Black Man One Ch. 16byWeak_White_Wimp©
The following week went by and I had not seen Julie or Tra'mon.
Many thoughts of texting my wife crossed my mind, but by now I was more timid than I ever was before since I discovered Julie was "with" the black man. I also knew the young black stud would become angry if I tried calling or texting Julie, and I was afraid to get beaten up by him yet again.
In desperation, I confronted one of the other white husbands in the condo building to see if he had seen Julie or Tra'mon lately. I went to Mark.
Mark told me that he had heard about them going on a vacation together to the Bahamas. He sympathized with me and the humiliation I was feeling. Then, he hesitated and admitted to me that the young black stud had slapped him when he didn't want to invest in his business, so he gave in and willingly agreed to.
"Wh-what?" I asked Mark.
"I-I didn't know. Oh my gosh." I replied.
Mark's eyes lowered in defeat. He informed me that the young black man had "bullied" him and all the other white husbands as well. He admitted that Tra'mon had also told them all not to show their faces around the pool area, and that they were all afraid and intimidated of him too. This explained why I had not been seeing any of the other husbands hanging out in the pool area we loved so much.
"Geezuz, Mark. I-I'm so sorry." I whispered.
"My wife and I are separating too. I think you should know that I'm leaving tomorrow, and I won't be back." Mark announced.
"What? Are you serious? Wh-why?" I inquired.
"I'd rather not say. Listen, I better go now. Maybe I'll call you in a few weeks and see how things are going." he explained.
"Gosh, Mark. I'm really sorry. Please call me." I replied, watching in disbelief as he walked away with a sad look on his face.
By that weekend, Mark was gone and his wife Karen stayed behind. I couldn't imagine them being separated and ready to divorce, just as I could have never pictured Julie and I being apart.
This realization of this one 5'9" tall black man intimidating and bullying all 13 of us 6' tall or taller white husbands in the condo building humiliated me. We were all so afraid to confront him as he continued to show off his overpowering black masculinity in the most rude and obnoxious manner possible.
The black stud was rudely "rubbing our faces in it" and we knew it. Yet, all 13 of us were too weak and cowardly to face him. I was, perhaps, more afraid of the black man than anyone else.
That Saturday morning I woke up with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't exactly sure why but then I suddenly heard the sound of the black stud's voice. It came from afar and that is when I looked out from the window of my now lonely condo apartment kitchen and down to the pool area.
Tra'mon was sitting in his regular spot on his personal chaise lounge chair, which was positioned across the pool as always. This time, my wife Julie was with him and my eyes opened in utter shock and amazement.
Like all the other white women we had seen with him since his abrupt arrival into our community, Julie was kneeling on the ground at his feet. She was dressed in a black bikini bottom and topless, and she was obediently massaging the young black stud's bare feet. He just sat back confidently with his shades on and his head tilted back as he relaxed.
"What the hell?" I gasped in humiliation.
"Now he's making Julie do the same thing as the others?!" I shouted in silent disbelief.
"How could he be doing this out in the open, and right in my face like this?!" I screamed inside.
"Why doesn't Julie have her top on?!" I screamed even louder inside.
The black man's "in your face" attitude truly demoralized me. He was being so obnoxious and rude as he flaunted his conquest of my blonde wife in plain view. He knew that I would never be man enough to say anything about it either. I also knew that I was far too much of a wimp and timid to approach him.
In humiliation, I just stared at my white wife kneeling at the black stud's feet with her supple breasts exposed. There were no others in the pool area, but Julie would never have exposed her breasts like that before she met the black man.
"Julie seems so different." I admitted to myself, in shame.
"She doesn't really look happy either." I tried convincing myself.
"I've got to find a way to talk to Julie again. I need to." I continued telling myself.
But, I had no idea how I would accomplish this.
I was terrified to approach her now that she was "with" the black man. I knew that he would "kick my ass" even worse than ever before if I made even the slightest attempt to engage her in a conversation. Sometime soon, I began to wonder if she would be filing for a divorce. It was this thought of possible divorce that caused me to panic miserably.
I just had to know.
