The Hip-Hop Progeny Next Door By Devin Dickie (Patreon)

The Hip-Hop Progeny Next Door

By Devin Dickie

I hated Hip Hop. I absolutely hated living in Detroit. I met and married and got my life started here in Detroit. The one thing that I could not stand was the Williams family. I hated them.

Since their father Dr. Jay was the biggest hip hop artist of the late 90’s. Their family had a lot of political pull over Detroit, with one cousin being the mayor, the other having another high council seat. Working together, these gang members-turned-politicians bullied their way into getting what they wanted, influencing taxpayers and Government officials alike.

I hated that the city turned a blind eye to all that went on under their nose. The married mayor was having sex with married and single women in his own office. The drug use was evident at every public function he attended. Neither of Williams’ family had any problem using their political clout take what they felt like, whether it was a table at a reservation-only restaurant, or box-seats at sports arenas.

I rolled my eyes when I found out their 25 year old son, Tyrell, was about to launch his own Hip Hop career, the kid was partying it up at a mansion they had just moved into, which happened to be across the street from where my new bride, Lucy, and I, lived.

I was so lucky to have found my wife, Lucy. She was everything that I could have ever dreamed to have in a wife; Brilliant natural red hair,.... And gorgeous, extremely naturally busty, and curvey with a “Coke Bottle” shape. I was in heaven.

We were a young couple, only a few years older than Tyrell. Our neighbors were also young couples, which was a big factor in our decision to move here. While people were apprehensive at first about the commotion the would be Hip Hop Mansion on our street would bring, no one did anything about it. Sure, husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, would intend to approach the kids about their noise levels, but there was something about that mansion...any resident who walked in with one intention always left intimidated.

Though I was short for a white guy, only 5’5”, I didn’t want to be one of those pussy-husbands or wimpy white boyfriends who balked at the machismo of some alpha male black thug. I told Lucy I was going to ask the guys to be more respectful of the neighbors, but she told me not to, saying that is was the culture of Hip Hop... they were going to be loud.

Her passive attitude surprised me, because originally, both Lucy and I were resentful of the noise the boys made. It wasn’t long before I was the only one who wanted to do something about their rowdiness. I had caught Lucy on a few occasions watching these black boys

barbecue on the front porch, toss the football around on the street, or making calls on the front lawn. Actually, each time I saw her looking out the window, Tyrell was in her line of vision.

Though we hadn’t met yet, Tyrell and I saw each other plenty of times. I would walk out to get my paper, and he would be smoking a blunt on his front lawn. I would walk home and see him talking to someone on his front porch. We drove by each other in cars after pulling out of our driveways. I awkwardly nodded my head to him each time, but he never reciprocated.

One day, likely sick of my whining about Tyrell and his “boyz”, Lucy told me to grow a pair and confront them about the noise if it bothered me so much. I did just that, marching across the street, fists clenched, intending to show my wife how a man handles the immaturity of boys.

When I pounded on the front door, Tyrell answered, his thug buddies smoking hookah behind him. Standing easily 6’ 3” and skinny Tyrell looked down at my hands, then my face, asking me where the food was. I told him I wasn’t a pizza delivery boy, I was his neighbour, and upon recognizing me, a cocky smirk grew on his dark face, which turned into a smile. Tyrell leaned against the door and crossed his arms.

“Yeah?” he asked me, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, hi, Tyrell is it? I’m your neighbour.” I said to him, reaching out my hand to shake his. He eyeballed my hand, stoic, his eyebrow raised, giving me a look that said ‘are you serious?’. I pulled back my hand awkwardly, feeling inferior in front of this towering black man, ashamed that I felt worthy to even touch his skin. I never felt more intimidated in my life, and I started to babble, nervously.

“Err..ummm...so....” I stammered, “I was wondering, man, would you mind turning down the volume, please? You guys are kind of loud...heh heh...”

“Really? I don’t think we are” he replied, shrugging his shoulders, looking at his buddies. “Hey guys, this stupid ass whiteboy thinks we’re making too much noise!”

“Fuck him!” one of his buddies shouted back, to a round of laughter. Tyrell laughed too and looked back at me. “Sorry buddy. Go buy some earphones or something.” He said while turning his back to me and shutting the door. I stuck my foot out to block the it from closing. Tyrell saw this, and I immediately regretted my bravery.

