Moving is a Pain in the Ass Ch. 01

All participants in this story are 18+.

Part One.

As anyone that's done it even once will tell you, moving is a pain in the ass, no matter how much time you have and how short the move might be.

I was only moving across town and had a whole month to do it, but I was moving from an apartment to a house, and that meant a whole host of problems that I hadn't had to deal with before like buying a washer and drier, which the previous owners had taken with them, and getting the chimney inspected so that I didn't die from carbon monoxide poisoning in the middle of the night. Real pains in the ass.

However, in a real logistical coup, I had managed to schedule both a chimney inspection and washer/drier delivery and install to take place on the same morning. The chimney inspector arrived first, a bigger but quiet guy named Emillio, and got to work checking things out. He cleaned; he inspected; he was very thorough.

While this was happening, I was anxiously hovering around and looking out the front window for the washer and drier to arrive. When they did, I saw a pair of larger black men getting them out of the truck and ready to come in after one of them confirmed they had the right address and everything.

Let me get out of the way that as a white person that was moving into an affluentish suburb strictly because I had lucked into some money, I had a lot of weird feelings about having people that were from minority communities deliver to and complete services in my new home. I didn't enjoy feeling like I was the big rich homeowner paying for the services of those that were probably not as well off. Typical white guilt, I suspect. I wanted to them that I was once one of them, even though I wasn't and never would be.

Little did I know how quickly this weird and probably nonexistent power dynamic was going to change.

So the chimney guy was doing his thing while the washer and drier guys were down in the basement installing everything. I was hovering around upstairs awkwardly until I heard one of the installers tell me that they were done and to come downstairs so that I could check everything out and sign some invoices.

I got down there and both of them were waiting for me. Even with jackets and heavier clothes on, I could tell that both of them were pretty jacked, probably from hauling large appliances up and down stairs. I'm not too short, about average for a man, but these guys towered above me and years of working in an office hadn't done much for my physique.

"I just need you to sign this saying that we made the delivery and that everything is installed correctly," the first one said. I signed.

"In a couple of hours, you'll get a survey in your email asking about your experience. You did have a good experience, right?"

"Sure," I said. We honestly hadn't interacted that much, but it didn't look like anything had been damaged, so I was like whatever.

"That's good," the second one said.

We stood there for a second until my dense brain realized that they were expecting a tip, which of course I hadn't planned for. I felt embarrassed and my feelings of guilt multiplied.

"You know," the first one said, "usually when folks around here are satisfied with something, like us hauling a heavy-ass washing machine and drier in out of the cold and down a flight of stairs, they show a little appreciation."

"I'm sorry," I stammered, blushing. "I don't have any cash on me."

The first one laughed. "Oh, we've heard that one before. You expect us to believe that you live in this nice house and you don't have any cash laying around?"

"No, really...," I said. "I haven't even moved in yet..." I could feel myself blushing from embarrassment, which made me feel even more awkward and embarrassed.

"That's okay," the first one said, smirking. "Like I said, we've heard this before, ain't we, Jamaal?" he said, motioning to his partner, who was now standing right behind me. "Lucky for you there are lots of ways folks like you can show us some appreciation."

As he said this, I could see his hand creeping down to his belt buckle and honestly, I just froze. Jamaal walked over and closed the door to the basement. Suddenly I was very conscious of being in a small room with two men much bigger than I was.

The first one started to undo his buckle while Jamaal came up from behind me and pushed me to my knees. I was in shock at this point so I numbly complied. Before I knew it, I was face to face with a rapidly-stiffening cock. After about ten seconds, a purple cockhead hovered inches from my mouth.

"Yeah," the first one said, "We know all about white folks that don't like to show their appreciation for how hard we work, don't we, Jamaal?"

"Go ahead and lick it," Jamaal said. "Or what, do you think you're better than us?"

And honestly, I did. I had a good job and was about to move into a nice house in a very livable suburb. These were just guys that delivered appliances all day. But the fact of where I was, and what I knew I was about to do, showed me how inferior I really was.

I had stiffed them, and now they were about to stiff me.