Warning!
There are references to extramarital sex in this story! If this theme offends you, go elsewhere.
A few comments are in order. I wrote Zebulon as an intentional affront to the Burn The Bitch trolls that have infested Literotica. If fiction describing extramarital sex so offends these people, they should not be coming to this site or at least the Loving Wives section. Their "stories" are not at all erotic. If they are published, they belong in a new section called "Hateful Husbands" rather than "Loving Wives."
*
Zebulon stirred up a shit storm about racism that has amazed me. In an effort to humanize the archetypical Black stud who seduces White Wives, I had the character cite some statistics on crime rates and black family structure to explain his motivation for adopting his predatory sexual avocation rather than become a husband and father. I thought that I was making the point that Black men suffer from some horrific circumstances. The vitriolic response has been astonishing. It is not surprising that my accusers are members of the Burn The Bitch mafia that were merely exploiting accusations of racism to advance their agenda.
In response to the vitriol, I am including a fictional account of a shooting of an African American by police that is based on reality. I actually had the opportunity to review the autopsy including photos in the case. I am also citing some more statistics on killings by police to illustrate another lethal reality that African American men are confronted with. It will be interesting to see if this pisses people off to.
Astute readers might notice some discrepancies between the dates certain background political events occur and the apparent ages of the characters. Get over it. This is fiction. I employed literary license to make a decade or so disappear.
I will not bother to cite more statistics from authoritative references regarding black family structure and crime to explain my character. The people who have been so angered by my story and my comments to explain myself are unwilling to consider any information that contradicts their preconceived, politically correct opinions. Just as Eddie Murphy confronted the audience of Saturday Night Live decades ago by using the word "bastard" in a context that discomforted some but offended few back then, I will expand the vocabulary of the reactionary trolls who have flamed me. Can you say "bigot?"
Big-ot-ry,
Stubborn and complete intolerance of any creed, belief, or opinion that differs from one's own.
Zebulon was still contemplating his conversation with Leroy as he walked across the health club's parking lot to get to his car. Leroy had made no secret of the fact that he had been raised by his grandparents, but he had never before confided that his mother had shot his father much less that he had witnessed the tragedy. It was difficult for Zeb to wrap his mind around that horrific reality. It was easy for Zeb to understand how that experience might embitter someone towards traditional marriage.
Zeb was far to angry with his wife to follow Leroy's advice about going home to make love to her. After having Leroy so shamelessly flaunt the enormous ebony penis that had fucked her, he felt like shooting her. The bitch had also nagged him into getting his balls cut about five years earlier. The fact that her periods hadn't been more than a few days late ever since attested to the success of that procedure. Inseminating his wayward wife would be an exercise in futility as well as an affront to his dignity. That made her reckless adultery seem even more outrageous. Ironically; the hypocritical bitch was attending a cousin's wedding after church.
After contemplating his options, Zeb made a decision. He drove to the office. Getting some work done would be a welcome distraction from the images of Leroy's Negro sperm swimming around in his wife's womb that were beginning to torment him.
When Zeb walked into the office, he was not surprised to see that Aretha was sitting at her desk. Aretha was a single mother who was struggling to put the youngest two of her children through college. She was in the habit of putting in extra hours to ensure that she could support her family.
Not for the first time Zeb momentarily surrendered to the temptation to admire Aretha's spectacular cleavage that was exposed by her carelessly buttoned blouse. Aretha was not quite as well endowed as Wendy Williams, but she was extraordinary. Her tits could cause a man to forget about twenty extra years and forty extra pounds. While Zeb's wife was blessed with moderately large breasts that often provoked longing glances, Aretha definitely out classed her just as Leroy outclassed Zeb.
Zeb found himself glancing at Aretha's naked ring finger The so recent conversation with Leroy inspired Zeb to question her about a subject that he had always been taboo. "Aretha, why aren't you married?"
For a moment Zeb was afraid that Aretha would erupt into a volcanic rage. "I used to be married. I had a good man who was a loving husband and devoted father. Then he got shot."
