2 White Wives & 2 Black Men Ch. 04

From: Monica H-------

To: Greg H-------

Date: January 27, 2019 11:42 AM

Subject: My Sex-Filled Weekend Romp, Ch. 4

Hon, I can't believe it's now been a full week since this happened!! While you're away on your business trip, I'm in bed with my Sunday morning coffee and my laptop. This finally gave me a chance to write down the next part of my weekend adventure. There were so many conversations that I had to reconstruct from memory. Sorry for making you wait so long.

PART 10: THE RENDEZVOUS

Back in the hotel room, DeShawn was talking in a hushed voice on a cheap flip phone.

"Wuz up, yo? Where to meet you at?" DeShawn asked frenetically.

We couldn't decipher what the person on the other end of the call was saying.

"Yo...yo...Tyreeq, I don't know where dat bitch-ass nigga be," DeShawn said through gritted teeth as he tried to communicate something to Abdi with his eyes.

DeShawn hung up the phone and announced to Abdi, "Tyreeq gonna meet us here."

Despite his tough-guy demeanor, I could sense that DeShawn was becoming increasingly agitated. Abdi shrugged as he rummaged through his backpack. He then pulled out a big black handgun.

Abdi announced with glee, "My clips loaded with 15 rounds if these nigga'z want problems!"

Jacquie snapped at Abdi, "What the hell are you doing bringing a .40 caliber Glock into my hotel room?!"

"Holy shit," I exclaimed before asking, "Jax, how do you know what kind of gun that is?"

Jacquie replied, "You do know I've been a member of the NRA my whole life. I used to go hunting with my dad when I was a little girl."

"You own a gun?" I said in astonishment.

"It's not with me," Jacquie revealed, "I don't like talking about it and getting into debates on the Second Amendment."

The black men ignored this exchange between the two of us as they continued their own conversation.

"My nigga, check-it...there ain't no sleep till shit straight," Abdi advised as he held the gun upright, "Dis gonna stir up a real hornet nest. We better be ready fo' war."

"Dat shit not necessary," DeShawn said dismissively, "Dose clowns never been out the 'hood, we safe up here."

"This piece not for dem," Abdi replied, "I more worried about Tyreeq."

"What da fuck you talk'n bout, nigga?" DeShawn responded with genuine puzzlement.

"You know Tyreeq acting paranoid and shit. Tyreeq always sayin' he got a traitor in his midst." Abdi explained.

"I feel dat, dawg. But I don't see no choice. It ain't like we can get the fuck on up outta here," DeShawn said dismissively.

DeShawn and Abdi were dressed much differently from the previous night. Gone were their GQ-style outfits. Now they were wearing tank tops, oversized hoodies, and wide-legged pants which bunched around their Pumas. It was quite the transformation. They looked like real gangstas!

I was beginning to realize that this may have been more than just an appearance; I could have misjudged them. Abdi probably had an unregistered firearm in his possession. Clearly, they might not be the black gentlemen who I thought they were the previous night.

I had picked out the Lululemon yoga pants and blue crop top from the small selection of clothes you had packed for me. (Just so you know, I was wearing my pink thong. I skipped wearing a bra.) Jacquie wore mauve leggings and a comfy off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. I know you would have loved it if we had put on something sexier. However, Jacquie and I gravitated to more comfortable clothing for our trip to the mall.

Turns out, Jacquie had made a mistake. Despite wearing leggings, she had abided by the "no panties" rule and ended up displaying a fairly obvious camel toe. Given that we were distracted by the conversation between Abdi and DeShawn, I didn't notice this issue until we were already at the store, and it was too late!! She didn't even have a jacket to cover it up. She was mortified!!!

We decided not to bother with wearing our winter coats because there was a six-level shopping mall located below the hotel. The four of us walked straight from the lobby to the mall. I held hands with Abdi while Jacquie snuggled up beside DeShawn. I felt tense going out in public with two black men who were not our husbands. I prayed that we did NOT run into anyone we know!

Fortunately, we didn't see anyone who would recognize us. Instead, I was shocked by the uncomfortable glances from strangers at the mall. I didn't think racism was still a problem today. Now I fully understand that it's a sad fact of life that racism still exists in this country! I couldn't keep track of how many scowls and scornful looks we endured. And it wasn't just from old people, either. While Jacquie was at a drinking fountain, away from the rest of the group, she had the misfortune of having a young white guy sneak up behind her to say that she was a "race traitor." He screeched right into her ear, "Mudshark!" By the time she processed what had happened, he was gone.