I certainly did not want a divorce myself. I was still hopelessly hanging onto any meager thread of "hope" to get her back.
It was later that same Saturday when I noticed the young black stud walking out to his car without Julie. I couldn't believe it, and I shook in fear as I watched him drive away. That is when I began thinking that this could be a chance to finally talk to my beautiful blonde wife.
We had been separated for a little more than a couple of weeks by now, and I thought maybe there was still hope of convincing her to come back to me.
My hands trembled as I wrote a long note and then made my way to the black man's apartment. I knew Julie was there alone.
As I moved to the door I heard the sound of her vacuuming. She was now obviously cleaning his condo apartment when I timidly tapped on the door. She wasn't answering and I knocked a little louder and waited. But, there was still no answer.
"Maybe Julie can't hear the knock?" I thought to myself.
I thought about knocking again, but I was feeling rather afraid and insecure. Cowardly, I bent to one knee and slipped the note I had written under the door. When I did so, I realized just how ridiculous of a decision this was.
"Geezuz. Why did I do that? What if he comes home and sees the note before Julie does?" I said to myself.
My thoughtless decision stemmed from my total and complete intimidation of this black stud, and I began to panic more. Frantically, I bent down even lower on both of my knees to look under the door. I saw the note I had just slipped inside and tried to retrieve it. In desperation, I managed to grasp the folded paper with two fingers.
The sound of the vacuum continued.
Just as I was able to pull the note out with my stretched out fingers, I felt his strong and intimidating presence.
When I looked up and then down the short hallway I noticed Tra'mon standing there holding his car keys in his powerful hands. My mouth hung wide open in shock as he peered at me from 25 feet away. His face was stern and his dominant glare consumed any shred of masculinity that may have remained in me.
"Oh my gawd!" I yelled to myself in fear, as I stood up holding the note in my weak hands.
I was literally caught "red handed" as I stood in the hallway before the black stud's door. My entire body trembled like it had never trembled before as I stood there watching him step closer to me.
His short strides were slow and calculated, and as "cocky" and "commanding" as one can describe. It was as if the black man was making me stand there and wait for him to increase the intensity of my fear. He seemed to be doing all this deliberently.
Humiliatingly, when Tra'mon got to within 10 feet of me I unintentionally "wet" myself. Yes, it was true. I was just so afraid of the young black man's anger and getting beaten up again that I completely wet the front of my pants, and it was right there embarrassingly in plain view. The young stud just smiled, amused by the taller white wimp in front of him.
He stood before me with this grin upon his face and took the note from my weak grip like he was taking candy from a baby. He read it right before me, in silence, then tapped the side of my face three times as he laughed to himself. His stare further intimidated me before he casually turned and decided to head inside his condo apartment.
The black stud left me standing alone in the hallway shaking like a leaf after I had just "peed" in my pants before him.
Embarrassed, I ran off to my apartment like a big sissy feeling relieved that he had spared me. For some unknown reason, the black stud didn't seem to get angry by my attempt to contact Julie. This confused me.
I felt so embarrassed by what had just occurred, yet I was glad that my wife had not seen this humiliating scene when it happened. Perhaps, the young black man was so amused by my fear of him that he decided not to beat me up again?
I wasn't sure. But, that small glimmer of hope was all that I had to hold onto.
A few hours later, I peeked out from my little bathroom window into the parking lot to see my beautiful white wife with the black stud. She was dressed in a black, ultra-mini dress with tanned nylon stockings and black heels. Her blonde hair was coifed impeccably and the black man was dressed to the nines. I stared longingly as I realized they were going out for the night, and I shivered in humiliation while I watched Julie holding the driver's side door open for her much younger black boss, who was now her supposed boyfriend.
The defeat I felt was unbearable. I do not know what came over me but I suddenly felt compelled to know where they were going. Although thoroughly embarrassed, I reasoned that he had to be taking her to the same club they had always frequented, "The Black Jacques Club."
I decided to look over Julie's dresser where she had so often applied her makeup. Right there on the top was that small, black matchbook from the club he was always taking her to.
