Sitting alone in my livingroom, I was shocked by the events that has just taken place. Suddenly, I realized the black stud's "cum-soaked" sweaty bikini was still over my head and face. In disgust, and like an angry child, I removed them and threw them towards the front door. I cried in the shame and humiliation of knowing that I was not even close to being the "man" he was.
My worst nightmares of losing Julie to a younger and more masculine black stud had been realized. Or, so it seemed. It had been going on for over 3 months now, and the feeling of her finally coming back to me felt so shallow. After hearing that their relationship was pretty much "over" I couldn't understand why he was fucking her, once again. To me, it didn't make much sense at all. The manner in which he was doing so was insolent, like he was "rubbing it in my face" ven more.
I also couldn't believe that I was actually sitting there waiting for Tra'mon to finish fucking my wife, Julie. In disgrace, I was waiting for him to return her to me so we can get our life back to the way it was.
But, that seemed more like a distant dream now.
With mixed emotions, I contemplated how my life would be now that Julie would be back. That is, if she came back at all. I wondered how she would perceive me. Now that she was fully aware of the extent of humiliation, and what the black man had been putting me through, how would she perceive me?
"Will Julie ever see me as the loving and respectful husband that I was, again?" I asked myself.
"Oh, Geez. Will Julie EVER be able to even see me as a man again?" I wondered, insecurely.
As I sat waiting with the most awful feelings of complete shame and utter defeat, I became lost in thought. Time had become insignificant as I tried to make sense of all that was happening, and what I was going to do next. The thought of running away and starting a new life with Julie entered my mind for a moment. Even the thought of calling the police and filing some sort of "false" charge for harrassment came to mind. But, that was merely a fleeting thought as I reasoned that I would surely get my "ass kicked" if I ever attempted such a thing. Besides, the less people knew about this the better.
That is when my cell phone "chirped" another incoming message.
Panicked, I had the dreadful feeling that the message would be from Tra'mon. And, it was. I looked at my phone and realized that it had been 35 minutes since I last saw him fucking Julie in the foyer of his condo apartment. My first thought was that he must have finished "using" her, and I jumped out of my seat.
"Don't forget 'bout my shit either, boy." the message read.
By now, I knew that the black man referred to his dirty, worn bikini underwear as "his shit." Embarrassed, I glanced over to the little mesh bag sitting on the floor near Julie's duffle bags. I didn't even remember bringing them back from his apartment. Not at the time.
I was appalled by the thought that he was expecting me to continue "handwashing" his bikinis after my wife would be returning.
With such unreal arrogance, the young black man was expecting me to continue the demoralizing task. Even after he was seemingly "dismissing" Julie from his apartment he was telling me to continue this.
"W-What the?..." I moaned.
"H-He can't POSSIBLY be serious?!" I groaned.
"How can that b-be?" I sniveled.
It was at that time when I heard light "tapping" of fingernails at my front door. My entire tall body became even weaker with fear. I rushed to the door and looked through the "peep" hole as scared as a rabbit. I could see Julie standing there, hunched over and completely naked.
She looked a complete and total wreck!
"Oh my gawd, Julie?" I screamed inside.
As I opened the door, Julie was standing there in the hallway literally "crouched over" in pain. Her arms were crossed and covered her bare, enhanced breasts. Her face was partially bent to the floor. She seemed embarrassed by her appearance, and for obvious reasons.
The black stud's thick "cum" blatantly ran from her swollen pussy and was literally cascading down both of her inner thighs. Julie's blonde, braided hair was a "tangled" mess, and looked like it was filled with the same thick seed. Julie's partially hidden face was as red as I had ever seen it.
"Julie?... Julie?!" I cried. "Are y-you okay?" I asked in my startled and worried state.
Julie simply began walking inside. She was flustered and obviously in the deepest pain I had ever seen. My wife "winced" in pain with every step she took as she literally "tip-toed" her way inside.