Black Man One Ch. 13

I wanted to ask her why this was so, but at the time I decided not to. I simply put on my pajamas and got into bed to find my gorgeous blonde wife already fast asleep. I fell asleep several minutes later curled up in my own humiliation.

The next day was unexpectedly even more defeating.

It was a Friday, and I went downstairs for the usual embarrassing workout with Tra'mon at precisely 6. This time, he was not there. I waited for about twenty minutes before I decided that I had better get ready for work. There was a sense of relief at the time as I got ready for work. passively, I kissed my wife on the cheek and headed down to the parking lot to begin my commute.

Like many times before, a beautiful white woman came stumbling out looking noticeably used. She was half-dressed and only had one shoe upon her right foot as she minced her way towards her car. Her pretty face was obliterated with the black stud's dried up seed, and it was that obvious.

Nervously, I just started my car and left for work. My feeling of insecurity continued. For some reason, I did not want to leave for work that day. There was an overwhelming feeling of intimidation as the thought of the black stud coming out and telling me to get back inside for his workout crossed my mind. This caused me to "dart" off in my car even faster.

After a few restless hours at work that day I called Julie. When she answered, there was the immediate sound of a child crying in the background.

"What the heck is that?" I asked my wife, frightenedly.

"Oh, that's one of Trey's sons. He's 2." she answered.

"Well, wh-why is he there?" I asked curiously.

"Wh-where are you?" I sniveled.

Julie was not shy about her answer. Actually, she was quite casual and non chalant about the whole reason for the black man's child being there.

"I'm babysitting. Trey had some sort of appointment with the baby momma." she explained.

"Trey wanted me to watch his son." she continued.

"Trey said he'll be back in a coupla' hours. I told Trey that I didn't mind." she concluded.

"Oh." I replied, humiliated as I said my good bye and hung up the phone.

Now, the black stud had my blonde wife watching one of his many kids? Seemingly, she did this as he went off to fuck one of the white baby mommas he had a child with? This thought was defeating to me and I wondered why Julie would have agreed to such a thing. Nevertheless, I could not envision the image of Julie trying to babysit a child. Her maternal instincts had never been one that could be described as prolific. They weren't in the least and she had always shyed away from babysitting children.

That Friday night became yet another night of Julie staying out until the "wee" hours of the morning.

My pretty blonde wife had texted me, on que, stating that everybody from the center was heading out heading out for some drinks. They were heading out after work straight from the gym. Her last text came at around 10:20 p.m., telling me not to wait up. This time, like all the times before, I really didn't want her to go out. But, I began texting her back more than usual.

"Don't go out tonight, Julie." I texted.

"You should come home early. It's Friday night." I added another text.

"Don't go to that stupid club tonight." I continued texting.

My texts continued on and on, yet there was no response.

"Why do you have to go?"

"Are you there now?"

"They shouldn't be putting those stupid stamps on people."

"Tell them not to."

"Don't let them stamp you."

"Maybe you should just stay inside then."

"I can't believe they need to put those ink marks all over you."

"It's rude I think."

"Why is that spade stamp so big anyway?"

"Are you coming home soon?"

"Still there?"

"Can you call me when you step outside then?"

"Is it too noisy to talk?"

"You there?"

"Honey?"

"Can you call now? It's almost 2!"

"There?"

"They better not be usiing that ink stamp tonight."

"It's moronic."

"Tell Trey you have to go home now."

"Honey? It's after 3. Just letting you know."

"You there?"

"Remember no ink stamps!"

"Where are you? It's 3:30!"

I can only describe some of my numerous texts over those last five plus hours. Many of them revealed an angrier tone about those black spade ink stamps from the Black Jacques Club that I was certain they went to for drinks. My numerous other texts pleaded for her to come home, almost begging her to.

There would be no responses. Not even one. I fell asleep on the couch absolutely exhausted and insecure.

My wife must have gotten home after 4 a.m. because I fell asleep on the couch about 10 minutes before 4. I wasn't sure of the exact time.

It was a Saturday morning and I didn't have to work that day, so I tried staying up later than usual to greet her when she arrived home. My attempt did not work, and I fell asleep on the couch in my empty and incredibly insecure state of mind. I did not wake up until just after nine o'clock that morning.

When I woke up, I was in such a foggy state of mind that I hardly knew where I was. My fatigued state compounded my incoherent feeling as I stood up and walked over to the window overlooking the pool. No one was in sight. Then, I staggered off to the bathroom to relieve myself, still not thinking clearly.

I peered out through the smaller side window to see the black man's Bentley car parked almost sideways in the lot. It was haphazardly positioned closer to the front door entrance to the bulding, as if a drunk person had parked it there the night before.

When I stepped out and finally looked into the bedroom I noticed Julie.

She was passed out and laying on the bed, and laying on her right side with her back to me. Curiously, she was still wearing her black-thonged leotard and white tights uniform from the center. There seemed to be no question that she had worn the same outfit going out for drinks right after her work day. I didn't think it was too unusual for someone in the fitness industry to go out with their work outfits still on, but generally they would cover themselves up more. Julie went for drinks with Tra'mon and the other wives, and she was still in her thong leotard.

I stood at the doorway to the bedroom and looked in longingly.

"Julie?" I whispered, checking to see if she was ready to wake up.

There was no response. In my recovering foggy state I decided to step in a little closer, and that is when I noticed the two black spade symbol stamp marks on her white spandex ass cheeks.

I was awed by what I noticed.

