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My worst fears were realized as I walked out to the pool to meet my wife. Unconsciously, Julie had all but “sold me down the river,” so-to-speak, by revealing what I thought were nothing more than a few “little white lies.” These were the little white lies of a white man in an attempt to appear as masculine as black men. They were merely “fibs” to impress a beautiful white woman.

It wasn’t really Julie’s fault, at all. Years of these little white lies were catching up to me at an accelerated rate. I shouldn’t have kept on and on with these lies to show off how masculine I was.

I knew that now.

My wife had bragged about me to a level that would put me on the spot with this muscular black man, and put me in the unenviable position as his “sparring partner” or “practice workout partner,” as Julie would refer to it.

“How could I possibly go through with this?” I quivered in silence.

Julie sat by the pool with her delicate feet in the water, seemingly “blind” to the arrogance and obvious dominance of this young, black stud. I wondered why she hadn’t seen right through him, and why the other white women in the complex hadn’t seen just how he was “using” all those other white women in his life.

What our pretty white wives seemed to be observing was his pure masculinity, and nothing else. It didn’t seem to bother them that he had several “friends” around his condo, and that he was so obviously fucking them into oblivion and ruling over them like a black king. It was as if they didn’t care as long as he was this powerful image of a man, a “real” man.

Julie seemed like a different woman that day.

It was as if a light bulb had gone off over her pretty head as she comtemplated these thoughts. The thought of being a part of the workout center Tra’mon had discused had “trumped” the thoughts of her own little business. She went on and on about him in the most embarrassing way possible for me.

“It’s great that you’ll be working out with Trey.” she said, as I sat there humiliated.

“Trey really knows his stuff.” she added.

“When are you going to start your boxing stuff with Trey?” she asked.

Her interest in him felt defeating to me.

“Well, I-I don’t know. H-He really didn’t say.” I answered quietly.

“But, it’s not boxing honey. It’s just like practicing. It’s called sparring.” I explained.

“Oh, well okay then. I’m sure you’re gonna like getting back to working out again.” she said.

“You always said that stuff was the best workouts.” she continued.

“Trey really seemed glad you were willing to help with his workouts.” Julie stated.

“Are you ready for breakfast now?” she asked.

“W-Well, I-I’m not really very hungry anymore sweetie.” I replied, my nerves affecting me.

“Oh, you’re not? Well, maybe we’ll just have an early lunch later. It’s such a nice day and the water feels so nice today.” she implied.

I simply nodded a “yes” and agreed.

We sat by the pool for quite awhile as I “sulked” in shame. The humiliation that I felt by agreeing to such a ridiculous proposal was getting the best of my nerves. I kept thinking of ways to call the whole thing off, and I worried about this young black stud of a man’s intentions of wanting a sparring partner, like me.

I also wanted to ask Julie some questions about why she hadn’t mentioned meeting Tra’mon before. I had just learned that she had been speaking to him for what could have been weeks, and not a single word was said. Cowardly, I just backed off and didn’t mention a single word about the subject. I guess tht I didn’t want to bring attention to the subject.

Around ten o’clock that morning, a few of the other white couples came out to the pool area. At eleven, a few more. The verbal exchanges were casual and not at all relevant.

It was now closer to noon and 8 other couples were poolside milling about. Humbly, I noticed that my wife seemed lost in thought. Julie was now very quiet while the others simply discussed a myriad of things. Mentally, I was barely there as the “concern” I was feeling continued.

The mood of the group had been generally very somber and casual up to this point.

That is when the young black stud emerged onto the scene, once again. His presence was sudden and disheartening for me. I stood there more nervous than ever.

As the glass entry door opened and he stepped outside onto the marble stoned decking, all eyes were upon him. The group of white husbands and wives went completely silent.

Humiliatingly, the black adonis stood there in an unusually authoritative position. He seemed even more confident and commanding than before. His hands were positioned on his strong, powerful hips as he peered out towards the pool. He was wearing nothing but his shades and another pair of the skimpiest, flimsiest bikinis that anyone can envision. These bikinis were a bright, neon carolina blue color.

“Oh, gawwwd!” I shouted inside.

