My name's Rob, and I’d always been a liberal. I attended rallies against police brutality, supported the fight against climate change, campaigned hard for Bernie. Well, those days are gone. Today I’m a hardened cynic. I’ve witnessed firsthand how racial and gender politics can be used as weapons to close white guys like me out of conversations, humiliate us, render us powerless and lessen our worth.
They say words can never harm you but the way I was treated that night back in November mentally neutered me. The words that were spoken to me, they way I was taken down verbally, it was brutal. First the black men “took offence” at my innocent comments, and then the girls did the same. Jeez man, words can’t adequately describe the humiliation I felt. I now realize that for some people, voicing support for principles is a charade, designed to empower them and socially cripple their victims. Becky, my ex, is a prime example.
I’d first met Rebecca on the Black Lives Matter protests that shut down the FDR in Manhattan. I was immediately smitten. She was white, 26, and oh, she was hot as hell. She was wearing tight combat leggings and boots when we first met, separated from our respective friends after the police scattered the marchers. Rebecca had stumbled and I had helped her to her feet. She wore glasses, had big prominent boobs under a thin Ramones T shirt, long dark hair and a “fuck it” attitude that I immediately loved.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. “No damage done?”
“No, I’m fine, those cops don’t scare me” Rebecca said, dusting herself down. “Racist assholes”
“Wow, you’re more than a match for them, you’re fierce” I said. “My name’s Robbie, by the way, what’s yours?”
“Rebecca, but you can call me Becky,” she said. “And thanks for the compliment”
As we’d both lost our friends, I suggested we hit a bar to gather our thoughts. Rebecca thought that an awesome idea and the cocktail I bought her soon turned into four. Boy, that girl could drink me under the table.
At the time I sported a hipster beard and saw myself as pretty radical, and in that bar I did my best to woo her with my progressive views. I quoted radical gurus like Chomsky and Klein, not letting on that my tastes veered more towards Mailer and Bukowski. Rebecca hated Trump, the Republicans, and all they stood for, and Hilary was just as bad. “Capitalism is rotten to the core” she said.
We agreed that young people like us needed to take direct action against the corrupt, racist system that disempowers women and minorities. I didn’t tell Rebecca, but at the time I worked as a clerk at Chase Bank. Rebecca hated bankers, of course. She was a passionate supporter of gay and minority rights and prided herself on having many friends from the LGBT community. She also had numerous black and Latinos acquaintances. Even though most of my friends were white, I implied that I hung out with an equally diverse crowd.
Before we parted on the subway I had invited her to a chic Latino restaurant in Williamsburg the following night, and she had accepted.
Well, we had an awesome time at that restaurant. Rebecca wore a tight purple retro dress and was flirty as hell. Turns out she danced a bit of burlesque at an “alternative cabaret”. Boy, was she hot. I confessed to her that I worked for Chase, telling her I was just taking the money while I wrote a novel. She seemed sympathetic to my plight. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” she said, laughing, her big boobs jiggling under her dress. “I still think you’re cute Robbie”.
I took her back to my Greenpoint studio that night, and we smoked a joint watching the anti-racism riots on TV. I asked Rebecca’s permission before I touched her sexually, as men are supposed to do in this enlightened age, and she freely gave it. I fucked her on the couch, using a condom of course, and it was the best sex of my life.
“Wow, we should do this more often” she said as she rode my cock to orgasm. “Anytime baby” I groaned as I flooded the condom with sperm.
Soon Rebecca and I were dating regularly. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be with such a hot girl. She could really be the one for me, I thought. Although she dressed in a hipster manner, there was no hiding her curves and her hot ass. She was insatiable too, often needing sex two or three times a day, and I was very happy to oblige.
The next six months were the best of my life. Rebecca and I were inseparable. We’d go to museums and galleries, cheesy Broadway shows, bars and comedy clubs. I was in love with her, and was actually considering proposing marriage. The only worry I had was Rebecca’s radical friends, many of whom seemed a little cool towards me. She, of course, was very popular, especially among the guys. She’s a natural flirt, and initially I enjoyed her teasing other men, proud that she was mine.
