Black Man One Ch 25

The next morning I woke up startled once again. I was not exactly sure what had awakened me so suddenly, but I reasoned that it had to be yet another bad dream.

I was laying on my right side on the sofa couch curled up as I peered outward. The bright morning sunlight was trying to peek through the curtains which I had closed last night. It was my feeble attempt to create a nicer mood for having dinner with my wife several hours before. Then, the faint sounds of Tra'mon fucking Julie reached my ears.

"Oh, gawd." I cried.

"Not again?" I moaned to myself.

Yes, he was fucking her again. I was mortified and in awe that he was fucking her for the fourth time since 10:45 p.m. last night. I had no concept of time then, but I reasoned it had to be past 8 in the morning. The brightness of the Arizona sun trying to break through the closed curtains provided this answer for me.

As the sounds of fucking grew more intense, I finally managed to pick myself off the sofa to look at the clock on the wall. It was already 9:30?! My shoulders fell in defeat as I stood up and walked over to the kitchen and opened the curtains. It was an extremely bright and sunny day, yet I felt as if there were a grey cloud looming over the top of me.

The fucking sounds grew slightly louder, but only for a moment. The grunts and moans coming from Julie behind closed doors were much more pronounced than they were from the night before. I reasoned that she had to be more awake this time, and her moans were a demoralizing combination of both pain and pleasure. It felt as if my face turned another shade of red with every grunt and moan overheard.

Defeatedly, I stood at the kitchen counter and put on a pot of coffee. As the coffee brewed, I glanced down to my side past the edge of the tiled kitchen floor and to the carpeting bordering it. I noticed a red "spot" on the light carpet between the kitchen tile and our bedroom. Initially, I had no idea what it was until I bent down to examine it closer. It looked like a quarter-sized spot or blotch of dilluted red wine.

"How did this get there?" I asked myself, confused.

I returned to the kitchen to fetch a small towel and dampened it. When I knelt down on the carpet with this wet rag-like towel I could see this spot was, in fact, a dilluted spot of red wine. It seemed to be caused my the young black stud literally "spitting" onto the carpet. At least, this was my first humiliating thought.

"It c-couldn't be? H-He wouldn't?!" I contemplated.

Nevertheless, it seemed to be staining the lighter shade of carpet and I began trying to rub it out. I was still confused by how it got there and I then reasoned that, perhaps, I had accidentally spilled a "glob" of it from my glass last night. As I continued cleaning it, the sounds of Tra'mon fucking Julie finally ceased. And, it ceased abruptly.

I froze as I heard his muffled voice saying something to my wife. From my kneeling position, I fell to the backs of my legs into more of a sitting position. I held the dampened towel in both of my hands and on my lap before me. The brief verbal exchanges suddenly stopped as the bedroom door slowly opened. Now, I knelt there frozen in fear of the unknown.

That is when I saw Tra'mon stepping out of the bedroom and into the living area.

The young, black stud was only slightly perspiring this time. My view was facing straight towards him and the bedroom door as He began his first strides towards me. His mammoth cock bulge in those skimpy and ultra flimsy giraffe-printed, nylon-lycra spandex bikini underwear literally "jutted" outward in the most obnoxious and disgusting manner. My eyes immediately fell to the floor as I suddenly realized the compromising position I was in. I was still sitting on the backs of my legs, on my knees and holding a dampened towel after attempting to clean the red wine stain from the carpet.

Silently, I kept my head down. I was hoping that the black stud would simply have mercy on me and leave our condo apartment. Tra'mon had gotten exactly what he wanted already. He had gotten what he wanted last night, and there was no reason for anything else to happen. This was my thought at the time.

He had taken my wife out all day yesterday, and he had fucked her on and off all night long. He had already disgraced me, and I had already been defeated and humiliated. I had already cowered in fear before him, and I had no fight in me whatsoever. These are the thoughts that came to mind as I felt his strong and powerful presence now standing before me. He truly intimidated me.

In silence, my head remained down and "bowed" in shame as Tra'mon continued standing before me. His silence was making me even more nervous, and the few moments that he had been standing there so far truly felt like several minutes of anguish for me. I was extremely confused. I could not understand why he was just standing there as I knelt there humbling myself before him. I wondered if he was waiting for me to look up to him, or say something.

