Here’s a cautionary tale about how I was ditched by both my sexy wife and hot young girlfriend in a single night during the scorching summer of 99. Let this be a warning to all you guys out there -- don’t take any woman for granted. In my experience they are all mercenary as a rule, and will move on to better things if you don’t meet their desires and expectations. And I learned that lesson the hard way, man, lemme tell ya. The hardest way possible.
I’m Al, by the way, and I’m originally from a small town in Ohio. I’d always dreamed of living in the Big Apple. I guess I thought I was destined for better things. I finally made the move in ’95, and it was during the repressive heatwave four years later that these awful events occurred. To be honest I still haven’t fully recovered to this day. You could say that the images I saw that night have been etched onto my brain for life, never to be forgotten. My mental scars meant that I never remarried. Not long after my wife’s vicious black lover kicked me out of our apartment I developed a drug and alcohol habit that left me down and out for years. I lived in a homeless hostel on the Bowery, if you can believe it man, and for a time even resorted to panhandling on 14th St and up at Port Authority.
I tell ya man, there’s nothing worse than being stared at in disdain by hot white career bitches while you’re down and out on your luck. Nothin worse that watching hot lady after hot lady strolling past your sad, broke ass in the street in their high heels with that haughty look on their faces as you look down at the floor in shame. You aren’t a potential provider to them, you most definitely aren’t sexually attractive to them, and you smell bad too. You are the lowest of the low in their eyes. You know it and they know it. Sometimes, man, I swear those bitches gave their ass an extra wiggle or thrust their boobs out as they walked by, just for the hell of it. Like, they were telling me that this is what I can’t ever have.
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I dunno if you remember that summer man, but it was roasting hot, even by NYC standards. Rainfall shortages resulted in worst drought on record and seniors were dropping like fucking flies in the urban centers of the East coast. People were warned to stay indoors during the brutal heat of the day. Sound advice, man. It was the type of weather where you just had to have aircon, no matter what the cost. Guys who had fit, muscular bodies, guys who worked out, well they took the opportunity to go bare chested when the sun went down, dontcha know. I guess women love to see a muscular man’s bare chest, just as much as us men love to gaze at them big-titted bitches.
Anyway I was in my 30’s back when my world fell apart. I was still a big drinker despite having a job and being married to a chick who was way outa my league. I was never a looker, and when I married Violet back in 97, I promised her the world. She was something of a spoiled bitch, if truth be told, but after we hit it off in Elaine’s Bar and started dating, I fell for her big time.
When I met Violet I was living on what I liked to call the Upper East, despite being right on the Harlem border. I was working down on Wall St and told Violet I was a market trader. In fact I was a junior seller, working on a commission-only basis. To be honest it was a dog-eat-dog atmosphere on the trading floor, with senior traders having no qualms about snatching rich clients from junior employees like me. I remember back in March of 99 man, I made no money at all, not a dime.
Anyway Violet was a hot young society girl with gorgeous auburn hair and a figure to die for. She had her own unique style, at least unique back then, a hot combination of 50’s pinup and burlesque bitch. She was stacked man, and always wore these tight dresses and heels. Like I said, after a couple of dates I was both in love and in lust. She was studying fashion at Hunter College and worked part time at Bloomingdales, and I guess she was on the lookout for a guy to provide for her.
I promised her the earth, and was over the moon when after six months of dating she agreed to be my wife. I’d got into some serious debt treating her to the good life, I tell ya, but was convinced that I’d be earning big bucks from the stock exchange before too long. I was wrong about that, man, in my best year my salary never even hit 50 grand.
After we married, we ended up renting a one-bed apartment in a walk-up on Morningside Heights with me working all hours to make the rent. After she graduated, Violet stayed home when she wasn’t out shopping, gossiping or getting cocktails with her snooty Midtown friends.
For those of you who don't know Manhattan, Morningside Heights is a mostly white area to the west of Harlem, where Colombia University is based. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that my head was turned numerous times by those hot Colombia girls, the cream of America’s young talent. You’d see them strutting their stuff on Broadway, or smooching with lucky men in Riverside Park. It struck me how many of those bitches were with tough-looking black men, obviously not fellow students due to their gangsta attire. Being right next to Harlem, I suppose, it was natural that there was plenty of 'cultural exchange ' between the female students and the thousands of African American men living right next door. I like to think I’m liberal man, but I didn’t like it.
In the evenings the bars of Broadway and Columbus would be full of big, arrogant black studs chatting up the hot college girls and intimidating the guys. Truly a cultural melting pot, which I guess is what we are all supposed to want these days.
Well, after a year Violet and I started getting on each others nerves, and by 99 were arguing pretty constantly and of course our sex life deteriorated as a result. My sex drive was still high, but she seemed to lose interest. As mentioned, I was working my ass off downtown. I didn’t even have a chance to jerk off man, with Violet always in the apartment when I got home. My blue balls were made worse by the hundreds of hot college girls living in the area, who I had to walk past every day on my way to the subway.