I was heartbroken over the situation. I really loved both of these black men, and we had so much fun together, but these strangers couldn't get past their skin color. It was especially surprising given that we were in the middle of a cosmopolitan big city. Every time we were the recipients of these blatant stares, I took the opportunity to be extra affectionate with my black date, much to the haters' chagrin.

Tyreeq was waiting for us when we arrived at the food hall. The blood drained from my face as he slowly stood up. Before us was a 6-foot-9 man with pitch-black skin and long dreadlocks, and what I can only assume was a 270-pound frame. DeShawn had warned us that Tyreeq was a "dangerous Haitian," whatever that meant. There was something in his body language that made my stomach twist. I had a strange feeling that he had just murdered someone. A chill ran down my spine.

Even Tyreeq's face was kind of scary-looking. His facial features were huge, with a broad nose and enormous mouth. The deep cavities of his eyes reminded me of a skull. The lower half of his face protruded outwards, resembling those illustrations of Homo erectus or maybe a bulldog mastiff mix. At this point, I began to realize that I, too, was making SO MANY judgments based on his physical appearance when I thought I treated everyone the same regardless of racial background! I felt a strong sense of guilt, and purposely closed the gap between us. I NEEDED to get to know this black man as a real person!!

I introduced myself with an outstretched hand, "I'm Monica."

"Mmm, what do we got here? A sexy li'l Camila Cabello. We got Penélope Cruz right here wit' us in real life. Shit, you pretty as fuck." Tyreeq stated matter-of-factly.

Tyreeq's expression was cold. He gave me this terrific compliment about my beauty, but in a bored voice, like it was some tedious chore, I was so unimportant that he didn't know why he bothered.

He then turned his chilling stare towards Jacquie, "Well, god damn you hot. I only got two words for you: Candice Swanepoel."

"Who is that?" Jacque asked in wonder.

Abdi interjected, "Oh, she jus' some Victoria Secret model dat Tyreeq always say he gonna make his wife."

"A Victoria's Secret model??" Jacquie repeated cheerfully.

"Where ya find these two total smokeshows? Are they racist?" Tyreeq asked indifferently.

"Heyy, I think we already proved we're not racist last night," I blurted out.

"Too many white girls love black between the SHEETS, but show no love fo' black when they out in the STREETS," DeShawn noted.

Abdi proposed, "Tyreeq, why don't ya give Monica an' Jacquie the 'racism test' so we can all find out."

Jacquie looked at all three black men with indignation. She seemed offended at the implication that she might be racist. Although it was less crowded than usual, the food hall had quite a number of people, and I began to surmise what this "test" was all about.

I nodded my head that I was ready. Tyreeq pulled me by the shoulders so that I was standing right up against him.

"If ya step back cuz you scared or embarrass, Monica, it prove you secretly a racist," Tyreeq instructed briskly.

It could have been tempting to take a step backward, I was practically pinned to this black titan. Much to my surprise, this didn't bother me. How do you describe when you're attracted to something, yet intimidated at the same time?

Tyreeq placed his open palm on my forehead. I relinquished control as his large black hand gently moved down my face. Submissively, I nibbled on his fingers as he dragged them over my mouth. He smiled at me before his giant paw started the trip down my body.

"Space dose fingers out!" Abdi urged Tyreeq as he traced his big black hand down between my small boobs. He chuckled and opened his hand, his pinkie and thumb running lightly over my nipples. It became quite apparent that I wasn't wearing a bra.

"Lower, slower; lower, slower!" DeShawn and Abdi started to quietly chant.

In the end, I was standing there with Tyreeq's palm firmly cupped between my thighs.

"Are you done?" I asked, unable to prevent the smile from breaking onto my face (were they listening to President Trump when he said, "You can grab 'em by the pussy?").

"Bitch, be quiet," Tyreeq hushed, and his lips were on mine. It was a pulse-racing kiss, no tongues but still open-mouthed, and I wanted him to drag his mouth down my body, proving to myself at least that I wasn't a racist! I hesitantly stuck my tongue in his mouth, and the tips of our tongues met. They danced together delightfully, it was a highly charged experience that left me lost in a deep ocean of desire.

I could sense heads turning around the food hall. We were having a small makeout session in full view of everyone.

"Wow!" I said as the kiss ended.

Tyreeq spoke softly in my ear, "I know you special, girl, cuz I know too many!"

"Thanks," I grinned, and he kissed me again lightly.

Tyreeq performed the "racism test" on Jacquie. Unlike me, she didn't blush uncontrollably when his hand reached her groin. She looked unhappy when Tyreeq went in to kiss her, but then something happened, and she got super into the kiss, and soon it was evident that he was rocking her world. At last, she dragged his hand away from her crotch.

