Black and White

Black and White

A Vignette

By Maryanne Peters

I can't deny who or what I was. I was a white male and a racist. I was not alone. In fact, all of my friends were white racist males. Some of them wouldn't even touch black girls, saying shit like -- "I would rather fuck a pink pig than a black bitch." But I have to say that I liked black pussy. I used to say that -- "All pussy is pink on the inside."

I took it where I could get it. It was not always consensual, but that never seemed to matter in my town. Our police were white in those days. They would always assume that black girls were just begging for it if they let their bootie show. But things can change, and they did in our town -- just not before I got more than my share.

In our town if black men want justice for their women, they have to take it upon themselves. They have to take revenge but keep it secret. They wanted to take the white rapists out of circulation and find redress without evidence of wrongdoing. That is what they decided to do, and I was one of their targets.

Me and two other guys were kidnapped and taken out to a big farmhouse owned by a rich white woman -- as it turned out a horny widow with a taste for black cock. We were kept in the basement and she never cared so long as she was getting railed upstairs.

The search went out for the missing sons of the white community, but the old widow would send them off with a hornet in the ear. No officer, black or white, would suspect that what was going on there was actually happening under the floorboards they stood on.

So, what was happening? Well, we were being injected full of female hormones and stripped of body hair and dignity by our black captors, for a start. Then they would say to us "Only pretty white bitches get fed, so if you wanna get fed, you gonna wanna get pretty."

They gave us the magazines and hair and beauty stuff, so the three of us had to help each other. A man has gotta eat after all. Hunger makes a man give away anything he's got, and we didn't have much. We did our best to follow the instructions in the magazines and look like women. The more feminine and submissive our behavior, the more the food. It was about survival. What muscle we had was wasted away by starvation, and as the food improved and those hormones filled our bodies, what replaced the muscle was a soft layer of fat, big tits and a bubble butt

We were going to get ass fucked regardless. We knew that. You don't dress up white boys to look like women if you don't intend to fuck them. I was going to happen - all we needed to do was to be prepared. We got ourselves lubricated and stretched enough so that big black cock would not tear us apart when it entered with force. We were weak as kittens so it was not like we had any choice

I supposed we also learned that a man being fucked get hit across the head if he howls and curses, but if he has long blond hair and he whimpers like a girl, them he might get fucked gently, and maybe afterwards he might even hold her, and kiss her and tell her what a good fuck she had been.

You learn these things. At the start you think that the pain and the shame will kill you now that dying of hunger is no longer your fate. But first you learn to cope, and then you start to learn how to make hard times your friend. If you do, then they cease to be hard times.

I don't talk about it so much with the other two, but the truth is I have kinda got used to black cock. Maybe I even sort of like it.

I do like it when he calls me Princess. It makes me feel a little superior, if you know what I mean. We are definitely not superior in any other way now, but just feeling like you are a princess and he has your hole because you let him have it, makes you smile. It makes me want to sit it his lap and run my hands over his hard black shoulders and look into those big brown eyes and giggle a little, and feel that cock underneath my pretty pale white butt start rising again, hungry to get back inside me.

"You ain't a man no more," he says. "You're my bitch now."

"I thought I was your princess?" says I, tossing my dyed blonde hair across his face. It works every time. He wants white and I want black. What is wrong with that?

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2023