Violet was a pretty lady and she was used to being pampered - going clubbing, going to shows, vacations in Florida, that kind of thing, and she wasn't getting any of that from me. I was struggling just to keep a roof over our heads, working long long hours, but still not earning enough to afford any luxuries for my sexy young wife. Our plans for a baby were on permanent hold, it seemed
So the stage was set when I met Rebecca, a legal intern in a company that shared the same Wall St building to mine. I admit, she too thought I was somewhat higher up the ladder than I actually was, and I did little to dampen her fantasy. I hit it off with Rebecca straight away and couldn’t believe my luck when she boldly told me that she liked my style. We began drinking coffee and grabbing lunch together in a deli on Pearl. Turns out she was studying law at NYU and was single. She supported all kinds of liberal causes and she hated Gulianni. She told me the Mayor was fighting a war against the poor. I agreed with her sentiments, and I didn’t let on that I was married.
She was an average-looking Jewish girl who could look like a grade A babe when she made herself up. She lived in a tiny ground floor studio on Avenue B and was dirty as fuck in the sack. I took her for a meal in the Village on our first real date and the horny bitch fucked me that very night
Although her face wasn’t going to launch many ships, Rebecca had a figure to die for. She was a 'progressive feminist' who did not want a full time boyfriend, but man, did she need regular sex, and I was the lucky guy she chose to provide it. She had a healthy sexual appetite all right, and told me more than once that all women have a right to good sex. She was serious too.
So I became her regular Friday night fuck buddy, braving the street gangs of Alphabet City to visit her in her tiny ground floor studio where she was waiting, dressed in slut gear, eager to be fucked. She was into all kinds of kinky shit too man, stuff you read about in the Voice, and wanted to experiment with S&M. I’m liberal as they come, and even once let her spank my ass, but it wasn’t really my scene. I’ve never been into pain.
Every Friday night I would tell Violet that I was watching football in a downtown bar with the guys, but instead I was taking the C train to 14th then the L to 3rd Avenue and walking through the hood to Rebecca’s bed. I admit was intimidated by the number of big, muscular Latinos and blacks who hung out in Tomkins Park and on the streets of her hood. Avenues A, B and C got progressively rougher, man, the further east you headed, junkies, gangs and guns man, it wasn’t safe at all, especially for a white guy on his own.
Then, one night, Rebecca and I we had our first major spat. She said I should be taking her out more. She wanted me to take her to the bars round St Marks, go bar hopping, maybe CBGBs, the idea of which I abhorred. And of course I would have to pay for all her drinks, I thought, most likely best part of five bucks per fancy cocktail which was a lot of money back then. She didn’t know this at the time but I had serious financial issues. The heatwave had started back in May and cost of the aircon uptown was killing me, especially with my wife home most days. That bitch was basking in the cool breeze, paid for by yours truly, while I slaved my ass off.
Anyway I fobbed Rebecca off with some romantic shit about wanting to spend more quality time with just the two of us, and refused to go out. Besides, I reasoned, the streets weren’t safe at night. She ended up telling me that she wanted to be alone that evening, but not before the selfish bitch had me bring her to orgasm with my tongue.
After our argument I didn’t see Rebecca for a couple of weeks - I actually did go watch a TV game downtown with my football buddies on a couple of Fridays, but to be honest I’ve never been a sports fan. Soon I was pining for Rebecca’s hot body, and knew I had to see her again.
Anyhow, it all happened when the heatwave was at its height. On the third Friday I vowed that I would try to make things right with Rebecca, so instead of meeting my buddies I took the C train to the Village, picked up a bunch of flowers and started walking east towards Avenue B.
It was steaming hot, hot enough to make the garbage smell and the tarmac sticky, even at 8pm. The streets of Alphabet City were busier than usual, and I was conscious of being one of the few white people around. Twice I was jostled on the street and I was feeling relief when I finally made it to the door of Rebecca’s apartment building.
I was about to ring her bell when I heard sounds coming from her window, which was right next to the front door. The noises sounded loud, and I couldn't figure out at first what they were above the sound of her noisy aircon unit. Rebecca’s curtains were drawn, but there was a chink of light coming from a gap, so I peered in. The sight I saw stunned me to the core.
What I saw was Rebecca's high heeled legs stuck high in the air, almost vertical as she lay on her back on the bed. I couldn't see any more of the hot young legal intern apart from her dainty hands and painted fingernails digging into a big muscular black ass as she urged the huge African-American male on top of her to fuck her harder. Seriously, her body was obscured by that big black man on top of her, powering into her at a speed and strength that I could never dream of matching. And she was loving it. I knew that because I heard her tell him.
'You love it, doncha bitch' I heard the black man growl.
'Uh uh, oh yeah, fuck me baby, fuck me' I heard Rebecca say. “This pussy’s yours baby. You OWN this pussy. You OWN it”
I just stood there, transfixed, for a long second, the sweat pouring from my brow and onto my shirt. I couldn't believe my eyes. I just stood there clutching my bunch of flowers, just watching this big black stud fuck my Rebecca better than I ever could. To my shame I found myself getting hard. I hadn't jerked off or had sex for weeks. Fuck, I thought bitterly. That bitch didn't waste no time in getting me replaced. And it sure seemed like she preferred the replacement to me. Fuck!
Eventually I summoned the strength to pull myself away from the hot scene and begin to trudge up towards 14th street. On the next corner a bunch of blacks and Latinos were hanging out, and they jeered when I approached.
