Black Man One Ch. 20

Like a big pussy, I did nothing and said nothing. I merely continued handwashing the stud's bikini underwear like an intimidated fool, and assisting with his workouts while feeling the most humiliation possible. My work was suffering greatly. I was barely doing enough to get by and enough to keep my high-salaried position.

In these weeks, three more of the white husbands had mysteriously left the condo community. Now, there were only nine of us. Still, none of us said anything and we all seemed to cower in our own apartments, alone. We would stay away from the pool area. Essentially, we stayed away from the area we were told to stay away from.

In turn, the young black stud now seemed to "own" this pool area. Everyday I would look out towards the pool and see how his overpowering and masculine presence intimidated everyone. The white women continued to "fawn" all over him while us white husbands either stayed away, or fled.

Embarrassingly, none of us could face him yet. We were certain that we would never take that option.

After 11 weeks of this, I didn't think things could get more humiliating. I was already a defeated, insecure and intimidated mess. I was just doing as I was told. Part of me didn't think I could take the emotional stress of losing Julie. Another part of me wanted her back. But, all of me was still too scared to run away like some of the others had.

It was at this time that Julie disappeared for a period of 4 days. This was even more curious to me than her wearing those full shirt-sleeved tee shirts for the past 4-5 weeks. Since I had been seeing a glimpse of her every single day for eleven weeks, things felt different and on edge for me. It had been obvious that Tra'mon was making sure that I saw her everday, and now she was gone. Her absence confused me.

Now, Julie seemed to be gone and I began to see more of those "other" white women reappearing and then leaving the black man's apartment.

Like before, they would arrive dressed impeccably and carrying things into the building. They would leave in the early morning hours as I entered my car to go to work. Like before, they all looked completely "used" and so "fucked into oblivion" that I could hardly look at them for more than a moment. Their used "condition" seemed to be put on display.

"Oh my gawd. Where's Julie?" I asked myself everyday for the next 4 days.

"Did he get rid of her?" I cried to myself.

I was far too nervous and scared to ask Tra'mon where my wife Julie was.

When I humiliatingly delivered his cleaned bikini underwear to him twice in those 4 days I passively kept quiet. I had convinced myself to ask him when I went down there. But, both times I was so timid and nervous that I just "caved in." I could not "babble" a single syllable.

It was a Saturday morning around 11 when I looked out towards the pool the next time.

I peered out only to see Julie in her black bikini by the pool. After several weeks in those darker colored tee shirts, they were suddenly gone. She sat with her bare back to me with her bikini bra line tracing across her back. My worst fears about her leaving the state were gone. The fear of her leaving me still existed, but this fear was suddenly replaced by an entirely different fear.

Something was not right. Something was even more different about her at this time. Her long, blonde hair was fully covered in a dark red scarf and it was fully tucked in underneath.

She had her back to me as she continued to kneel at Tra'mon's feet, massaging them as usual. Now, she had large bandages on both of her arms, and another one right across her lower back just above her bikini waist line. Strangely, when she turned ever so slightly to her left there was a fourth bandage that covered both of her breasts.

Then, I looked closer.

I had to do a "double take" as I realized that Julie's breasts were now much larger than before. The huge elastic bandage covered the majority of her chest under that smaller black bikini bra, but it seemed to mold her swollen breasts almost perfectly.

"Wh-what the?" I mumbled.

It couldn't have been more obvious.

When I finally realized Julie had breast enhancement surgery to augment her once beautifully supple large "C" cups I nearly passed out. There she was with an overstated "Double D cup" set of breasts jutting almost straight out from her tiny stretched out bikini bra.

I imagined the elastic-type bandage was there to cover any scars. I didn't really know this at the time I was staring at her. I was just in awe of what I was looking at. I was curious about that bandage and the other 3 bandages across her lower back and arms, and I was confused by their sudden appearance. Their large size seemed overdone.

My first thought was of her being hurt or cut in some way, or another. But, that quickly faded.

"Oh, my gosh. What is all this? What's wr-wrong with Julie? How could she be hurt just those spots on her body?" I gasped.

