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,
Happy Wife, Happy Life
was printed in the same green paint.
I was partially disappointed he was unavailable, but the other side of me was relieved.
What the fuck was I thinking? Was I really considering hiring a black man with a huge cock to do construction work at my house in hopes of bringing him in close proximity to my black dildo/interracial sex loving wife?
*****
Later that night, I was standing out at my barbecue with my third IPA of the evening in the palm of my hand. The scintillating aroma of grilling tri-tip wafted from my Weber, but my focus wasn't entirely on that. I couldn't stop peering through the window at my gorgeous wife. Allie's sandy blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore only a tank top and loose-fitting cotton shorts. My eyes were drunkenly drawn to the exposed cleavage of her rounded tits and spectacular runner's legs.
My amazing wife moved around the room with the grace of a dancer. She was alternating between prepping the sides, playing with our Australian Shepherd Zeke, and dancing to one of our favorite American reggae-rock bands, Stick Figure. I loved the way her hips moved when she danced—she had an innate sexiness, almost stripper-like, when she swayed to music.
How did I ever get this amazing woman to marry me?
I reached into my pocket to retrieve my phone. I wanted to capture a video of her doing the very things that made me love her so much. But instead, my fingers connected with a rectangular shaped thick paper object. I pulled it from my shorts and recognized it as the contractor's business card. I studied it for nearly a minute.
I peered back through the window at Allie. Thoughts of all the inconceivable things I'd seen her do with her black dildo came flooding back as I now watched her play with the kids—they had returned to the family room when their movie ended. The three of them were now all laughing hysterically while playing keep away from Zeke and his favorite stuffed animal.
Despite watching the three people I loved more than anything in the world, my convoluted brain questioned:
Could I really hire a black man to work in our house knowing the possibilities of what might transpire?
Twenty minutes later over dinner I said to her, "Hey babe, I was thinking we should get serious again about doing the work on the house."
Allie lit up. "Are you serious? Is now a good time?"
"Yeah, obviously our pandemic concerns are long gone, and my bonus was just deposited last week! I don't think there's been a better time since we originally tried."
"I'm certainly not going to argue, you know how excited I am to finally get going again!"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I met a contractor at Home Depot today who specializes in the kind of stuff we want to do. He seemed like a good guy, but he's pretty busy. But he said we are definitely more apt to find someone to do the work sooner having the plans done and the permit already pulled and only on a temporary hold. Anyway, I got one of his cards—I'm going to text him tomorrow."
"That's good, I'm sure there are lots of qualified contractors out there, but finding someone who can do it sooner than later could be a challenge regardless of those other things. Was there anything special about this guy?"
I thought to myself,
special? Well, he has a huge black cock!
"Um, I don't know, he was friendly enough and seems to have done a lot of work around this area. I didn't get a chance to do any further follow-up on him yet, but I plan to this week."
"Older or younger?"
"I would guess early to mid-fifties." I purposely didn't say anything about him being black.
"That's probably good, hopefully he'll be more reliable that way. I'll ask around to some of my friends for recommendations or if they know anything about him. What's his name?"
I pulled his card from my pocket and pushed it across the table.
