Black Man One Ch 26

There was still a great deal of confusion left inside of me. Those who can relate to the events leading up to this point believe that I should have simply fled, like the other 4 white husbands. Others think I should have stood up to him. But, I could never do that. I knew this now.

My intense fear of the young, black stud and the desperate sliver of hope that I still had getting Julie back were the only things keeping me around for the time being.

I knew that I had been defeated.

I had been defeated by black men in the past, but those times weren't anything remotely close to this demoralization. I did not revel in this defeat, nor did I want it. I was not "excited" by my defeat in the least bit. Like millions of other weaker white men who have lost their woman to the dominance of a black man, I was confused. Simply confused. I was also terribly afraid of what was yet to come.

My beautiful, blonde wife had left our condo apartment with Tra'mon. Several minutes later, I recalled her last words as she was leaving for work at his workout center. She had referred to the time they would be returning. This thought would bring on additional feelings of insecurity and concern. I wasn't sure why they would be coming back so soon on this particular day. Generally, being at the black man's new workout center was an all day event followed by an all night "after work drink" at that terrifying club.

But, today they were coming back early and I had no idea what I should do.

The other remaining 8 white husbands in the condo community had obviously left for their offices already. Their cars were no longer in the parking lot. I was now the only husband at home.

With the concern of Tra'mon returning earlier than usual still looming over me, I decided that I should just complete the degrading chore that he had resurrected. I felt it would be best for me to finish handwashing the flimsy little bikini things he had purposely re-soiled in the soapy bath water that morning before he left. The brazen manner in which he so rudely tossed the previously-washed bikinis into the tub water after his shower was insulting for me.

He didn't have to do that. But, he did. The thought of him doing this as some sort of "test" crossed my mind as well.

Defeatedly, I completed this humbling task by the end of the hour. Then, I began taking a shower myself. With my head bowed in shame I began getting dressed.

After cleaning up in the kitchen and making the bed my wife and I once slept in together, I became fatigued. The horrfic thought that this young black stud had been fucking my wife all night in this bed was tremendously humbling for me. My weak arms felt weaker, and my mind continued to wander. I knew that I needed sleep, and after another 2 hours of cleaning I finally rested my head down upon the arm of the sofa. With one quick glance over to the clock on the wall I closed my eyes and passed out. It was ten minutes after 1 o'clock in the afternoon.

Once again, I would dream of the days when Julie and I were together. These were the days when she thought of me as a man, and as a real man. All the "little white lies" of my masculinity were working so well back then. Now, this powerful and aggressive young black stud was exposing me for what I really was. He was forcing me to face the truth, and he was completely relentless in doing so.

But, reality hit home when I was "jolted" out my peaceful slumber by the sound of music coming from the pool area. My forehead was beading with sweat as I sat up and then jumped up from the sofa looking back at the clock. It was half past four and I had been sleeping for more than 3 hours. It felt like only 15 minutes had gone by.

"Holy Krist! It's past 4 already?" I yelped.

The sound of the black rap music from outside was literally pounding away. I could even feel the vibrations against the building and on the floor under my feet. The faint sounds of a crowd mingling around the pool area below became more and more apparent. The greater part of me knew that my wife and Tra'mon were out there now, but a smaller part of me felt compelled to look anyway. The sounds just seemed so unusual to me at this time of the day, and it felt like there were many other people out there too.

Tentatively, I stepped into the kitchen and towards the back window of my condo unit to take a look. But, then I "chickened" out. I did not want to see what I was suspecting in my already defeated mind. I decided to rush over to the bathroom window first, peering out towards the parking lot to the front side of the building. There were numerous cars parked. Only some were familiar.

There were several cars that were not recognizable to me. But, the cars of the other 8 white husbands who lived in the building were now parked there, too. Theirs seemed to be parked in the general area next to my car. Unconsciously, it was as if all the white husbands' cars were huddled together in the same manner we were all huddled together talking about the tough black man nights before.

