Blac Man One

I could hardly comprehend how nervous I felt as I began walking down to the first floor of the condo building. The greater part of me wanted to know how the other 11 white husbands still living here felt, and why I had not seen them more than a few times in weeks. Another part of me was truly afraid to know.

My purpose was unclear to me at the time. I suppose that I just needed to be "consoled" at the same time I wanted to share my discovery of "The Black Jacques Club" with them.

I wanted them to know more about the place we all "seemed to know" our beautiful white wives were going to hang out all the time.

When I tapped on the door to David's condo unit he was completely shocked by my unexpected visit. He was also quite apprehensive to talk and said that I shouldn't be here. In turn, I was also quite shocked by his attempt to shut the door on me while he was asking me to leave.

"David? Wh-Why? What's wrong? Please?" I pleaded, putting my foot inside and preventing him from closing the door.

David suddenly gave up trying to shut his front door. He then broke down in tears. I couldn't believe the look of fear I was seeing on his face as he tried to explain. Unbelievably, he told me that Tra'mon had ordered him not to discuss anything about what was going on. He explained that the young black stud was very adament about keeping things personal and quiet, and that was the reason for him keeping to himself.

David admitted that he was scared to talk to anyone else, and didn't have any desire to do so either. The 6'5" tall white man confessed to me that he was terribly afraid of Tra'mon, just as I was.

"Why? What do you mean? Wh-What?!" I gasped.

"W-What's happened? David, please?" I cried.

I stood there shocked beyond belief as he further broke down and continued to explain. David told me that his wife, Tammy, had "an affair" with Tra'mon and he was almost certain that she was now pregnant with the black stud's child.

"Oh my gawd, David. Are y-you serious?" I asked, meekly.

"H-How? W-What happened?" I asked, almost not wanting to know.

"Sh-She told you th-this?" I asked, pleading.

The tall white man had a much sadder look on his face now. I sympathized with his embarrassment and the intimidation he so obviously felt from this strong black man's blatant invasion into his once peaceful life.

David wouldn't describe how or when it happened, or even how he found out. He only admitted that he knew for sure that it was Tra'mon's baby and that his wife was now seeing "someone else" from the workout center where she worked.

"David, how could that be? You do know Julie left me and is seeing Tra'mon, don't you?" I asked.

"H-How could he have b-been with Tammy?" I mumbled passively.

"I guess so. I know he is with Julie. I heard that. We all did. I-I'm sorry for that but I really d-don't know how he g-got with Tammy." he cried.

"H-He just did." David sobbed.

"P-Please, Richard. Just go. I-I really need you to go, okay?" he said, his eyes pleading for mercy.

It looked like David was about to break down into a deeper level of tears. He seemed embarrassed by the whole situation, and the knowledge of his pretty white wife carrying a black man's baby. Furthermore, she was seeing another black man from the fitness center, and it was too much for him to bear.

He confessed that Tra'mon was still coming by on occasion and "picking on" him, and he didn't know what to do about it.

"I-I'm sorry, D-David. I d-didn't know." I returned, consoling him just as much as I felt I needed consoling.

As I began to leave I suddenly stopped at the front door and turned back. David's face was more than embarrassed and worried. I felt as if I needed to say something. He was feeling just as defeated by the masculinity of black men as I was, and for some reason I spoke out.

"D-Do you th-think that maybe if w-we talked to him together h-he would stop bullying us?" I asked David.

David's eyes widened in horror.

"Are you kidding? N-No. No w-way. I-I'm not going to do th-that. I'm not getting my ass kicked, again!" he shouted.

"Uh, Again?" I replied.

"Wh-what do y-you mean, David?" I asked, fearful of his response.

But, David "clammed" up. He wouldn't speak. With the embarrassment written all over his face he asked me to leave. His pleading eyes begged for me to leave him alone in his own degradation, and I understood exactly how he was feeling.

I was shocked and embarrassed as I left David's apartment. Yet, I finally knew the reason for not seeing him in all these weeks. It occurred to me that all the other 11 white husbands in the condo may have felt the same way as I did. I reasoned this may have been the reason for Mark's curious and sudden departure weeks ago.

