Black Man One Ch 05

Slowly, I walked away from my beautiful blonde wife and the rest of this all-white group of condo owners. My intense nervousness had been camouflagued for the time being.

Now, I found myself trying to make my way around the large, nearly Olympic-sized pool without showing the fear I felt inside. My red-faced embarrassment and cold humiliation increased as I drew nearer to the young black stud and his blonde companion.

This feeling peaked and my intimidation grew when I finally reached the unwanted destination before him. I stood there and cordially extended my arm in an attempt to hand him the champagne.

He did not accept the glass right away. As a matter of fact, the black man did not even look up to me at this time. This arrogant delay sent my nervousness to another level, and caused me to ramble.

"Um, It's r-really good champagne, isn't it?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

"I-I'm R-Richard and, well, my uh wife Julie and I h-have been here for only a c-couple of months." I stuttered.

"S-she thought, well, um, maybe you and your friend w-would like to join us, or something." I whimpered.

I looked at the beautiful, blonde woman on her knees off to my right, then back to him.

"If y-you would l-like to, I mean." I stammered.

"It's up to y-you, of course." I muttered.

"I-I-I don't mean to pry or anything." I cowered.

I realized only then that I had been holding this glass of champagne for more than a minute. The young, black and studly man simply sat there in silence. Casually, he glanced up. He gazed upward as if he was merely observing the ever so blatant fear and intimidation of the tall white wimp standing before him.

Initially, he did not answer. He merely observed.

That is when the black man mercifully accepted the glass of champagne. Nonchalantly, he grabbed the glass from my weak grip and sipped it once, then a second time, looking back up to me again through those dark shades.

The long pause was nerve-wrenching as I glanced down to my right to avoid his powerful stare. I noticed the beautful blonde woman in her 30's, once again. She remained on her knees, diligently massaging the feet of this black stud.

It appeared that she did not have the strength to bring her head up. She never dared to look at anyone except him. Humbly, my passive eyes returned to his.

Although I could not see his eyes, I could easily feel him peering up towards me through with a curiosity that made me uneasy. His dark sunglasses hid the stern and dominating glare he was transmitting.

It felt like he was making me cower there before him for an extended period of time, on purpose. It had to be at least another minute. That is when he took another sip of his champagne, then swallowed the remainder of it with one last gulp. He disgarded the glass as he handed it back to me in an arrogant manner. Finally, he spoke.

"Tra'mon, and no!" He simply stated, his masculine voice ringing in my ears.

Worriedly, I stood before him holding onto the empty used glass. He repositioned himself in the chaise lounge beach chair and put his head back to catch the warm sun, his arms propped behind his shaven head. The obedient white woman companion stayed kneeling at his feet.

Now, he was completely and rudely ignoring me. It sent a chill of defeat through my entire body as he paid no attention to me for the moment. Flustered, I remained standing and began to tremble. I had no idea what to do next.

Confused, I continued in this position for what seemed like forever.

The amount of time I stood there was undetermined, yet I am quite sure that is was more than than at least 3 or 4 minutes. I found it impossible to speak up at this point as the young, black stud ignored my existence. Perspiration began to trickle down my forehead, and to the sides of my face. I wondered why I felt compelled to just stand there.

Perhaps, in the back of my mind, I was attempting to give a false perception to the group on the other side of the pool. Maybe, I was giving them the perception that we were actually having a conversation. I just knew they would be asking questions later.

Finally, I conjured just enough strength to move my legs. I was embarrassed as I turned and started walking away from him. It felt like he didn't want to be "bothered" with me anymore. It was more than insulting and disrespectful to be ignored in this manner, and with such rude mannerisms. But, I wasn't about to admit that to my wife or the other 12 white couples.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I suppose that I was relieved by the fact this young, black stud didn't want another glass of champagne. That, alone, would have been too embarrassing for me to overcome. I knew that I wouldn't have the courage to say "no" to him.

When I eventually returned to the group, I was greeted with a series of questions and inquiries. As expected, they wanted to know everything about who he was and what he said. Once again, I lied to save face.

"Well? Who is he?" Tammy asked.

"What did he say?" Karen asked.