His presence and the awkward delay alone seemed to command my eyes to begin crawling upwards towards him.

The young, black man's horrifying cock bulge in those wispy animal-printed bikinis were insulting to me. He was still wearing the same ones from last night and his swollen and "spent" cock bulged ridiculously out of control. I could see they were freshly dampened by the combination of his seed and my wife's pussy juices. It was also noticeable that the crotch region of these bikinis had been dried with previous cum stains.

As my eyes noticed this, I could no longer bring them up any higher. Submissively, my eyes lowered back down to the floor at his feet, demoralizingly catching the brief image of the bedroom door, which was wide open in the distance behind him.

Still, no words had been spoken.

The uncomfortable silence was beginning to make me quiver. I felt as if the black stud was going to do something to me, but I had no idea what? He certainly didn't have to. I was already defeated and my eyes were lowered in shame. Somehow, and in unconscious fashion, a whisper came from my lips.

I have no clue as to why a sound came from me. Perhaps, this long delay caused my fear to heighten and my unconscious pleas became vocal.

"P-P-Please?" I groveled in a barely detectable whisper, a single tear beginning to well up in the corner of my eye.

Tra'mon did not return any words.

With uncanny arrogance, he simply put his powerful right hand to the top of my head. He grasped a fistful of my thinning hair and clenched it even tighter. He even tightened the grip a extra notch as I knelt there feeling the rush of pain to my scalp. That is when the young black man turned his torso until his muscular ass cheeks were in plain view and right before my petrified, weak face.

In silence, I was forced to look at it for a brief moment as I feared the worst. With one sudden and calculated move, he then pulled my face dead center into his bikini-covered backside. Aggressively, he stuffed his ass into my face and began "rubbing" and "grinding" my face into the thinly nylon-spandex material of his bikini clas ass.

"Mmpfph, Mmpfph." I echoed in defeat.

My weak shoulders slumped and my arms grew even weaker. My hands remained on my lap as I clenched the dampened towel. Arrogantly, he simply continued controlling my head and "mashing" my flustered face into his sweat-dampened giraffe-print bikini butt cheeks. He further reddened my cowardly face. Humiliatingly, he continued this ultra-degrading motion for no less than an eternal two minutes before finally letting go of my hair.

I breathed a demoralizing sigh of relief as I tried catching my breath.

His cockiness and arrogance were unreal. Despite the breifness of this obnoxious action, my face felt like a beaten mess once again. My breathing remained heavy as I tried to catch my breath, again. My eyes were barely opened in shame as I glanced forward to see Tra'mon's now bare crotch area. He had removed the flimsy, worn bikinis from his body and was now holding them inches before me.

My weakened arms remained down on my lap as the black stud placed them over my head and face.

With disdain, he had positioned his bikini underwear over my face, once again. Arrogantly, he made sure the musky-scented crotch area of his bikinis rested over my nose with the leg holes over my eyes. He snapped the waist band of them over my ears, forcing me to wear this disgusting bikini underwear like some sort of mask of of complete and total degradation.

Intimidated, I barely looked straight ahead as I heard the slight sound of his amusement. He stood there only for a moment almost as if he was waiting for me to contest this act of arrogance. But, I did not. I simply knelt there as I watched Tra'mon turn and strut his powerful body into the bathroom. He was nude as he did so. Seconds later, I heard the sound of running water ashe turned the shower on to it's full potential.

It was obvious that the young black man was now taking a shower. I remained kneeling in this position for a moment, uneasy and totally humiliated. I simply did not know what to do. In fear, I contemplated whether or not it would anger Tra'mon if I removed his raunchy bikini underwear from my face. I certainly did not want that. Not at all. But, that is when I glanced up and towards the open bedroom door 25 feet before me. I noticed Julie.

There, sitting on the edge of the bed was my blonde wife with her head in her hands. Her african-braided blonde hair cascaded down over the top of her head, and towards the floor. It was obvious that she was completely "fucked out" as her body position was facing directly towards me.

"Oh, Gawd!" I thought.

"Did Julie see all that?" I wondered.