“Hey white boy” one said. “Don be comin round here no more. She Roland’s bitch now, she don want ya no more'.
“Yeah go home white boy before we beat ya ass” another said, giving the Crips salute. “We see ya round here again, you a dead mothafucker”
My face went red in shame and burned even harder as I realized that a couple of young white girls dressed in hip hop gear were part of the gang. Hell, they only looked to be about 16, man, but they were dressed like total sluts.
I made it to the train unscathed, still clutching the roses I had bought, and vowed there and then never to be unfaithful to my wife again. I was lucky to have her, I told myself and it wasn't too late to make a fresh start. Hopefully I could put this humiliating episode behind me.
As I rode the subway uptown I began to formulate a plan. I would return home early to Violet and surprise her, give her the flowers and tell her how much I loved her. If I were allowed, I’d make love to her tenderly, kiss her passionately and tell her how much she really meant to me. I was done with that slut Rebecca. What I needed was a stable relationship, I told myself, and I had the ideal woman waiting right there at home. I vowed to treat Violet as a princess from now on, and always be on hand for her when she needed me. Hell, I’d even get a second job if necessary. By the time I exited the subway train into the oven-like heat, I had convinced myself that my wife had always been the woman for me and I should never have gone astray.
On the way home I invested in a bottle of sparkling wine from the liquor store. Outside the store and on the streets, there seemed to be a lot more people around than usual. Lots of black guys with chains, rings and other bling, in vests or bare chested, were hanging out on the stoops, outside the bars, and in the public squares. Remember, this was still the era when gangsta rap was popular, and various sound boxes were blasting out the music of TuPac, Biggy Smalls and others. I felt somewhat intimidated after my experience in Alphabet City, but no one approached me or hassled me on my way home. In fact, I felt strangely calm and elated as I approached the door of our apartment building. Rebecca’s sluttish behavior was just the incentive I needed to make the big change to my life, I thought – a change that was obviously needed. Hell, maybe that bitch did me a favor, I told myself.
I arrived back home around 9.30. Violet wasn’t expecting me so early, but she would still be happy to see me, I reasoned. I turned my key in the lock, pushed the door open and was greeted with a scene that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
I had the misfortune to walk in on them at the height of their fuck, at a time when it’s tough to stop, I guess, because they didn’t. My sweet Violet and her black stud were obviously both close to orgasm, but they could have stopped if they really wanted to, man. They could have showed me a modicum of respect. But they fucking didn’t. They saw me sure enough, but the big, bald, muscular black guy carried on fucking my hot pinup girl right in front of my eyes.
They were in the cowgirl position with her on top, and him on his back, thrusting his cock inside her. The whole apartment stank of sweat and sex. On each outward thrust I could see the length and thickness of his cock. I kid you not man, it was three times the length of mine at least, and three times as thick. Her juices were dripping down his huge shaft while her big tits were bouncing up and down.
My eyes met hers as her big black muscled stud ploughed into her like a train. If anything, he was even bigger and more muscular than Rebecca’s new man, and his thrusts were sending Violet into fucking raptures
“Uh, uh, Oooh, god, Al, wait just one minute” my wife said. “Just one minute. Uggg, go on Sam, I’m almost there”
I stood there, flowers in my one hand, Spumante in the other, and simply watched as the big black man ejaculated inside my wife. He wasn’t wearing a condom and she wasn’t on the pill. He began flooding her with his come, and the sounds she made as he sprayed into her were indescribable. If you didn’t know better you’d think she was yowling in pain. But she wasn’t. The sounds were pure, guttural pleasure and appreciation as he pumped what must have been half a pint of cum up deep inside her fertile cunt.
It must have been only couple of minutes but it seemed like hours before she finally climbed off her lover. I watched his big black cock slither out of her cunt man, and it just kept on coming out, it didn’t stop. It was freakish how big he was. When the tip if his dick finally came out, white cum gushed out with it. Violet then lay on her back with her knees raised in what certain people describe as the “breeding position”. With her cunt facing upwards, the sperm was dripping back down inside, deep into her.
“Who dis?” the black guy said
“So sorry Samuel” Violet said. “It’s my husband, I wasn’t expecting his home. I’m sorry babe."
Fuck! She was apologizing to him? The black dude?
“Give us a bit of time, Al” Violet said to me. “Come back in half an hour”
I was speechless. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was our apartment. I paid the freakin rent.
“Get the fuck out white boy” Samuel said, his huge, moist penis still on display. “Aint you supposed to be out till midnight?” He leered at me menacingly and stood up. I was mortified. I placed the flowers and wine on the counter, then snatched back the wine and walked out into the hot night.
I got blind ***** that night, cried a bucket load of tears, and eventually returned home very apprehensively a little after 2am. Violet was not home, but there was a note for me on the counter beside a small pile of $20 bills. I picked it up and it read:
Dear Al,
I’m sorry you had to witness this but Samuel is my lover. I’ve been seeing him for a while now and I think I am in love with him. So I think it’s best of we spend some time apart. So sorry Al, but I’d prefer you to leave for now. Samuel wants you to leave too. Here’s some money for a hotel.