Zeb tried to be sympathetic as he observed, "I guess African Americans suffer from a lot of crime."
"It wasn't some drug dealer or gang banger who shot my husband. It was the police," Aretha said.
"Wow," Leroy exclaimed. "What happened?"
"We were sitting in our living room late one evening when the Police showed up to serve a search warrant. Our middle son had been caught selling a gram of marijuana to one of his friends so they decided that we must be big time drug traffickers. The friend had told the police about this photo of our oldest boy posing in his Marine Corps uniform holding his military issue assault rifle. Thanks to the gun control lobby 's propaganda, the police feared that we were heavily armed drug traffickers so they decided to send in their tactical team to serve a no knock warrant. Our dog was cowering behind his doghouse in our backyard when they shot him with a silenced submachine gun. The cops then smashed through our sliding glass door. Unfortunately; my husband was just lighting a cigar. The cops mistook his butane lighter for a pistol. Three of them opened fire with fully automatic, Heckler and Koch, nine millimeter caliber submachineguns. They pumped at least twenty-eight rounds into him. He was shot at least twenty-two times in the back after he collapsed face down onto his easy chair."
"That's awful," Zeb offered as feeble consolation.
"It got worse," Aretha explained. "The cops found the little, forty-five caliber, two shot Derringer that my husband kept in the drawer of the end table. They distributed a photo of that pistol at a press conference where the police chief was unapologetic. I'll never forget the drivel. The police chief said, 'the shooting is a sign of things to come as criminals become better armed and police try to match their firepower.' No one seemed to notice or care that while my husband's hands had been maimed by police bullets, there was no damage to his little Derringer. The same African-American clergy who are pushing the Black Lives Matter propaganda today were too busy sucking President Clinton's dick to say a damn thing in my husband's defense."
"My God! How could you keep going after something like that?
"It wasn't easy," Aretha replied. "Fortunately; one of the SWAT officers had confided in his pastor who became an intermediary to our pastor. We actually met with him a few times. The guy who had been on the SWAT team that shot and killed my husband was not some Klansman who hated black people. He was just an average white guy who was trying to do his job as a police officer. Unfortunately; he had been conditioned by President Clinton and the gun control lobby to believe that there are gang bangers and drug dealers armed with Uzi submachineguns or Kalashnikov assault rifles hiding under every bed. It was his paranoia rather than hate that motivated him to kill my husband."
Aretha Googled on her computer which took her to Amazon. "This is the listing for a book that reflected the paranoia of that time. The book is DO OR DIE, by Leon Bing who was writing an allegedly true account of gangs in Los Angeles. That cover photo of that balding, bare chested, black man holding an Uzi who looks so much like Leroy is every Klansman's nightmare. That long, thick, black barrel extension is obviously a phallus symbol intended to provoke the anxieties of white men."
Zeb was astonished by Aretha's willingness to discuss the tragedy that so angered her. However; he still found himself asking, "so you forgave the cops who killed your husband because being a police officer has become so dangerous?"
"Oh Hell No!," Aretha exclaimed. Her nearly unprecedented vulgarity continued, "I forgave the police who killed my husband because that stupid fucker Clinton was promoting police paranoia so he could exploit it for political advantage. My oldest boy wanted to change things so he became a police officer after he got out of the Marine Corps. He was an obvious choice for the tactical team. As such, he had reason to intensely study homicides of police officers. The FBI keeps extremely detailed records of killings of police officers. He studied the records so thoroughly that he was on a first name basis with the clerk at FBI headquarters who compiles the records. He used to joke that Loretta had such a sweet, honey suckle, Southern accent that she could make his cock hard while she was talking about her grandchildren. Anyway, he became extremely familiar with all of the FBI data on not just the number of cops that were being killed and how many were being killed with guns. He actually gets computer printouts that list the type, caliber, manufacturer and model of almost every firearm used to kill a police officer."
Aretha paused to sip her coffee before she continued. "The number of cops getting murdered in the line of duty has been plummeting for decades. My son tells me that being a cop is not just a hell of a lot safer than just being a black man, it is safer than being an average white man!"
