My White Christmas Fag, by Skorpio
Years ago when I was twenty-one I had an experience with a whiteboy I never told anyone before. Name is Darryl, by the way, and this is my story.
I had no job and wasn't looking for one neither. Living at home with my three sisters, running the streets, staying out of trouble. Ma Dukes was just glad I wasn't locked up like my two older brothers.
I was hanging out by the liquor store downtown on a raw December afternoon when a whiteboy approached me for a light. An average looking white dude in his early thirties, I guessed.
Longish blond hair under a black wool cap, green eyes, freckles, stubble on his cheeks, and a certain look that made you almost want to trust him.
I say "almost," because I don't trust white folks. Fact is, I don't even like white folks. Too much bad shit in this world is their fault, know what I'm saying?
Anyway, I always keep a lighter on me, so I bummed a smoke, and we got to talking. His name was Gary. Only whiteboys share their real names with strangers.
I gave my street tag: Boot.
"Really? That's your name?" he asked.
"That's what they call me. Since I was little."
"Cool."
"You live around here?"
It was a mixed neighborhood, mostly black and spanish, but there were a few whites.
"Winthrop Street," he said. "Just moved in about a month ago."
No wonder I hadn't seen him around.
"You?" he inquired.
"Other side of the park."
"Wanna drink some beer?"
"Sure."
That's how I wound up at his crib, a studio apartment on the second floor of an old mansion. Not much furniture, but lots of books and DVDs. Nice 50 inch flat screen TV.
"Make yourself at home," he said. "Mi casa, su casa."
"Thanks."
We smoked a few joints, watched music videos and an episode of Spartacus, and talked shit until we ran out of beer. It was getting dark and cold when we walked back to the liquor store.
"Want anything?" he asked, grabbing a case of Coors.
"Vodka?" Since he asked.
"Got a preference?"
"Zyr?"
"You've got expensive tastes."
"What can I say?"
"You don't have to say anything! Zyr it is!"
I couldn't believe how my day was turning out. Me and Gary were about to become best fucking friends! I could definitely use a generous whiteboy. Little did I know how prophetic that thought would be!
"I'm glad I met you," I said. "You're cool."
For a white guy, that is, which wasn't saying much.
"Thanks," he beamed.
We hung out at Gary's crib for a few more hours until I got the urge to roam. You know that restless feeling when something out there in the infinite night is calling you. Music, women, adventure. It calls to you.
"Wanna get out of here?" I suggested. "I know a spot you would like."
"Let's go!"
I took him to a dive called the Oasis where you could have a good time without expecting brawls or gunshots. Jukebox blaring, niggas shooting pool, shorties jiggling and wiggling.
Gary was the only cracker, but no one minded since he was me. He bought drinks and conversated with some hot chicks. I had to pull him away a few times when I saw him talking to hoes only interested in his money.
When the bar lights came on at two a.m., we caught a taxi back to his crib. It was cold and we were too hammered to walk. It was also too late for me to go home, as my mom locked the door at ten o'clock and I did not have a key.
"You can crash with me," Gary offered. "There's room on the futon for both of us."
"That's aiiight," I said. "I can sleep on the floor."
What I was really thinking was he should give me the bed and he should sleep on the floor.
"No, I'll take the floor," he said.
"Nah, there's room for both of us, so long as there's no funny stuff!"
We both laughed.
While Gary opened the futon, without thinking, I kicked off my Timberlands and stripped down to my drawers. I never sleep in my clothes. Gary turned his back to me and undressed. I could not help but notice the way his tight gray boxer briefs encased his plump, round ass.
When he turned to face me, there was a moment when we seemed to size up one another. I felt his eyes crawling on me, lingering on my sixteen inch arms and washboard abs, before lowering to scope out my package.
Not to brag, but I started lifting weights when I was twelve, so I have always been buff. I'm not that tall – only 5 feet, 10 and a half inches tall – but I'm packed with 150 pounds of muscle, not an ounce of fat.