Violet x
The bitch! I was aghast at her brazenness. She knew that I was no match for her lover physically, and the line “Samuel wants you to leave too” was surely an implied threat. So I did as she asked. What else could I do? I left the apartment in a stunned daze, walked down Broadway and checked into the Day’s Inn on 94th. It didn’t even have fucking aircon.
Well, after that, things just went from bad to worse. The next three days I spent in a drunken haze, and when I finally showed up at work I had a pink slip waiting for me. I’d already been kicked out of my apartment, and now I didn’t have a job. I only had a few hundred in the bank, and the measly stash of cash Violet had left for me had already been spent, mostly on booze and cigarettes. I moved to a cheaper hotel by Penn Station and carried on drinking.
After a couple of months I was flat broke, but I still couldn’t quit the bottle. I ended up in one of the many homeless shelters on the Bowery that used to exist above Chinatown, sharing a dorm with fellow drunks. It’s amazing man, how many of the alcoholics down there had been cheated on by their bitch wives. It can do things to you man. Not one of those bums could top my story, though, not one of them had been cuckolded twice in a single fucking night.
One year later.
It was 2am, and me and a couple of other homeless guys had bedded down for the night in the entrance to a store on Union Square. We’d finished the last of the fortified wine and were smoking re-rolled cigarettes from street buts when we heard the night-clubbers approaching. I heard the booming sound of guys’ voices, shouting and laughing, and the click of high heels on the sidewalk as the party approached. As they neared us, I saw that the group comprised of three big black guys, dressed in silk shirts and tight slacks. Accompanying each of the black guys was a hot white bitch, all three of them dressed I guess in what would be described today as a hypersexual style. They all looked hot as fuck.
“Ugh, disgusting” I heard one of the white bitches say. Immediately I knew that she was referring to me and my buddies
“Eeew” the second girl said. “Look at them, guys, they’re fucking gross”
“Wanna see something?’ one of the black guys said. “Watch this”.
He walked right up to where me and my buddies were camped and pulled out a fifty from a thick bill roll. “Need some dough boy?” he asked, dangling the fifty tantalizingly in front of my eyes. Stupidly I reached out to grab it, but he held it a little higher, out of my reach.
“Sing me a song and its yours boy” he said.
It was then that I became aware that the third girl was gazing curiously at me, and she looked very familiar. Suddenly I was struck dumb. It was Rebecca! She had put on weight around her ass and her tits seemed even larger, but it was definitely her. She was staring at me with an expression of dawning recognition. The bitch knew it was me, but she was never, ever going to admit to her hot friends that we’d once been an item.
“Sing me a fucking song boy” the black man said again. “You want me to kick your tramp ass?”
I stared at my ex, and she stared back at me, wide-eyed. I was in shock. She was dressed like a typical black cock slut, unsteady on her feet in spike heels and an ultra-tight thin dress. Shit, she looked hot. I could see her nipples clear as day through that thin material.
“Fucking sing boy, it’s your last chance” the black guy said. “We don’t need shit like you pollutin our city. Now fucking sing me a song."
Terrified, in a half whimper, I began:
“Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today,” I whimpered. “I want to be a part of it, New York, New York”
The girls started to giggle, Rebecca included. Then, all of a sudden Rebecca started to roar with laughter, tears in her eyes
“These vagabond shoes are longing to stray”
“Yeah, sing for us bitch” Rebecca cried
“Right through the very heart of it, New York, New York”
The black man curled his hand into a fist. I was terrified.
“If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere” I almost shrieked, such was my fear. “It's up to you , New York, New Y…Aaaaaagh!!!”
The flurry of punches and kicks began. I closed my eyes and curled up in a ball, as I felt incredible pain. I was punched and kicked multiple times. After a moment or two I was dimly aware that I was facing multiple attackers, at least one of them being female. I could tell by the sharp pain of the kicks from their pointed shoes. And I could smell the perfume that Rebecca always wore, close at hand. I always remember that brand she wore. It was called “Bitch” - particulary appropriate given her dominant nature.
“You trash boy” I heard the black man say. “You a plague on this city. You trash”
He grabbed me by the collar and hauled me out of the shop doorway and dropped me on the floor. Across the street was a pile of trash bins and putrid garbage sacks. “Git over there” he said pointing across the street. He then started kicking me towards the trash pile, the force of each kick driving me forward. Between my cries of pain I glanced up to see Rebecca looking all excited and breathless, clapping her hands in pleasure. She sure was enjoying herself.
The black guy literally kicked me across the street, the bastard, then picked me up again and hurled me into the trash. I wound up in a pile of rotting food,
“Ahm gonna clean up this city” he growled. “Just call me Rudy fucking Gulianni, bitch”
I dimly heard a round of applause and a few cheers. More clubbers had stopped to see what was going on. The sight of a homeless guy being beaten up and then thrown into a pile of rotting garbage isn’t something you see every day, and I guess I made quite a spectacle. The city was being cleaned up right in front of their privileged eyes.
They do say that every cloud has a silver lining, and you have to hit rock bottom before you can begin the process of recovery. I’m pretty sure I hit rock bottom that evening and its true, the beating finally made me quit drinking - mainly because I was in hospital for the next month slurping from a straw.