“Well, the thing is...” I continued to talk, in a pleading tone. “You’re inconveniencing our neighbors, I wouldn’t mind, but our neighbors don’t like the noise.”

“Hmmm...” he said, leaning back and looking over his shoulder again. “I don’t think they really mind that much...” I realized what he was looking at – several of the wives of my neighbors – female friends of Lucy – were chilling with the Thug boys. I opened my mouth to speak, but

Tyrell shut the door before I spoke. I stood in the same spot for a good 30 seconds before turning to walk away. Suddenly the door opened again, and Tyrell shouted at me.

“Hey whiteboy,” he said as I turned around to face him. “Send that woman of yours over here, I wanna meet her.” He shut the door again before I could answer.

I walked back home, intending to lie to my wife about how manly I was, talking down to those punks. Lucy cut me off, telling me not to embarrass myself. She was watching my confrontation with Tyrell from our front window.

“Let’s go over there.” she said.
“What?!” I replied, not sure why she would say such a thing.

“I heard Tyrell say he wanted to meet me. Fuck it, let’s olive-branch it. We all have to live together, we might as well make things harmonic between us. They are our neighbours, after all. Maybe it’ll be fun, and I could use a drink.” She wasn’t asking or suggesting, even though she was phrasing her sentences like she was. She wanted to go over there.
“Alright, one drink.” I said, under protest.

We walked over, rang the doorbell and Tyrell answered the door again, this time not even looking at me, his eyes locked onto my wife. He flashed his million-dollar smile and immediately made my new bride blush. Tyrell and I made eye contact when she did. He smirked and winked at me before ignoring me again.

“You must be Lucy. I’m Tyrell.” he said, reaching out his hand. He must have asked one of our neighbors about her.

“Nice to meet you, Tyrell.” My wife responded. “I’ve seen you across the street, I thought we should introduce ourselves.”

“I’m glad you did.” He said, stepping back so we could come in. He led her in while I walked behind them, shutting the door behind me. I looked around and saw the Thug boys mingling with several of our neighbors. “You want a drink?” Tyrell said to my girl.

“I would love one.” My wife said, smiling back at him.

“Hey whiteboy,” Tyrell said to me, over his shoulder. “Go pour us two glasses of Henny, they’re in the kitchen.” His order made my wife squeeze her legs together, for some reason. I did as I was told, but while walking away, I heard Tyrell ask Lucy, “what are you doing with a wimp like that?”

After saying hello to a few of my neighbors, I poured one glass of Hennessy and grabbed a bottle of beer for myself in the kitchen, walked back to Tyrell and my wife, handing her the drink, and twisting the cap off the beer. Tyrell snatched it out of my hand.

“Thanks buddy.” He said, winking at me, before turning back to my wife. I didn’t know how to handle his blatant disrespect.

“Sure, no problem, Tyrell.” I said, nervously putting my hands in my pockets, and looking around.

“Don’t call me Tyrell.”

“Um...what do I call you then?” I said, looking at Lucy with a ‘check out this guy’ look my face. She looked on, listening to us with a riveted look on her face.

“Mr. Williams. ‘Sir’ works too.” He said, flashing that smile at my girl and, again, making her blush. When he put his dark skinned arm around my porcelain Lucy, I suddenly felt like I should leave their presence. I might as well have, because while I uncomfortably stood in front of them, it was like I wasn’t even there. Tyrell hit it off her immediately, they had an instant connection. She was always attentive to my needs, my emotions, my feelings, and yet, at that moment with Tyrell beside her, I wasn’t even on her radar.

“Um, I’m gonna go talk to the guys.” I said in their direction. Neither Tyrell nor Lucy heard or saw me walk away.

After watching all the white wives and girlfriends of my neighbors flirt with these young black thugs.It started to get to me... I made a drink in the kitchen alone. And then another. I was about to make my way towards my wife, so we could go home. My eye caught another white neighbor here named Eric, who was the only one not talking to anyone. Instead, he was picking up garbage, grabbing empty beer bottles, and wiping tables. I knew his name because I had met him at the local starbucks a few days ago. He was the manager there. One of the new baristas had given my coffee away and I had chewed him out. Every time I came in after that he wouldn’t look me in the eyes. It stuck with me and thats why I remembered his name. However I was really surprised with his obedience to these black guys. We bumped into each other, and after reintroducing ourselves, he said something that stayed with me.