The black stud’s mammoth cock in the front pouch Pendik Escort of those scanty bikinis literally “jutted” out for all to observe. It was impossible not to notice. Proudly, he displayed his mammoth-sized man bulge like a peacock would display it’s feathers. The white wives “gawked” in complete silence with their mouths partially opened and their bottom lips quivering. The white husbands hung their heads even lower, with shame.

Tra’mon casually walked around to the other end of the pool in his normal, “cocky” and ultra-arrogant manner. He walked slowly and with total authority. Rather than taking his place upon his lounge chair, as usual, he ignored it. This time the black stud strutted right past it and began to waalk around the other end of the pool. He was now walking straight towards our group.

The lump in my throat began to grow even larger and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight out.

Our group was only slightly smaller this time. Eight other couples besides Julie and I were sitting and standing around the pool, and we had been there for awhile when Tra’mon made this unexpected appearance.

My wife, Julie, and 5 of the white wives had their feet “wading” in the pool. The other 3 wives sat close to them, and on towels that layed flat on the marble decking. Myself, and the other 8 white husbands, were standing around and milling about in a somewhat tight huddle as the young black stud drew nearer.

I could almost hear the white wives “gasp” for air as the watched him strolling nearer and nearer. All us white husbands seemed to tense up and swallow loudly. Aside from this, there was a piercing silence in the entire area as Tra’mon finally approached the group. He literally stopped right in the middle of the pack of our wives sitting by the pool, a few strides from the standing husbands.

“Hey, Trey.” Julie whispered.

“Oh, hi Trey.” another wife followed, softly and in awe.

As a matter fact all of the wives present at this time greeted the young stud simutaneously. They did so in the softest, faintest and almost undetectable whispers as they looked up to him.

He simply stood there with his chiseled arms crossed and looking directly at the husbands. His thick, massive cock bulging out in those flimsy powder blue bikinis couldn’t have been more than a foot from most of the wives faces. It bulged outward, profusely, and was practically on the same level as the wives’ eyes. I could see all the wives’ heads bend slightly upwards. It was embarrassingly obvious to me that the wives sat there staring directly at the obtrusive bulge in his silky, stretch bikini pouch. Their faces turned a pinkish red and became nearly catatonic.

“Hey, ladies.” he returned.

That is when the 25-year-old black man looked right at me.

“Six tomorrow morning, right?” He directed.

I was frozen in a near panic as I listened to him choose the time we would meet for the first sparring workout. The other husbands had no idea what was going on at this point, and they looked bewildered. The black stud stood there waiting for an answer.

“Uh, well I-I-I guess, o-okay.” I murmured.

“What? Too early for ya’?” he grinned.

“Um, well no. I g-guess not. O-Okay.” I answered, becoming more nervous.

“Good! See ya’ then.” Tra’mon responded in a commanding voice.

Casually, he turned and began heading back to his chaise lounge chair on the other side of the pool. Every one of our white wives had their eyes “riveted” to the muscular ass cheeks of this black man as he sauntered away. He walked away from us with a “cockiness” I find hard to describe accurately.

There was a prolonged silence in the group as we watched him finally lay back into his beach chair, cross his strong arms behind his head and look up into the sun.

“Wh-what was that all about?” Mark asked, stunned by his appearance.

None of us husbands had known that our wives had actually met the young, black man yet. Not one of us. Furthermore, before today none of us had known that our wives had actually engaged in conversations with him. We had no idea when and how this “formal introduction” had occurred, but it was evident that it happened while we were at our respective work places.

My mouth was dry and I found it difficult to respond.

“Oh, Richard is going to be practicing boxing stuff with Trey.” Julie answered for me.

“Trey does boxing sometimes and needed someone to help with his workouts.” Julie added.

“Trey says it’s really a good workout and keeps people in great shape.” Julie said.

The other white husbands looked at me with this “are you crazy” glare in their eyes. They were stunned and shocked beyond words that I would agree to such a “suicidal” event. My worried eyes had to be apparent to them that I was “coersed” into this. It appeared they felt a deep compassion for me.

“Yeah, I think I mentioned it before. Richard used to be a great boxer and he’s gonna help Trey with his practices.” Anadolu Yakası Escort Julie continued.

That is when the blonde woman that Tra’mon had been with in the gym earlier that morning finally emerged. She stepped out from the glass entry door and into the pool area. Apparently, she had been in the young black man’s condo and had lingered several minutes behind him.