Without much thought, I quickly removed the black man's giraffe-printed bikini underwear from my head. Perhaps, I was trying to convince myself that I had removed them before Julie could actually see me with them on my face. I felt like such a weak wimp. Desperately, I curled them up into a tight ball and put them into the palm of my shaking hand, attempting to conceal them. I managed to do this a mere second before I noticed her getting of the bed and standing up. She got to her feet and non chalantly slipped into a pair of white panties. Then, she slipped on a black half tee shirt that had been laying on the bedroom floor before the bed.

My face felt flush as Julie began stepping out of the bedroom. Humiliated, I rose to my feet and stood there. My eyes were staring straight at her now, yet her eyes remained fatigued and uunconcerned by my presence. Her large, enhanced breasts stretched that miniature black half tee shirt outward as I noticed the letters and symbol on the front. In white letters, the words "Black Jacques Club Arizona" were displayed with a black power fist symbol in the same white print beneath it. The lump in my throat felt even larger.

Here was my beautiful, blonde wife who had never worn black before, now wearing black again.

It was so apparent that Julie was totally "fucked out" of her mind. She appeared so incoherent as she held her head and walked right past me, and into the kitchen. She was either ignoring me or could barely comprehend that I was standing there. I felt almost invisible to her.

"Is that coffee you're making?" she whispered.

Her sudden words caught me off guard. I was stunned that she had just spoken to me, and with the black stud in the same condo apartment as we were in too?! She had rarely spoken to me in his presence before, even though he was in the bathroom at this time.

"Um, y-yes. Would y-you like some, Julie?" I quivered, surprised by her request.

"Please." she answered, simply and politely, her head remained down into hand trying to wake up.

As I poured Julie a cup of coffee, it occurred to me that she never really drank coffee before. She had the occasional latt'e from Starbucks, but those times were extremely few and far in between. Just as I placed the cup onto the saucer, I heard the sound of the shower turning off.

It had stopped and I became tense. It was the quickest three minute shower I could imagine as I placed the coffee before Julie. She was sitting at the kitchen table when I realized that Tra'mon would be emerging from the other room soon. It felt defeating that I would not be able to continue speaking with Julie, just when she had finally initiated a conversation.

Julie glanced up when she heard the sound of Tra'mon getting out of the shower. It was as if she suddenly realized that he was still here. But, the expression on her pretty face actually mortified me.

My beautiful, blonde wife had left for a day of running errands with an obvious "cum-stained" face. Now, her pretty features looked considerably worse. It appeared there were several additional blotches of the black man's thick seed dried onto her once flawless face. Her face had the horrific stud's powerful cum seed now "caked" dry onto her cheeks, chin and forehead. There had to be three times more dried up sperm on her face now?!

"Geezuz?!" I moaned inside.

Julie put her head back down to her coffee and began sipping the hot beverage. I turned and looked towards the bathroom, trembling nervously as I heard the sounds of hangers rustling around and being tossed onto the tiled floor. They were the hangers where I had placed Tra'mon's bikinis onto after I was made to handwash them. In my mind, it sounded as if he was selecting a pair and then disgarding the others. This turned out to be almost accurate.

Moments later, the black stud emerged from the bathroom wearing one of the skimpy and flimsy pairs of underwear I had dutifully washed. They were a darker, neon pewter-colored pair of bikini underwear which made his already massive cock look even larger. Tra'mon also had a small white hand towel around his muscular neck. His presence made my eyes fall to the floor, again.

I simply stood there shaking like a leaf on a tree as he drew nearer. My knees weakened even more with every step he took in my direction. I swallowed loudly and clenched his used giraffe-printed bikinis in my right hand as my tall, weakened body tensed up. Casually, he strolled right past me and headed straight to the refrigerator. He intimidated me to no end, yet it was as if he hardly was concerned by me at all.

Julie reamined at the kitchen table cradling her cup of black coffee with her eyes looking deeply into the steam rising from it.

Boldly, Tra'mon opened the fridge and repeated the rude action of drinking orange juice from the bottle. He swallowed another "gulp" of the juice and held the bottle in his left hand. That is when he extended the top of his right hand towards Julie. As she noticed it, she paused for merely a moment before she reached for it and then took his hand into hers. She then kissed the top of his right hand.