My mind wandered in disgrace as I peered out almost in disbelief. Julie was extremely somber as she diligently and obediently massaged Tra'mon's feet with baby oil. Like always, the black stud just sat there with unimagineable arrogance and confidence. He sat there acting like a ""King" while relaxing with a drink.

Many thoughts ran through my head at this time. But, none of them were close to resembling the full impact that I was about to witness the next day.

The curious sight on this Saturday caused me to stare longingly out towards Julie sitting by the pool. Timidly, I "peeked" out from the curtains of my kitchen until the black stud looked up and towards me.

He glared in my direction and began staring back. Quickly, I moved away from the window in the worst fear that he may have seen me peering out. The thought embarrassed me beyond belief.

When I finally summoned enough courage to peek out again, only fifteen minutes had passed and they were gone. They seemed to disappear into thin air. My entire weak body felt completely deflated. In defeat, and realizing this was one of Tra'mon's laundry days, I simply turned and walked inside and towards the bathroom.

It was there that I spent the next 2 hours completing the demoralizing task of handwashing the black man's bikini underwear, yet again. I had been doing so, in shame, for the past eleven plus weeks by now. The humiliation never subsided while I did this "chore."

If at all possible, it was a much greater humiliation that I felt when being told to do this for the first time.

The next day was Sunday and I woke up to a call from my mom. I had the most dreadful feeling when I heard her start talking about finally visiting. It took me nearly an hour to convince her that it was still not a good time, and I promised her that I would make some time for her very soon.

But, this was not the only reason for my dreadful feeling of inadequecy. There was something else I did not understand.

As I finished my little white lies to my mother and hung up the phone, I heard the sounds of a small gathering coming from outside by the pool area. This was now Tra'mon's territory and I was startled to hear what seemed to be heavier male voices.

Passively, I minced my way towards the windows of my kitchen to "peek" outside. I felt like a spy, yet my hands were shaking like a wimp as I reached for the curtain sheers and pushed them off to the side.

What I saw shocked me.

There, milling around in the pool area, were all 13 of the white wives from our condo community dressed in bikini swimsuits and heeled sandals. Obviously, this included Julie. But, Tra'mon and the other 5 young athletic black "instructors" from his new fitness center were also present. They, too, were dressed in the same type of disgustingly microscopic bikini speedoes suits as Tra'mon wore.

The sound of "rap" music was filling the air and the small crowd was gathered around a group of small tables. I watched in awe as the image of my wife was obstructed by the others, and I kept trying to catch more than a mere glimpse of her from my window. Cowardly, I peeked out trying not to be noticed by anyone.

This seemingly simple and innocent gathering was actually a planned meeting for the fitness center team. But, it appeared more like a champagne brunch. They were eating rolled up veggie wrap type of sandwiches and drinking champagne while they milled around. For the time being, my view of Julie remained predominantly obstructed by the others.

As I looked over the area where all us white husbands once hung around with our beautiful wives, I realized that it almost felt more like some sort of "invasion." These younger, chiseled athletic black studs in their little bikinis displayed an unreal confidence. They had "taken over" our little comfort area and spending time with our pretty white wives.

All of them looked so "tough" and "aggressive" as they milled around the pool with our wives acting as if they owned the place.

The obvious sight of these young black men "touching" the shoulders, legs and asses of our white wives sent a chill of defeat down my spine. They touched the white women in the most exaggerated and blatantly disrespectful manner possible, yet the white wives never made any protest about it.

They simply accepted it.

The louder "black" music and actions of these black studs were so overwhelmingly disrespectful to the 9 remaining white husbands in the building, including myself. By now, four of the other white husbands had "fled" from our community without their wives. All for reasons I was unsure of. Nine of us white husbands still lived here and it was embarrassingly obvious that we were all "peeking" out towards the pool area in shame.

At the time, I knew this because I ran to the side bathroom window for a moment to gaze out into the parking lot to see all their cars parked. I knew they were home. Later, they would humiliatingly admit they saw this little gathering in our pool area but didn't want to talk about it.

