"Here we are," said Fred, turning the moving van on to Washington Avenue.
Amber reached over to grab his arm. "I hope this is a good idea."
"Everything will be fine," replied her husband.
"This is all my fault. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't need to do this."
"Honey, it's alright. Things will work themselves out."
"Are they all black?"
"As far as I could tell. Quit worrying. It's an older neighborhood. No gangs or drugs. I've checked it all out. The crime rate is low. It's fine. We'll get ourselves back on our feet and move out in a few years. There's our new house." As the van pulled up to the driveway, several older black people turned to watch them.
Fred and Amber Gertz were both 25 and had been married for three years. Fred was a pretty successful pharmaceutical rep for a large firm and quite successful. Amber had been a legal aid, but had recently gotten fired for gambling on the job. Amber had been introduced to gambling while the couple honeymooned in Las Vegas. She had quickly lost the original stake she had brought along for betting and had made three trips to the ATM as the week progressed. Fred had noticed it was getting difficult to pull Amber away from the slots even for passionate newlywed sex, but he had thought nothing of it at the time. As several years passed, Amber had increasingly played the lottery, bought hundreds in scratch off tickets, joined football and basketball pools at her job even though she knew nothing about sports. She ran up large amounts of credit card debt and Fred had finally taken notice when her car got repossessed. Their credit bad and burdened by a large debt, Fred decided to sell their home, move to a new state, and start from scratch.
Fred had located a decent home in an economically depressed black neighborhood. The area had been lower to upper middle class at one time and the prices were too low to pass up. He did have a two hour commute to his new office which meant he would be away from home twelve hours a day. Amber would start looking for work as soon as they moved into their new home. For now, Fred had put everything of value in his name and was giving Amber an allowance to get her gambling under control.
Fred got out of the van and saw two black men staring at him over a fence several houses away. Both men were older, gray haired, and one was rather fat. Fred waved. His hand froze in midair when he realized, they weren't waving back, just staring. Fred lowered his hand and frowning, he turned to help his wife down out of the truck. They saw several more black men and women watching them as they moved in. Fred tried again to wave and be friendly, but the most he got was a nod from one.
Fred wiped some sweat off his brow. He started the tiller back up and finished plowing a section of his back yard for Amber to plant a garden. Two of his black neighbors were sitting on a porch drinking beer. They were watching him work, but still hadn't acknowledged him. Fred had never given any thought to reverse racism, but now he knew what it felt like to be a black man moving into an all white neighborhood. Well screw them, he didn't need friends anyway. He'd meet some at work. Amber didn't care either. She was distrustful of blacks and would have been content to have them stay next door, but Fred wished they could have at least a casual relationship with the neighbors. Fred returned the tiller to the garage and entered his house.
"Holy shit!" Fred couldn't help himself when he walked in on his wife changing.
"Like what you see?" Amber smiled at him as she pulled her bikini panties up to cover her bare crotch.
"You know I do, sexy." Fred nodded towards the bed. "Wanna have some afternoon delight?" His drop dead gorgeous wife was pulling some cut off daisy dukes up over her ass. She was bare breasted, her firm double D's, thrust out, nipples erect and pointing upwards. Put her in a barn wearing a cowboy hat and this could have been a perfect pinup poster.
Amber giggled and said, "Maybe later, after I get the tomatoes planted." She bent to scoop up her bikini top.
"It's a date," said Fred adjusting himself. This was the reason he hadn't divorced her after she'd gotten them in financial trouble. Amber was one sexy lady. Not to mention that she was kind and compassionate and he loved her very much. Fred wasn't much to look at. He fit the Bill Gates image, a rather scrawny, computer nerd in glasses. Amber on the other hand, was built like a stripper. She had long golden brown hair that matched her name. Her eyes were green and so big they gave her an innocent look. Her lips were full and pouty. Her skin was very white and unblemished except for the occasional freckle. Fred didn't know her measurements, but her figure was a perfect hourglass. Her waist was long and thin and her legs were fit from jogging. She was actually several inches taller then Fred's 5'8". Her breasts were simply magnificent. They were large and firm. They looked fake, but were 100% natural. Each breasts had a large areola, but the color was so faint as to nearly blend in with her skin except for the actual nipple which was often very erect and blood engorged making them much darker. They looked like half inch erasers capping off perfect breasts. Her breasts were so large, she complained of back trouble and often leaned forward when she walked. Amber considered getting reduction surgery, but Fred wouldn't hear of it. Maybe when she got older and they started to sag some, but not now. She strapped the black bikini top on and winked at him as she left the room.
