[this story has over the top, racist bullshit so thick you can’t mistake it for the insulting lie it would be, if written for anything other than fetish fantasy]
Chapter 1
Barely making it in Seattle. That should be my forum name. I finally found work, and then my husband slips and cracks his spine. He’s on disability, and has regained most of his mobility, but Donald whinges whenever I bring up applying for work. Stace, our 14 year old daughter spends like a sixteen year old. She’s attractive enough. She doesn’t need the makeup and makeovers and makewhatevers, she saves every cent of her allowance for.
We were making it, a living. Can’t say that for most of our neighborhood. Funny thing is, the community next to ours began booming when the LINK rail line passed through it. Not that the mayor’s investments in that district had anything to do with the convoluted divergence from the light rail’s originally planned route.
Anywhere within a fifteen minute walk of that rail line struck gold, when the Emerald City took on a more silicon sheen. Fucking tech companies! I’m bitter for two reasons. I hate the tech job I nearly had to suck cock for. And I have to walk twenty minutes to catch the light rail.
Fuck my ‘Office Assistant Support Engineer’ job. That’s my actual title. My walk to work is far more interesting. I should say, was. I wouldn’t be writing this, if my life turned out to be just another privileged white woman’s fantasy of finding love in a black man’s arms. No, I hate Terry almost as much as my daughter. Our combined antipathy couldn’t scratch Donald’s hate for that nigger freak. I say ‘nigger’ only because Terry tells me to call him that. I’d call him anything he wanted, to get what I hate needing from him. He hates being called a freak, though.
I used to call Terry a sad, black man, but never in public. He jangled pennies in a plastic Slurpee cup at me, and I would always add a dollar to it, on my walk to work. His eyes worried me.
Nobody looks at anyone, on commuter trains or buses. Going to work, I felt invisible, that my life had no meaning. Even the blowjobs, Donald begged for, since he couldn’t mount me for long with his back pain, were sad routine.
Stace, like most teens, lived either out of the house or stuck in her room. At least she came out to make our meals. I barely had time to eat them. Her father helped. It took both of them to prepare what he bought from the grocer. She couldn’t be trusted with a credit card. We could only afford raw vegetables and whatever burger was cheapest. Fruit was our dessert. Yeah, we were making it, like robots earning just enough juice for their batteries. I went to work numb from the banal repetition my income could afford. At least we paid off our credit card.
Terry’s eyes burned at me when I walked by. “Privileged, white cunt.” Is what they stabbed into my thoughts. I didn’t hate him then. I didn’t feel sorry for him. I assumed, like most people, he had earned his fate. He was too old to be a modern war vet, and too young to be a Vietnam vet. I bet he had been as fat as a child, imagining that food was his only comfort against a severely deformed cheek and jaw line. I knew a dollar wouldn’t save him. There are many options for the homeless in Seattle. Food and shelter are available. I paid him to ease my fear that I would one day end up like him.
“Thanks.” He said, one day. It was cold, but not raining. Global warming had blessed the Pacific Northwest. He wore a military coat from a supply store. You can tell the difference. His trousers were thick but polyester heavily worn at the knees. A folding umbrella lie next to him. He sat on a piece of foam meant for stadium seats. A corner of it was ripped.
“Um, welcome.” I dropped the dollar, but missed the cup. Did he move it at the last second? I wasn’t really watching. His grunt of gratitude unnerved me. I just wanted to hurry away.
“Fucking wind!” He growled. If only I hadn’t looked back. The dollar bill danced towards me. I picked it up and returned it to the grim looking bum.
“Sorry.” I spun back towards the rail stop.
“If only.” He muttered.
I lost it. I don’t know why. I’m not that type. “Who else gives you a dollar, every damn day? I missed your cup today. Give me a goddamn break!”
“Sure. You deserve a break, cuz you’re such a fucking philanthropist!” The last word surprised me.
“Jesus, why talk to an ugly nigger like that? How stupid is she?” The comment came from two black men walking in their business suits.
I had no words. I felt stuck. LINK was about to arrive, but I didn’t want to follow the two assholes. I couldn’t bear the shame they made me feel.
The beggar’s eyes continued to burn. I was going to be late for work. I sighed. “Look, do you want a sandwich or something? I’ll get one from that 7-11, if you want.”
“I want barbecue.” He struggled off of his seat, using the squat umbrella for balance. Standing, he was an inch taller. “But not a sandwich, a full meal. That’s what I want.” His stare cooled but never blinked.