"Okay, well, I'm pretty sure these folks have seen enough PDA for one day," Jacquie said breathlessly.

A lot of eyes were on us. I didn't understand why so many people were so concerned with our coupled arrangement. The fact that we were standing so close together must have mostly hidden what we were doing, and there is no law against kissing in public, which is not unusual to see in this city by any means. After all, everyone falls in love at least once in their life.

I grabbed lunch for all of us, everyone requested something different. I wanted miso ramen, Jacquie wanted a classic Cobb salad, Tyreeq wanted a spicy fried chicken sandwich, DeShawn wanted a gourmet burger and fries, and Abdi wanted fish tacos. It took me a while to circle around to all of the food kiosks. Somehow, I was able to fit it all on a single tray.

When I got back to the table, they were in the middle of a conversation about "snow bunnies." This caused me confusion. I assumed Jacquie had told them about our first ski trip. I had never skied before and showed up in a hot pink ski jacket and white snow pants. It was such a clichéd ski outfit—I had no idea, but I loved it. My friends made fun of me and said that I was a "snow bunny." It was also true that I enjoyed the après-ski more than the slopes.

I asked, "Why are you calling Jacquie a snow bunny? I'm the snow bunny! She happens to be a pretty advanced skier."

"Nah, she a snow bunnie cause she now prefer black," DeShawn declared.

That's when I realized there was a different meaning to the term "snow bunnies."

"Lot a nasty ass white girl go black, like, they think the black'll wipe away the ugly," DeShawn explained.

He continued, "What's really nice is when a fine white girl, you know, perfect body, got a face like a model, trust fund and all that, decide to date black only—we like that a lot, brothers call that girl a snow bunnie."

"Well, that's very sweet of you to put me in that second category," Jacquie retorted, a bit sarcastically.

It was like they were already an old bickering couple!! Funny to think, DeShawn had started off as my date the previous night.

I really wanted to get to know Tyreeq better. I asked, "Do you belong to this African natural fertility network?"

Tyreeq laughed at my question and answered, "I run a organization. Youz can say dis tribal medicine, uh whatever, wellness group is, like, a subsidiary uh my main business."

"What's your main business?" I asked, a bit naïvely, I suppose.

Tyreeq smiled, "Hustlin' my main business. I control twelve blocks down in Englewood, an' we 'bout to acquire a few more. I guess y'all can call it a 'hostile takeover.'"

"Not enough money in hustlin' no more," DeShawn grumbled.

"No doubt my nigga," Tyreeq confirmed, "my street hustlers workin' fourteen-hour days on the corner, maybe sell a ten pack for $100 an' out uh dat they keep $25 and pay me the rest cuz I supply that shit. But most days they do better than dat."

Abdi reflected, "Fo' real, how much time ya get if they bust yo' ass for sellin' ten rocks? Plus, there's way mo' money in this healthcare shit."

"It ain't illegal to take cash fo' donatin' sperm," DeShawn exalted, "I fuck a cutie and get some money, my weekends fully booked to June, so many desperate housewives waitin' fo' me to bust a nut cuz they hubby is shootin' blanks."

"The flyer hanging on the bulletin board in our church basement didn't mention any of that," Jacquie lamented, "it just advertised a 'traditional African approach' to help couples conceive."

"We put dat flyer all over the city, and it ain't untrue, I provide a top-quality product," Tyreeq bragged, "I choose only thugs who demonstrate a high degree of intelligence and athleticism. They all my biggest-dicked niggers too, I know exactly what these white girls is after."

"Satisfaction guaranteed," Jacquie winked.

"Take, fo' instance, DeShawn, he pro'bly never told ya'll he went to Florida State on a football scholarship," Tyreeq remarked, "dis niggah has a 3.0 GPA and then all a sudden he dropout."

DeShawn grimaced when Tyreeq told this story about his past. I was very much surprised to learn that DeShawn was a college boy.

"Listen, I took part in this crazy-ass sorority initiation where I fuck all the new recruits. Month later, university receives a rape complaint," DeShawn recounted angrily, "even though I had read off the motherfucking script that the sorority sisters had given me to get consent from these freshman coeds."

"Sound like the same bullshit a black man go through e' ry day," Tyreeq said heartily.

DeShawn smirked, "Found out later dat half dose young bitches got pregnant from the hazing ritual, and at least one kept the baby."

"See, homie, dat jus' show yo' black ass is on the right career track," Tyreeq stated firmly, "By the way, ya gotta toss me a few uh your braver clients."