In the circles Rebecca and I mixed in, white males had to be very progressive to be fully accepted, and I did my best to ensure that I was. We’d meet all her radical friends in the back room of a dive bar in the Village, many of whom were interracial couples. Of course, I was in favor of interracial dating. After all, isn’t the point of being liberal that you support minorities and diversity? However, I did find it a little strange that almost all the couples consisted of a white woman and a black man.
One of Rebecca’s closest friends was Lisa, a white woman aged about 30 who Rebecca called her “guru”. Lisa seemed humorless and very militant to me, reminding me a lot of that woman Rachel Dolezal. She dated exclusively black men, and often adopted a scathing tone with me and the few other white men at our bar meets. It was rumored that Lisa was a member of ANTIFA, and helped plan “swoop actions” which I understood to mean targeted beatings of white nationalists.
Like I said, I was totally cool with white women dating guys of any race. But more than once I wondered why so many of Rebecca’s radical friends seemed to prefer blacks. While they were always friendly with the girls, many of those black dudes in our social circle were rude, borderline aggressive with me. One of the guys, Dushawn, had poked me hard in the chest one night, after I spilt beer on his shoe. So hard he left a bruise.
Dushawn, I learned, worked as a personal trainer in the daytime and a night club doorman at night. He looked like he spent the rest of his time lifting weights, such was his bulky physique. Occasionally some of our crowd would hit the hip hop club where Dushawn worked, and a couple of times Rebecca went without me. She assured me that she only went to dance, and never flirted, and stupid me believed her of course.
In confidence one night, Lisa told us about a recent ANTIFA raid in Pennsylvania where the activists caught this one far-right guy and stripped him of his clothing. “He begged us not to beat him' Lisa laughed. “The guys told him they’d spare him a beating if he stripped.” Lisa then showed us photos on her cellphone of a cowering, naked white man.
Also attendance that night was Dushawn, two other heavily muscled black guys, Cap and Ja’maal, and two hot radical white NYU students Steph and Susan. I must admit, all the girls including Rebecca seemed entranced by our three black companions. The guys were all buff and gave off an aura of cool confidence, dressing more hip hop than hipster. Once, out of the corner of my eye, I’d noticed Rebecca blatantly eyeing up Dushawn and licking her lips, which made me feel uneasy.
“Typical white racist.” Lisa said, showing us more cellphone images. “No balls. They really are cowards when you corner them. They have no backbone. And guess what” she giggled. “He was tiny, you know, down there”. Lisa laughed, showing us a picture of the naked man with his penis exposed, arms held wide by unknown assailants.
Really, it was one of the few times I saw that bitch smile.
To be honest, the poor guy’s dick was just about the size of mine. But our entire group including Rebecca were laughing about the alleged racist’s humiliation and “tiny penis”.
“Just look at that shrimp dick Nazi” Lisa said.
"How can he claim that whites are superior if that's all he's packing?" giggled Susan.
“He’s hating on the world due to the size of his dick" Lisa said. "Don’t worry girls, these pics are gonna be posted online soon enough.”
In truth I found it all a little distasteful – it stank of mob justice, I thought. A lot of these white power guys are just dumb and uneducated. Did they really deserve that?
Suddenly my imagination threw up a vivid image of Rebecca dancing and flirting with Dushawn in the club. I was starting to feel jealous and a little sick. I always saw myself as fashionably slim, but was suddenly very conscious that, in stark contrast to the black men, I was short and thin with no muscle tone. The black men smiled a lot, baring white, perfect teeth which made me conscious of my capped molar and numerous fillings.
After giggling at the photos Lisa suddenly got serious. She said that white men today should recognize that they enjoy a historic privilege. That, she said, should be a context for any discussion about race and gender politics. Rebecca and the other girls nodded their heads intently, and so did I. What else could I do?
“Yeah dat's right, you can’t discuss any politics without acknowledging the existence of white privilege” Dushawn said.