Fred went to take a shower. Afterwards, he was still nude when he walked over to the window to check on Amber. Their bedroom looked right down on the recently tilled ground. Amber was bent over, digging a hole for a tomato plant. Her moon-shaped ass was thrust up towards Fred and he could see the jean shorts hugging it tightly. Fred could also see that the two old black men had moved from the porch and were leaning over the fence watching Amber. Fred quickly got dressed.
"I tells ya, thems real."
"They sho is ripe and juicy."
"Ahem," said Fred clearing his throat as he walked around the corner of the house and surprised the two black men. "How's it going?"
"Oh, hello there neighbor," said one of the black men.
"We was just talking about your wife's tomatoes," said the other, grinning and holding out his hand.
Fred took it and shook it. "You into horticulture?"
"I discovered whore-tee-culture in the Navy."
"I see," said Fred not really understanding how someone in the navy might develop an interest in gardening. "I'm Fred Gertz and that's my wife Amber."
"I'm Amos Smith." Amos was the one into horticulture. He was a black man pushing seventy and still a physical giant of a man. He was big and muscular, though his muscles had tightened up as he aged. Amos had shaved his head making himself look younger, though he kept a gray goatee. This guy had forty-five years on Fred and there was no doubt in Fred's mind that he wouldn't last more then a few minutes in a ring with the guy.
"I'm Walker." The second black man held out his hand and Fred took it. He assumed Walker was his last name. He was probably mid-sixties and had a huge beer gut. He was pretty obese, though his arms were still pretty muscular and one had a USMC tattoo on the bicep. Walker had a bald pate and close cropped gray hair around his head. He also had a gold tooth in the front.
Fred released Walker's hand. "I was starting to think I wasn't welcome here. You never returned my waves."
"Sorry about that. I never saw you. I'm a little blind in one eye."
Both his eyes looked fine to Fred, bright and alert even, but he felt relief to know that his neighbors weren't anti-white or anything. "I understand."
"I'd like to say hi to the missus," said Amos."
"I'll call her over." Fred turned to look at his wife. She was still kneeling in the dirt. She had noticed them, but had made no move to join them. "Amber, come on over and say hi to the neighbors."
Amber tried to stare down Fred before reluctantly getting up. Fred realized what was bothering her, but it was too late. Amber wasn't fond of showing off her body to strangers even at the beach. She was a borderline nudist around her husband, but with anyone else and she was shy. Here she was now dressed like a slut farm girl and about to introduce herself to two old black men. The two black men never took their eyes off her as she approached. Fred felt a little proud to have the neighbors so envious of the beauty he had married. "I'm Amber." She shook their hands then immediately held her arm across her chest. Her nipples were typically erect and pushing out her top.
"And you are?"
"Delighted to have such a young beautiful woman in this neighborhood."
"That's a long name," said Amber blushing.
"Call me Amos then."
The foursome was interrupted by someone calling out Walker's name. "We're back here," replied Walker.
Two more black men walked around the corner of Walker's house. "Well what is it we had to rush over to see?" yelled one.
"Yep, where's the fire?" said the other. He froze when he saw Amber.
"Ah, just something I wanted to show you guys in the house," said Walker. "Come meet Fred and Amber, the new neighbors. These hooligans live further down the street."
"Howdy, Frank Beane." Frank shook both Fred and Amber's hands. Frank was skinny and probably pushing eighty, but seemed full of life. He was a tall, lanky man. He had a full head of gray hair. His limbs seemed elongated. He had big long hands and long arms as well as legs.
.... There is more of this story ...