Black Man One Ch. 03

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White wimp relocates, his racist mind respects the black man.
2.8k words
3.8
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27

Part 3 of the 27 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 10/11/2011
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The next few years went by rather uneventfully, yet I was always insecure and in a constant state of anxiety about my beautiful blonde wife being approached by a black man. Those who do not understand will say that I am pathetic, which I know that I was, and still am. But, those who truly understand this will be able to sympathethize with me.

As Julie finished her degree during these next three years, I was always asking about her classes and the study groups she joined. I was asking for the same reasons. Luckily, there hadn't been anything significant going on and the fear of losing her to a black man began to subside in small amounts.

I was 42 now, and Julie had just turned 30. Our marriage had gone fairly well during this time despite the fact that we were only having sex about once a week. Julie didn't seem too concerned at the time, but it was obvious to me that this had become more of a task for her than anything else. We were in a "rut" so to speak, and I wasn't sure how to get out of it.

The money was there for us to go on more vacations, but I was insecure about many of the places Julie wanted to see. Places like Jamaica and Africa were greeted with a "no way" attitude from me. Of course, I gave the stock answer all the time.

"Maybe next year, honey?" I would say.

Things went on like this for the next two years as I continued to notice the astonishing increase in the number of interracial relationships in the community, and in the state. All of them were black men with white women. A sense of defeat loomed over me and probably all white men as the numbers continued to increase, as they continue to increase today, expodentially.

The realization that a little more than 12% of americans are black and over 70% are white came to mind. I continued questioning all the reasons why this was happening. Why were there so many white women with black men?

"Surely, it had to be more than just the size of their cocks?" I asked myself.

I found it increasingly difficult to avoid. Humiliatingly, my beautiful younger blonde wife was just beginning to notice it too. She noticed a few of our divorced female neighbors were now with black men, and had black children.

She made another comment during one of our visits to a beach. We were sitting there minding our own business when a black and white couple emerged and sat down to our left. They had a biracial and black child with them and the young man, who was about 20, was standing there in a bright yellow speedoes swimsuit. The bulge in the front pouch was embarrassing enough for me to see, but when my own wife made a comment about it that made things even worse.

"Would you ever wear a suit like that, honey?" she asked, casually.

"What? No way. Why?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing. Well, it can be sexy sometimes. Maybe you'd like to wear one for me once, huh?" she asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

I ignored that comment and wanted to leave so badly as she began small talk with the white woman, talking about the "cuteness" of their baby. I know it was all rather innocent, but I needed to leave, and we did.

It was about this time 2 years ago that I was offered a position with a new corporation. This position was in another state and carried with it a salary much higher than the already high salary I was making.

It seemed all too good to be true.

To me, it was an opportunity to move away to another place, and settle down with my beautiful wife of 5 plus years. I had turned 44, and Julie was now 32 and looking as young as the day I met her. She was excited about the change in scenery as well as the more than comfortable salary I would be making. She always wanted to start her own little business in a fresh new place, and this appeared to be a great opportunity for both of us.

Before we moved, I researched the demographics of the city and the community. I also made several visits to the corporate offices to feel my way around weeks before the start of this position. The new company was very helpful in providing information on which areas to purchase a home, but I was not ready for a larger home just yet.

Not during the first year of employment in a state that was foreign to me.

Besides, the condo market was much better and I had all but decided on that before I made my way to the desert state of Arizona.

On one of my visits, a future colleague mentioned an extremely exclusive, small but upscale condo community during lunch. His name was Phil, and he was a 39-year-old married white man with 2 teenaged girls. This condo community sounded too good to be true, It was about 30 miles from the corporate office in a larger city.

"Well, why don't you live there?" I asked him.

"No way. It's far too expensive for my blood. There's no way you can afford something like that." Phil stated.

I told my future colleague that I needed to find a place in 2 weeks. I wanted a place to move into before I started my new job and didn't want my wife and I to be living out of hotels while I worked. Despite Phil's reluctance, he gave me the name of the place and the name of the small, upscale suburb it was in.

"You can look, but I'm telling you it's really expensive." he warned, sarcastically.

After lunch in the cafeterria, I headed back to hotel do some research. I found the website and perused the community. I also pulled up the demographics and noticed the ritzy suburb had layed out a nice chart. They even charted community by community within that suburb.

The suburb of 335 was 96% white-caucasian, 2.9% latino, 1% asian, and .01% black-african american.

When I looked at the condo community, it had only one line. 100% white-caucasian.

"Wow. This seems like a nice place." I said to myself.

Back then, my racist mind was not about hatred at all. It was clearly more about respect for the black race and their noticeable and obvious sexual prowess with white women. To me, it was uncanny how easily they could get a white woman in bed. It was just something I wanted to keep away from myself, and from my young blonde wife.