Well, to be quite honest with you, I’ve always been a little uncomfortable with the concept of “white privilege”. Neither of my parents were wealthy, they rented a house in Queens and both worked to make ends meet. I received a scholarship at Cooper Union, and even then I’d had to work long, long hours at Starbucks to support my studies. Even as a liberal I wasn’t quite into all that shit.
“So what do you mean by white privilege?” Steph asked.
“White men need to right the wrongs of the past through affirmative action” Dushawn said. “They need to take responsibility for the plight of the black man, and address their subconscious racism. All white men are racist to an extent even if it’s not conscious.”
The girls all agreed, and I nodded too. I couldn’t help noticing that Rebecca seemed to be hanging on every word spoken by Dushawn while I was somewhat isolated from the conversation.
Then Lisa addressed me. “How’s life at Chase Bank?”
Inwardly I squirmed. That was supposed to be our secret. Later, Rebecca apologized, telling me the information had “slipped out” by mistake.
“Can’t complain” I said. “It’s a paycheck, after all. That’s it. I need to pay the rent while I write the novel”
“That’s fine, if you don’t have a conscience” Lisa said. “Others might consider the policies of Chase unethical, and refuse to work for them. Did you know they don’t believe in racial quotas? Are you not supportive of racial quotas Rob?”
An awkward silence followed. Rebecca frowned and crossed her sexy legs, still gazing at Dushawn. I’d noticed of late that Rebecca was dressing less hipster and more chic. That night she looked mouth wateringly hot, in tight designer jeans, black heeled boots and a T-shirt emblazoned with the word “Justice”. The shape of her big boobs was really visible through the T-shirt. She looked ravishing.
Well, luckily Lisa got a text then and no more was said, but I was conscious of Rebecca glancing first at Dushawn, then at me, the at Dushawn again, as though she was comparing us, our bodies. Her gaze remained on Dushawn, her breasts poking out at him, as though she were inviting him to gaze at them.
Looking back, that night in the bar was when things began to change between me and Rebecca. She seemed to become more scornful of me, less open. We’d been seeing each other four, five times each week, but after Lisa’s scolding of me she began to put off dates with me, saying she had a headache or was studying for her degree. Her sexual appetite was certainly lower. Knowing what I know now, I suspect my sweet Rebecca was fucking that bastard Dushawn way before she ditched my ass and saw me humiliated in public.
Let me tell you about that. It happened a couple of months later.
The night had actually started well. Rebecca and I had been for some great Indian food in the Meatpacking followed by a spot of bar hopping with Steph and Susan in the East Village. At some point in the evening Steph got a text from Cap inviting her to a private club at a property in the Bronx with an open bar that was in some way linked to Jay Z. She showed us the text, and Rebecca asked if we were all invited. Steph texted back to ask if she could bring three guests and was given the OK. I wasn’t too enthusiastic but the girls were pretty eager so I agreed to come along. We were told to wait on Bleeker for a limo to pick us up.
I guess it all seemed like fun until the moment we tumbled into the limo. There were five big black dudes already in there, including Ja’maal, Dushawn and Cap. Lisa and another girl, Carol, were also present, both wearing tight dresses and high heeled shoes. It was a bit of a squeeze. I sat on a seat between Carol and Rebecca, who sat beside Dushawn. We were all handed glasses of champagne, and the car set off with a jolt causing me to lurch against Carol awkwardly, before heading up the West Side Highway towards the Bronx.
“Welcome to da hood” Dushawn said as we crossed the East River, which roused a cheer from Carol. She seemed both horny and high.
To be honest, Jay Z connection or not, I’d been expecting the pad to be in a sketchy area like the South Bronx, but surprisingly we were soon driving through a district of fine old houses bordering the Hudson. “Wow, this neighborhood’s really nice” I said.
“That surprising to ya boy?” Cap said. “That a black man could have a crib in a nice neighborhood like dis?”
“Wha..aat?” I said, unsure if I had heard him correctly.
“Yeah” said Dushawn. ”Listen up. Turn it around, if it’d been a white boys crib no one be makin no comment bout a nice neighborhood, ain't dat right”
“Yo se dat ingrained racism ladies” Cap said. ”All da white men got it. Its da white privilege, they only see things from da white man's perspective”
“Why shouldn’t people of color live in nice neighborhoods Robbie?” Lisa said.