That suspicion was confirmed after I defeatedly and deperately knocked on the doors of the remaining ten white husbands in the building. In every case, the white husbands were home alone and their attractive wives were out. It was passed midnight and it appeared that all of our wives were out partying at "The Black Jacques Club" after working all day at the gym.

One by one, each of the other husbands practically shut the door in my face after a few carefully chosen words or quick statements. All of them seemed afraid and embarrassed to talk to me, and each and every one of them merely provided nothing more than a small "blurb" of what "may have" been going on these past weeks.

In my mind, I unwillingly gathered all the information that I could. I had "pieced" together all the little pieces of informationto discover the ultra-humiliating truth - the truth that all 13 of us taller white professional and moderately wealthy husbands were intimidated by this one young athletic black stud.

We all felt he was a "bully" type.

All of us were afraid of him and felt nervous by his rude and overwhelming masculine presence. Every last one of us felt "defeated" by him in many, many ways. We were all very saddened and embarrassed by our wives spending so much time working at his new fitness center, and then going out most nights after work until the "wee" hours of the morning.

It was confirmed that Mark's wife, Karen, had been "knocked up" by the young black stud. This was the reason for Mark's rather sudden and abrupt departure. He was embarrassed after a "confrontation" with the black man, and then he decided to flee. His wife, Karen, simply stayed behind.

It was also confirmed that David's wife, Tammy, was pregnant with Tra'mon's child. David was still living here, but he was obviously so much more confused about what to do next.

The information I was gathering was demoralizing.

Besides Mark, David and myself, the remaining 10 white husbands all "suspected" their wives were having an affair of some sorts. They were suspicious of their wives' affair with someone from Trey's fitness center.

The others could not pinpoint what was going on, nor could they confirm this. Still, all of us knew that the only men working at the fitness center were other young black men instructors.

All 5 of them were instructors, and they were all either close friends or colleagues of the young "thuggish" black stud we had grown to fear.

Additionally, some of the other husbands embarrassingly admitted that they had gotten "slapped" by Tra'mon, just as I had. Some of them mentioned, in passing, the black spade ink symbols from the club placed on their wives after a night out. Some even mentioned seeing other wives and the other white women who he had been seeing coming from his apartment, or from his car.

By their accounts, they had seen several other white women around besides our wives.

But, all of us were terribly afraid to stand up to this one black stud. All of us had been emasculated by him in some way or another, and some of us had gotten it worse than others. For me, I was getting the worst of it all and by a long margin.

All of us white husbands were saddened by the fact our white wives had gone to work at his fitness center. They were spending so much time going "out" with him, and they rarely stayed home anymore.

Every one of us seemed to "tremble" in fear and intimidation by even the thought of this black man's presence. All of us were ashamed that our pretty white wives had gravitated to this young stud's masculine personality, and they had become a fixture in his so-called "circle" or group.

In defeat, I walked back to my condo with my head hung in shame and feeling even more worried.

I realized that all 13 of us taller, weaker and wimpier white husbands were afraid of this one young muscular black stud. He intimidated all of us, and so far he even caused one of us to flee.

He seemed to be doing whatever he wanted with our wives and was openly "rubbing it in our faces" in the most exaggerated manner possible. I couldn't get it out of my head how arrogant he had become.

Blatantly, he had fucked three of our wives and "knocked up" two of them. Brazenly, he "bullied" all of us right in front of our pretty wives and acted like he was more of a man than all 13 of the white husbands combined.

Arrogantly, he showed off his massive black cock in his little bikini suits. Openly, he had showed off and "put on display" how he had fucked so many other white women in the most demeaning ways conceivable.

All 12 of us remaining sissy white husbands could not summon up enough courage to face the 5'9" tall chiseled dark stud. All 12 us together were afraid to speak to him even individually, or even as a group. None of had the courage to confront him in any way.

It seemed quite obvious that he knew this too.

Cockily, he had been walking all over us white husbands and demeaning us. He was rubbing it in and even slapping some of our faces. He intimidated all of us, especially me. We could only show our wives what cowards we were as he continued humiliating us in the presence of them.

We took it all from him and didn't fight back. Were were taking it all from him, even when he openly called us "pussies" or "wimps" right in front of everyone.