In the months that followed I finally managed to get back on my feet - in a way at least. I got a job as a cleaner at NYU, of all places. Now my job is cleaning toilets and emptying garbage bins, while haughty, hot, scornful college girls look on, saddled with a hospital debt that I’ll never be able to pay.
New York, man. What a fucking town.
I’m Al, by the way, and I’m originally from a small town in Ohio. I’d always dreamed of living in the Big Apple. I guess I thought I was destined for better things. I finally made the move in ’95, and it was during the repressive heatwave four years later that these awful events occurred. To be honest I still haven’t fully recovered to this day. You could say that the images I saw that night have been etched onto my brain for life, never to be forgotten. My mental scars meant that I never remarried. Not long after my wife’s vicious black lover kicked me out of our apartment I developed a drug and alcohol habit that left me down and out for years. I lived in a homeless hostel on the Bowery, if you can believe it man, and for a time even resorted to panhandling on 14th St and up at Port Authority.
I tell ya man, there’s nothing worse than being stared at in disdain by hot white career bitches while you’re down and out on your luck. Nothin worse that watching hot lady after hot lady strolling past your sad, broke ass in the street in their high heels with that haughty look on their faces as you look down at the floor in shame. You aren’t a potential provider to them, you most definitely aren’t sexually attractive to them, and you smell bad too. You are the lowest of the low in their eyes. You know it and they know it. Sometimes, man, I swear those bitches gave their ass an extra wiggle or thrust their boobs out as they walked by, just for the hell of it. Like, they were telling me that this is what I can’t ever have.
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I dunno if you remember that summer man, but it was roasting hot, even by NYC standards. Rainfall shortages resulted in worst drought on record and seniors were dropping like fucking flies in the urban centers of the East coast. People were warned to stay indoors during the brutal heat of the day. Sound advice, man. It was the type of weather where you just had to have aircon, no matter what the cost. Guys who had fit, muscular bodies, guys who worked out, well they took the opportunity to go bare chested when the sun went down, dontcha know. I guess women love to see a muscular man’s bare chest, just as much as us men love to gaze at them big-titted bitches.
Anyway I was in my 30’s back when my world fell apart. I was still a big drinker despite having a job and being married to a chick who was way outa my league. I was never a looker, and when I married Violet back in 97, I promised her the world. She was something of a spoiled bitch, if truth be told, but after we hit it off in Elaine’s Bar and started dating, I fell for her big time.
When I met Violet I was living on what I liked to call the Upper East, despite being right on the Harlem border. I was working down on Wall St and told Violet I was a market trader. In fact I was a junior seller, working on a commission-only basis. To be honest it was a dog-eat-dog atmosphere on the trading floor, with senior traders having no qualms about snatching rich clients from junior employees like me. I remember back in March of 99 man, I made no money at all, not a dime.
Anyway Violet was a hot young society girl with gorgeous auburn hair and a figure to die for. She had her own unique style, at least unique back then, a hot combination of 50’s pinup and burlesque bitch. She was stacked man, and always wore these tight dresses and heels. Like I said, after a couple of dates I was both in love and in lust. She was studying fashion at Hunter College and worked part time at Bloomingdales, and I guess she was on the lookout for a guy to provide for her.
I promised her the earth, and was over the moon when after six months of dating she agreed to be my wife. I’d got into some serious debt treating her to the good life, I tell ya, but was convinced that I’d be earning big bucks from the stock exchange before too long. I was wrong about that, man, in my best year my salary never even hit 50 grand.
After we married, we ended up renting a one-bed apartment in a walk-up on Morningside Heights with me working all hours to make the rent. After she graduated, Violet stayed home when she wasn’t out shopping, gossiping or getting cocktails with her snooty Midtown friends.
For those of you who don't know Manhattan, Morningside Heights is a mostly white area to the west of Harlem, where Colombia University is based. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that my head was turned numerous times by those hot Colombia girls, the cream of America’s young talent. You’d see them strutting their stuff on Broadway, or smooching with lucky men in Riverside Park. It struck me how many of those bitches were with tough-looking black men, obviously not fellow students due to their gangsta attire. Being right next to Harlem, I suppose, it was natural that there was plenty of 'cultural exchange ' between the female students and the thousands of African American men living right next door. I like to think I’m liberal man, but I didn’t like it.
In the evenings the bars of Broadway and Columbus would be full of big, arrogant black studs chatting up the hot college girls and intimidating the guys. Truly a cultural melting pot, which I guess is what we are all supposed to want these days.
Well, after a year Violet and I started getting on each others nerves, and by 99 were arguing pretty constantly and of course our sex life deteriorated as a result. My sex drive was still high, but she seemed to lose interest. As mentioned, I was working my ass off downtown. I didn’t even have a chance to jerk off man, with Violet always in the apartment when I got home. My blue balls were made worse by the hundreds of hot college girls living in the area, who I had to walk past every day on my way to the subway.