I reasoned they had already returned from their jobs, but it also seemed to be a little earlier than usual for them.

Curiously, I walked down to the parking lot entrance in back to take a closer look. I was in the hallway peering out as I noticed two other white women exiting their cars. They began walking towards the building in my direction, and they were dressed in bikinis, small bikini skirts or wraps around their waists, and high heels. I was just standing there with a timid look upon my face when they looked towards me. They barely looked at me for a moment as they approached. Strangely, they suddenly turned to their right and headed in the direction of the back pool area.

That is when I noticed the bright yellow sheet of paper taped backwards onto the glass door in front of me. It was taped backwards for those approaching to read, and it felt odd that I had not noticed it before. When I first came downstairs, my focus had been on those white women approaching the building and I looked right past it. I stepped outside and looked back to read it. It read "Trey's Club Roar Party out back. No white boys!" with a bold, black arrow pointing to the right. The arrow directed guests to the back entrance to the condo's large pool area where the music was eminating.

"Geezuz. That seems kinda rude?" I pondered, shamefully.

The young, black stud had made a statement that us white husbands or investors were not invited. It was not like I would have any desire to do so, anyway. Nor, would the other white husbands. I was fairly sure of that. Yet, the fact that he made this point very clear, and in writing, the humiliation began setting in much deeper.

As the loud rap music vibrated from the short distance around the back of the building, I decided to go back upstairs and take a look for myself. I suppose it was the curiosity, once again. Or, maybe it was that I just wanted to see Julie again? I wasn't sure.

Looking back, I wish that I hadn't been so curious. I now wish that I didn't look back there at all. I should have left it alone and accepted the fact they were having this little "get together" for the fitness center and it was none of my business.

I returned to my apartment and now stood at the back window ready to peer out towards the pool. By the sound of it, this "little party" seemed to be going at full mast. Although I reasoned that it had to begin only a short time ago, the energy seemed more like the middle of a party.

Passively and cowardly, I "peeked" out past the kitchen curtains to see the rather large group of people milling around. Many, if not most of them, seemed to be from the black stud's workout center, or gym. They had to be.

What I saw was completely and totally humbling.

There, right before my eyes one floor below was the group of young black men and white women gathered around the luxurious pool area. The young black men consisted of Tra'mon and the 5 other athletic trainers from his Club Roar workout center. I had not spotted Tra'mon just yet, though. The white women consisted of all of the white wives from the condo building, which included Julie, and at least another 10 beautiful white women between the ages of 25 and 40.

My eyes scanned the entire pool area searching for Julie. I did not see her initially due to parts of the small crowd blocking her position. Everyone was dressed in swimwear. The 5 young, black stud trainers from the gym were dressed in skimpy black bikini speedoes suits. They were the same obnoxious liquid-appearing black bikini suits with the small, half-dollar sized logo from the club positioned on the left front side nearest their thin waistbands. The numerous white women were all noticeably attractive. Each was dressed in merely a two-piece bikini varying in colors, with 4 to 5 inch high heels upon their feet. Many of these women were the same "friends" of Tra'mon's, which I had seen before. A few of them were not.

"Gosh! There must be close to 25 women here?" I thought.

"Where's Julie?" I asked myself, as my eyes continued canvassing the pool area.

The longer I looked, the more I observed. It suddenly occurred to me that all these pretty white women were so "attentive" to these younger, black stud men. The 25 white women and the total of 6 black men hanging around the pool area was more like a "dagger through the hearts" of all white men. The manner in which these gorgeous white women remained so attentive to these black studs was almost surreal. I found it so humbling and hard to believe what my eyes were just beginning to observe.

Two of the five black stud trainers were sitting on chaise lounge chairs with their feet extended outward resting on the ends. Both of them had two white women on their knees, sitting at their feet and massaging one foot each. One woman was at their right foot and the other was at their left. A third white woman sat off to their sides. Those 2 black trainers were simply sitting and relaxing so casually with their shades reflecting in the bright sun light. Drinks were in their hands as they spoke to each other in a very non chalant manner.