I had no reply. Suddenly I was reminded of being picked on by bullies at school.
“Actually Rob, you just made a racist comment.” Lisa said “Racism is racism, regardless of the context. And there’s no place for racism in our circles.”
There was a long silence, and Rebecca kind of shuffled away from me slightly, so she was kinda in the middle of me and Dushawn, as opposed to sitting close to me as she had been before
“No, I didn’t mean it like that…” I started
“Don’t worry about it boy” Dushawn said, reaching over Rebecca with his big paw and offering his hand. “Shake on it”. I held out my hand and, unbelievably, he simply crushed it. No way was it unintentional. Man it was all I could do not to yowl out loud in pain, though I did let out a suppressed yelp. He had some strength in his hands, I can tell you. I was actually flabbergasted that he was so rude and aggressive towards me, but at the same time I was at a loss for words.
For the remainder of the ride, Rebecca’s body language seemed different. She was listening intently to Dushawn talk about how “the white man” was responsible for all the woes of the world. She had kind of half turned her back to me, leaning towards him. I couldn’t seem to get her attention or get in on the conversation. When I tried to speak I was ignored,
“So Lonogo, how was Lagos ?” Lisa said, addressing one of the black guys I didn’t know. What I did know was that he was a mean-looking young African guy with big muscles and tattoos on his face.
“Not too bad baby, not too bad” Lonogo said. “I got time to party some. If you ever wanna just let your hair down and party baby Lagos da place to do it, jus let me know”
Apparently, and I never got the full story as no one bothered telling me, but Lonogo had some kind of interest in the import export business, gold and minerals from Africa, and he’d been in Lagos to check on his investments.
“Some baaaad places in Lagos though” Lonogo added. “Life, it tough out there”
Actually, just the year before I had worked on an independent documentary about the campaign to get multinationals to pay a fair wage in Nigeria,. I knew a bit about life in West Africa, including the poverty levels in Lagos. I was hesitant to speak up again, and my hand was still sore, but I thought this may be my chance to redeem myself
“You can party man but Makoko man, it’s a floating slum,“ I said. “I’m telling you, it’s just getting worse in Lagos while a few elite are getting rich. It’s awful, the conditions the poor live in. Those people are living like animals, man, while the capitalists are getting richer and richer.”
There was a silence, maybe only ten seconds, where nobody said anything but the atmosphere changed. One of the black guys made a “tcchhh” sound, clicking his tongue. The silence was broken by the other black guy who I later learned was named Shakaa.
“What do you know about it boy, you been in Lagos?” Shakaa said
“Well no but I edited the sound on a documenta…”
“So you never been there but you think we all livin like fucking ANIMALS?” Shakaa shouted. He leaned right over to me, his face inches from mine
“Actually, I’m quite offended by what you just said Robbie” Lisa said. “Animals? Really”
“You think we animals, that what you think boy??” Dushawn said. “Say dat again”.
“What kinda animals, apes?” Lonogo said. “You comparin’ us to apes boy?”
“Noooo, you’ve got it all wrong guys” I said, “I’m saying that life in that slum is..”
“WE KNOW WHAT YA SAYIN’ AN ITS OFFENSIVE AN WE DON’T WANNA HEAR NO MORE” Shakaa yelled, right in my face. There was a long silence, broken only by nervous giggles by Susan and Steph, while Lisa looked on. Rebecca looked down the floor. She appeared embarrassed.
“GOT THAT?" Shakaa yelled
“Yeah, man, whatever you say, just chill out, okay?” I said. “It’s cool, its all cool”. Suddenly I was starting to feel really, really uncomfortable. I reached for Rebecca’s hand, but she pulled it away. She turned even further away from me and wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Thankfully the ride ended soon afterwards, and we entered the house where the party was being held. It was done up like a sleazy club, lines of cocaine were on offer and all top shelf drinks were free. There weren’t many others there, just a few more guys and girls. Actually I didn’t see any other white men apart from the catering staff. Our party got drinks and sat out on a kind of balcony patio above the front door, with heat lamps. I sat next to Rebecca but she still wouldn’t take my hand or meet my gaze. In fact, she seemed to be staring intently at Dushawn, who was sitting opposite us on a two-seat lounger with his legs arrogantly spread.