"You did invite them over, right? my wife, Julie, questioned.

My humiliation ran deep, yet I was desperate to make sure my wife and the others didn't suspect anything unusual. I didn't want them to know that this black stud dressed in that "horrifying" little bikini had been so rude to me, and had simply ordered me to "fetch" him another glass of champagne.

"Well?" Karen probed.

"Um, well his name is Tra'mon." I answered.

"Tra'mon?" Clarissa repeated.

"What did he say?" Julie continued.

"H-He just said thank you for the invitation, but he wanted to spend some alone time this weekend." I explained, lying between my chattering teeth.

"Oh?!" Karen exclaimed, softly.

"It didn't look like he was very talkative from here." Julie observed.

"Yeah. Didn't look like he was saying much at all." one of the other white husbands added.

I remember wishing that David wouldn't have added his opinion to that piece of comentary. It only put me more "on the spot," and in the most exaggerated way. My feeble mind continued trying to conjur up some type of story as the others looked to me for the answers to their questions.

"no, no. Um, he did talk." I said.

"H-He just doesn't want to join us now. I mean, well, he said that he um would come over when he was ready to meet us." I fibbed.

The entire group of white husbands and wives peered at me with just a faint touch of disbelief in their eyes.

"Oh, he said that?" Megan asked, suddenly.

"Uh, yeah. Yes." I answered.

"Well, okay then I guess." Julie said.

"Maybe he'll have lunch or dinner with us later." she pondered.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know." I replied.

"You should go and ask him, Richard." Tammy interrupted.

"Listen. Let's just leave him to be for know, okay?" I returned, desperately.

"I'm sure he will come over when he is good and ready." I advised her and the others.

"Yeah, he really doesn't look like he wants to be bothered now." Tim added, nervously.

The white group looked back towards the black stud with his white woman kneeling at his feet. She had been massaging his bare feet for more than an hour by now, and this was nearly inconceivable to me at the moment.

Still, the afternoon continued on.

For the next few hours after the initial "entrance" of Tra'mon, our entire group of white wives and husbands tried continuing the day. Many, if not all of us, seemed restless. The wives cleared the breakfast plates and mingled around the pool area, and in and out of our condo apartments. Occasionally, they would bring things back, like drinks and snacks of sliced mango, or diced pineapple.

All of us just sat around and talked in smaller, seperate groups for awhile. Then, together. At one point, these little discussion groups had unintentionally broken up into where it was just us white men. We stood around near the cooler while our white wives mingled around the table and chairs 20 feet away.

The mood was definitely different with the presence of this young, black stud. There was a tension in the air that was hard to explain, and a noticeable deflation of our energy.

From my point of view in the group of all white men in their 30's and 40's, I could see every one of our beautiful white wives "glancing" back across the pool towards the black man. The frequency of their "looks" and "stares" towards him seem to increase. Often, their eyes lingered. It was uncomfortable for me to observe.

The white husbands were almost huddled together around the cooler, haphazardly drinking champagne and attempting to avoid the subject of this new black resident. The white wives were gathered in their own little half circle and having their own discussions.

We could not hear what they were saying, and I'm sure the other husbands didn't notice the longer and more pronounced "stares" their wives were giving the black man. Many of them had their backs to the women, facing me.

Obviously, I was hearing what all the other husbands were saying as they began to increase their intake of mimosa and champagne.

"Geezuz, will you look at that guy?!" Dave suddenly remarked.

"Yeah, I know." Mark added, meekly.

There was a pause within the group as the others looked back at him for a moment.

"I wonder what his story is." Tim pondered.

"I don't know, but I'm not gonna ask him." Bob stated.

"Me, neither." Ralph said, chimming in.

"Yeah." David added, softly.

"I guess that's his girlfriend?" Tim questioned, with a humble tone of voice.

"I guess." Bob answered.

"She doesn't seem all there." Mark suspected.

"Yeah. I mean, she's been massaging that guy's feet for like 4 hours now." Tim said.

I looked down to the Movado watch on my wrist. He was almost right. It was five minutes before two, and this black man had been sitting there having his feet massaged by this white woman for 3 hours and 40 minutes.