There, on the opaque white spandex ass cheeks of my own wife were two perfectly placed and perfectly-centered one inch sized club stamps of a black spade symbol. The thick, dark jet-black ink stamps contrasted with the whiter than white opaque tights of her beautiful heart-shaped asscheeks, and "seeped" through to her skin.

In shock, I moved in closer as I continued whispering her name.

"Julie? Julie?" I asked again as I moved to her front.

My blonde wife's arms were covered by a white sheet and covering her face as if she was shielding it from the morning sun. Still, she was not responding. Julie was incoherent and the smell of heavy liquor and weed began to emminate from her breath.

"J-Julie?" I whispered louder, removing the sheet from her arm while turning her onto her back.

What I saw then humiliated me more than words can describe!

There, laying on the bed and on her back in the black leotard and white tights was my incoherent wife Julie.

In utter amazement, I looked down to see a full black ink spade symbol stamped dead center on the middle of my blonde wife's forehead. Two other black spade symbols were stamped on her face. One was perfectly positioned on the right cheek of her face and the other on her left cheek.

Furthermore, there were numerous black inked spade symbols "stamped" all around her neck, like a degrading necklace of some sorts. It completely surrounded her neckline with a trail of another 8 spades running down the front of her chest and down to her cleavage.

I stood there completely degraded, and in awe.

Humiliatingly, there were a total of 12 more spade symbol stamps placed down the length of each one of her arms. They started from the top of each each hands with the second spade stamped on the tops of her wrists, and then all the way up her forearm to the elbows.

"O-G-Geez! What the ...?" I gasped.

"Wh-what the heck is going on here?" I scoffed.

The thick, black ink of those so-called club stamps from "The Black Jacques Club" were now all over her body and face! The deepest dark black ink seemed to be settling into her pale skin, and I literally could not believe what I was looking at.

Julie was passed out cold. She would not respond even when I tried shaking her by the shoulders to wake her up. She looked disgraceful as I stood there degraded looking at my beautiful wife's horrifying condition.

Even more demoralizing was the sight of my wife's white spandex colored tights at the knees, which were now absolutely caked in dirt. They were filthy dirty and stood out from the pure whiteness of the rest of her spandex-clad legs.

Defeatedly, I knew this had to be the work of the young black stud that had intimidated me so much since his arrival. He seemed to be "rubbing my face in it" as he boldly and brashly placed spaded ink stamps all over my wife's face and body. It seemed to be some sort of rude and alarming show of strength, and his own arrogant show of black superiority.

I would have never been able to conceive such a brash display. The humiliation I now felt was unimaginable to me.

"H-How in the world could Julie be accepting of this obviously rude gesture?" I began thinking.

That is when there was a knock at the door. The sound startled me and I leaped up from my leaning position over Julie.

"Who could that be now?" I thought.

The knock grew louder as I walked over to the front door to answer it. My nerves were shot as I opened it to see young Tra'mon standing in the doorway in merely one of his arrogant and flimsy little bikini suits.

My eyes widened in a catastrophic fear and I swallowed loudly when his eyes met mine. I instantly became intimidated by his unexpected presence. His bare chest was chiseled and although I towered above him by 7 inches in height, I felt weak and pathetic before him. My curious look of shock prompted him to speak.

"Here, boy!" he said, handing me Julie's cell phone.

"Your woman left this in my car last night." he said.

My weak hands took my wife's cell phone from the black stud's stronger grip as I looked down to the floor, in defeat. I was humbled, humiliated and afraid to look back into his eyes.

"Th-thank you, S-Sir." I mumbled in a whisper.

"Tell Julie to call me when she wakes up. I'll be by the pool." he ordered.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir. O-Okay." I replied in the faintest whisper.

There was an uncomfortable silence as I stood before the 5'9" tall black man shaking in my pajama pants. Despite being a full head taller than Tra'mon, I felt so much smaller and weaker than him. His mere presence made me quiver like a big wimp and I didn't understand why he was making me stand there like this.

The silence lasted just 10 seconds, yet it felt like a few minutes of agony to me. His obvious superior black manhood embarrassed me and I cowered before him hoping that he would just leave.

"Did you say somethin' boy?" he suddenly asked.

I paused for a moment as my eyes remained to the floor.

"Uh, n-no Sir. I-I didn't ..." I began to answer.

"You gots something to say?" he asked firmly, as he remained standing before me.

"N-No, S-Sir." I returned, beginning to shake even more.

The tension was overwhelming as I timidly brought my eyes up slowly. I didn't want to look at him, yet I felt his dominating and intimidating presence making me do it anyway. As my eyes met his, he "sneered" with a cocky and arrogant attitude, and suddenly he put one of his strong hands to my face.

With one hand, he squeezed my face cheeks and made me look directly into his intimidating eyes.

"Thought you said somethin'" he said.

I shook my head in a "no" response with hsi right hand firmly grasping my face.

"N-N-No, Sir. I-I d-didn't." I whimpered.

He held my face for an interminable amount of time before releasing it. He rudely "tapped" my face 4 times with a confident sneer upon his face. I stood there, pathetically, with my arms submissively down at my sides.

"Well, you let me know if ya' have something to say. Ya' gots that, pussy?" he directed with a firmer tone of voice.

"Y-Y-Y-Yes, S-Sir." I cowardly replied in the meekest whisper.

The young black stud just turned and began walking down the corridor away from our condo apartment. My fear of him literally caused me to begin wetting my red pajama pants, and I looked down to realize that I had started to "go." Humiliated, I ran off to the bathroom to relieve myself, realizing that I had just begun to wet myself. Somehow, I was able to stop it. My embarrassment was beyond belief.

end. chapter 13.