tagInterracial LoveWimp Loses to Young Black Boss Ch. 03

Wimp Loses to Young Black Boss Ch. 03


As the flustered and nervous Myron walked through the hot sand and back to his beautiful wife and his much younger black boss, many thoughts ran through his head.

He felt ashamed as he carried the bottle of wine with the two empty wine glasses back to Je'Quon, as he was earlier ordered to do. Myron couldn't have felt lower. His step was timid and growing more tentative as he drew nearer.

He noticed the young black stud standing there above his wife, talking to her. He was hoping that his boss would just have his wine and finally go away.

But, that would not be the case.

"Very good, boy!" Je'Quon said, as Myron approached.

"Hand that shhit over here." He ordered.

"Yes, Sir." Myron replied in a whisper.

Myron listlessly handed over the bottle of Pinot Grigio and the two empty wine glasses to his 27-year-old black boss. He passively took a seat on the rocks next to Mona, to her left side and slightly in front of her, but no more than a foot and a half away.

Myron was just hoping to be a little closer to his beautiful, blonde wife as his boss studied the the wine label.

"Yeah. This is the one." Je'Quon stated.

Myron's face was noticeably flustered, still uncontrollably nervous by the presence of his demanding, young black boss. He glanced back over to Mona for just a moment. She looked ravishing in her red two-piece bikini and tan sandals. But, he was far too afraid to make any eye contact with her. In turn, the beautiful Mona's eyes were partially lowered towards the ground as if she were ashamed by how her tall and passive husband was being emasculated by this powerful-looking young black man.

Myron's sitting position was just off center and to Mona's left and about six inches lower than hers. The large flat rocks on this particular beach head were staggered in such a way that they almost appeared to be like natural benches, a seemingly more convenient backing of rocks where Myron had just postioned himself.

Je'Quon opened the cold bottle of wine with the corkscrew Myron had just fetched and filled the two glasses halfways.

"This looks good." He exclaimed.

He handed Myron's stunning, yet shy and quiet wife the glass of fresh wine. Hesitantly, she accepted it in her demure way.

"Thank you." she said in a soft whisper.

"Anytime, girl. You're gonna like this." the young black stud proudly stated.

He handed Myron the partially used bottle and the wayward cork.

"Here. Take care of that, boy, will ya?!" He ordered, referring to the recorking of the bottle.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir." Myron meekly responded.

Myron's hands trembled as he took the bottle and cork from his young boss' powerful grip. He struggled just a bit trying to replace the cork back into the bottle and was looking downward at it, twisting and turning it ever so slightly in an attempt to reseal the bottle. That is when the unexpected happened.

In an unbelieveable display of arrogance and cockiness, Je'Quon stepped right in between Myron and his pretty, blonde wife. He faced Mona and his backside was now facing Myron!

There was less than a foot and a half between them before he did this anyway, and this ultra rude and arrogant act left the young, black stud's well-sculpted and well-muscled asscheeks clad in that bikini literally a mere three inches, and on the same level, as Myron's more than flustered face.

Equally, this left Je'Quon's massive bikini bulge no more than four inches directly before Mona's eyes, nose and lips. Now, even closer than before.

Myron swallowed the lump in his throat. His face reddened even more.

He couldn't believe the arrogance of his much younger black boss. His sweat-drenched backside covered in those flimsy, opaque neon purple-colored bikinis made of lycra-spandex were practically right in his face, blocking any possible view he could have of his gorgeous wife.

Myron's shoulders slumped even more.

He timidly just sat there. He was scared and didn't know what to do as he began hearing the dominant Je'Quon speaking to his wife.

On the other side of Je'Quon was his beautiful 38-year-old wife, Mona. She was in awe and disbelief by the absolutely immense size of this black stud's crotch packaged firmly in those flimsy bikinis. She could hardly speak at all.

Mona seemed to merely listen, looking up to this black god's eyes and occasionally glancing down to the mammoth bulge that obtrusively stood before her obvious blushing face. The confidence and sheer arrogance of this chiseled black man was making her wet and nearly dizzy with a feeling that she had never felt before.

The white wine was very tasty and began relaxing her almost immediately.

As Mona was not a regular drinker, she was not accustomed to it's soothing effects. Between her legs, she was practically on fire. The mound of her red bikini dampened more and more as she continued to sip her glass of Pinot. But, it was here stares that were becoming more apparent by the minute.