Desperately, I kept trying to get a closer look at Julie. All the women seemed more quiet and demure as these black studs ate, drank champagne and smoked what looked like marijuana blunts. They were so blatant about how they "touched" the white women dressed in their bikinis and heels. In many cases it was almost as if these black guys were "feeling them up" in the most rude ways they could conjur up.

Like a bunch of "timid pussies," all the white husbands just watched from our windows afraid to go down there. Passively, we just watched as these young black men "rubbed it our faces" in a most disdainful way. They seemed to grow bolder with each passing moment as the white women served them glasses of champagne and lit their "blunt" cigarettes for them.

After the first 15 minutes, the small group began to move around a little more. A few of them spread out closer to the pool and a few others towards the champagne cooler. As they stepped away, my view of Julie was finally unobstructed.

My weak jaw literally dropped when I saw her come into a full and clearer view.

Julie's back was now towards me as Tra'mon stood besides her. His back was to me as well, and they were simply facing the pool and holding their glasses of champagne. His strong, large black hand was firmly placed on the small of her back. The view I had from my second floor condo couldn't have been clearer as I noticed Julie's new hairstyle.

My wife's long, brilliantly bright blonde hair was now in "corn rows" and "braids," styled like that actress, Bo Derek, from the movie "10."

Her distinct african-styled braids hung down past the middle of her back and cascaded over her pale shoulders. She was clad in the brightest neon-yellow two-piece bikini with a pair of translucent platform stripper heeled mules that had to be at least 6 inches in height.

Her normal 5'6" height standing in those 6 inch platform heels even made her seem slightly taller than the 5'9" dark black stud standing beside her.

Moments later, Tra'mon casually removed his dark hand from the small of Julie's back. There, in plain sight, was an even larger black spade symbol than the black-inked spade symbols or club stamps from "The Black Jacques Club." But, this wasn't a stamp. It was a blatantly obvious tattoo, and it was astonishingly huge.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stared, in awe, at the 2 inch sized tattoo of a black spade centered on Julie's lower back. Two thin-lined scroll type ribbons were tattooed next to the grotesquely large spade tattoo, one on each side, and the centers of them were blank.

Their intended purpose was unclear to me at the time.

However, the sheer size of this two-inch darkened solid black tattoo just above her bikini waist line was startling. One could easily notice it from one hundred yards away.

My entire face turned red. I knew Julie. She never even liked tattoos. But, there she was with an ominous and obvious tattoo of a black spade symbol on her lower back. It was in the same position as one of those marks commonly referred to as a "tramp stamp" and I couldn't believe it.

I simply could not fathom this reality.

Even more degrading was the fact that when Julie turned to her left towards Tra'mon, her swollen breasts were noticeably massive. The elastic bandage from yesterday was removed and her firmer "Double D sized" breasts bolted outward in unimagineable fashion. They stretched her yellow spandex bikini bra well beyond it's intended purpose as her cleavage "billowed" out.

Another tattoo adorned her left breast from my angle, but initially I was not able to make out the image. But, it was painfully obvious that Julie's left arm was "tattooed" with the blatant image of a black panther head. The fierce-looking black panther head with yellow eyes was not the same image as the "Roar Fitness Center" symbol. It was distinctly different and more blackened.

As I gazed upon Julie in disbelief I found myself unable to breathe regularly. I had no idea what to do next as I just stared out towards the pool. I watched my wife standing besides Tra'mon in silence. So many thoughts ran through my head. Losing my wife forever seemed more than a probability now. It seemed inevitable.

A few minutes later, I noticed the young black stud putting his lips to Julie's ear. He handed her the glass of champagne he was holding and I watched him walk with arrogance towards one of the smaller table and chair sets. He walked hands free as Julie barely minced her way in another direction. Her tiny steps in those tall platform heels seemed uncomfortable as she struggled to move towards the cooler holding the two empty glasses.

I looked back towards Tra'mon for a moment. He was now sitting at the table and chair set with his right foot arrogantly placed onto the table top. His left foot was placed on the seat of the wicker chair across from him.