I was appalled and shocked beyond belief.

His act of arrogance in holding out his hand for my wife to kiss it was astonsihing. It was like he was acting like some sort of "black god" or "black king" as he gestured his command for her to pay homage to him. Unbelievably, Julie complied. She obeyed, kissing the top of his dark hand as if she was his servant.

The image of this action was humbly, to say the least. No words were spoken. He simply made her kiss the top of his hand before turning and walking out of our condo apartment with the remainder of the orange juice in his hand. Just seeing Julie return to her coffee lost in thought sent a shiver of defeat through my veins. There was a long pause before I could even move my lips. I didn't know what to say, but I felt compelled to say something. I do not know why.

"Are y-you going to sh-shower now, Julie?" I asked, hoping for a positive response.

She looked so awful. So used. It was mortifying to realize that she might even go out in this condition, again. I couldn't fathom the idea of Julie going outdoors with her face looking like that. Perhaps, this is the reason I was asking. I wasn't exactly sure why at this moment.

"In a minute." Julie returned, softly.

Meekly, I stepped away from my wife. I had so many questions as to why she was out so long "running errands" yesterday. I was curious as to why she had agreed to dinner and then left me stranded, alone. I wanted to know where she went and what took so long to get home. I had all these questions, yet I felt too defeated and weak to ask them.

As I stepped into the bathroom, I was greeted by the site of what the black stud had left behind. A larger wet towel was callously splattered on the floor. Small puddles of water from the black man's feet were all over the floor as well. Numerous pairs of his bikini underwear which I had "handwashed" the day before were now laying in the bathtub. He had tossed them, hangers and all, into the foot of the soapy shower water of the bath tub. They were dirty, once again.

My eyes widened in disbelief. It was such a rude action that it made my heart fall in shame. When I looked out from the bathroom and back to Julie, she was still sitting at the kitchen table. I felt humbled. It was then when I reasoned that I had better just clean up his mess before she came into the bathroom.

Worriedly, I gathered the strewn pairs of bikini underwear from the tub in my weak arms. I placed them onto the counter top next to the sink and began cleaning up after the black stud. I was having one of the worst feelings ever as I knelt on the floor wiping up the water Tra'mon had left behind, and that is when I heard Julie entering the bathroom.

"I need to shower now." she said, casually.

Startled by her presence, I glanced behind me and noticed my blonde wife putting on a shower cap over her blonde african-braided hair. Her eyes were avoiding me as she seemed more focused on getting showered than my degrading position on the floor and on my hands and knees.

"O-Okay." I whispered, meekly.

Julie casually swept past me and turned on the shower. She was leaning over in merely her white bikini panties and black half tee shirt. In complete humiliation, I noticed my wife's backside was still dripping with the black stud's thick seed. The back of her tiny white nylon panties were drenched in cum, and noticeable trails of it were streaming down her inner thighs. My eyes widened for a moment in shock, and then fell to the floor as she turned around. Her swift and casual motion had caught me off guard.

When I finally stood up and turned towards the door, Julie spoke again.

"Will you take those off the counter now?" she asked, referring to Tra'mon's flimsy and now soap-dampened bikini underwear.

My face flushed as I watched Julie remove her tee shirt. For a brief moment, I was stunned by the sight of her new large, enhanced breasts jutting out in the open like that. More degrading were the two spade symblol tattoos with the letter "T" for Trey carved out in flesh in the middle of each of these black spade images.

Defeatedly, I gathered up the large pile of 25 pairs of Tra'mon's bikinis. I held them in my arms and stood there, motionless and confused. Julie wasn't even paying attention to me as I watched her now slip out of her delicate white panties. Her eyes remained "Shying" away from me as I stood there in complete shame.

Even more humiliating was the fact that my beautiful wife took her panties off and held them for a moment before her with two fingers. She didn't even look at them, but it was obvious that they were nearly dripping with the thick cum from the black stud. She proceded to place them gently and directly on top of the pile of the young black's man's skimpy underwear I was holding.

Her non chalant action was truly demoralizing. She has just placed her cum-soaked and cum-stained white panties right under my nose, in a sense, and directly on top of the pile of Tra'mon's soiled power bikinis.