Those two black trainers were just sitting there as if they were kings while the white women at their feet obediently massaged them. The white women sitting off to their sides just knelt there quietly, sitting on the backs of their legs as if they were servants in waiting, and waiting for the next command.

"Geezuz!" I gasped inside.

"Where's Julie? Where's Tra'mon?" I asked myself, again.

The three other black trainers were standing around in their black bikini speedoes suits and sandals. They were fairly spread out, one being closer to the Tiki Bar setup and another closer to the pool. The last one closer to the small set of tables with picnic umbrellas placed into the center of them. Each one of these other 3 black trainers had 4 or 5 white women standing around them, dressed in their bikinis and heels. From a short distance they seemed more like "groupies."

Shockingly, one of the white women "groupies" around each black man was holding a small paper plate of food with a plastic fork in her hand. The other pretty women standing around each of these black studs was holding a glass of champagne, or holding two glasses in their hands. One would be holding a drink glass and an ash tray.

Still, I hadn't seen my beautiful blonde wife and Tra'mon at this point. The small, broken apart clusters of people may have been concealing my full view of them. I wasn't sure. Everytime I thought I saw Jule and did a double-take she appeared to vanish from my sight.

I continued to watch in utter amazement as the small group of pretty white women stood around one of these tough-looking black men in silence. Each woman seemed so mesmorised by the "buff" black stud standing before them in the most catastrophically small bikinis. Astonishingly, the one woman with the plate would begin to feed the black trainer before her as he remained standing with his powerful arms crossed. When he wanted a drink, another woman would hand him a glass of champagne and wait for him to take a sip of it. When they smoked a "blunt" cigarette or regular cigarette another white women held it up for the black stud to disgard his ashes.

The women would accept the glass back in a subservient manner when he decided he was finished with it. When I "cracked" open the sliding back door a few inches the scent of marijuana was evident in the afternoon air.

"What the?..." I bellowed.

"They're acting like they're some sort of gods or something?!" I scorned, my face feeling flushed.

Defeatedly, my eyes continued to scan the area searching for Julie. I noticed the top of Tra'mon's dark-skinned shaven head between some people milling around, but I could not see Julie. Not yet. It was a mere glimpse at this point.

But, I noticed the 4 white wives that had been "rumored" to be pregnant with the black stud's baby. These were the 4 women whose husbands had already left the condo community. Their faces seemed rather unaffected, almost as if they were focused upon something else. I looked at their bellies and it didn't "really" seem like they were carrying a child. I suppose that I was trying to convince myself they weren't pregnant. I don't know why? It was more likely just too early in their pregnancies to notice?

However, let the truth be told that every one of these 4 wives had the same, distinct 2-inch sized large spade symbol tattooed dead center on their lower backs just above their bikini lines.

I peered closer, but was unable to see clearly. Their standing positions were more off center and to the side. This is the reason why I ran to the closet and grabbed my pair of binoculars. For some unknown reason, I just had to see these tattoos for myself.

I've had these miltary-issued binoculars for many years, obviously since my military days. I had hardly used them since, but I just had to know if their blatant spade symbol tattoos were the same ones as Julies' bold ones. I wasn't sure why I needed to know. I just did. Looking back, it was another poor decision stemming from my defeated and humbled mind.

With my binoculars in hand, I spotted Karen and "zoomed in" to her lower back. Yes, it was the exact same grotesquely large spade symbol tattoo in black. The two blank black-inked outline of ribbons were positioned on both sides of this tattoo. The black outline with the flesh toned blank spots inside was "seemingly" waiting for something to be added, or filled in.

"Oh, Geez!" I muttered.

"What is it with these women with black guys always having tattoos?" I asked myself.

When I spotted the other 3 white wives rumored to be pregnant, I did the same. Yes, they had the exact same tattoo on their lower backs. It was like the new tattoo was now their new "tramp stamp," to use a term I had heard in the army.