"Geez, who in the world wants their feet massaged for that long?" Mark asked, disgustedly.

"I don't know." I added.

"Looks like he's an athlete, or something." Bob stated.

"Maybe he's a fighter?" Ralph predicted.

"Wh-what makes you say that?" I asked, nervously.

"I don't know, look at him. Look at his arms. They're like stone." He said.

"Yeah. He does look pretty tough and all." Thomas finally spoke up.

"I guess he could be? I don't know." Tim added.

"Maybe." David said.

"All I know is that I wouldn't mess with the guy." Ralph continued.

"Me, neither." Mark agreed.

"Yeah, me too." Tim said.

"Damn. He looks pretty strong, huh?" Bob commented.

"Just seems like they always have the prettiest women by their side, too." Dave said.

"Yeah, I know." Tim added.

As we stood there bantering back and forth in heavy whispers, it felt like we were a bunch of timid school boys trying to hide a rummor. I began to realize that all 13 of us white men were humbled and intimidated by this one young black man.

This reality hit me.

We were all financially secure white professional men in our late 30's and 40's, and with beautiful younger wives. All of us were 6' tall, or taller, and in relatively decent shape, or so we thought. Every one of us had bragged and boasted about our past exploits and successes, and made ourselves in this perception of masculinty. Yet, all 13 of us white men were feeling emasculated and humbled by this one black stud in his 20's.

At the time, I could not tell you exactly how the others were feeling. But, the look on their faces and the defeated postures of their bodies made me believe they felt just like I did.

Still, we remained completely unexposed to any of the discussions our white wives were having.

It was at this time that we noticed the black man emerge from his relaxed sitting position on the lounge chair. He simply stood up and stretched his muscular, dark body out as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep. He did not look towards the groups of white husbands and white wives that had formed across the pool. It was obvious that he had not said a word, or made a gesture to his beautiful blonde companion.

The young, black man stood there for a moment and casually glanced down at his watch. All eyes were upon him as we stood on the other side of the pool, watching in silence and awe. All of us husbands seemed frozen by his sudden actions, and the wives appeared captivated by his every move.

Seconds later, he began to stroll towards the far end of the rectangular pool away from our direction. This was the opposite direction from where he had entered the area when he walked right past us hours earlier.

His bold, confident strides were short and purposely slowed to the point of pure arrogance. The flimsy yellow spandex bikini on his muscular ass cheeks had slipped nearly an inch lower, revealing a shade more of his curved ass crack. His slow and seemingly calculated steps away from us and toward the furthest end of the pool were curious. I wondered why he was taking the "long way" around this large pool.

I looked towards the blonde woman, who had frantically gathered the towels up and began trailing several steps behind him. Still, she seemed barely coherent. The black stud walked with such confidence and arrogance. As he turned left around the first corner of the rectangular pool, and the furthest away from us he would be, I was demoralized by what I had noticed.

His walking position was now a left side full profile image to all of us. His chiseled, dark ebony body seemed like a slab of granite. Most humiliating was the clear and flagrant fact that this young stud now had a partial erection forming in the crotch of that tiny yellow bikini.

"Wh-what th-the?" I murmured under my breath, in absolute shock.

"Geezuz F-ing christ?!" I heard another white husband faintly whisper under his breath, undetectable to the others.

It couldn't have been more obvious, even at that distance. The mammoth cock he was carrying in those skimpy bikini things had grown even larger. The unusually thin, wispy and pliable spandex material of his solid yellow bikini had crept a touch lower than before. Obnoxiously, the exaggerated bulge of his crotch had expanded the airy bright yellow material to an unruly, uncanny and unimagineable dimension.

As this young stud turn left around the next and final corner of the pool, he was now facing all us 40 feet away, as he continued his slow and methodical stroll. His partial erection looked even more obtrusive and I'm sure we all wondered if he would approach us.

Timidly, all of us remained standing in silence with our mouth partially opened.

His enormous, sweat-soaked cock in that microscopic yellow bikini pouch was surreal. The sheer, ominous size of it seemed to mimic a more than healthy cucumber as he drew nearer to the group. The thin, meager and featherweight fabric of his bikini pouch seemed to be hanging on for dear life as his massive cock began to unfurl inside. The wispy material moved with every powerful stride, and his goliath package slapped the side of his thighs naturally.