I stared at the matchbook for a moment before making the decision to check it out. I thought that I might be able to "sneak" into the club discreetly to see exactly what was going on. My crazy plan was to wait by the ladies room and speak to her when she came by.
"Perhaps, I can get her off to the side alone to talk?" I thought.
"He wouldn't do anything to me there, in a public place." I tried reasoning.
Nevertheless, I got dressed and walked out to my car to prepare for the drive to this night club. The long drive was 45 miles, and it caused all sorts of new insecurities in me. I had made so many poor decisions in the past weeks and I was being outclassed by this black thug type in every way imagineable.
That is when I changed my mind and decided to simply watch from the outside of the club rather than go inside.
Sometimes, the loss of a wife or girlfriend will cause a white man to do things that he knows are uncharacteristic of him. It causes us weaker and more humble white men to do immature things, and this would be just one example of that. By the time I got to "The Black Jacques Club" I became a scared, timid and paranoid wreck.
For some reason, more masculine black men never seem to be as "affected" by the loss of a woman in their lives. They seem to simply go onto the next one, or ones with confidence.
The parking lot was very large and moderately crowded. Luckily, I noticed the perfect place to park. I positioned my car in the furthest spot off to the left of the arched entrance where I noticed Tra'mon's black Bentley car. His car was parked into what seemed more like a V.I.P. area where only 6 cars could fit.
From my position, I could clearly see the full driver's side of his shiny black car from about 65 feet away. I was glad that my car was partially hidden under some overhanging trees in the darkest part of this lot, and this provided me with a small measure of comfort for the time being.
I didn't know exactly what I was doing there, or why I had made such a stupid decision. But, as my paranoia increased I began to sweat profusely. It suddenly occurred to me that I could be in deep trouble if I were to be caught, but I was beyond the point of reproach as the crowd began to filter in.
I simply sat back and watched the entrance to this luxurious night club from a distance. Two tough-looking black men stood out front as the outside bouncers. Their appearance was equally as frightening to me as I slumped further down into my car seat and watched.
Immediately, I was faced with the obvious and demoralizing fact that every woman entering this club was a white woman. And, every single one of them was with a black man. There wasn't even one single or solitary black woman or white man in site. Every black stud going into the club had at least one attractive white woman with them. Many of these men even had two, three or four white women dressed in a variety of sexier outfits escorting them.
"Geez, what the heck?" I gasped.
I watched astonished as the first 50, 60 and then 70 white women entered the club within the first hour. Then, another 30 or 40 pretty white women entered the massive club in the second hour as the loud music punded away from a distance.
"Krist! There has to be over 100 white women in there with those black guys?!" I shuddered.
It was amazing how defeated I felt as a white man. I was sitting there alone in my car and "cowering" in the parking lot as I watched over 100 of the most beautiful white women entering this club with black men.
Without notice, I then spotted my wife Julie stepping outside of the club with the young black stud. After two full hours of waiting in my car like a frightened sissy, she suddenly appeared looking as gorgeous as ever. The black minidress she wore was shorter than I had ever seen her in, and the black heeled pumps had to be at least 5 inches high. I sat there shocked as they milled around the front entrance.
Julie appeared a little "tipsy" as she stood quietly and off to the side while Tra'mon began talking to the two black bouncers, who seemed to hand him something that resembled a marijuana cigarette.
I slithered further down into my car seat as the black stud suddenly took Julie by her left elbow, and his grip seemed a little firm. Without a word being said to her, he began escorting her towards the parking lot in my direction.
"Oh Gawd. I hope he doesn't see me?" I quivered.
With my eyes now barely peering over the dashboard I watched in awe as they turned towards the black man's Bentley car. They stopped right before the driver's side door as the young black stud finally released his grip of my blonde wife's elbow. Suddenly, she lit Tra'mon's marijuana cigarette called a "blunt" before placing the small lighter into her purse. I "cracked" my window a little more in an attempt to hear what they might be saying, but no words were ever spoken.
