After visiting some distant relatives in Wisconson Cheese Country for the holidays, due to terrible weather and risky driving in the heavy snow, instead of making one long marathon drive back to New York, I decided to stop in Chicago. At a bar near the hotel I stayed at, I took one of those freebie magazines you can pick up at the exit door titled: Hot Places Chicago. One place in the magazine caught my eye called “Peppermints” which pimped that it was popular with the interracial crowd.
So I went back to my hotel and got ready to go out, thinking why couldn’t I be a crazy horny fuck like Charlie Sheen. Pick a hot porn girl or model, wine and dine her, have great sex and then move on to the next one. No commitment. Did I leave out the part where he has to pay for the girl? But what better way for my evening of debauchery to start than by going to an interracial joint so I could win back at least one of the white girls taken away from me by black men. I was feeling confident and even cocky after downing a few shots as a warm-up, literally since it was so cold, at the bar.
On the way to Peppermints, I did feel like a dirty little sneak. Sara always told me that I should only think about about cock. White pussy should only be a black man’s right. But I said to myself, how is she going to know? So you see this is a hard thing for me to write about. You know being a sneak and all. That’s why I hesitate to write this, but I thought I’d be able to keep this a secret from Sara. But I should know, I’ve never been able to keep secrets from her, sooner or later I wimp out and confess them.
Entering Peppermints, I lucked out, it was Happy Hour (reduced drinks for ladies only). There were hardly any black guys there yet. Standing next to me were a couple of white guys. I ordered a beer then we got to talking. The bartender named Figgy was a white dude wearing one of those double printed t-shirts that had a picture of Obama on the front. On the back it read HONOR and RESPECT the BLACK MAN. The white guys standing next to me agreed that Figgy the bartender was totally gay, wearing hoop earrings and sporting bleached blonde hair. He took his time waiting on us, but jumped to attention for a black stud. It was obvious he had some kind of fetish for black men.
Me and my two new white friends (Chicago locals) saw a table clearing and decided to take it. I found out the white dudes were just like me looking for white pussy. But they did not know they were in an interracial bar, which I informed them I had found an ad for Peppermints in Hot Places Chicago and that it was advertised for white girls and black dudes. These guys were from the North side of Chicago and weren’t familiar with the South side, but had wrapped up some biz in the area and decided to have a few brews. After downing a lot of Sam Adams we started talking a lot of trash. How white girls should be dating only white guys. That it was a white man’s world. We decided to a have one more Sammy before we approached the ladies to shame them into going back to white guys. Down the hatch, we drank to our new coalition.
With hardly any black guys in the place, we decided to make our move. It was now or never! Much to Figgy's disgust, my two new juiced up buddies and I went around the bar insulting white girls about their lust for dating black guys. We laughed because the only negative response we got back from a girl, while the others held their tongues with resentment, was a “shut the fuck up you frosted flakes”. I wasn't sure if that meant we were sugar frosted white boys or flakes or both. After we were done making our rounds at the bar, we felt victorious. We thought we had planted the seeds for the white girls to remember us white guys. Then we started to leave the bar in triumph. We were going to go out for a steak dinner next.
Now that should have been the end of the story. Ahead of the game, we should have walked out of that bar without saying another word. Even though we did not pick up any hot ladies, at least we had spoken our mind and we should have just gone and gotten our steak man-meat dinner. Y’know it's sort of like walking away with your winnings at the gambling table before you lose it all. But my new so-called friends had to add insult to injury. On the way out there were three white hotties sipping drinks and talking by the exit door. What would come after using bad judgment could have been easily avoided. We had no idea what was waiting in store for us.
The two white guys stopped before the doorway and urged me to make a comment to the girls standing there. They said it was my turn. I did not want to be a chicken, so I said: "Hey girls." No answer. The girls were too busy chatting. The guys urged me on. So I raised my voice: "Hey girls!" They looked at me and said: "Are you talking to us?" I looked back at the guys and they nodded to carry on. I said hesitatingly: "Yes, do you girls by any chance date black guys? I mean is that who you are waiting for?" "What’s it to you?" The girls responded. The guys urged me to push on. "Well, you know you’re going to be looked at as sluts if you date black only." The guys cracked up. The girls replied: "You got to be fucking kidding us, right." I could tell they had started fuming.
One of the girls began to verbally spar with me: "You’re coming in here talking this pompous crap? I bet you’re one of those little white assholes on Twitter who leave racist comments. What, are you jealous because a white girl picks a black man over your bigoted asses?” I could tell that white girl was more pissed off than the others.