DeShawn disagreed, "They don't got to be brave. Best thing about a hotwife is you can fuck the shit out of her, and she gotta just take it!!!!"

Abdi added, "I always make sure they suck my asshole too!!!"

Hearing about all these other girls, I hoped that there was something special about me and Jacquie that would help them remember their time with the two of us.

"I'm curious, am I the first girl of Portuguese descent that you've ever been with?" I asked, hopefully.

DeShawn chuckled, "Nope, 'fraid not, sugar pie, I got a Portuguese yummy mommy who text me when she down to fuck. I think she a business attorney or somethin' like dat."

Latina cougars are sexy and sophisticated, with a distinct sensuality. I had no idea whether this highly educated Latina practiced corporate law, tax law, patent law, litigation, or any combination of these; most likely, I could see her working in one of those super tall skyscrapers downtown. In my imagination, she was physically fit, had fake ta-tas, and looked good in clothes that were a bit adventurous for her age. I had such a vivid picture of this gorgeous señorita in my mind, and it seemed to be accurate based on DeShawn's description.

DeShawn continued, "Like, she workin' late and she jus' start wantin' the BBC real bad. I arrive at her office 'bout a quarter past nine. Then I sit my ass in her leather chair while she lick on these nuts and suck the dick."

I imagined myself as her, waiting impatiently for the black man to show up, legs glistening in anticipation, and opened as far apart as the stiff wool skirt would allow. I knew how her body would be worked up into an unrelenting state of horniness. There's something just so yum about this societal taboo.... fornication across racial lines!!

DeShawn reminisced, "I put her on that desk and fuck her real nice. She pop it real quick. Second time we fuck, I stick my dick in her ass while she play with the clit."

Abdi cut in, "Not all client want a baby, some ladies just wanna fuck brothas, and we provide these services too."

"Sometimes these cheatin' hoes get knocked up too," DeShawn complained, "I been hit wit' two paternity suits in tha last year. Hubbies didn't take kindly to the wife kickin' out a black baby. Hell, I even caught a bullet in the shoulder, cheating wives is fun, but gotta watch out for the hubs sometimes!"

"Their husbands didn't even know?" Jacquie gulped.

"There are two routes y'all can take," Tyreeq said in a severe tone, "The first and best is to put all tha cards on the table, tell hubby 'bout your needs and get his support an' encouragement to become black-owned. Of course, wifey has other options, she can choose non-disclosure."

"Oh my gosh," Jacquie exclaimed disapprovingly, "That is so wrong, we're only doing this for a baby, I would never cheat on Brad, how can these wives do this?"

Tyreeq explained, "If ya'll wanna keep it on the low, we can help, but ya got to account for all tha times you wit' yo' black man an' keep up sexual activities wit' hubby."

"This weekend is a one-time thing for me," I replied, "Greg is my best friend, my confidant, the love of my life."

"Eight usually tha number. I bet ya be sliding into my DMs in eight days," DeShawn said confidently, "White girls think that hoppin' on the BBC will be a 'one-time thing' but then y'all get addicted."

Tyreeq tossed DeShawn a set of car keys, "The Denali is parked on level four uh the self-park. Yo' name's listed on the rental paperwork. Understand, there's three-hundred G's in a duffel bag in tha back. As we discussed, take it to Hernandez."

"I hear Darnell is da snitchass nigga," Abdi said venomously, "I say it's drill time muthafucka, he can go ahead and be trash, and we fuckin' put his lame-ass shit in da trash."

"Nah, homie, it ain't like dat," Tyreeq stated calmly, "All dose Tay City boys is dead. Laroy is finished. Issa G is finished. Darnell is finished."

Abdi looked incredibly relieved.

"Whatcha worrin' bout? I listen to dat fool Darnell when he try to snitch ya out?" Tyreeq sneered, "If ya speak on my foenem like dat, we gonna have problems."

DeShawn picked up the keys and was gone. I had no idea if I would ever see him again.

PART 11: THE FITTING ROOM

A new dress for the club, huh? I leaned my head back, my hand against my chin. As I have discovered in the past, going to the mall with Jacquie was a time sink, not to mention a money pit. We would also be dragging along two black men whom we barely knew.

When it comes to clothes shopping with a boyfriend or husband, odds are you fall on one side or the other of those camps. This is something I don't usually do. I almost always go clothes shopping by myself because it's just quicker and more manageable that way. But there are those chicks who parade around the store, often barefoot or wearing the wrong shoes, seeking the approval of their often-bored partner, who will say anything to expedite the process: "Looks great, hon" or "Yeah, purple is good."