I admit to checking him out too. Gary looked like he might have played some sports back in the day, but his flabby midsection and flat, hairless chest left no doubt that age and laziness were catching up to him.
Another thing! He had some big fucking nips! Never saw nothing like that on a dude before. Big as baby bottle nipples. Okay, maybe not that huge, but damn! They definitely stood out.
I also happened to notice his front bulge was anything but. Kind of on the small side, if you know what I mean. It just confirmed what I had always heard.
Our mutual assessment lasted only a second or two, so I thought nothing of it. Gary turned off the light and we got under the covers. I rested on my back, hands behind my head. Our bodies were about an inch apart.
"I had a nice time tonight," said Gary, softly. "Thanks."
"It was aiiight. You gonna kiss me now?"
"Yeah, right."
We both laughed, but for some reason it would not have been that weird. Felt like I had been on a date, showing off my new girl, introducing her to my cronies. Only she was a he, and he paid for everything.
A goodnight kiss seemed about right. Not to mention, I was horny. Maybe it was the proximity of another warm body close to mine? That fat ass, those big nipples?
"Why don't you turn on the TV?" I suggested.
"Sure," said Gary. "How about some porn?"
"That's what I'm talking about!"
Gary fed a disc to the DVD player. In the dim light, I could make out the round curve of his ass. Felt strange checking out a guy's rump, but damn, that booty looked good as hell! I couldn't help myself!
A minute later we were watching a hot flick called Thug Train. Bunch of niggas taking turns screwing a white chick with a fat ass and big jugs every which way while her little dick husband sat in a corner!
Needless to say, I got hard as a rock. I love that nasty shit. If I didn't bust, I was never going to get no rest.
"Hope you don't mind, but I gotta jerk off."
"Same here," said Gary.
I tossed the blanket aside and pulled out my dick. Gary wriggled out of his briefs and started stroking. There we were, side by side, two dudes watching porn and jacking off like it was the most natural thing.
"Haven't done this since I was a kid," I muttered, to take the edge off the awkwardness. "Me and my friend Ray-Ray used to jerk off together all the time!"
"I had a buddy like that," said Gary, which made me feel better.
"We should've brung a bitch back with us! That Jamaican chick - Karla – I could fuck her all night!"
"Yeah, she was hot."
What happened next, I honestly did not see coming.
"You've got a really huge cock," said Gary.
"It's a black thang," I explained, nonchalantly. What was I gonna say: yeah, and you got a really little one? LOL!
"Can... I touch it?" he asked, hesitantly.
Our eyes met as he tried to study my reaction, but I'm sure my face was devoid of expression. You know that look. All brothers have it: a mask that comes over us – emotionless, cold, inscrutable.
Whiteboys wear no such masks. They are open books easy to read. I saw weakness and degeneracy in Gary's face.
"You wanna touch my dick?"'
"It's so big!" he went on. "Let me give you a handjob."
"Sure, go for it," I said.
His soft fingers wrapped around my shaft and stroked. Slowly at first, gripping tightly, going faster, seeking the perfect rhythm.
"Awwww, shit, yahhhh!"
Felt good having a hand on my dick, working it, only a handjob was not gonna get the job done.
Then it came to me: if Gary was so interested in my dick, maybe we could take this one step further.
Hell yeah! I didn't need Karla, not with a fag around.
"Why don't yo suck it," I suggested.
Before I knew it, Gary went down on me. Soft lips replaced his grip. Once my stiff dick slid into his mouth, there was no turning back.
"Ahhhh, shit, suck that dick!" I groaned.
"Yes, Sir!" he gasped, plunging down.
Did he call me Sir? That was sweet! I liked the sound of that, an old white fag calling me Sir while sucking my dick! Hell, yahhh!
"You shoulda told me you give head. If I had known that, we could've saved some time. Suck that dick! Suck it good, whiteboy! That's what I'm talking about!"
