with a woman, have you?" I was caught off guard, and admitted that I had not.

They both took a couple of hits off the joint they were passing back and forth, and offered it again to me, but I shook my head No. "What are you here for then," he asked while trying not to exhale. I wasn't sure. I should have already left. But there was something cool about the couple and since it was my last interview of the day, I had time to kill. "I don't know," I said.

"Wanna see us ****?" she asked. And if I hadn't been sitting on the floor already, I would have fallen over. "Boy, you should see your face," she said, laughing at me. The guy also was chuckling, and nodding, "Yeah" he agreed.

"Well, it's not every day that someone asks me that," I started to get defensive, and the guy cut me off, saying, "It's cool, It's cool."
"But, do you wanna watch," he asked again. And it occurred to me that they were serious. I looked between the two of them and said it aloud, "You're serious?"

"Yeah, man," he affirmed, "and maybe you'll learn something about black and white relations... how we do it, and what we don't care about, and what goes where..."  He was mock serious.
By now, she was objecting, saying "Don't lecture the kid, Sam... just let him decide on his own." And I realized she was cool with it as well.

"Sure, I guess," I stammered. And that was it. I had just agreed to watch them make love. And they started.

First as they finished the joint, they kissed, and then they were hugging and rubbing each other's back and arms while they were doing it. "Where do you want me to go, to sit, to watch, I mean?" I asked with serious intent.

As they came up for air, he said casually, "Anywhere you want, man" and preceded to kiss her deeply and started unbuttoning his shirt. When he got it off, and showed his broad, curly hair on his massive chest and muscled arms, I realized he was athletic and he probably had been on a scholarship at the state university.

By now, he was kissing her and pulling her sweater over her head and arms. She had no bra on but seemed unconcerned about it. I shifted uncomfortably as my **** began to grow at the sight of her ****.

They laid back on the carpeted living room and I leaned my back against the couch, still watching carefully, as his hands roamed over her chest, breasts, and down her thighs. She had her white arms up around his short hair and neck and continued to kiss at him, plucking at his hair and ear playfully.

When he ran his hands down her front and began unsnapping her blue jeans, she said out loud that sometimes they just massaged each other for a good long time while *******. I winced at the sound of the word. It seemed so crude compared to what I was watching.

She wriggled out of her jeans and he got up on his knees while she unbuttoned his pants, stroking his bulge and nibbling at his navel. I couldn't believe they were actually going to get naked in front of me this summer evening, and I started looking around nervously.

"What are you looking for," she asked me.
"What if someone should come?" I asked.
And without hesitating while he slipped off his pants and began to shuck off his boxer shorts, he replied, "Well, I certainly plan to..." and she began to laugh at that  thought.

"No, I mean, what if someone walks in, or looks in," I said.
And he replied, "Man, you're already watching. So what? Let them watch!"
And I realized again that I was totally out of place.

"You want to join in," she asked softly as he continued to nibble her boobs and run his hand down her front.
I shook my head NO, and he turned to look at me, waiting for me to answer.
"No...thanks," I said aloud, and he turned back to her.

Now he was spreading her legs and getting ready to lay between them. "You got to be careful doing it on the floor," he warned me. "You can get some nasty rug burns!"
She laughed and agreed, "But usually, by now, we'd go upstairs to the bedroom, but because you're here...." She let it trail off as she accepted him on top of her.

I could see his firm **** from between his legs poke at her *****, and I had to remind myself that this was real. I was actually seeing them ******* right in front of me. The whole process had been amazingly fast to me, and I thought maybe they were going to put me on and then kick me out before doing it. But with a few tentative strokes, he slid into her and then held still, kissing her deeply, laying on top of her.

"Well, don't let me stop you," I said in the silence. And then he lifted off from her and said, "Alright, let's go then." And without another word, he pulled out of her, stood up with his large stiff **** slick and wet, and held out a hand to help her up. They turned and walked to the wrought iron railing to climb the stairs, and she said over her shoulder, "Well, come on," to me, and like a little puppy, I followed them upstairs to their bedroom.

It was hung with draperies or Ty-dyed drapes and wall hangings, and looked like an over-sized mattress that was lumpy all over... .sort of like a futon, though I didn't know the word at the time. He led her over to the bed, walking on top of the mattress, and holding her hand, laid her down. When she was almost down, she stopped and did something else I had never seen. She started licking his ****, and it sprung back to it's full height, nodding slightly in front of her face.

I had chosen a seat in a deep hammock style chair and when she broke off from nibbling at his ****, she commented that sometimes they used that hammock chair that I was sitting in to **** in. Again, I felt intrusive and not sure what I should do.

Then finally, she laid back and he laid down on top of her, slowly penetrating her, and after some tender kisses, they began to rock together is a slow, regular rhythm, slow and steady.

I kept silent and just sat there, watching and wondering how long he could last, and the couple gave no notice of me at all. Once in a while, one would whisper something to the other, but I couldn't make out the low murmur of voices, as they exchanged comments or words.

Soon, I could hear her start to moan and after a few moments of this, he quickened his pace a little, and she started to gasp and make noises that sounded to me like whimpering. Eventually, the sounds started to make words, as she said, "yes, yes, yes"...

And the bed started to squeak ever so lightly in time with his thrusts, which were getting more firm but held very steady. "ooooo....oooooo.....0-o--o-o-o-o"
she moaned, as he continued pushing into her, and then "Oh Baby, that was great" she said, and he started very forcefully pushing harder and slower against her upturned legs, and he started to grunt after a half minute, half a growl, half a grunt, as she commanded, "Give it to me, baby, I want it all."

And after another few moments of his shoving their bodies firmly toward the headboard, he stopped and heaved a heavy sigh, and they kissed deeply and long.

And after a few moments of murmuring, she said, "Is he still here?" and laughed, and he looked around at me as he laid down beside her and said, "Well kid, what did you think?"

"That was amazing," I said sincerely!"
And he said, "Well give us a couple of minutes to rest up and we'll show you some more."

"No, please, I've intruded enough," I excused myself. "I'll let myself out downstairs," I said.

"Are you sure," said the black guy, "'cause there's plenty more where that came from," he laughed.

"No, really," I thanked them. "I ought to go. You two have a good time, I know I did."

"OK, well, anytime you want to learn some tricks of your own, come back," he said with a laugh in his voice, and the woman swung her arm with a playful slap, that he deflected.

"No, really," she said, "you're welcome to stay."

"No thanks," I said sincerely, "I've got what I came for."

"So did we," she said. And again they both laughed.

And I went downstairs without another word, picked up my clipboard, and let myself out of their life. I never saw them again, but they'll always be screwing in my memory.
studfinder studfinder
56-60, M
Jan 16, 2013