Violet was a pretty lady and she was used to being pampered - going clubbing, going to shows, vacations in Florida, that kind of thing, and she wasn't getting any of that from me. I was struggling just to keep a roof over our heads, working long long hours, but still not earning enough to afford any luxuries for my sexy young wife. Our plans for a baby were on permanent hold, it seemed
So the stage was set when I met Rebecca, a legal intern in a company that shared the same Wall St building to mine. I admit, she too thought I was somewhat higher up the ladder than I actually was, and I did little to dampen her fantasy. I hit it off with Rebecca straight away and couldn’t believe my luck when she boldly told me that she liked my style. We began drinking coffee and grabbing lunch together in a deli on Pearl. Turns out she was studying law at NYU and was single. She supported all kinds of liberal causes and she hated Gulianni. She told me the Mayor was fighting a war against the poor. I agreed with her sentiments, and I didn’t let on that I was married.
She was an average-looking Jewish girl who could look like a grade A babe when she made herself up. She lived in a tiny ground floor studio on Avenue B and was dirty as fuck in the sack. I took her for a meal in the Village on our first real date and the horny bitch fucked me that very night
Although her face wasn’t going to launch many ships, Rebecca had a figure to die for. She was a 'progressive feminist' who did not want a full time boyfriend, but man, did she need regular sex, and I was the lucky guy she chose to provide it. She had a healthy sexual appetite all right, and told me more than once that all women have a right to good sex. She was serious too.
So I became her regular Friday night fuck buddy, braving the street gangs of Alphabet City to visit her in her tiny ground floor studio where she was waiting, dressed in slut gear, eager to be fucked. She was into all kinds of kinky shit too man, stuff you read about in the Voice, and wanted to experiment with S&M. I’m liberal as they come, and even once let her spank my ass, but it wasn’t really my scene. I’ve never been into pain.
Every Friday night I would tell Violet that I was watching football in a downtown bar with the guys, but instead I was taking the C train to 14th then the L to 3rd Avenue and walking through the hood to Rebecca’s bed. I admit was intimidated by the number of big, muscular Latinos and blacks who hung out in Tomkins Park and on the streets of her hood. Avenues A, B and C got progressively rougher, man, the further east you headed, junkies, gangs and guns man, it wasn’t safe at all, especially for a white guy on his own.
Then, one night, Rebecca and I we had our first major spat. She said I should be taking her out more. She wanted me to take her to the bars round St Marks, go bar hopping, maybe CBGBs, the idea of which I abhorred. And of course I would have to pay for all her drinks, I thought, most likely best part of five bucks per fancy cocktail which was a lot of money back then. She didn’t know this at the time but I had serious financial issues. The heatwave had started back in May and cost of the aircon uptown was killing me, especially with my wife home most days. That bitch was basking in the cool breeze, paid for by yours truly, while I slaved my ass off.
Anyway I fobbed Rebecca off with some romantic shit about wanting to spend more quality time with just the two of us, and refused to go out. Besides, I reasoned, the streets weren’t safe at night. She ended up telling me that she wanted to be alone that evening, but not before the selfish bitch had me bring her to orgasm with my tongue.
After our argument I didn’t see Rebecca for a couple of weeks - I actually did go watch a TV game downtown with my football buddies on a couple of Fridays, but to be honest I’ve never been a sports fan. Soon I was pining for Rebecca’s hot body, and knew I had to see her again.
Anyhow, it all happened when the heatwave was at its height. On the third Friday I vowed that I would try to make things right with Rebecca, so instead of meeting my buddies I took the C train to the Village, picked up a bunch of flowers and started walking east towards Avenue B.
It was steaming hot, hot enough to make the garbage smell and the tarmac sticky, even at 8pm. The streets of Alphabet City were busier than usual, and I was conscious of being one of the few white people around. Twice I was jostled on the street and I was feeling relief when I finally made it to the door of Rebecca’s apartment building.
I was about to ring her bell when I heard sounds coming from her window, which was right next to the front door. The noises sounded loud, and I couldn't figure out at first what they were above the sound of her noisy aircon unit. Rebecca’s curtains were drawn, but there was a chink of light coming from a gap, so I peered in. The sight I saw stunned me to the core.
What I saw was Rebecca's high heeled legs stuck high in the air, almost vertical as she lay on her back on the bed. I couldn't see any more of the hot young legal intern apart from her dainty hands and painted fingernails digging into a big muscular black ass as she urged the huge African-American male on top of her to fuck her harder. Seriously, her body was obscured by that big black man on top of her, powering into her at a speed and strength that I could never dream of matching. And she was loving it. I knew that because I heard her tell him.
'You love it, doncha bitch' I heard the black man growl.
'Uh uh, oh yeah, fuck me baby, fuck me' I heard Rebecca say. “This pussy’s yours baby. You OWN this pussy. You OWN it”
I just stood there, transfixed, for a long second, the sweat pouring from my brow and onto my shirt. I couldn't believe my eyes. I just stood there clutching my bunch of flowers, just watching this big black stud fuck my Rebecca better than I ever could. To my shame I found myself getting hard. I hadn't jerked off or had sex for weeks. Fuck, I thought bitterly. That bitch didn't waste no time in getting me replaced. And it sure seemed like she preferred the replacement to me. Fuck!
Eventually I summoned the strength to pull myself away from the hot scene and begin to trudge up towards 14th street. On the next corner a bunch of blacks and Latinos were hanging out, and they jeered when I approached.
“Hey white boy” one said. “Don be comin round here no more. She Roland’s bitch now, she don want ya no more'.