I looked to the side at my white buddies with “beer” confidence thinking I had scored a big hit with them. My Chi-town buddies coaxed me on saying, “Com’n Wayne. Tell these girls off.” I faced the pissed off girls trying to be as cool as I could and said something really nasty where I used the “N” word. I turned to my side to look for my buddies approval. Suddenly they were no longer laughing, but had an awfully worried look on their faces. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around. My heart dropped. My knees quivered. A big powerful black man at least a head in height over me was staring down at me with his arms crossed, looking pretty damn mean. I knew right then and there that the white man domination experiment had expired. The party was over. P.S. This may be a good time to end here because this material probably isn’t suitable for all your readers unless they like gay interracial action…
"You want to say that N word to my face whiteboy?" SMACK. I immediately fell to my knees and cried: "No sir, I did not mean to say it sir." He smacked me again and said: "And did you call these white girls sluts for dating us?" SMACK. "Sorry sir for acting like such a stupid whiteboy sir?" He then hesitated with his arms on his hips thinking about what to do next. The girls didn’t even come to my rescue or ask him to spare me, in fact, they thought this was hilarious and said "Darien, what did you stop for? Keep smacking that smart mouth fairyfag. Teach him a lesson."
SMACK. SMACK.SMACK. BIG ROLLS OF TEARS NOW CAME ROLLING FROM MY EYES. I looked to my so-called buddies who had my back just a moment ago. But they were both standing there scared shitless. Smack Smack Smack. I cried like a little bitch who owed money to a loanshark and was getting a beat-down from his enforcers.
''Who’s laughing now whiteboy?" The girls said. The humiliation was becoming increasingly unbearable. The girls were laughing at the way I was crying. He made me apologize to them. “I'm sorry ladies for calling you sluts for dating black men who are better than us stupid whiteboys. Because it is step down for you beautiful white ladies to date wormy white fags like me."
The black man then looked up and said to my useless white buddies: "Did you two whiteboys come in here to pick up white girls?'' “No, sir," they said in unison. Darien then said: "The only whiteboys who come here are fags. So I want you two to start making out with each other right now. I want to see tongue action. NOW!" The two guys were in such a state of fear that they began to make out. The girls were getting a little thrill about the kiss and were yelling things like: "Com’n fags, kiss like you mean it! Pussyboys! Just remember those gay video clips you watch online when you jerk off."
The black man then grabbed my arm and took me into the Mens Room while this was happening. He told me my days of thinking about white pussy were over. He started to pull down his zipper and told me to get on my knees. Then he whipped out the most beautiful long thick black cock I had ever seen, I nearly fainted. He proceeded to whip my face with it, telling me this was the cock that’s been inside many white ladies that I could only dream about. He made me beg to worship it. Telling me to kiss it and tell him what a white fag I was for making love to his black cock. But then he said he needed a beer first and dragged me to the bar. I had no idea what my fate would be after Darien had downed his beer.
Out in the bar area, my two buddies were still making out. I could not get over the fact that they came in all cocky like I did, after making their business deal, cruising for pussy, but were forced to go gay instead. Again, so much for winning back the white ladies. When Figgy the bartender served the beer to my black master he said to my defense: ''You know Darien, I’ve been watching all this from the start, it's really those two North side guys making out who instigated this whole thing and edged him (me) on to annoy the girls." The black man said "Is that so?" With that he downed his pint of beer and grabbed the two white boys each by their ear and took them out into the alleyway. The girls followed them outside, thrilled that they were gonna see two big mouth white fags get smacked down by a big black stud.
I saw an emergency exit door on the other side of the barroom and thought this was my big chance to escape so I ran out the door and fell over a garbage can outside in the dark alley and got my jacket and shirt all covered in dirty snow. I got up and started running again. Did I feel guilty that I left my two new friends back there in the other side alley? Well did they come to my defense when I was being humiliated and smacked around? I thought it was a clear case of every fag for himself. I know that it was three against one and technically, we should have been able to stand up to the black guy, but then again, we were three white wimps, so probably not. I learned two things that night: 1. Respect women’s choices as to whom they go out with. 2. Black men will take over all white women. It's hopeless for white men.
As I ran back to my hotel I was thinking how much like a dirty little whore I felt like. I wished I could be safe in my home back in New York watching gay porn in my ballerina outfit while Sara could be telling me on the phone what a dirty little GAY CUNT I AM.