His zebra-print bikini speedoes suit was one that he had worn before. It was one of the flimsiest he owned, and I humiliatingly remembered having to handwash that exact pair myself several times during the past 11 weeks. They made his already mammoth black cock look even larger as he boldly sat there with his powerful legs spread wide.

He simply gazed towards the cooler and waited for Julie to return from fetching another glass of cold champagne for him.

"Gosh, he is such a brute." I thought to myself, in shame.

As Julie minced her way back holding two filled glasses of champagne, her eyes remained downward. I could not see her pretty face.

But, that is when I noticed the other tattoos. On her right arm, was a matching black panther head tattoo as the one on her left arm. On the very tops of her newly-enlarged breasts stretching that miniature yellow spandex bikini top were two more tattoos.

My eyes teared as I strained them to make out the images from my second floor window. Uncanningly, both tattoos on her larger cleavage were matching one-inch blackened spade symbols with the letter "T" mockingly carved out in her flesh tone. This "T" was inside the black spade.

They were black spade symbols with Tra'mon's initial inside, and they symbolized "Black Power" in the most obnoxiously bold manner. They were large enough to read from a second floor window more than 35 feet away.

"Oh my gawd." I shouted inside.

"Th-those can't be real. They just can't be?!" I cried.

"Wh-Why? H-How?" I sniveled in embarrassment.

Astonished, I just watched as Julie sat down on the seat across from the black stud while handing him a glass of champagne. She placed the other glass on the table top away from Tra'mon's other foot resting.

Immediately, the young black man placed his left foot into Julie's lap and she began to obediently massage it. Her eyes remained downward and her braided hair still covered her pretty face and blue eyes. The black stud must have known I was "peeking" out from my window like a big wimp, but he didn't seem to care in the least.

My body felt frozen in a near panic as I watched Julie sitting across from Tra'mon. I stood there watching them for hours, turning to look at the rest of the group further away only on occasion.

It was ridiculously obvious how all the other wives were "fawning" over these young black muscular studs, and letting them "touch" them in any way they decided. It seemed every half hour one or two of these black men would disappear with one or two of the other white wives for awhile.

"Geezuz. Their husbands have to see this happening?!" I thought.

After three hours I noticed the black man leaning over to talk to Julie. This was unusual because it never seemed like he had actually "spoken" to her by the pool before. He had always given her what appeared to be non-verbal commands. This time, he was noticeably speaking directly to her.

At first, Julie's face appeared scared. She nodded a "no" several times as I noticed her lips looking blatantly "fuck-swollen" out of proportion. The black man's face was stern and he seemed to be directing her in some way. When Julie began nodding another "no" Tra'mon literally put his strong, powerful right hand to her face. He "squeezed" her face cheeks firmly and began speaking to her again.

"Oh my gawd. H-He touched her face?!" I gasped.

"Julie?" I mumbled silently.

Being the absolute coward that I was, I knew that I would not have the courage or strength to defend the honor of my wife. I had to stand there and take it as I watched him boss her around. Suddenly, Julie nodded a "yes" and the black stud removed his hand from her face. He lit another marijuana blunt and then sat back as I noticed the rest of the group leaving the pool area together.

"Where are they all going?" I asked myself.

But, as they departed my attention went back to my wife sitting across from Tra'mon in his zebra-print bikini speedoes. Five minutes later, he held his weed cigar between his lips and appeared to be texting a message from his cell phone.

That is when my cell phone went off, "chirping" an alert that I had a message.

Startled, I ran to my phone hoping that it wasn't from him. But, it was. My hands trembled as I clicked on the message to read it.

"Time to talk to ur' wife, boy." the message read.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Shocked out of my mind, I just stared at the message. Sweat began to bead from my weak forehead as I contemplated the message. After I had all but given up hope on getting Julie back, and after seeing her body "marked" with tattoos and "altered" by surgery, I had thought it was over.

Now, this young black stud who had emasculated me so much over the past months was telling me to talk to her. I didn't understand. I was confused, and I was more scared than ever before.

"Now?" I finally texted in return.