“Yeah go home white boy before we beat ya ass” another said, giving the Crips salute. “We see ya round here again, you a dead mothafucker”
My face went red in shame and burned even harder as I realized that a couple of young white girls dressed in hip hop gear were part of the gang. Hell, they only looked to be about 16, man, but they were dressed like total sluts.
I made it to the train unscathed, still clutching the roses I had bought, and vowed there and then never to be unfaithful to my wife again. I was lucky to have her, I told myself and it wasn't too late to make a fresh start. Hopefully I could put this humiliating episode behind me.
As I rode the subway uptown I began to formulate a plan. I would return home early to Violet and surprise her, give her the flowers and tell her how much I loved her. If I were allowed, I’d make love to her tenderly, kiss her passionately and tell her how much she really meant to me. I was done with that slut Rebecca. What I needed was a stable relationship, I told myself, and I had the ideal woman waiting right there at home. I vowed to treat Violet as a princess from now on, and always be on hand for her when she needed me. Hell, I’d even get a second job if necessary. By the time I exited the subway train into the oven-like heat, I had convinced myself that my wife had always been the woman for me and I should never have gone astray.
On the way home I invested in a bottle of sparkling wine from the liquor store. Outside the store and on the streets, there seemed to be a lot more people around than usual. Lots of black guys with chains, rings and other bling, in vests or bare chested, were hanging out on the stoops, outside the bars, and in the public squares. Remember, this was still the era when gangsta rap was popular, and various sound boxes were blasting out the music of TuPac, Biggy Smalls and others. I felt somewhat intimidated after my experience in Alphabet City, but no one approached me or hassled me on my way home. In fact, I felt strangely calm and elated as I approached the door of our apartment building. Rebecca’s sluttish behavior was just the incentive I needed to make the big change to my life, I thought – a change that was obviously needed. Hell, maybe that bitch did me a favor, I told myself.
I arrived back home around 9.30. Violet wasn’t expecting me so early, but she would still be happy to see me, I reasoned. I turned my key in the lock, pushed the door open and was greeted with a scene that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
I had the misfortune to walk in on them at the height of their fuck, at a time when it’s tough to stop, I guess, because they didn’t. My sweet Violet and her black stud were obviously both close to orgasm, but they could have stopped if they really wanted to, man. They could have showed me a modicum of respect. But they fucking didn’t. They saw me sure enough, but the big, bald, muscular black guy carried on fucking my hot pinup girl right in front of my eyes.
They were in the cowgirl position with her on top, and him on his back, thrusting his cock inside her. The whole apartment stank of sweat and sex. On each outward thrust I could see the length and thickness of his cock. I kid you not man, it was three times the length of mine at least, and three times as thick. Her juices were dripping down his huge shaft while her big tits were bouncing up and down.
My eyes met hers as her big black muscled stud ploughed into her like a train. If anything, he was even bigger and more muscular than Rebecca’s new man, and his thrusts were sending Violet into fucking raptures
“Uh, uh, Oooh, god, Al, wait just one minute” my wife said. “Just one minute. Uggg, go on Sam, I’m almost there”
I stood there, flowers in my one hand, Spumante in the other, and simply watched as the big black man ejaculated inside my wife. He wasn’t wearing a condom and she wasn’t on the pill. He began flooding her with his come, and the sounds she made as he sprayed into her were indescribable. If you didn’t know better you’d think she was yowling in pain. But she wasn’t. The sounds were pure, guttural pleasure and appreciation as he pumped what must have been half a pint of cum up deep inside her fertile cunt.
It must have been only couple of minutes but it seemed like hours before she finally climbed off her lover. I watched his big black cock slither out of her cunt man, and it just kept on coming out, it didn’t stop. It was freakish how big he was. When the tip if his dick finally came out, white cum gushed out with it. Violet then lay on her back with her knees raised in what certain people describe as the “breeding position”. With her cunt facing upwards, the sperm was dripping back down inside, deep into her.
“Who dis?” the black guy said
“So sorry Samuel” Violet said. “It’s my husband, I wasn’t expecting his home. I’m sorry babe."
Fuck! She was apologizing to him? The black dude?
“Give us a bit of time, Al” Violet said to me. “Come back in half an hour”
I was speechless. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was our apartment. I paid the freakin rent.
“Get the fuck out white boy” Samuel said, his huge, moist penis still on display. “Aint you supposed to be out till midnight?” He leered at me menacingly and stood up. I was mortified. I placed the flowers and wine on the counter, then snatched back the wine and walked out into the hot night.
I got blind ***** that night, cried a bucket load of tears, and eventually returned home very apprehensively a little after 2am. Violet was not home, but there was a note for me on the counter beside a small pile of $20 bills. I picked it up and it read:
Dear Al,
I’m sorry you had to witness this but Samuel is my lover. I’ve been seeing him for a while now and I think I am in love with him. So I think it’s best of we spend some time apart. So sorry Al, but I’d prefer you to leave for now. Samuel wants you to leave too. Here’s some money for a hotel.
Violet x
The bitch! I was aghast at her brazenness. She knew that I was no match for her lover physically, and the line “Samuel wants you to leave too” was surely an implied threat. So I did as she asked. What else could I do? I left the apartment in a stunned daze, walked down Broadway and checked into the Day’s Inn on 94th. It didn’t even have fucking aircon.