“You’re awfully confident to leave your girl with Tyrell.” Eric said to me. “What do you mean?” I replied.

“When Tyrell sets his sights on a chick, he’s pretty much already nailed her. Everyone knows that.” Eric said to me, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, ‘Tyrell’ has no chance with my bride, we’re happy married newlyweds, the key word being married”. I said, dumbfounded at his statement.

“Yeah, good luck with that. I was with my high school sweetheart for 3 long years before Tyrell ended up fucking her. On prom night, no less.”

“Seriously? He did that to you? Why would you hang out with such a person?”

“My wife likes to say to her family that I hang out with Tyrell Williams, dude. Besides, he’s Tyrell-fucking-Williams. What girl in their right mind is going to say no to that guy. He gets away with everything, he’s got all that power, the rules don’t apply to him...”

“Well, that sounds like you have a self-esteem issue, my friend, and you’re giving him way too much credit. Sounds like your girl wanted to get laid, and my wife’s not gonna cheat on me with some wannabe thug!”

“Are you sure?” he said. “Where are they now?” he laughed before someone called out “Erica!”– someone needed another beer, apparently, so our conversation was abruptly ended.
“Erica” Why would some guy call Eric “Erica”?

He had a point, I lost my wife somewhere in the growing crowd of black men, black women, and some white women. I sat alone for a while before texting her, telling her I was going home, insisting she stay and have a good time, since we lived across the street.

After watching TV for a few hours, I heard giggling and talking at the door. I got up, opened it, and saw Tyrell and Lucy, facing each other, her hands on his chest, his hands on her waist. They didn’t seem to have any problems with body contact. They were a little too close for my comfort. I stepped behind my wife and put my arms around her waist, hugging her in front of Tyrell, my false bravado and insecurity transparent. I was trying to show him that Lucy was my girl, but she wasn’t being as sensual as I was. In fact, she started laughing with him when they saw my poor attempt at claiming ‘my girl’.

There’s no feeling like being laughed at by your own wife and another towering guy. The look they give you while laughing is one thing. The look they give each other, knowing you’re the brunt of the joke, is another.

“I’ll see ya later, girl.” Tyrell said to her with a smile, his hand caressing her cheek, his big dark thick thumb wiping her bottom lip.

“See ya, Tyrell.” She said back at him, almost sad to see him go, sucking her own bottom lip after he removed his thumb, like she was savoring its taste.

“Oh hey, whiteboy!” Tyrell shouted at me. “I heard you got to know “Erica”. Do us a favor and help ‘her’ clean up tomorrow morning, eh?” This was clearly an instruction and not a request. I was the one to get his winning smile this time, although it felt more like he was laughing at me. He followed up with a wink, a condescending thumbs-up, and bounced back to the mansion.

After watching Tyrell walk back into his mansion, Lucy walked past me, oblivious to my presence, into our own home. She was lovestruck and smitten like a schoolgirl on cloud nine.

“Well, babe, I think he likes you.” I said, clearly in jest.

“Really??? You think so???” She responded, springing up, wide-eyed and eager for more intel. “Settle down there, honey” I laughed. “Hey, were did you guys go? I was waiting for you before I split, I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Oh Tyrell was showing me around the house. We were getting to know each other. He’s actually a great guy.”

“How so?”

“Gotta be at least ten inches.” She whispered to herself, smiling.

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry left you alone out there, honey. When we got to Tyrell’s room, he told me you were in good hands with that girl, Erica.”

“His name is Eric... I don’t know why they keep calling him that.”

She responded, “Are you sure, Tyrell referred to and “Erica: and was clearly talking about his female maid.”

“...Maybe he’s talking about someone else then ... but that Eric guy is quite a character. You should hear his story one day. Wait, you were in his room?”

“That’s what I said, honey.”
“What were you guys doing in there?” “Look at you, all jealous.”

“Pfft. I’m not jealous of some wanna gangsta thug. I know you’re utterly devotional to me, sweetie. I mean, it would take something pretty big to take you away from all this.” I thumbed at myself, acting like an ass for a laugh.

“You’re right. It would take something ​HUGE​, to get in between us” “By the way, why did Tyrell say I was in good hands with that Erica?”

