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  • Black Man One Ch. 22

Black Man One Ch. 22

Sitting alone in my livingroom, I was shocked by the events that has just taken place. Suddenly, I realized the black stud's "cum-soaked" sweaty bikini was still over my head and face. In disgust, and like an angry child, I removed them and threw them towards the front door. I cried in the shame and humiliation of knowing that I was not even close to being the "man" he was.

My worst nightmares of losing Julie to a younger and more masculine black stud had been realized. Or, so it seemed. It had been going on for over 3 months now, and the feeling of her finally coming back to me felt so shallow. After hearing that their relationship was pretty much "over" I couldn't understand why he was fucking her, once again. To me, it didn't make much sense at all. The manner in which he was doing so was insolent, like he was "rubbing it in my face" ven more.

I also couldn't believe that I was actually sitting there waiting for Tra'mon to finish fucking my wife, Julie. In disgrace, I was waiting for him to return her to me so we can get our life back to the way it was.

But, that seemed more like a distant dream now.

With mixed emotions, I contemplated how my life would be now that Julie would be back. That is, if she came back at all. I wondered how she would perceive me. Now that she was fully aware of the extent of humiliation, and what the black man had been putting me through, how would she perceive me?

"Will Julie ever see me as the loving and respectful husband that I was, again?" I asked myself.

"Oh, Geez. Will Julie EVER be able to even see me as a man again?" I wondered, insecurely.

As I sat waiting with the most awful feelings of complete shame and utter defeat, I became lost in thought. Time had become insignificant as I tried to make sense of all that was happening, and what I was going to do next. The thought of running away and starting a new life with Julie entered my mind for a moment. Even the thought of calling the police and filing some sort of "false" charge for harrassment came to mind. But, that was merely a fleeting thought as I reasoned that I would surely get my "ass kicked" if I ever attempted such a thing. Besides, the less people knew about this the better.

That is when my cell phone "chirped" another incoming message.

Panicked, I had the dreadful feeling that the message would be from Tra'mon. And, it was. I looked at my phone and realized that it had been 35 minutes since I last saw him fucking Julie in the foyer of his condo apartment. My first thought was that he must have finished "using" her, and I jumped out of my seat.

"Don't forget 'bout my shit either, boy." the message read.

By now, I knew that the black man referred to his dirty, worn bikini underwear as "his shit." Embarrassed, I glanced over to the little mesh bag sitting on the floor near Julie's duffle bags. I didn't even remember bringing them back from his apartment. Not at the time.

I was appalled by the thought that he was expecting me to continue "handwashing" his bikinis after my wife would be returning.

With such unreal arrogance, the young black man was expecting me to continue the demoralizing task. Even after he was seemingly "dismissing" Julie from his apartment he was telling me to continue this.

"W-What the?..." I moaned.

"H-He can't POSSIBLY be serious?!" I groaned.

"How can that b-be?" I sniveled.

It was at that time when I heard light "tapping" of fingernails at my front door. My entire tall body became even weaker with fear. I rushed to the door and looked through the "peep" hole as scared as a rabbit. I could see Julie standing there, hunched over and completely naked.

She looked a complete and total wreck!

"Oh my gawd, Julie?" I screamed inside.

As I opened the door, Julie was standing there in the hallway literally "crouched over" in pain. Her arms were crossed and covered her bare, enhanced breasts. Her face was partially bent to the floor. She seemed embarrassed by her appearance, and for obvious reasons.

The black stud's thick "cum" blatantly ran from her swollen pussy and was literally cascading down both of her inner thighs. Julie's blonde, braided hair was a "tangled" mess, and looked like it was filled with the same thick seed. Julie's partially hidden face was as red as I had ever seen it.

"Julie?... Julie?!" I cried. "Are y-you okay?" I asked in my startled and worried state.

Julie simply began walking inside. She was flustered and obviously in the deepest pain I had ever seen. My wife "winced" in pain with every step she took as she literally "tip-toed" her way inside.

"I-It's fine. Just leave me alone, Richard." she said, her voice shaking in pain.

I tried reaching out to help her, but as soon as I touched her hand and shoulders to assist she immediately withdrew.

"Don't!" she yelled.

"Don't touch me! Please. Just don't touch me!" she screamed, slapping my hand away in the most abrupt and angered manner.

Taken aback, I simply withdrew my hands. Seeing her in such pain caused feelings of anger in me. I didn't know how to respond to them since I have never had any backbone before.

"Wh-what happened, J-Jules?" I quivered.

"J-Jules?!" I repeated as she made her way to bedroom croched in severe pain.

"Richard, stop. You know what happened. Please, please just get me an ice pack from the freezer." she said.

As I watched Julie pass me by in her bent over position I could see the black man's cum spilling out from her backside. She was literally leaving a train of the black stud's cum on the carpeted floor as she minced her way towards the bedroom. It was more than obvious that he had also fucked her in the ass, and I gasped out loud.

"J-Julie? Wh-What? Did he h-hit you? Oh my gawd, Julie?!!" I cried.