In total degradation, I watched as my beautiful blonde wife instantly fell to her stockinged knees on the dirty pavement before the tough-looking black man. She didn't hesitate a moment before she unzipped Tra'mon's fly and pulled out his mammoth-sized dark cock. It was devastating to see the gargantuan size of this black stud's thick cock at full mast for that brief moment before Julie took it into her mouth. Even in the dimly lit parking lot it was obvious that his cock was twice as long and five times thicker than mine was.
Obediently, my blonde wife sucked on the young black man's cock as he stood above her in a commanding position. He casually and carelessly smoked the blunt cigarette without even looking down to her.
My face "flushed" to an unimagineable red tone as I watched my wife sucking on another man's cock in the parking lot of this club. Ashamed and humiliated, I couldn't believe what I was looking at.
"This can't be really happening?!" I sniveled.
My pretty blonde wife just knelt there diligently sucking on the massive black cock of this young stud. It continued on and on for at least 10 minutes before I spotted two other young black men approaching them. They simply greeted Tra'mon with "high five" slaps of their hands while Julie remained on her knees submissively.
"What up, Dawg!" the two black men laughed as they greeted Tra'mon, ignoring the white woman on her knees before them.
Julie never flinched. It was as if she was used to sucking a black man's cock in the presence of others, and that strange reality made my inferior white balls shrivel up even smaller. The two black men ended their quick greeting by saying something else to Tra'mon that I was unable to understand.
"Yeah. See ya' later dawgs." he returned as they left the area.
I watched as Julie continued sucking on the black man's obnoxiously huge cock as he firmly gripped the top of her blonde hair with one hand.
Within seconds, he seemed to be yanking on her hair with greater verocity as my wife's arms moved to a more servile position behind her. Then, he placed the half-smoked marijuana blunt cigarette onto a small, tin ashtray on the top of his black Bentley car.
He then placed his other hand on top of Julie's head and began pulling her face in roughly. It was embarrassingly obvious that he was now fucking her throat and mouth with force. My wife's arms remained locked behind her back as the black stud increased the intensity.
Moments later, Tra'mon's face grimaced as he began exploding inside her mouth. After a mere second, he pulled his enormous black cock out past the lips of Julie's mouth and completely ejaculated all over her face. He stood there flooding my wife's pretty white face like it was a fire hose putting out a forest fire. The vast amount of sperm coming out of this young black stud was incomprehensible and uncanny.
I was absolutely mortified and awed as I watched Julie kneeling before him in silence. She simply accepted what seemed like his degradation of her. He simply had used her mouth for his own pleasure and his thick cum was splattered all over her pretty face from her eyes on down to her chin.
Her forehead was untouched, but the large volume of the black stud's cum visibly ran down her cheeks and chin. It dripped onto the front of her black minidress in the most exaggerated manner conceivable. It was obvious even from my distance of 60 plus feet away.
Almost callously, the young black man "shook" his elephatine-sized cock free of the remaining remnants of his seed. Purposely, he shook it all over my beautiful blonde wife who remained in her kneeling position looking up to him. Then, he simply "wiped" and "smeared" his black cock onto Julie's left arm before placing it back into the pouch of his bikini underwear.
Julie didn't move. She simply knelt before him looking up to him in awe of his masculinity. She was quiet and, in return, the black stud never said a word. He merely grabbed the lit joint from his car and continued smoking it as he glanced down at my wife satisfied.
Tra'mon must have stood there for another ten full minutes. He finished his marijuana cigarette and lit a regular cigarette, and Julie waited on her knees patiently as he finished. That is when he simply "motioned" for her to get up, and she did so without hesitation.
The young black stud never even offered her a tissue or a napkin. He gave her nothing as she stood there in silence before him with his thick seed plastered and drying onto her pretty face. Moments later, he "motioned" for her to follow. Julie looked flustered and her knees seemed weaker as she obediently followed behind the black man towards the club entrance.
The shame and humiliation I felt while witnessing this degrading scene was unbelievable. In many ways, I struggled to understand why my beautiful blonde wife of so many years would leave me to be with such a crude man. In another way, I was humbled and completely defeated by seeing this black man's raw strength and power. I knew that I was outmatched by him, and I grew even more intimidated by him after seeing how he treated her.