He had absolutely no regard or concern for the skimpy and flimsy bikini struggling to contain his manhood. None at all.

Shamelessly, the young black stud strolled to within 10 feet of our wives before turning up and to his right. He continued his bold strides towards the glass entry door as the groups of white husbands remained standing, in humiliation, further away.

The black man said no words, but we watched in disbelief as he peered over the tops of his shades and towards our bikini-clad wives. Arrogantly, he "checked them out" and his glare lingered for a moment before he continued towards the door.

His blonde companion tried to hasten her stumbling steps in order to catch up to him, and she fell out of one of her tan heeled sandals. She didn't even turn back to retrieve it as she seemed hurried and desperate to get to him.

The young black man had reached the glass entry door leading to the building, where he simply stopped. He did not turn back to the blonde woman scurrying behind him. We could hear the loud slap of her one sandal hitting the stone pavement in between the faint sound of her bare foot. He stood there with his back turned waiting for her to arrive.

We stood there quietly, mesmorized by the sight of this beautiful and noticeably affected blonde woman rushing towards him. We watched as she reached for the handle to the door and held it open for him. We continued gazing at them as the black stud disappeared inside, followed obediently by the white woman.

All 13 of us white husbands were standing there in complete and utter silence. Our heads seem to hang even lower. I was awed and humbled by the manner in which this young black man had just stood before the door and made the blonde woman open it. When I glanced over to the group of wives standing closer to the door, I could tell they were affected in a different way than we were.

The 13 white wives appeared shocked, almost amazed by the black god they had just observed. Their silence, alone, was surprising to me.

Nearly 30 seconds had gone by when this uncomfortable silence was broken. It was odd that nobody wanted to mention the sight they had just witnessed before their very own eyes. They began to turn towards us and their faces were obviously "flushed" as Karen spoke.

"Um, well, I guess th-they don't want to, uh, have lunch with us th-then." she said, rather uncomfortably.

"Yeah. I guess. I was just about to ask them." Tammy announced, in a whisper.

Our wives looked as if they had just been run over by a truck. Their somber mood caused an unusual silence in the air.

"Would you guys like some food?" Tammy finally asked.

We all stood there embarrassed, nodding our heads with a "I guess so" and "sure" look upon our faces. We, too, couldn't believe what we had just witnessed. Yet, we were all sure that we didn't want to talk about it.

One of the other wives then noticed the wayward shoe from the blonde woman. It was her right shoe, and she had run out of the 3 inched tan heeled sandal when scurrying behind the black stud.

"That's her shoe, isn't it?" she asked, bewildered.

Apparently, she had noticed the woman losing her shoe as it happened like I had. None of the wives had noticed it. Looking back, it was evident that their attention was more on the black stud strolling around in his revealing yellow bikini.

"I think so." Julie offered.

"Well, it has to be. Who else's could it be?" Janet asked, quietly.

"I dunno. Why would she just leave it behind like that?" Karen asked.

"I'm not sure." Megan added. "Maybe she didn't realize she lost it?" she predicted.

The group of us white men and the white women began to move in towrds one another, once again.

"How could she not know she lost her shoe?" one of the husbands, Mark, asked.

The white wives didn't respond. Their eyes seem to lower to the ground as they contemplated how she may have not noticed. By the look on their faces, it appeared that they could almost relate to her mishap. It was as if they understood.

"We should bring it back to her." Tammy said, picking up the shoe and holding it.

"David, why don't you bring it to her." she proposed.

"I-I'm not bringing it to her. No way." he announced.

"Don't look at me." Ralph said, as Tammy peered his way.

"Me, either." Tim exclaimed.

Tammy held the shoe out towards Mark.

"Mark, come on." she pitched.

"I'm not doing it. She'll get it later, I'm sure." Mark said, passively.

"Geez, you guys?!" Tammy snapped, frustrated by our lack of cooperation.

That is when my wife, Juile, stepped in. She took the shoe from Tammy's hand and offered me up.

"Richard will do it. He's a gentleman." she said, handing me the size 7 ladies shoe.