I didn’t care for Scoopz when my wife, Monique, hired him. She owned a local pub and I was the head bartender there. In truth, I was only so high-up because we couldn’t find someone competent enough to hire after our previous bartenders left. When Scoopz applied for the position, he was a godsend – he was fast, flirtatious with women, jovial with men, the model employee. He quickly established himself as the alpha male of the bar. The staff looked up to him and took his lead. Monique could trust him to get things done unsupervised.
Bartender Cuckold Stories: The Wigger Had His Hands Around My Wife’s Waist
You would think he sounded perfect, but Scoopz was one of those white guys who acted “street”. An early twenties wigger, Scoopz always had hip hop playing on our bar’s speakers, before and after working hours. He was as pale as white guy could get, yet talked like someone who had never opened a book. He wore flat-top baseball caps, unlaced basketball shoes and basketball jerseys to work.
At first, my wife shared my opinion of Scoopz’s ridiculous wigger personality. She told me about comments he overheard him make about her body, and sexual things he wanted to do to her. I asked if she wanted me to say something to the kid, relieved when she told me not to sweat it. I may not have liked him very much, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t intimidated by the thug.
One day I was coming home early and saw Scoopz and his friends hanging out with Monique and her friends in front of the park by our home. Scoopz and my wife, who both had the day off, were looking each other in the eye, and it looked like tension was brewing, all eyes were on them. It looked like my wife was in an argument with him. I started to walk towards them but stopped cold when I saw Scoopz’s hand grab her waist, sliding it up to her ribcage. She blushed when he did this, and when Scoopz leaned in for a kiss, one of my wife’s friends pulled her away! The ladies all bolted, and Monique turned her head back to Scoopz as she walked away, smiling and waving. Scoopz smirked back, cocked his head and nodded to her, his friends high-fiving him as he did.
I didn’t bring up what I saw that day, still in shock from the audacity of this punk kid! You would think Monique would have been just as outraged as me, but to my surprise, she was on cloud nine. She wore a stunning outfit to work the next day that showed a lot of skin. When I arrived at the bar, I saw Monique leaning against a wall, with our wigger employee standing in front of her, invading her space. My wife was caressing his chest, looking up at him, Scoopz hovering above her, his forearm against the wall, his lips inches away from hers, his index finger lightly teasing her abs. I loudly cleared my throat to make my presence known, and Monique immediately adjusted herself, looking guilty. Scoopz walked away from her, his shoulder pushing mine back as he walked by me with a non-existent limp.
“Cockblocker.” Scoopz muttered under his breath.
When I confronted my wife about what I saw, Monique downplayed the whole thing, insisting that she and our wigger bartender were simply talking, although Scoopz did confess to having a crush on her, which she was flattered by. She admitted to me that she liked all the attention the white thug was giving her.
The Wigger Hitting on My Wife Called Me a Cockblocker
Later that day, I returned from lunch and saw that Scoopz was not tending bar. As I made my way upstairs, a loud growl came from behind my wife’s office door, followed by a sigh, an exhale, and a boyish “whoooo!”. When I opened the door, Scoopz had his back to me, turning his head in my direction while adjusting his belt. My wife was in mid movement, standing up as if she had been previously crouching or kneeling in front off him. She wiped the side of her mouth with the edge of her sleeve before awkwardly waiving at me. Scoopz excused himself, this time winking at me while zipping-up his pants while walking by me.
“Stupid cockblocker.” Scoopz said, under his breath, louder this time.
Walking home the next day, I cut through a basketball court and saw Monique watching Scoopz play. He was drenched in sweat, and no matter what was going on in the game, she didn’t take her eyes off him. I decided to spy on them as Scoopz came up to my wife after the game and embraced her. My wife reciprocated the hug. They talked for a while before leaving the court, Scoopz’s arm around the love of my life. He made and up-and-down gesture towards his friends with a clenched fist, which made them howl and high-five one another.
I raced home, convinced that I had seen enough, and contemplated how I was going to put an end to whatever was going on between my wife and her wigger employee. Monique came home shortly after I did, and much to my dismay, Scoopz was with her. Neither one of them realized I was also in the house, so this time, I decided to make my presence unknown and watch what they were up to.
“You Wanna Get Thug-Fucked, Bitch?” The Wigger Said to My Wife
As they sat in the living room, Monique suggested that Scoopz cool off, implying that he was getting sweat all over the couch. Scoopz pulled my wife in close and told her to take his shirt off for him. Monique smiled and started to slowly peel his shirt off his body upwards, her hands tracing his rock hard abs and chest. She moaned while doing it, and Scoopz’s hands slid from her hips to her ass, squeezing it.
“You stink.” Monique said to Scoopz, sniffing the sweaty shirt in her hand.
“Yeah, and you fuckin’ love it.” Scoopz replied with a smirk.
Scoopz grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in close, so that her face was between his chest.
“Take a whiff.” Scoopz laughed. “That’s what a real man smells like, bitch.”
Monique moaned as she looked up at him, and Scoopz kissed her on the lips. He pulled back, smiled, and kissed her again. Monique wrapped her arms around Scoopz’s neck as he leaned down to meet her height, and pushed her against the wall, ripping off her blouse, which exposed her breasts. The kid yanked off her dress and slid her panties aside, breaking the kiss to tell her she was soaking wet. My wife smiled and went limp as he lifted her up, then down when her legs wrapped around his waist. Scoopz carried her to another sofa, got on top of her missionary style, hovering over her horizontal body. Monique tugged down Scoopz’s jogging pants. Scoopz used one of his own hands to yank down his boxer-briefs.
“I can feel your cock against my thigh!” Monique whimpered as Scoopz kissed her neck, her breasts, her abs, her arms…my wife was giving into her lust just the same, her tongue licking his neck, her mouth sucking his earlobe, her lips kissing his chest.
“Please put it in me…” my wife asked the wigger.
“If I do,” Scoopz responded, “You’ll be my girl from now on.”
“Do it, please”
“You wanna be my little slut, bitch?” he teased her.
“You wanna get thug-fucked, bitch?” he said, more aggressively.
“Tell me what you want!”
“Scoopz,” My wife said to Scoopz, looking him in the eye. “Make a woman out of me. Please.”
“Not you.” Scoopz said, turning his head in my direction and nodding to me. “The cockblocker.”
Both Monique and I were speechless. She had no idea I was watching them, and I had no idea Scoopz knew I was there. Scoopz smirked and motioned for me to come closer with his finger, and when I got a few feet in front of them, Scoopz pointed to a love seat across from the couch he and my wife were laying on. I didn’t know what to say or do. I looked at Monique and opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.
“Don’t ruin this for me.” She said, frankly. The look on her face might have been one of shock, but the expression on her face was identical to the one Scoopz had when I walked in on him and my wife about to kiss. “Don’t be a cockblocker.”
Scoopz laughed victoriously and buried his face between my wife’s big tits, while she shut her eyes and lost herself in the throes of passion. I watched the woman I love laying under a kid I couldn’t stand, a wigger who, for some reason, my wife wanted more than me, at least in that moment.
Within seconds, they were so engrossed in each other that I quietly made my way out of the house. I wanted to watch, but I wasn’t ready to be humiliated in my own home, in front of my wife. I looked over my shoulder with one foot out the door. My wife’s face was buried in Scoopz’s neck, while his head faced me, his eyes locked on mine. He took a second to give me the finger and winked at me before I closed the door behind me. I may have been a cuckold, but at the very least, I wasn’t going to be a cockblocker.