It started with Mona looking up into Je'Quon's eyes and listening attentively as he rambled on and on and on about his new Corvette and his possessions, as well as his successful career. The occasional glance down to his manhood in those thin, purpleish bikinis went from a quick second to ten seconds to even several minutes at a time and with every few sips of the intoxicating wine.

Still, nothing was said about it. It was never verbally acknowledged. The young, black bull simply continued to speak.

He spoke about everything and anything in his life. He mentioned that he had fathered children and his desires to travel around the world and open his own winery. Mona listened, but hardly comprehended all the words he spoke as she struggled to concentrate.

Je'Quon would, on occasion, turn to Myron to refill their glasses with wine. Mona was getting tipsy and was in a more somber state of mind. Myron remained passive and quiet as his young boss continued to flirt with his wife of 15 years. The domineering black stud's asscheeks remained positioned there right before Myron's face as if he was making a blatant statement of dominance over him.

By the time the bottle was half empty, Mona was in a very different state of mind. Young Je'Quon's arrogance went to another level when he began to "accidentally" bump his firm lycra-spandex bikini-covered asscheeks right into Myron's reddened face. There were even times when the black stud would cockily move back a few inches to firmly plant his well-muscled cheeks "flush" onto the cowardly Myron's face, too, and Myron was becoming more flustered than ever!

Myron never uttered a syllable. He felt demeaned and emasculated, yet he was passive and timid as this "real man" made a complete and utter fool of him. There was nothing but degradation in Myron's eyes. He felt more defeated then he had ever felt before.

This seemed to go on forever.

At least an hour had gone by when Je'Quon turned ever so slightly back to Myron and repeated the same commands.

"Pour me some more, boy!" He snapped.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir ... ok, Sir." Myron replied.

But, this time Myron was not so successful in refilling young Je'Quon's wine glass. His trembling hands could not hold the bottle as still as before and he poured the wine off center where it spilled downwards to the sandy ground below. The Pinot Grigio had just landed all over his black boss' sandaled feet?!!

"Oh my god! I-I am s-so sorry, M-Mr. McWilliams, Sir." Myron passively yelped.

Je'Quon's stern eyebrows bent in anger.

"What?! Are you some kinda' idiot, boy?!" Je'Quon snarled.

Myron felt his entire body go limp. He swallowed loudly.

"Um-No, N-No Sir. I'm s-sorry, S-Sir. I'm s-so sorry" Myron apologized over and over again. It was blatantly obvious that the tall, nerdy Myron was in complete fear of his much younger black boss. He trembled nervously by his mistake and the young black's noticeable temper.

Je'Quon was even more firm with his words now.

"Well, don't just sit there like a dang fool. Go and Git me a fuckin' towel, boy!" He commanded.

Myron was terrified.

"Y-Y-Yes, Sir. R-Right away, S-Sir." he responded.

Myron got up quickly and began to walk towards the main picnic tent.

"Bring back two towels, boy! One wet one and one dry one ... and, another bottle of dat' wine, too ... ya' hear?!" Je'Quon directed.

Myron paused.

"Y-Yes, Sir." He meekly replied.

Mona was astounded by the way this young black stud spoke to and ordered her tall, pale and wimpier husband around. She was still falling deeper into another world, a bit tipsy and immensely affected by the masculinity this young, dark-skinned god was exhibiting. She tensed up when Je'Quon took a seat on the rocks right next to her and she curiously watched her intimidated husband scurry away to get the items he was just ordered to get.

It was then that Je'Quon had proposed that she should really come with him to see his new Corvette, so she could fully appreciate it's beauty. Mona softly nodded in agreement.

"Oh, okay. Sure." she whispered. "What color is it, anyway?" she asked in an even fainter whisper.

"Black!" Je'Quon answered. "What else?!" He added.

It took no more than a few minutes before Mona spotted her nervous husband deparately running back with the two towels and another bottle of wine. She lowered her eyes, once again, so she wouldn't have to look at his noticeably shamed face.

But, even Mona wouldn't have been able to imagine what was to happen next.

As Myron arrived, he was half out of breath from his frantic run. He had just fetched what he was told to and plopped down to his knees in the sand to catch his breath. Je'Quon and Mona were sitting on the flat rocks before him.