Without exaggeration, this beautiful blonde woman looked like a complete and total wreck.

The beautiful, blonde woman seriously looked even more “used” than any of the others we had seen up to this point. Her run down and worn out appearance couldn’t have been more magnified. It was not in the least bit subtle. Not at all.

Her long blonde hair couldn’t conceal how astonishingly “used” she looked, and was, as she stumbled her way around the pool in the smallest red bikini.

There had to be at least 15 darkened red “hickies” or “love bites” all over her neck and breasts. She literally walked on her tip toes with her legs and pussy tightened together in noticeable pain. It was almost as if she had a sprained an ankle and was afraid to put any amount of weight on it. Embarrassingly, her small and timid steps even looked painful to watch.

Yet, all of us watched in amazement as she minced her way around the pool and to the black man sitting alone. Then, she fell to her knees before him, just off to the left of his feet.

Everyone in the group saw this.

It simply could not have been more blatant that this blonde woman had been ruthlessly pummeled and fucked by the proud black stud.

Yet, nothing was mentioned about it.

Our wives never commented on the brutally used appearance of this beautiful blonde. It was as if they were looking at something entirely different, and that is was perfectly normal. This seemed quite inconceivable to me back then. It didn’t make sense that our wives weren’t seeing what I was seeing, and what the husbands observed.

“Well, are you guys ready for lunch?” one of the wives asked, seemingly unaffected.

The white husbands just stood there in awe. Our mouths were partially hung open in disbelief as we witnessed yet another one of the black stud’s used white women. This one was the most “used” looking of all, and I believe it was the shock of her appearance that truly made us all speechless.

Still, we were all scared to respond to the obvious display. None of us wanted to say anything out loud. None of us wanted to be there. We just wanted to leave the pool area in a hurry, and none of the husbands were hungry anymore.

Mercifully, it was David that broke the embarrassing silence. He made up an excuse to leave the area.

“W-we should go out and eat today.” he suggested, meekly.

We all nodded our heads in agreement. Our faces were red from the embarrassment we felt, and the sympathy we thought we should feel for the overly-used blonde woman companion of the young stud.

The wives curiously agreed to our proposal.

“Oh, okay. I guess we can do that.” Tammy said.

We gathered the other couples after we changed our clothes and headed into the city for lunch.

The remainder of the day was quiet. I layed on my sofa inside “sulking” and trying to hide my fear of what could happen the next morning. My beautiful young wife was in and out the rest of the day, running a few errands and talking on the phone to the other wives throughout the night.

Julie even purchased a new, expensive designer workout suit for me while she was out. The white nylon sweat suit was far less “masculine” than I would have selected for myself, as far as I was concerned.

I passed out around 10 p.m. that night with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Deep down, I kept remembering the embarrassment of my military days when I had lost all my fights to more masculine black men. The fear of repeating this humiliation consumed me. My night was restless and I kept thinking about ways to plead with this black stud to take it easy on me, or forget the whole thing.

The next morning, I woke up at 10 minutes before 6 o’clock.

I looked over to my beautiful, young blonde wife sleeping peacefully. I was at least glad that she never woke up before 7:15 most mornings. Timidly, I got dressed in my new pansy-looking white designer workout suit and headed downstairs to the gym. Nervously, I “peeked” in and noticed that Tra’mon had already arrived.

He was dressed in a pair of tight, black spandex workout short-shorts that clung to his muscular body. A black, torn sleeveless tee shirt covered his torso as he tapped away at the large heavy boxing bag before him.

I stepped inside the gym shaking nervously as he turned and finally noticed me. He smiled as if he were a tiger about to pounce upon his prey.

“Ya’ ready?” he asked.

“Uh, I-I d-don’t know.” I quivered.

“Well, at least ya’ didn’t wimp out like a little bitch.” He snapped.

“Here.” he said, İstanbul Escort tossing a pair of practice boxing gloves to me.

“Put these one.” he ordered.

Slowly, I began putting the gloves on. I was struggling to do so because I was shaking and quivering so nervously. I was trying to think about what I could say to this young black man to get him to change his mind. Finally, I slipped the practice gloves onto my hands and turned back to him.