“He said Erica was preparing you for your future. He said Erica was leaving the mansion next week, and kept calling you the ‘new Erica’. I have no idea what that means.”
Lucy went to bed early that night, while I stayed up to get some work done. Later, while washing up, I heard a slight moan coming from Lucy, in our bedroom. The lights were off, and the door was ajar. I peeked in and saw her masturbating with a sex-toy, a big black rubber dildo, rubbing her legs together and touching her tits... I didn’t even know that she owned a dildo, not to mention a MONSTER BLACK ONE. She kept whispering the words “so big...so big...” with her eyes closed. It got me so turned on that I was about to join in on the fun, “so big...so BLACK...” but suddenly she came. Very, very hard. “TYYYYYRELLLL.... ..YEAAHHHhhhhhh......” Was all she said before passing out with a smile on her face.

I stood there, frozen – did my wife just masturbate thinking about the spoiled Thug boy across the street? I went through all sorts of actions – anger, jealousy, shock...all betrayed by the raging hard on in my pants.

I sat at my desk trying to work, but all I could think about was what I saw and heard my wife do. I decided to get it out of me and rub one out. I don’t know why, but I was doing searching porn sites for a Black guys with white women...all the things that described Tyrell. I watched a particular scene, with a guy who had his build, and a girl who looked like Lucy. I was rock hard watching this tall black man destroy the chick’s tight white pussy with the fattest Black beer-can cock I had ever seen. The girl said something that ended my masturbation session with a bang. “You are so much bigger than my husband.”

My 6 inch dick shot three shots of cum straight at the monitor, another four sprouted into my keyboard, and the rest oozed down my hand, seeping down to the base of my cock and down my balls. I was soaked in my own cum.
And then I heard laughter.

I looked to my right and yelped. I forgot to close the blinds. Tyrell and his friend were out, and had seen me bust a nut all over myself. The scene on the monitor was evident from where they were standing. Tyrell knew what I was jerking off to. A quick picture taken of me from each of their cell phones later, they left, while I cleaned the cum off my laptop and leather office chair.

I went right to bed embarrassed, looking at my wife sleeping, the big fat black rubber cock still in her hand. I feel asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but was awoken to the sound of sex a few hours later. Panicked, I tip-toed into the office, where I saw my wife in my office chair. It was then that I realized I forgot to turn off my laptop before I went to bed. With a glass of water in her hand, I figured she walked past my desk, and her movement activated the mouse, which

exposed the last thing on my screen. I remained out of sight while she watched the scene for a moment before giggling to herself and turning my computer off.

I was eager to put the previous night behind me. With Lucy in the shower, I went out to grab the newspaper. Reaching down to pick it up, a big size thirteen shoe stepped on the paper. I looked up and there was Tyrell, who looked pissed. He grabbed me by my t-shirt with one hand, smacked me in the face with his other beefy black hand, then shoved me against my house’s wall.

“Yo whiteboy, what did I say yesterday?” he said, anger on his face. I was scared.

“Let go of me! Wh...what are you talking about?” He was almost lifting me off the ground. Tyrell slapped me with one hand while still holding me up with the other. Those big hands of his hurt.

“I told you to clean up with Erica this morning. That means bright and early, dumbass. Erica lets you in, he tells you what to do and you fuckin do it.”

“Are you kidding me?! Get the fuck off me!” I shouted. Tyrell put his hand on the back of my head and shoved me to the ground. I tried to get up, but he pie-faced me onto the grass, then stepped on my chest. My first instinct was to fight back, but he was way bigger and stronger than me. Then I wanted to call for help but I didn’t want anyone to see how wimpy I was compared to this black man, especially my wife. Tyrell knew he had me and, with a smirk, yanked his jogging pants down. His enormous fat black cock, still limp, was twice the size of mine. His piss streamed from his dick and onto my face, and I kept spitting out the flow that went into my mouth.

“You little shit-ass whiteboy” He said, while pissing on me. “Next time I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.”

“Fuck you!” I said to him. “I’m calling the police!”

“No. You’re not”. He said, matter-of-factly, not even remotely concerned. There was no point arguing. He was right. What was I going to do – this black bully had me by the balls. Unless I wanted everyone to know I was slapped around and pissed on by a member of the Williams family, I had to shut up.

“I got piss on my shoe. Clean it up.” he said to me. Defeated, I used my shirt to wipe up his shoes just as my wife walked out. She saw me, on my knees, shining Tyrell’s shoes, his hands on his hips, my face dripping with piss. He smiled and winked at her as I buffed his sneaker. “Still on for noon, babe?” Tyrell asked my wife.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She responded, biting her lip.