I made a call and drove out that afternoon. The place was even more emmaculate than the pictures on their website. I was awed by the detail put into this building as I stood there waiting for Margaret, the condo association manager.

The small condo building contained only 14 units, which were set in a squared "U" shaped 2 story building around a huge pool area. There were seven units on the second floor and seven on the ground level. The parking lot was set off and outside to the right side of the building facing in.

The pool area was absolutely huge.

A large, pristine marbled deck area surrounded the entire pool while a small, in ground jacuzzi bordered one side. This area also had a small 4-stool Tiki-styled bar shaded by palm trees. As a matter of fact, the entire pool area was surrounded by lush palm trees for added privacy.

"Wow. This is amazing." I said to Margaret.

The building manager simply smiled.

"Yes, it's really quite private. The rest of the suburb is about a quarter of a mile away. It really is in the middle of nowhere." she said.

"That's good. Very good. It's just what I wanted." I replied.

The interior of these condos was even more impressive. Margaret showed me the only remaining condo left for sale. It was the condo apartment on the end and on the second level. One side wall faced the neatly paved parking lot suited for less than 30 cars, while the kitchen wall faced the pool area. As a matter of fact, all the condos had their kitchen areas facing the pool.

A nicely sized workout gym area was neatly set off to the side of the back entrance that led to the pool area. A simple passageway that led to the outdoor marbled deck.

The 1800 square foot condos were massive, and impeccably detailed with white carpeting in the bedrooms, oak floors in the living areas, and white and tan marble floors in the kitchen. Each unit also had two bathrooms with a built in jacuzzi.

When Marget told me the price of $279,800.00 for the unit I was shocked. Yes, it was quite high for a condo and it would carry a rather large mortgage even with the six figures I was planning to put down.

"There are association fees as well. About $500.00 a month, and the taxes are the highest in the entire region." she warned.

She was right. So was Phil. The taxes, alone, came to just over $1,100.00 a month. With the mortgage, taxes and association fees this exclusive condo was far more expensive than I had imagined. Yet, they were still only half of what the average houses were a quarter of a mile away.

"What about the people here?" I asked.

"What are they like?" I probed.

Margaret was hesitant, but helpful in answering my questions. She was sure about all the residents in the condos except for Condo number one.

"Well, there are 12 other couples here. You'd be the 13th." she began.

"All six figure professionals, I do believe. Some are in the computer industry. There are two couples in their very late 30's and the other ten couples are between 40ish and 50ish." Margaret continued as I scanned the apartment.

"Really? I'm in the computer industry as well." I returned, excitedly.

"Oh, that's great." Margaret exclaimed.

"The other unit, which is unit one, I'm not too sure of. It was owned by a single woman in her 30's, but I haven't seen her in 2 months. She was the only single resident here." she explained.

"Oh, what happened?" I asked.

I could see the mid 50's woman searching for the answers.

"I'm not too sure. I know she had a boyfriend for awhile." Margaret began to explain.

"I do know she got pregnant and said she was going back home to Kansas to be with her parents." she continued, trying to recall.

"I think her boyfriend took over the payments because the bills are still getting paid. But, I have never actually seen him, to be honest." she said.

"Oh, well maybe she'll be back after she has the baby?" I added.

"I dont know ..." Margaret replied, "... she appeared pretty distraught when she left ..." she said, pausing.

"Pretty girl, too." she concluded.

It felt like my probing was a bit too much so I stopped asking questions. I was pleased with what I had seen and anxious to make an offer. I had dismissed the little soap opera drama that the older white woman was attempting to explain. It didn't seem pertinent to continue, at the time.

Without hestitating, I simply took a leap of faith and put down half of the asking price while mortgaging the other half. The place was perfect as far as I was concerned, and the demographic report couldn't have been more "safe" as far as I reasoned.

Margaret was elated. I called my beautiful blonde wife to tell her the good news. She, too, was equally excited by the new move. She was also excited about the prospects of setting up a small business in such a rich community somewhere in the near future.

Two weeks later, we were there.

We were greeted with a small luncheon on a Saturday afternoon. It was provided by the other 12 white couples.

They all seemed very pleasant, quiet and cordial. A few of the white men were computer nerds, like me, but they worked in different areas within 50 miles of this community. The others were business executives in fields like insurance or product development.

The white men ranged in ages from 39 to 51, while their wives were all between the ages of 35 and 40. My wife, Julie, was the youngest of the wives at the age of 32. Not surprising, all these white professional had attractive wives. Half of them were blonde, while the other half dozen were either brunette or auburn-haired.

This small condo community seemed to be the perfect place. I reminded myself how lucky I was to stumble upon it everyday.

The pool area was the meeting place after business hours which was, for us professionals, somewhere around 3:30 or 4:00 p.m. Admittedly, we tend to cut corners and get out earlier than the rest of the work force.