It was terribly embarrassing to discover a lot of what was happening. Unbeknownst to me, Tra'mon had confronted and intimidated all the other husbands, too. None nearly as much as me. As I returned to my condo unit in complete shame, I felt more helpless and powerless. Not even a group of us together could find enough courage to face this one black man.

I didn't want to believe this way back then, and it is embarrassing to admit, but it was and is the absolute truth.

For yet another night, I fell asleep feeling as embarrassed, ashamed and defeated as any man could possibly feel. It was difficult to comprehend what has been happening in our once peaceful and secluded upscale condo community since the arrival of the young black stud.

The next morning I woke up with the same feeling of being defeated.

Inside, I knew that I still wanted Julie as my wife. As hopeless as it seemed to get her back from this black man, a large part of me remembered and longed for the better days. Afterall, she was still my wife and we hadn't discussed a divorce or anything. It was curious to me why she hadn't filed for one.

"Maybe this is all just a phase for her?" I wondered, naively.

"Maybe Julie will reconsider and come back to me?" I hoped.

"Will she ever see me as a man again?" I wondered.

"Do I even want her back after all this?" I questioned.

But, the greatest part of me was still incredibly intimidated by Tra'mon. His temper and aggressiveness concerned me to no end, and I was genuinely afraid to try anything or do anything "rash" to get her back.

I reasoned that it would be in my best interest to be patient and go along with things for now. I tried to rationalize that it was best to just do what he said until Julie came to the realization that she belonged with me, and not with this young "bully" of a black man.

I was taking the cowardly, sissy approach and didn't do a thing about it.

But, that is when the black stud turned up the level of humiliation and degradation. Just when I was completely and undeniably defeated, he "turned the screws" to me even tighter. Just as I had mentally submitted to the will and raw masculinity of this black man, he purposely and intentionally "rubbed it in" even more.

He became even more cocky, arrogant and "bossy" with me.

As I walked into the bathroom I noticed Tra'mon's bikini underwear on hangers above the tub. In humiliation, I had spent hours handwashing them the night before. Now, I came to the realization that I had to return them to him. My face turned as red as a tomato while I gathered them into one pile, still on hangers, and set them onto the bed.

For 2 hours, I wallowed in my own humiliation as I tried summoning enough courage to bring them down to his condo. I kept looking out towards the parking lot to see if his car was still there. In many ways, I had hoped his car would be gone and this would give me a good reason not to approach him. But, his Bentley car had not moved. It was obvious that he was still in his condo apartment with Julie.

I took a deep breath and gathered up the 25-plus pairs of his bikini underwear on hangers, then headed down the stairs to condo unit number one. In my hapless mind, I had envisioned him allowing me to speak to my blonde wife since I had done what he told me to. Despite the humiliation I felt, I wanted to see her again. Deep down, I knew there was a chance to speak to her.

But, when I arrived at the stud's apartment with his handwashed bikini underwear on hangers, he merely grinned. He wouldn't let me see her. Rather, he tossed another bag of his bikinis and bikini underwear at my feet and gave me another order.

"Hangers, huh?" he snarled, noticing how neatly I had placed them on little clothes hangers.

"Nice touch, boy." he said approvingly.

"Deez' are next. Two days." he ordered, tossing another mesh bag of bikinis down at me feet.

I stood there in the doorway of his apartment with an even deeper red tone on my cheeks, blushing in embarrassment. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as I trembled nervously. I was silent and there was a long pause as I kept my eyes anchored to the floor.

"Is there uh' problem, whiteboy?" Tra'mon suddenly asked in an even firmer tone.

I swallowed loudly as I stood there quivering in absolute shame. My entire body went limp from the fear of angering this young black man, once again. I truly "cowered" before him.

"N-N-No, S-Sir. I-I uh, I..." I answered, my soft and passive whisper barely detectable.

"Good. And, be in the gym tomorrow at 6!" he ordered.

"I'm startin' my workouts again." he instructed.

"Maybe, in time, I'll lets ya' talk to her. Understood?" Tra'mon added, not waiting for an answer and then slamming the door in my face.

Defeatedly, I simply picked up the bag of his bikini underwear and walked back to my own apartment. My mind was cluttered and my desire to fight for Julie was almost gone. My already deep fear of this black man was intensifying, and I was confused by my own feelings of intimidation.