“Whaaaa....where you going honey?” I asked her desperately as I started to stand. “Sweetie...go take a shower. You’re getting piss all over the porch.” She said, embarrassed for me, but impressed by Tyrell.

Running into the house in shame, I shampooed the piss out of my hair in the shower, wondering what my wife’s plans were with Tyrell. When I came out, she was already gone. A text message on my phone told me she went out for a while.

I decided to do as I was told, and walked over to the mansion. Eric answered the door.

“You shouldn’t have disobeyed him.” Eric said to me, letting me in. “Bad first impression..”

“I don’t need to impress...fuck, Eric, I’m just here to help you clean up the place.”

“Yeah...listen, pay attention, ‘cause I’m leaving soon. They’re thugs, they’re not gonna put up with whiteboy incompetence.”

“Eric, I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but I’m not you, and I’m not afraid of Tyrell Fucking Williams, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm. Then why are you here?” “Just...I just...”

“Yeah, listen, I’ve heard it all before. I used to be you. I get it. Don’t worry, no judgments.” “I”m just here to help.”

“Okay, whatever. Let’s get started.”

I followed his lead, and together, we turned the house from a just-partied-in look to a brand-spanking-new atmosphere. I was rather impressed with myself. I had never really put so much work into house chores before, but for some reason, I wanted the place to look pristine. I wanted to make a good first impression...for the Thug boys? For Tyrell? For Eric?

“Good job, buddy.” Eric said, patting my shoulders. “Thanks, man.” I said, an ‘aw shucks’ look on my face.

“So..listen, here’s the keys to the place. My room is under Tyrell’s, in the basement, but I’m not sure they’re gonna let you stay here.”

“Keep your keys, Eric, I’m a married man who owns his own home.”

“That’s...not really in your hands anymore, man.” “This is silly.”

“Take the keys. Just...help out until they find someone who can replace you.” “You mean replace you.”

“Whatever. Here’s my number. You can ask me anything if you need to. Try not to fuck up too much, though. Remember, they don’t have the time or patience to train anyone. You should know what to do before they know what they want.”

“Eric,” I said to him as he motioned to walked away. “Were you always so...submissive?” He chuckled to himself, then looked at me like he was looking in a mirror.

“I used to be hang out with them in high school” Nodding to a picture of Tyrell and the Boyz on the wall. He wasn’t kidding – it was a football team picture, and he was the starting quarterback.

“Wow, is that you?! What...happened to you?”
“Simple. Tyrell fucked my girl.”
“And that’s it?!” I asked.
“They made me watch while she laughed at me.”
“And that’s it?!”You’re suddenly someone’s bitch?”
“Don’t throw stones, dude.” Eric said, walking away. “Nothing I can say can stop the inevitable.” “Wait..what what do you mean by that?”

Eric just chuckled to himself. “Good luck, dude.” He said, walking away.

Tyrell’s “boyz” showed me stuff around the house that Eric didn’t, told me how they like food prepared, how to wash sports equipment, how to clean the pool and how to launder their clothes. I listened intently. They really didn’t care who I was. They didn’t even ask my name. I’m not sure some of them knew I had been their neighbour all this time. As far as these black men were concerned, I was just ‘the new Erica’. I hadn’t realized that I was nodding like a yes-man each time one of the black posse gave me instructions.

I came home exhausted that day. Thankfully, so did Lucy, and we both sort of conked out together in bed, promising to catch up in the morning. I felt like we were leading two very different lives than we were 48 hours ago. I felt so bad about that, though. I found myself

terrified to go back to the mansion, even hoping Tyrell would not be home the next time I came over. I was so preoccupied and scared with my new role that I hadn’t asked what my wife was doing while I was learning the ropes across the street.

The next day was business as usual. Lucy and I went to work, we met for lunch, we cooked dinner together, we went over our accounts and bills, we watched a movie, and even tasted some new wine. We were back to being the married couple we were as newlyweds. She didn’t ask me about what I did at the mansion, and I didn’t ask her what she did with Tyrell. With that unspoken agreement, we had never been more connected. She seemed as rejuvenated as I was. It was like both of us found some sort of answer to a question we didn’t even know we had. I had gotten my days mixed up and accidently went over on my day off. Coming over prepared with cleaning products, I was let in by a half naked wife of our other neighbor, Jeff, and began cleansing their place, one room at a time.