“I don’t have time-“
“It’s over here, behind that nail painting bullshit shop. Best barbecue on the block.” That didn’t mean much. Many blocks in this neighborhood had BBQ vendors. He grabbed my wrist and tugged. I would have screamed, but he let go before I could lose it again. “It’s cheap too.” His fingers left a white smudge on my wrist.
The tug launched me in that direction. I don’t know why I continued after that first, forced step. I followed him around the nail salon and other shops. Sure enough, “Angus’ BBQ” awaited. Its entrance was on a side of the building. In back, a couple trash bins, commercial sized, lurked in the building’s shadow, near the concrete wall buttressing a hill behind the shops.
“Angus, git me a spicy beef special.” The bum bellowed jovially upon entering.
“Sure, Terry. Who’s the lady?”
“I don’t know. She’s buying.”
“She better, or you’ll clean up again, tonight.” A burly, handsome black man wiped his hands on a towel. “Can I make something for you, Ma-am?”
“No. Thank you.” I couldn’t make a sound louder than a housefly.
“Have a pickle. They’re on the house.” He pointed to a jar on the counter.
Terry grabbed one and a napkin. He took it to a table. “Git yourself one, Lady. They’re good. Angus’ wife makes them.” His bulk overflowed the folding chair’s seat.
“I just had breakfast.” An egg, one slice of white toast plain, and an orange. We’d run out of butter.
“What’s your name?” Terry waved his hand at the seat across from his table. “Good barbecue takes time.”
“He’s going to cook it fresh?”
“Hell no. It’s already smoked. He’s going to grill it after slicing it, to cook the sauce in.” He poked his pickle at me. “Have a bite.” He had already taken two from it.
“Can I just pay? I need to catch the next train.”
“Sure, Ma-am.” Angus turned from the grill, to the register. “Eight-sixty-four, with tax.”
I handed my card to him.
“We don’t take cards.” His lip curled.
I dug into my wallet. I had six dollars, twenty two cents. “Is there an ATM?”
“There was, in the 7-11, but it’s been bust for a month. Terry! You got two fifty?” Angus called.
“Yeah.” He grunted getting up and pulling a handful of bills and change from his pocket. He dumped them, crumpled on the counter. His eyes stabbed me. “Fucking, stupid, white cunt.” They said. “What is your name?” Terry demanded.
“Ruby.” I squeaked.
“Ruby, you made me look like a fool.” He frowned like an angry pit bull.
I left, wanting to cry. My co-workers didn’t notice I was late. The computer that spat out paychecks would.
The next day I put a five dollar bill in Terry’s cup. “Sorry.”
Terry’s eyes dulled. “Apologize to Angus.” He groaned getting to his feet. He didn’t tug me this time. He didn’t even look back. I followed the huge, black figure tromping around the side of the nail salon.
“CLOSED” The sign said. Terry must have known.
“You know what Angus told me?” He lunged at me, grabbing my upper arms and pushing me into the building’s shadow. “He said I wasn’t good enough for pussy as rich as you.”
I started to scream, but a thick hand slammed across my face, leaving a white smudge on my cheek, the same cheek deformed on his face. “Shut the fuck up, Bitch! I’ll pound your bones out and sell your white meat to Angus.”
“What do you want?” I almost said it. He heard it, though.
“Git on your knees.” His hand gripped my hair and pushed me down. “Unzip me.”
It was life or death, fight or flight. I couldn’t do either. I unzipped the fat man’s enormous trousers. Unsurprisingly, his dick stuck out at my face. It was streaked with white smudges. I cried, choking back my sobs. Against myth, his cock was large but only compared to my husband’s. Dicks and balls didn’t have fat cells.
“You’d better swallow, Bitch, or I’ll knock you harder.”
There was no debating. Expressing my horror and shame wouldn’t move this beast. I sucked the cock into my mouth and fucked my face up and down his awful tasting shaft. He couldn’t have showered in the last week.
“Suck all of it, damnit!” Terry growled. He pressed my head into his overhanging belly fat. More cock jammed into my throat, half again as much. Three inches had been hiding under his bulk.
I choked and gagged. He held me. “Don’t fucking puke, or I’ll put it in your cunt!”
I nearly did vomit. I literally willed my stomach to accept the blockage it would have failed to disloge by upchucking its breakfast.
“Now fuck it, cocksucker.” He let go.
I bounced my head and licked the horrid mass in my jaws. His prick slicked with my spit. Tears spilled from my eyes like waterfalls, most of it from holding back my gag reflex. Something had to give, besides my free will. I sucked on the ugly man’s cock, praying he wouldn’t last long.
“Mmmm, bet you don’t get cock that good at home.” He must have seen my wedding ring.