Somehow, I felt even more afraid to run away like Mark had. The thought of him finding out and taking it out on Julie consumed me. The fear of angering him and getting beaten up again crossed my mind many times.

This would be my life for the next 11 weeks.

Every other day, I was made to "handwash" the black stud's little bikini speedoes suits and bikini underwear. Whether they were used and dirty, or not, he had a mesh bag full of bikinis for me to wash for him.

I couldn't believe how many pairs of bikini underwear he had, and he kept ordering more and more. He even had me ordering them for him.

In these eleven weeks, Tra'mon handed me a note that read "get 60 more" a total of four times. He was referring to his custom-made bikini underwear from Eleanor's Boutique Shop in the city.

Every few weeks I was made to go into this little shop to face the white female store clerks, then order 60 custom-fitted bikinis for Tra'mon in his size. The medium backside with the "XXXL" front pouch was demeaning to know.

In disgrace, I could see and feel their amusement as they made me pick out the colors, shades and prints for the many new pairs. They all knew the many pairs of custom bikini underwear weren't for me, and they seemed to know that I was just another white wimp being made to do this for a black man. They seemed to know everything, but they said nothing.

My face blushed red the entire time I was in their shop as I painfully selected anything from girafee-prints to solid shades in a myriad of colors. This couldn't have been more embarrassing as I knew that I would be handwashing all these pairs of bikinis myself, eventually. Paying for them by myself became even more defeating for me since the price of $55.00 a pair seemed high.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for these 11 weeks I had to be Tra'mon's workout partner, once again. Like before, this meant trying to hold the heavy bag steady as the black stud furiously pounded away on it for 30 minutes. He continued working out in just a pair of the flimsiest bikini underwear imagineable. He seemed to be doing this to add further insult to me.

At 6 a.m., he would wake up and work out with such fury. Then, he would rudely toss his obnoxiously sopping wet and "drenched in sweat" bikinis right into my face before walking out.

Like the earlier workouts, I was there to simply hold the heavy bag and clean his spit and sweat from the blue padded mats of the condo gym. He rarely spoke to me during these workouts. He was rude, arrogant and disdainful. Yet, the intimidation I felt was growing to levels I would have never known could exist.

The young black man literally "flaunted" his powerful control over my wife, Julie. During these weeks, it was painfully obvious that she was now "his." He seemed to go way out of his way to put her on some sort of display. He was going overboard as he continued rubbing my nose into the degradation and defeat I already felt.

Not one day went by that Tra'mon was not out by the pool with Julie when I arrived home from work on the weekdays. Not one day in eleven weeks. Tra'mon stayed out by the pool area even longer on weekends. But, 7 weeks into this 11 week period some things began to grow more curious to me.

Julie was completely different now. From my distant and cowardly gaze she seemed more like a "zombie" than anything else. And, in that 7th week she began wearing darker tee shirts with her bikini bottoms out by the pool. It was the most curious thing to see as it seemed like she was keeping the top of her body covered up. Her sudden style change seemed to make no sense.

What I didn't realize then was that this black stud was fucking my Julie three to five times a day, and everyday, during these 11 weeks.

I watched in utter shame as she knelt out by the pool before his "throne" and at his feet massaging them. She massaged them like he was some sort of imperial black god. She was much more quiet and demure, and hardly ever spoke a single word. I even noticed her feeding him, on occasion. And, Julie always looked so incoherent and "fucked out of her mind" that I could hardly bare the sight of her in the conditions I would see her in.

On most weekend nights, I would see her leaving the condo building with Tra'mon dressed in the shortest black minidresses and the highest high heels possible. In that seventh week of the eleven she also stopped wearing dresses that revealed her cleavage. Her breasts were always fully covered now. But, I didn't really take that as anything serious back then. I never did get a very good look at her during this time, anyway.

On other late nights, she would be coming home from "The Black Jacques Club" after 2 in the morning. She would be wearing her black thonged leotard and white tights with dirty knees, seemingly after a long day at Tra'mon's fitness center before heading to the club. At least once a week for these next eleven weeks I would see Julie in the darkness of the parking lot. Those times, she was on her knees sucking the black stud's massive black cock like she was a servant.