It wasn't long before I felt my nuts churning. Snatching Gary by the hair, I held his head in place as I skeeted shot after shot down his faggot throat. White-hot bullets of venom and rage.
After that, I drifted off to sleep. I don't what Gary did. Probably jerked off looking at my dick with the taste of my sperm still in his mouth.
Morning came. Sunlight flooded the room. I woke with a raging hard-on. Gary was beside me, on his belly, snoring lightly, covers off, his plump alabaster booty exposed and vulnerable.
I wanted that ass in a bad way. Didn't matter it belonged to a dude. It was ass, a soft white ass begging to be fucked.
My dick was not gonna take no for an answer.
"Yo, man, wake up. Rise and shine!"
I nudged him with my elbow, but got no response.
On the coffee table sat a square jar of Vaseline that I had not seen before. Made me think it had been left there on purpose.
I greased my rod, getting it slick and slippery. Eight and one half inches, like a shiny black cucumber.
I slid it between his tight cheeks, and with a sudden thrust popped his cherry and was inside. Not all the way. Three inches maybe, but I was in!
That woke him up for sure!
"Huh? What are you doing?" he sputtered.
"What do you think?" I growled, locking my arm around his neck.
"You're too big," he struggled. "I can't take it!"
"I don't wanna hear that shit!"
"It's too big!!! Take it out!!!"
"I told you I don't wanna hear that! You know you want this!"
Turns out the whiteboy lied. Seems he could take my dick after all. Not that he had much of a choice. There was nothing he could do to stop me. Once I start fucking I don't stop.
I tore into that boy's pussy hard! What they call a grudge fuck, know what I'm saying? Punishing him for being a fag, for being white, for trying to play me, for a thousand reasons. None of which mattered.
I had that whiteboy sobbing and moaning out of control like a slut in heat. It gave me a sense of power such as I had never known.
"You like this dick, don't you."
"Unhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh, yessss, yesssir..."
"You want me to cum in you? Wanna be my bitch?"
"Yes, yes... Fuck me, fuck me..."
"Say you wanna be my bitch!"
"I want to be your bitch!"
"Yahh, I'll let you be my bitch! Who owns you?"
"YOU do, YOU do!"
"Don't you forget that! Hear me?"
"Yes, SIR!"
I slapped him hard upside the head, not liking the way he said that. Sounded rehearsed.
"This ain't no fantasy, bitch!"
I cuffed him once more for good measure, while steady pumping his sweet white ass.
"You own me!" he cried.
Ordinarily, I am a perfect gentleman in the sack. Never forced myself on a woman, and never would. But this fag brought out something that I did not know was in me.
I ordered him to move his hips in a circular way, and he obeyed at once.
"Arch your back!"
"Beg me to fuck your pussy!"
"Who owns you, bitch?"
The more I demanded the more submissive he got, the stronger I grew the weaker he seemed.
Grabbed hold of his big nipples and worked them hard, seeing how that turned him on. Must be a fag thing because you can play with my flat nips and it doesn't do a thing for me.
I adjusted my tempo to make this last. I wanted to keep that feeling going. Wanted to give this bitch a fucking he would never forget – make him come crawling back for more!
Kept it up for a long time, steady drilling that ass, in and out, fast and slow, pounding and pounding!!! You should have heard him moan – low, throttled sounds of pain and pleasure.
"Get ready! I'm gonna nutt!"
When I exploded, his body quivered under mine. We both groaned with pleasure. I think he came at the exact same time I did.
Pulling out, I turned over on my side and dropped back to sleep. Pussy will do that to you. Takes everything out of a man.
It was noon when I woke. The smell of bacon sizzling met my nostrils. My bitch was at the stove, shirtless in a pair of tight sweat pants that showed off the curvature of his ass.
I did not bother getting dressed because I felt comfortable being naked, and besides, I liked the way my new bitch stole glances at my body with not just desire but envy and respect.