He was standing there, hopping up and down in place like a boxer would and pounding his gloved fists together.

“Ready?” he asked.

I shook my head in fear.

“N-No, I-I wanted to ask you if I-I could p-please talk to y-you first … I m-mean, if th-that’s okay with y-you?” I begged.

The young black man stepped right up to me as I stood there shaking like a leaf on a tree. His face stern and all knowing.

His 5’9″ tall frame seemed so much more masculine than my taller 6’4″ tall frame, and despite my height advantage, I just knew that I was no match for him.

“Yea, what?!” he asked, annoyed.

I cowered there for a moment trying desperately to think of the words I could say to call this whole thing off. Perhaps, I could ask him nicely to just pretend we were “sparring” so that my young blonde wife wouldn’t suspect how much of a big “white pussy” I really and truly was.

“What, boy?” he asked again, with a firmer tone.

“Well, I-uh just wanted to say that I-I d-don’t think this is something for m-me, please.” I begged.

“M-My wife really j-just exaggerated a little too m-much and I-I-I really don’t know about this.” I quivered.

“Put your hands up, whiteboy.” He ordered.

“Wh-what?” I asked, a petrified look on my face.

“Hands up!” he repeated the command.

Nervously, I put my gloved hands up and stood there as the black stud began lightly “sparring” with me, tossing a few jabs to my face.

“We’re here to workout. Not to talk like a coupla’ bitches.” he snapped.

Tra’mon began his workout and his punches grew firmer and more frequent with every passing minute. The black stud threw about 20 punches before I fell to the padded floor for the first time, exhausted and overwhelmed by his strength and aggression.

“Get up, boy!” He shouted.

He proceeded to work over my body and face with a flurry of punches that morning. He kept knocking me down, at least a dozen times, and ordering me to “get up” each and every time that he knocked me down.

For the next 40 minutes, the studly black man pummeled and pounded me with hundreds of his workout punches. I was not able to return one single punch. He literally beat the living heck out of me. His strength and fury were too much for me to handle, and my face was red, bruised and battered from this relentless workout.

That last time he knocked me down, which was the 12th time, he did not order me to get back up. This time, he simply stood over me and began removing his boxing gloves. I just sat on the padded floor beaten up and humiliated. I looked up to the black stud with a shocked and awed look upon my frightened face.

“Y’all whiteboys never learn, do ya’?” he asked with an angry look upon his stern face.

I looked up to him in fear. He had been so rough during this first workout session that I found it embarrassing. What I had envisioned as “practice” seemed so much more serious to him.

“Just another white pussy talkin’ a buncha’ shit to his pretty little wife, huh?” he asked.

I was breathing heavy and unable to respond.

“Same time tomorrow, boy!” he snarled, throwing his gloves to my lap.

“Put this shit away and clean up, boy.” he ordered and began walking out.

Defeated, I staggered to my feet and put his gloves back into the equipment box next to mine. I grabbed a large white towel from the rack and began wiping the floor from all the sweat that had dripped from our bodies. It was humiliating to do so.

Finally, I got back to our condo apartment and Julie was still asleep. When I looked into the mirror my face was beaten up pretty bad. My lips were a little swollen and my cheeks looked like they had been struck hundreds of times. I wasn’t physically hurt as much as my pride was. It was degrading.

I didn’t know how I was going to explain this to my wife when she finally woke up. Therefore, I decided that I would “lie” to her about the workout. I conjurred up another story in my mind in an attempt to salvage any image of masculinity I might still have with Julie.

Julie woke up an hour later.

“Oh my god, honey. Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

“Your face looks so beat up?!” she exclaimed.

“Um, y-yes, h-honey. It’s just from the w-workout. It’s alright. It uh-happens to all boxers while we’re w-working out.” I fibbed.

“Oh, you poor thing.” she added, looking at my face closely and touching it.

“Does it hurt, honey?” she asked.

“N-No, I’m okay.” I answered, lying.

“Are you sure? I mean, wow! Maybe you shouldn’t do this if it’s too hard to do?” she suggested.

“I-I-I don’t know, maybe?” I replied.

“It’s uh-normal, honey. I-I got in my shots too.” I exaggerated.

“Well, Trey did say it was going to take some time to get into shape.” she said.

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