While scrubbing the toilet across from Tyrell’s room, I heard his voice talking to some girl. I got terrified, intending to stand up to him about my to my wife, wanting to brag about how great our marriage had been since, and that even HE couldn’t screw it up. I felt like the next time he would see me, he would see how confident I was and respect me.

The girl I could hear Tyrell talking to seemed giddy and excited. I heard the sounds of lips smacking before he walked out of his bedroom and into the bathroom I was cleaning. Tyrell was surprised to see me, on my knees in front of the toilet. I began to rise, so I could speak to him face to face, but his shoe pushed me down, and I fell on my ass, my cheek landing against the rim of the toilet. Tyrell put his foot on my head, unzipped his jeans and began pissing, spraying urine all over the seat I just cleaned, with the majority of his piss hitting me on the nose and lips. I unsuccessfully struggled to break free. All I could hear was his triumphant laughter, and the thud of his heavy piss stream splattering on me.

He took his foot off my head and zipped up after emptying his bladder. Relieved, I stood up, but mid-stance, Tyrell grabbed my legs, lifted me up and dunked my head into the bowl of his piss. He lifted me up so I could get some air, then dunked my head back into the bowl. His laughter was drowned out by the water flooding my ears, especially when he flushed. I had just been swirlied, single-handedly, by Tyrell Fucking Williams.

“Piss-fag.” He said, yanking my shirt and flinging me to the corner. “Take off your shirt and soak up the mess you made.”

“My mess?!” I screamed out, still trying to process what had just transpired. Tyrell took a towel, wrapped it around his hand and smacked me with it. He wanted to discipline me without getting piss on himself.

“Get lippy with me again, whiteboy, I dare ya.” He said, eyes wide open, hand out, ready to slap me again.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t use towels to wipe this up. Use your clothes, leave the house naked when you’re done, if you have to.”
Shaking, I muttered “I...yes, Sir.”

“Heh. You’re a quick learner. Thought the ‘Sir’ thing might take a while.” “Um...I don’t...”

“Just shut up and clean, faggot. If the toilet ain’t shining, I’ll drag your white ass right back in here.”

“Or I could just leave right now.”
“You could try. And I could slap you again for getting brave, but I won’t have to.” “And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to let you listen to me fuck my girl.”
“What? Why would I want to listen to you fuck?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to hear me destroy this white bitch with my big black dick...? I saw you the other night faggot, watching that interracial porn, while you were jerkin on that lil white dick of yours”

“...”

“Well?”

I realized this was Tyrell’s way of being ‘nice’ to me. “That would be cool?? I think, Sir?”

That earned me another slap.

“Try again, faggot.”

“Thank-you for letting me listen to you have sex.”

“Better. I’ll keep the door open so you can hear her scream my name while you scrub my piss of the toilet.”

“Thank-you, Sir. I can’t be long though, my wife will be home soon.”

“No, she won’t.”

“Oh?” I asked, thinking Lucy had been in contact with him while I was cleaning.

“Heh. How long do you think it will take before she starts screaming my name?”

“What makes you think she’ll be screaming at all?”

“Because she’s not used to big dick, let alone BIG BLACK DICK!”

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t need to. I caught her husband jerking off.”

“...”

Tyrell could see that I was connecting the dots. “Get to work, faggot.” He said to me with a smirk, unbuckling his belt before walking back to his room.

I shook my head and ignored the thoughts flooding into my head, fighting the hard on that so badly wanted to burst out of my pants. Tyrell’s words were suggestive, and implying. I ignored them, throwing myself into my labour – I scrubbed. I wiped. I soaked. I purged the bathroom and left no trace behind of Tyrell’s piss, all the while listening to him ravish his ‘new whitegirl’. I heard her beg for his big blackdick, scream about how she wanted to be his girl, and how she would do anything for him. I had never heard a woman throw herself shamelessly at a guy before.

Listening to her ride his big dick was like a symphony playing while I scrubbed Tyrell’s bathroom.

When I got home, I then microwaved my own dinner and watched a movie. Alone. No messages or calls from my wife came in while I cleaned or while I waited for her at home. But I wasn’t worried.

I knew exactly where she was.

To be continued?