Donald’s cock was like his back. It wore out quick. I spent a lot of money for a silicone dildo, several years ago, and small cracks had appeared over time. I had to use more and more lube to keep it from grating my vagina. However, I would have paid to suck Donald’s weak prick, over Terry’s foul, blood filled lump. I laved spit over the awful cock in my mouth, to thin its horrid flavor.
“Ngghh, haven’t felt that before.” He must have liked the extra slickness my spit gave as my mouth sucked him in and out. His hips trembled. I guess he was getting close. “Harder.” He ordered. His ball sack was hidden in thick hairs that scraped my chin. I fucked my mouth on his prick, faster, until my chin hit his balls. “Christ, that’s good suck!” He hissed.
His hips lurched, smashing his belly fat across my eyes, nearly pushing me over. His hand clenched my hair, to hold me on his throbbing cock. I yelped from his grip.
“Suck, damnit! I’m almost there.” He lurched his prick down my throat!
I gagged again, then coughed. The added stimulation lifted the sap from his root. Gushing cum choked the back of my throat. I swallowed, not caring if it flooded my lungs. My attacker had warned me. I swallowed. Half way through his orgasm, his grip relaxed and he groaned, easing back the inches blocking my airway. “Good, damn Bitch!” His cock lurched, flinging extra bolts of hot cum into my open gullet.
I kept sucking and swallowing until the fat rapist pulled his tool out of my mouth. I sobbed openly then.
“Don’t forget to thank Angus.” Terry hauled up his worn trousers and lumbered away, behind the building. He moved faster than I would imagined.
I didn’t call the police. I have a cheap, old cell phone, but I hated the though of touching it. I wanted my life back. I went into work, late, much later than the day before. Melissa, my boss, walked up to my cubicle sipping on her coffee. “Out job hunting, this morning, Ruby?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Good. You look like shit.” She took her coffee back to her office. The following day was Friday. I left half an hour early, to walk to the next closest LINK stop. I broke into tears along the way.
The weekend saw me distracting myself from breaking down completely. I forced Donald and Stace to help me patch drip stains in the ceiling of our apartment. We were lucky to afford a second floor home. Sunday night, Donald wanted to go out for a beer, one of our few luxuries. I told him no sex afterwards.
“What’s gotten in your puss?” He was bitter, like our awful beers.
“Not you. Not tonight. Not anytime soon.” I glared at him. “Not after a crack like that.”
“Sorry.”
I tried to sleep. I hadn’t slept much, since being dragged behind Angus’ BBQ and forced to suck a homeless man’s disgusting prick.
I left early all that week. I tried to go to bed earlier but Stace played music. When I told her to tone it down, I heard her banging on her handmade drum, not loudly, but her chanting was just enough to prevent easy sleep.
Donald wouldn’t intervene. He simply masturbated on his side of the bed. “Let the women figure it out.” Was his motto.
Sleep deprived, I made mistakes at work. Melissa called me on most of them. “Get your act together, Ruby. You’re making me look bad.” She was the office assistant I had been hired to support. Which mean I did all the work. She taste-tested coffee all day.
The following Sunday night I went out for a beer with Donald. I drank more than usual, and ended up letting him fuck me, until his back wore out. He jacked off the rest of the way. I had fallen asleep while his dick tapped the middle of my vagina.
“I didn’t want to wake you, Honey.” He excused himself from waking me in time to reach the far LINK stop. I had forgotten to set the alarm. “You didn’t sleep much, last week.”
I growled, grabbing toast on my way out. It was too late. I wouldn’t even catch the closer train, in time for work. I hoofed it there anyway, determined to not see Terry.
I didn’t. I mean, he wasn’t there. His spot on the street corner was empty. A weight fell from my heart.
Melissa called me into her office. “Arrive late, one more time, and I’ll report it to Human Resources.” It was the first of three steps to fire me.
“I won’t. I promised.”
Terry wasn’t there the next day, or all that week. Was he afraid of the police? I wished I had called them, but now it was too late, I told myself.
My walks to work grew dull and repetitive again. Walking past the corner shops always made my heart clench. I needed some sense of control over the horror that had happened. I went to Angus’ BBQ one morning, with cash.
“I’d like to order the spicy beef special, extra mild.”
Angus grunted one laugh. “Sure, Lady. Coming right up.”
I took a pickle and waited. The pickle was good. The BBQ was okay. If Angus’ was the best on the block, I would go to another block if I ever had to buy BBQ again.
I performed miracles at work that day. Melissa even mentioned it. “Only one typo.” I let it slide.
My life never returned to normal, but I could function again.