Funny, a general understanding of acceptance usually entails something that one possesses once shared with others and can be digested by them without judgment. Thereby, no turmoil or hiccup in the existing relationship a nice constant. This was not the case for me, I had many of my friends and of course, my ******, and My Father had big aspirations for his only son if he knew what I had become over these last few days he would have killed me, not hypothetically, factually, killed me.

Here I was just a week into my new profession albeit one I couldn't walk away from. (No pun intended.) A profession in which I was a sex slave for one specific race of individuals hellbent on getting some restitution out of all this white gurl had to offer. One that was expected to perform whatever and whenever a sexual demand was given and other nonsexual commands. In the first week alone I had been fucked in a nightclub just off the dance floor then later out in the parking lot bent over the hood. Though both were on the same evening they were separate events with separate men. I had been gangbanged, spit-roasted, and groped nearly fifty times in the first week alone. Each incident ended with a substantial amount of cum either down my throat, up my boi pussy, or all over my body. Yet, ever the optimist I chose to look at those times in a positive light.

I did love it though, even nonsexual demands such as cleaning the house, massages, or just out to dinner for an escort-type role I looked forward to it all. I always got to look super hot, dressed in 6" heels, pantyhose because I have stunning legs, and some short, tight minidresses. On occasion, a one-piece jumpsuit that was also formfitting.

There simply is no way in Hell I could just come out and tell those who knew me prior or my ****** what I had been up to. But, as things go it did finally come into the light after running into my now ex-girlfriend while I was accompanying a body builder-type statuesque individual. He was very dark skinned, I believe he said he was from Mozambique. He stood well over six foot four and had shoulders as wide as a door frame. We had been seated and I excused myself to the ladies' room as I wanted to be in top form expecting to ride this mountain of a man later that evening. As I left the stall my ex gf nearly knocked me over trying to get passed me as we looked into the eyes of each other my initial reaction was one of fear and flight but you try running in stilettos. "Joey, what the -uck!?"

I said "Hey Mer!" (short for Meredith.)

"What are you doing, where have you been, why are you dressed like a girl?"

I decided my only response was to take her out to the dining room and show her physically the answer to all those questions. I walked her over and introduced her to my "date" she laughed and I thought 'Well that did not go well' until she pointed out her date across the room. To no surprise, he was a black man as well from the local college. She had been getting resized by this young man for quite some time. She admitted he was the reason she stopped having any sexual interest in me as she met him a few months before I suddenly disappeared.

"Bashful penis" is what she used to refer to my tube of lipstick or penis. She used to call it that because even fully erect it looked as if it were dead as a doornail and would never be mistaken for a penis at barely over three inches fully engorged. She could never derive any sort of pleasure from that thing. I did not blame her and asked if she would keep this a secret until I was ready to share the new me openly. She agreed and they joined us for dinner.

The two men hit it off as if they knew each other for years. Brotha, this and Brotha that is all we heard. I knew better than to interrupt, my ex and I were discovering a wholly new relationship in which we had much more in common and less in opposition, she found I was very comfortable as a gurl as I sat with my legs crossed the hem of my skirt riding high as the circumstances would allow after all it was a nice restaurant. "So what turned you?" she asked.

I said what many other people who had been black have said before, "I love the cock."

"Of course you do, We all do," She said, she had her suspicions for a while because there were times when she would not be seen around the school for a few days or she would tell me she had some things keeping her busy and I would not see her. On those days I would spend more time at the studio practicing with my gymnastics squad or ballet. I loved wearing tights and subsequently anything skin-tight and the fact that I could easily hide my protrusion from giving away my orientation subconsciously I was affirming my wish to be a female without being aware that was what I had been doing. On those days while all dressed in my practice tights often for the benefit of one of my coaches. He would stay with me and work with me on some of my stretching and floor routines. Though I had yet to have gone all the way with any black man I did hungrily suck his beautiful black cock from time to time.

Meanwhile, my now ex had been doing the same with Trevor the black guy that now sat directly across from me. That's not all I found out that she had given herself to him multiple times and allowed him to cum deep in her womb. I had to cum in my hand, how pathetic, we agreed and laughed about it now.