Well, after that, things just went from bad to worse. The next three days I spent in a drunken haze, and when I finally showed up at work I had a pink slip waiting for me. I’d already been kicked out of my apartment, and now I didn’t have a job. I only had a few hundred in the bank, and the measly stash of cash Violet had left for me had already been spent, mostly on booze and cigarettes. I moved to a cheaper hotel by Penn Station and carried on drinking.
After a couple of months I was flat broke, but I still couldn’t quit the bottle. I ended up in one of the many homeless shelters on the Bowery that used to exist above Chinatown, sharing a dorm with fellow drunks. It’s amazing man, how many of the alcoholics down there had been cheated on by their bitch wives. It can do things to you man. Not one of those bums could top my story, though, not one of them had been cuckolded twice in a single fucking night.
One year later.
It was 2am, and me and a couple of other homeless guys had bedded down for the night in the entrance to a store on Union Square. We’d finished the last of the fortified wine and were smoking re-rolled cigarettes from street buts when we heard the night-clubbers approaching. I heard the booming sound of guys’ voices, shouting and laughing, and the click of high heels on the sidewalk as the party approached. As they neared us, I saw that the group comprised of three big black guys, dressed in silk shirts and tight slacks. Accompanying each of the black guys was a hot white bitch, all three of them dressed I guess in what would be described today as a hypersexual style. They all looked hot as fuck.
“Ugh, disgusting” I heard one of the white bitches say. Immediately I knew that she was referring to me and my buddies
“Eeew” the second girl said. “Look at them, guys, they’re fucking gross”
“Wanna see something?’ one of the black guys said. “Watch this”.
He walked right up to where me and my buddies were camped and pulled out a fifty from a thick bill roll. “Need some dough boy?” he asked, dangling the fifty tantalizingly in front of my eyes. Stupidly I reached out to grab it, but he held it a little higher, out of my reach.
“Sing me a song and its yours boy” he said.
It was then that I became aware that the third girl was gazing curiously at me, and she looked very familiar. Suddenly I was struck dumb. It was Rebecca! She had put on weight around her ass and her tits seemed even larger, but it was definitely her. She was staring at me with an expression of dawning recognition. The bitch knew it was me, but she was never, ever going to admit to her hot friends that we’d once been an item.
“Sing me a fucking song boy” the black man said again. “You want me to kick your tramp ass?”
I stared at my ex, and she stared back at me, wide-eyed. I was in shock. She was dressed like a typical black cock slut, unsteady on her feet in spike heels and an ultra-tight thin dress. Shit, she looked hot. I could see her nipples clear as day through that thin material.
“Fucking sing boy, it’s your last chance” the black guy said. “We don’t need shit like you pollutin our city. Now fucking sing me a song."
Terrified, in a half whimper, I began:
“Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today,” I whimpered. “I want to be a part of it, New York, New York”
The girls started to giggle, Rebecca included. Then, all of a sudden Rebecca started to roar with laughter, tears in her eyes
“These vagabond shoes are longing to stray”
“Yeah, sing for us bitch” Rebecca cried
“Right through the very heart of it, New York, New York”
The black man curled his hand into a fist. I was terrified.
“If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere” I almost shrieked, such was my fear. “It's up to you , New York, New Y…Aaaaaagh!!!”
The flurry of punches and kicks began. I closed my eyes and curled up in a ball, as I felt incredible pain. I was punched and kicked multiple times. After a moment or two I was dimly aware that I was facing multiple attackers, at least one of them being female. I could tell by the sharp pain of the kicks from their pointed shoes. And I could smell the perfume that Rebecca always wore, close at hand. I always remember that brand she wore. It was called “Bitch” - particulary appropriate given her dominant nature.
“You trash boy” I heard the black man say. “You a plague on this city. You trash”
He grabbed me by the collar and hauled me out of the shop doorway and dropped me on the floor. Across the street was a pile of trash bins and putrid garbage sacks. “Git over there” he said pointing across the street. He then started kicking me towards the trash pile, the force of each kick driving me forward. Between my cries of pain I glanced up to see Rebecca looking all excited and breathless, clapping her hands in pleasure. She sure was enjoying herself.
The black guy literally kicked me across the street, the bastard, then picked me up again and hurled me into the trash. I wound up in a pile of rotting food,
“Ahm gonna clean up this city” he growled. “Just call me Rudy fucking Gulianni, bitch”
I dimly heard a round of applause and a few cheers. More clubbers had stopped to see what was going on. The sight of a homeless guy being beaten up and then thrown into a pile of rotting garbage isn’t something you see every day, and I guess I made quite a spectacle. The city was being cleaned up right in front of their privileged eyes.
They do say that every cloud has a silver lining, and you have to hit rock bottom before you can begin the process of recovery. I’m pretty sure I hit rock bottom that evening and its true, the beating finally made me quit drinking - mainly because I was in hospital for the next month slurping from a straw.
In the months that followed I finally managed to get back on my feet - in a way at least. I got a job as a cleaner at NYU, of all places. Now my job is cleaning toilets and emptying garbage bins, while haughty, hot, scornful college girls look on, saddled with a hospital debt that I’ll never be able to pay.
New York, man. What a fucking town.