We ate in silence. Gary fidgeted, eager to please, anxious not to displease. I liked knowing that I made him nervous.
While he scrubbed dishes and folded the futon, I took a long, steamy shower. The bathroom was stocked with lots of different soaps, shampoos, and lotions.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I sat down to watch some football on TV. Gary brought me a beer, sparked my smokes, and asked did I need anything?
Everything a bitch is supposed to do for her man. How was I supposed to walk away from that?
For the next few weeks, I let the faggot pamper me. Every morning he fixed breakfast and dinner every night. While he was at work, making that money to pay the rent and buy me us beer, vodka, and reefer, I played video games and watched TV.
Head and ass whenever I wanted, which was every morning and every night, and all weekend long. That was the best part. The faggot could not get enough of my dick, and even when he wasn't in the mood – on the rag, I guessed – it wasn't like he had a choice.
We fucked when I wanted. We ate what I told him to cook or pick up on the way home. We looked at TV together, but always what I wanted to watch. When I needed spending money to get out of the house, he gave it to me.
We shared the futon that one time. From then on I had it all to myself. The fag curled up on the floor, which is where fags belong when you think about it.
I liked keeping him naked most of the time for a couple of reasons. For one, it gave me easy access to that ass, but for another, it kept him in a submissive frame of mind.
Also, I could always tell when he was turned on, like when I told him the toilet bowl needed scrubbing or when I told him I needed cash, his prick got hard! That told me a lot!
It never felt like a gay thing. Wasn't like this whiteboy was a man. He was a stone pussy addicted to my dick, and I was simply taking advantage of the opportunity, that's all. Pretty much what any brother in my situation would have done.
Christmas came. It was snowing hard that day. Gary had bought a small artificial tree, some lights and garlands like it was supposed to be a big deal or something.
When I woke that morning there were presents under the tree. All for me! It felt totally strange. Growing up my folks were too poor to buy his Christmas gifts.
After everything was unwrapped, I had a new cell phone, a gold chain, top-shelf sneakers and new Timberlands, high-priced jeans, underwear, and a gift card loaded with $500.
"You didn't have to do this," I said, not meaning a word.
"I wanted to, Boot."
"It's good, baby. I just thought there would be more."
He was naked, of course, so I saw his little white dick twitch when I said that. Damn, this fag was begging to be used!
He took me shopping that afternoon and bought me even more shit! Took me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant!
When we got back I let him suck my dick.
New Year's Eve rolled around. We went out to the Oasis, where my fag paid for everything. Niggas gave me knowing looks. That night I brought home a Puerto Rican bitch and fucked her while my fag watched.
The next day he was pissed, so I slapped him silly and fucked him brutally, calling him a cunt, telling him to never give me attitude again because I wasn't having it!
The queer was falling in love with me!
All good things come to an end. It was time to move on.
He worshipped the ground I walked on, serviced me like a good whore, and worked like a slave. It was the perfect arrangement.
But it could not continue. Good while it lasted, but I was a healthy, normal brother needing a beautiful Black queen who could give me children, standing in the world. A white fag could not give me that.
Before saying goodbye forever, I kissed Gary on the lips, and told him to suck my dick one last time. That blowjob was the best fucking head I ever had!
He sucked me off like he thought he could convince me to stay, choking on it, pulling out all the stops, but I had my mind made up. Time to move on.
"I'm gonna need a couple dollars," I said.
He handed me a wad of twenties from his pocket which I did not bother to count.
I smiled, resisting the urge to pat him on his tousled head and say, "Good bitch!"
This is where my story ends. I sometimes look back and wonder if I should have kept it going. It would have been nice owning a white slave on a permanent basis! When my sons are old enough, I am gonna tell them what white fags can do for them.
THE END
Author's Note: if you enjoyed this story, you might want to check out my Tumblr blog at:
http://blackdominion.tumblr.com/