With a strange feeling of confusion, I began focusing in on the other white women that I was able to see. All of them had a large spade tattoo printed in deep, dark ink on their lower backs. Not some of them, but all of them.

Not all of them had the accompanying blank ribbons darting outward to each side. Yet, they all had these massive two-inch spade designs on their lower backs. Some of these women did have a smaller spade tattoo on their breasts, like Julie had. But, just one of them and not on both breasts. Some of these women had another tattoo on their arms, back shoulders or neck. But, I was unable to determine exactly what they were due to their body positions and consistent subtle body movements.

Then, it occurred to me that none of these other white women had their entire arms and shoulders tattooed with the "Roar Club" symbol, like my wife Julie had. She was the only one.

"Geezuz. Julie told me she got those for the club and they were easier than wearing an arm band?" I thought.

"She said those meant she worked at the club?" I gasped, remembering her own words.

"Why don't the other women who work at the club have those?" I pondered.

With my eyes in the binoculars, I began scanning the small group of people from left to right, and then back again. It was humiliating to see all these beautiful white women acting so casual and non chalant in this more than obvious subservient manner. I glanced at the women massaging the feet of those two sitting black trainers. Their faces didn't seem happy or sad, nor did they seem very festive for this type of party. Their faces simply appeared to be exceptionally "accepting" of the situation.

Again, I continued peering side to side, back and forth, and now with greater shame developing inside. My throat ran dry as my casual observations of shock and awe began to feel even more defeating. But, nothing would prepare me for what I was about to witness when I finally spotted my blonde wife, Julie, and the terrifying and intimidating young black stud, Tra'mon.

My eyes caught a mere glimpse, or at least I initially thought it was them. My eyes had to double back to make sure. As one of the small clutters of people standing around "shifted" ever so slightly, I was now faced with a much more clearer view of them.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" I yelled out loud, dropping my military binoculars from my weakened hands.

There, at the furthest corner of the marbled pool area was Julie and Tra'mon milling around with 3 of the most beautiful white women in the entire group. The young black stud was the only black man not wearing a black speedoes bikini for this little gathering. He was clad in the most ultra-flimsy bikini of a neon hot pink color that I ever saw. I wasn't even sure if they were a speedoes suit or merely bikini underwear in this blatant wispy nylon-spandex material. I had never seen them before, and I had never "handwashed" this particular pair for him either.

The bright boldess of the neon hot pink color contrasted with the muscle-ripped black man's dark skin. He stood there with his strong arms crossed in authority. I had seen him with this stance before, and I knew what it meant. When Tra'mon stood this way with his stern glare I always felt he was even more serious. I always felt even more intimidated.

Even more degrading was the fact that the pouch of his ultra-flimsy bikinis were literally "jutting" nearly straight outwards in the most disgusting and revolting manner possible. Even from the distance of the second floor condo I was watching from it was so blatant and obvious that this young stud was more than halfways erect. His massive, thick and imposing black cock stretched the unusually thin and stretchy fabric of his neon hot pink bikini pouch outwards. Yes, outwards. His sweat-drenched bulge surged to unimaginable proportions.

I swallowed loudly as I then turned to see Julie sitting on the edge of the wooden chaise lounge chair, and directly behind him. The 3 other white women who were dressed in bikinis and statuesque heels remained standing before him, in total silence. Their eyes remained slightly downward as they listened to Tra'mon speak.

Initially, I could not see Julie's face. I could only see part of her body and the obvious tattoos of a black panther head on one of her arms. Her right arm and shoulder from my viewpoint was obvious. Then, a slight turn of the young black stud's torso changed things. Tra'mon remained facing the three women standing before him as he barely shifted his stance. This move now revealed the entire image.

My knees literally buckled.

There, sitting directly behind Tra'mon was my beautiful blonde wife. And, she was literally, and I do mean literally, kissing the young black stud's ass cheeks. Yes, this was happening right before my very eyes, right there in the middle of this pool party! It was absolutely impossible to comprehend at the time.