With the two towels and the wine in hand, he looked up at Je'Quon. He wasn't sure what to say. He felt petrified by his boss' quick temper and worried about what he might say to him next. The brief silence was deafening.

"I am so sorry, again, Mr. McWilliams. I mean, I-I didn't mean to ..." Myron began stammering.

But, the young Je'Quon grew even more abrupt.

"Jus' shut the hell up and clean dis' shit off!" He commanded, extending his right bare foot to the rattled Myron.

Myron was in utter disbelief.

"You heard me, didn't ya' boy?" Je'Quon added.

One could see the look of defeat on the taller, passive white man's face as he realized that he was just directed to clean the feet of his younger, black boss.

Timidly, Myron took the right bare foot of Je'Quon with his very limp grip and began washing off the sticky wine and dirt. His face turned the deepest red one can imagine.

Mona was nearly in a state of disbelief, herself.

She was now watching her watching her tall, white husband submissively and subserviently washing and drying the dirty bare feet of this powerfully-built young black man?!

The humiliation for Myron could not have been greater.

Je'Quon acted as if it was nothing. His casual demeanor about what was actually happening was one of the purest signs of natural dominance over the substantially taller, but weaker and timid white man that she had ever witnessed.

Myron's hands trembled as he washed and dried young Je'Quon's feet for the next 15 minutes as he continued to speak to his wife. He further directed Myron to clean off his leather sandals of the spewn wine.

Myron was degraded. He complied more so out of fear and intimidation than anything else.

Mona was soaking wet seeing her sissy of a husband taking all this from such a masculine young man. She was speechless and in literally in awe, but in many ways also turned on immensely by the black man's power and attitude. There was a part of her that was extremely embarrassed for Myron. And, although she was terribly ashamed to see her husband treated in this manner, there were other feelings beginning to envelope her as well.

After the washing of the young, black ruffian's feet, Myron sulked to even lower levels when his boss told him to put his sandals back onto his feet.

He did not even want to look up towards Mona or Je'Quon, but he just accepted defeat and did it obediently. Both, Je'Quon and Mona sat on the rocks above him. Mona was looking away, ashamed. Myron continued to kneel there in the sand defeated, humiliated, quiet and humbled.

It was at this time that Je'Quon finally spoke up again.

He directed his first comments to Mona.

"Come on, Girl. Let me go show you that 'Vette of mine." He said, getting back up to his feet.

He extended his strong, black hand to hers and Mona paused. She merely glanced back at her husband for a moment then placed her hand into Je'Quon's.

She, too, was nervous and afraid. Yet, there was a part of her that was also turned on. There was yet another part to the beautiful, Blonde wife's feelings as well. In some ways, she did not want to subject her husband to any more of this degradation.

"Well, o-okay. Just for a minute, though." Mona replied to the black boss.

Je'Quon responded.

"Yeah, of course. Jus' for a minute!" he returned, the smirk on his face as cocky and arrogant as one can imagine.

Mona gently turned back to Myron.

"Well, I guess th-that we'll be right back, honey. Je'Quon just wants to show me his new car and ... well ... we shouldn't be long, okay?" She said. The tone of her voice was soft, demure and seemingly more reluctant. Yet, inside she was more than compliant to the young black buck's incredible masculinity.

Myron just nodded in defeat and looked down to the sand below his knees.

When he lifted his eyes back upwards, he could see his young black stud of a boss walking side by side with his beautiful, blonde wife.

They were walking away from him and towards the parking lot, which was on the other side of the beach. His dark hand on the small of her back and just above her red bikini waistline. He then turned back for a moment.

"And, don't forget to clean the rest of that shit up that ya' spilt by the rocks, too!" Je'Quon obnoxiously directed from a distance as he walked away slowly and confidently.

"Yes, Sir." Myron answered almost silently.

Myron was even more worried now. He wasn't sure what to expect. And, he wasn't even sure about what he was worried about, though.

He knew he had a faithful wife of fifteen years. He felt good about that part of their relationship. Yet, he still did not want his younger, black boss to be around his wife. Perhaps, it was because he didn't want her hearing anything about his lowly position as Je'Quon's assistant and the things he has been subjected to at the office for several months.

The naive Myron was seemingly more concerned about that "talking" than anything else. But, there was a very dejected feeling going on inside of him as well as he glanced downwards to notice that his wife had left her small purse behind.

END Chapter 3. To be Continued.

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