Typically, each weekday would end with most of the group coming in and out of their condos and spending time in this extravagant pool area. There were 13 of us white men now and 13 white wives all spending time in the afternoons after the business day.

On weekends, we were there even more.

Now, rarely were there all 13 couples present at the same tiime. Sure, it did happen for shorter periods of time like an hour or two here and there. For the most part, there were usually 6-8 couples present at all times while the others filter in out of their condo apartments.

It was a rather casual, yet uppity crowd of financially well to do white men and their so-called "trophy" wives just hanging out by the pool.

These casual get-togethers were filled with a great deal of discussions about work, expensive cars and the exaggerated exploits of our youth. Basically, they were all lies about our past in an attempt to impress our spoiled younger and beautiful wives who relished the good life enough to out up with us.

"Oh, honey. Tell them about your boxing days." Julie would say.

"Richard was a great boxer in the military and played in other sports too." she would brag.

"He even did martial arts." she added, which only added to the uncomfortable feeling I had.

My face blushed hearing those words because I knew they were all tall tales I had conjured up to impress her early on in my courtship of her.

Still, that was one of the typical discussions had during these get-togethers. Our beautiful and naive white wives would always bring something like this up in order to pump our egos into the stratosphere.

Of course, we all went along with it. I could never tell from the looks of the other white men if these athletic tales could be true, or just simple lies like the ones I fed my younger wife. I had been feeding her these "fibs" since the day we met.

I wondered if the other white men had done the same thing. One of the men's wives even brought up a story that her husband had hunted down a rhino in Africa, and I found that hard to believe.

Nevertheless, these occasional and embarrassing reminders of my exaggerated masculinity seemed harmless.

"Who would know, right?" I told myself.

Like all 13 of us white men, the truth seemed to be quite safe. As long as our beautiful wives were impressed by us then why disrupt the apple cart, right?

This went on for the first two months of Julie and I moving in, which was May and June. All of us would drink expensive wines and eat small steaks or shrimp, and hang out until we felt like going inside. The weather in this part of Arizona was very warm, but never overbearing. It was actually quite perfect.

It was the nicest time, in the best community, with the nicest weather one can imagine. All of us white men seemed so happy and content.

That is, until we all met "Black Man One."

His name was Ben, and he now lived in condo unit number one. As it turns out, he was the boyfriend of the pretty 30-year-old blonde woman who we all heard had been "knocked up" and fled back to Kansas to be with her parents. He was the one who, supposedly, took over the expensive condo payments and taxes.

The way we met him was surreal. It was also demoralizing, humiliating and more humbling than any one man can envision.

The remainder of this story will be written with the memory of the deepest humiliation and sense of defeat I have ever experienced. It is this humiliation that so many of us white men feel today.

It happened on the extended 4th of July holiday weekend.

end.

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AnonymousAnonymous4 months ago

The writing itself is refreshingly pleasant to read over. The premise is ridiculous though. Chapter 2 and 3 should be connected to a different chapter more relevant to the plot. Otherwise it's two chapters about an insecure racist. I also don't know about this humiliation that you're talking about all white men feeling. I don't feel intimidated or uncomfortable around black guys. If one was able to take my wife, I'd take his or I'd fuck his sister. I wouldn't mind a black woman at that point anyway. I know they don't put up with cheating, and rest assured they will maintain that pedestal by also not cheating. Win-win. Plus, you should know after 5 years and money spent that you're married to a gold-digging skank.

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
jesus christ this is the best story i've ever read

Looking forward to the rest. I have felt exactly the same.

CumSlurpingCuckoldCumSlurpingCuckoldover 7 years ago
Truth

Black Breeding is the ultimate expression of BBC Worship. A White woman's greatest innate desire is to be fucked hard and bred by the superior African.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
that's it !

I had exactly the same kind of humiliation like you, though I was never married, and much younger ...at the age of 29, I understood that I could never have a white woman, or even an asian woman, all the sexy ones were black owned, so I could only have prostitutes, and I don't want that...so the only thing I could do was becoming a gay (a sissy , passive, available for all men..understand ?) , and that's what I did !

Nitro70652Nitro70652over 12 years ago
I gave it a chance

I read the first 2 chapters and told you after the first that I would keep going until I felt it was getting too stupid. The first chapter was ok. I didn't comment on the second chapter but I should have. Especially when you said how beautiful your wife was and that ANY man would think so but then you said that the 3 "college girls" were the most beautiful things you'd ever seen. HMMM, must be cause your wife was sleeping on her stomach??

Anyway, this chapter crossed the line of stupidity. One person called you a racist. A little dramatic but let's face it, every race is racist. But your insecurity seems to be your problem.... or should I say the character's problem. Maybe blaming it on blacks is easier than saying you aren't really a man. Anyway... I will read no further.

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