"Richard, stop that! No, he didn't! That doesn't matter. Just get me an ice bag and some ibuprofen." she said firmly.

Humiliated, I ran off to the kitchen and prepared an ice pack for my obviously well-fucked wife. I was becoming irritated by the sight of her being in such pain. I was demoralized beyond what words can describe.

When I returned, Julie was laying on her back on the bed writing in pain. I literally dropped the ice back when I finally had a straight on full view of her face. On her forehead, written in a thick black laundry marker, were the obnoxious words, "NIGGAZ' FUCKHOLE."

"Oh gawd, Julie!" I yelled.

"H-He wr-wrote on you?!!?" I stammered.

Julie didn't seem to care. She didn't care in the least, and she was actually becoming disturbed by the sound of my voice more than anything.

"Just give me the ice pack, Richard. Let it go." she warned.

"Trey was just angry. Trey was just extremely rough and aggressive with me today, that's all." she stated as I handed her the ice pack.

Julie placed the ice bag onto her swollen and "beaten to a pulp" pussy. She winced in more pain as she tried holding it in place. Her nude body laying on the bed in such a "used" condition that I could hardly believe it.

"B-But, he wrote on you Jules. D-Do you know what he wr-wrote?!" I gasped.

"No, Richard. I don't and it doesn't matter." Julie returned.

"Just leave it alone. It's all your fault, anyway. Don't make things worse." Julie accused.

"M-M-Me?" I asked, in shock.

"Just let it go, Richard. Trey was so furious after talking to you. I'm sure that's why he was so rough with me." she explained, writhing in further intense pain.

I couldn't believe the words coming from Julie's lips. She was bascially telling me that I had put Tra'mon into this rough and overly-aggressive mood. She was saying that I had set him off.

"B-But, Jules. I-I didn't do anything. I-I swear. I d-didn't. I-I-I mean... he wrote all that stuff on y-you?!" I asked, grabbing a small mirror from the chest of drawers.

"Can't you see wh-what he wrote?" I asked, holding the mirror up to Julie.

But, she just pushed my hand away. She didn't want to look. My wife didn't want to see the condition the young black stud had put her in. She simply didn't care to.

"Just stop. It's not his fault. I told you not to anger him like that, Richard." she yelled.

"I warned you." she lashed back.

"But, J-Julie... he wrote..." I began, wondering why my wife was actually defending the black man that had fucked her so brutally.

"Just leave me alone, Richard. It doesn't matter what he wrote." she yelled, pushing me away.

"I'm whatever he says I am. I'm whatever he decides I am. Just let it go already!" she said.

"I'll be fine." she added.

Her words stunned me, once again.

"Just leave. Get out. I need to rest. Please, Richard. Please. Just go." Julie returned.

Defeated, I just placed the 3 pain pills in Julie's delicate pale hands. I began walking out of the bedroom with a feeling of helplessness. Part of me was angered as I turned and looked at how "roughly fucked" Julie was.

I was beyond shocked as she layed there so thoroughly used with that nasty writing on her forehead. Julie layed there after being fucked harder than she had ever been fucked before, and I was both worried and humiliated.

It was painfully obvious that Tra'mon was making another statement. He had written that on her forehead on purpose to get back at me in some sort of unusual way. He did that to "rub it in my nose" even more. My brief anger began to boil over as I watched Julie fall asleep minutes later.

Unsure of what I would do next, I stood looking out to the pool area for quite awhile. Part of me wanted to go down to the black man's apartment and say something. I knew Julie might even be proud of me "if" I defended her honor and told him off.

But, the reality was that I was scared to.

Cowardly, I contemplated the way I was going to "run away" more than I thought about confronting him. That thought crossed my mind even more so. But, I couldn't stop thinking about Julie and the things she had said earlier. With a defeated feeling, I couldn't get her words out of my mind.

She had said so many things that hurt my pride. She had made so many references that I was a "lesser" man than the young black stud. She had told me that I could never defend her, like a real man should. These thoughts replayed in my head over and over.

It was around midnight when I finally decided that I needed to step outside and get some air. I "peeked" out into the parking lot first to make sure Tra'mon's car wasn't there. Like a "big pussy," I was not yet ready to face the black man again. The thought made me feel weak in the knees.

Julie had been passed out for hours by now. I stood in the dark parking lot, alone, and thinking about how I could possibly manage this marriage after all that has happened.

To me, the young black stud had "ruined" my life. He had "ruined my wife, too. Nothing could have changed what happened, yet I worried about how I would be able to get over the horrific events of the past 3 months. I wondered why Julie was still defending him after all that had happened, and I was embarrassed by the cowardly feelings I had.

As I sat on one of the curbed concrete blocks in the parking lot, I out my head down into my hands to think. That is when I heard a whisper coming from the direction of the condo building entrance, and from the darkness.

"Richard?... Richard?" the heavy whisper shouted.

When I turned, I spotted a group of the other white husbands huddled between a sea of large bushes that bordered the fenced in pool area. I couldn't tell who's voice it was, but it was obvious they were hiding.

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