This is part two of a story containing interracial voyeuristic content and sex. The first chapter which contained similar themes was recently published in the
Exhibitionist & Voyeur category
. While this chapter can stand on its own, I think you'll enjoy the story more if you read that chapter first.
I do not give permission for this story to be edited, copied, or published anywhere else without my consent.
*****
I sat in the Home Depot parking lot staring out at God knows what—my mind completely unfocused. I came looking for materials to cross more items off Allie's honey-do list. But like every other day these past few weeks, my focus remained on what I'd experienced via my master bedroom spy camera. To my ongoing disbelief, I had watched my formerly conservative wife get-off time and again with her new big black dildo while watching interracial porn.
The entire experience still numbed my brain.
I'd always wanted to experience a kinkier side to Allie.
But this? Interracial porn? A huge black dildo?
I closed my eyes tightly, picturing her humping and gasping as the thick rutted phallus brought her the most intense orgasm's I had ever seen her experience. These past few weeks had been some of the most memorable of my life.
Now my cock was rock hard in my pants again.
What's wrong with me? My gorgeous wife is cheating on me with a black monster toy that dwarfs my manhood, and I can't stop wanting to see more?
I shook my head to clear it. I couldn't go into the store like this. I sat there for several minutes focusing on my fantasy football lineup. Eventually my dick softened to the point I could safely exit the car and make my way inside.
After shopping for a couple of minutes, I realized the two cups of coffee I'd consumed that morning were racing right through me. I made my way to the back of the store and entered the men's room. I was standing at the urinal relieving myself when I heard the deep voice of another man entering the john while talking on his cell phone.
He saddled up next to me and told whoever he was talking to, to hang on a minute. I was only mildly paying attention as he shoved his phone in his pocket. He released his fly and seconds later a large dark object entered my peripheral vision. I didn't glance that way until I heard a stream of fluid that sounded like a firehose being released. Now, I couldn't help from looking over just as the man pulled his phone back out from his pocket.
"Sorry about that Teek, just relieving the serpent! Where were we?"
My eyes practically bugged out of my head as I witnessed the source of the powerful release. The black man standing next to me aimed a long fat black cock towards the white porcelain urine receptacle.
Piss blasted from it in a stream that was close to a half-inch in diameter at a force that filled the lower section of the bowl in only a few seconds. My own meager stream dissipated quickly—I gave myself a brief shake, but my stealthy stare never left the vision to my left. When I finally buttoned up and made my way to the sink, I heard the man laugh loudly before he spoke.
"C'mon Teek, you know better. Of course she loved it, they all do—another satisfied customer!"
I dried my hands and made my way towards the door. I heard him make one final comment to whoever Teek was. "Shit, if she had the money, she'd want me to remodel the whole damn house!"
I left the bathroom trying to digest what I'd just experienced. I couldn't get the image of the black man's huge cock out of my head.
Fuck, that thing was massive!
Seconds later, the thoughts of Allie's BBC masturbation merged with the image I'd just witnessed.
I glanced around the store trying to recall why I came in the first place. I shopped for another twenty minutes, but I couldn't totally shake what I'd witnessed in the men's room. I paid for my stuff and headed out to my car.
In an effort to clear my head, I removed one of the items I purchased from the bag and began reading the installation instructions. After a few minutes, I was satisfied it was something I could handle. But just as I was about to start the car, I looked up and saw the man who I'd seen in the bathroom walking through the parking lot right in front of me.
He looked like he was in his mid-fifties, but he obviously took care of himself. He was tall, I'd say 6'-3" and barrel chested and although he had the first signs of gray in his sideburns and goatee, he looked healthy for his age. Sadly, my eyes were drawn to his crotch. I didn't have a gay bone in my body, but I guess I was trying to somehow validate what I'd seen in the restroom.
He was pushing an orange cart loaded with some type of millwork out to a large pick-up truck. He began to load it on a lumber rack over the bed. The words
R.E. Johnson Construction
were painted on the door. On the rear quarter panel, the phrase,
Home Remodels and Additions Are Our Specialty
was painted in the same forest green-colored cursive font. On the tailgate a bulleted group of services were listed: Kitchens, Bathrooms, Windows, Doors, Trim, Decks, Arbors, Garages, etc.
I watched as he expertly fastened the trim board onto the rack and hung a red flag off the back. When he finished and was making his way back to the cab, I exited my Tesla and crossed the parking aisle quickly. Just as he opened the door and started to climb inside, I came up from behind.
"Hey there, sorry to catch you off guard, but I noticed on your truck that you do remodeling work."
The black man turned in my direction with a semi-irritated gaze. "Yeah, but to tell you the truth, I'm pretty booked up. There's plenty of good contractors around. What were you wanting to have done?"
His question caught me off guard and for some reason a disturbing thought entered my mind...
my wife by your big black cock!
"Well, we...uh...my wife and I had some architectural plans drawn up prior to Covid for extensive remodeling work...but we put things on the backburner due to the pandemic. I was thinking now we might get started with the bathrooms and some other odds and ends before tackling the bigger stuff."
My muddled brain immediately questioned whether I had subconsciously chosen
those
words while thinking back to what I'd seen in the restroom.
The initial standoffishness waned from his face before he smiled and extended his hand. I reached out and mine was quickly engulfed by the largest, roughest, power grip I had ever felt. For some reason, the thought of shaking hands with a gorilla entered my mind.
"Mr. uh..."
"...Bradshaw...Jack Bradshaw." I answered distractedly.
His eyes brightened and he flashed a comforting grin. His teeth were the straightest, whitest set I had ever seen.
"Mr. Bradshaw, I'm Robert Johnson Jr., it's nice to meet you. I didn't mean to sound uninterested, but I get approached by a lot of tire-kickers at places like this. But truthfully, my backlog is several months long, but I'll give you one of my cards in case you're interested in waiting."
He reached into a slot in his dash, plucked out a business card, and handed it to me. I noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Tell you what...uh...Jack, send me a text or email and then I'll have your contact information in case something opens up."
I thanked him for his consideration and confirmed I would contact him virtually before making my way back to my car. I watched and listened as his big diesel engine revved, and he pulled out and drove away. As he did so, the passenger side of the truck was exposed to me for the first time. On the rear quarter panel the phrase,