“So, tell us about this African documentary Robbie” Lisa said. “What was it all about?”
I really didn’t want to go back there, and would have preferred to change the subject completely, but then Susan piped in:
“Was it about racism Rob”?
“Well, it was about how the big multinationals are exploiting the wealth..."
“How many black men worked on this film boy?” Cap asked
“Well none, it was an independent..”
“That jus’ typical” Dushawn said, cutting me off. “They exploitin' the black man further, making money from their poverty. Some call it poverty porn. I call it racism”
“No, it’s not like that…” I began "We interviewed lots of...."
“Where the FUCK did you find this clown Rebecca?” Shakaa suddenly asked my girlfriend."He a fucking JOKE man".
I couldn’t believe it. Rebecca said nothing. She just stayed silent beside me, looking at the floor. I could tell she was highly flushed and seemed embarrassed. She was wearing a tight thin pink dress and heels, her modesty protected by a formal jacket.
“He works for Chase Bank, you know Shakaa” said Lisa. “No racial quotas. Truly a product of white privilege”
“Guys” I said. “Honestly, I’m not racist, I have lots of black friends. Really”
“Typical response of a white man, thinks he’s not racist because he sometimes mingles with people of color” Cap said. “Tell me boy, how many black folks you give a mortgage to this week?”
I didn’t even work in the mortgage department, but I stuttered to find a reply. I tried to laugh it off, but to no avail. They were all staring at me, and I felt the hostility increase.
“Actually I’m feeling quite uncomfortable now” Carol said. “I don’t know him and I don't want to, but I find this man’s attitude offensive. He was infringing on my personal space in the limo, it was creepy. He smells bad too.”
“What?” I said. I couldn't believe what I had just heard.
”Actually, I’d be more comfortable if this man left,” Carol continued, addressing Cap now, placing her hand on his muscular thigh. "I don't know his name but I'm not enjoying his company one bit".
There was another silence. They were all looking at me. Then Rebecca did something shocking. She simply stood up, walked away from me to the other side of the patio and sat down on the lounger next to Dushawn. She then placed her hand on his muscular arm, and looked at me icily. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Look, you’d better go now Robbie,” said Lisa. “No one wants you here anymore.“
“Guys, listen, wait, I’ve done nothing wrong,” I almost sobbed. “Rebecca, what are you doing?”
Rebecca was still staring at me, not saying a word. Then she removed her jacket completely, revealing her hot, curvy body encased in that tight dress, and crossed her legs.
“I think you should leave now Robbie” Steph said.
“You’re not welcome here anymore boy” Dushawn then said. “Fuck off”
“Rebecca please” I said again, staring at my girlfriend, who still had her dainty hand wrapped around Dushawn’s forearm. “Tell them, I’m not a racist, Becky. Tell them I did nothing wrong”
“She don’t want you boy, can’t you see that?” Lisa said. “You’re a weak, racist white man. You’ve already been told to leave. Why are you still here?”
“Please guys, you can’t just kick me out, I’ve no got any cab fare” I said.
“Use daddy’s credit card white boy” Cab said
They started laughing at that. Funny thing is, I don’t even have a credit card, only a debit card, and I only had about 40 bucks on it. I’d actually taken out a loan to woo Rebecca.
I gave one last despairing glance at my girlfriend
“Becky, are you coming with me?” I said. She stared at me.
“It’s best if you leave alone Robbie,” Rebecca said icily.
I simply couldn’t move. I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe how I’d been suddenly expelled from the group. Once again I simply stated “but I’ve done nothing wrong”
“GET THE FUCK OUT WHITE BOY” Dushawn suddenly yelled. YOU FUCKING DEAF BOY?
The black man then strode up to me and started pulling me by the ear. I was no match for Dushawn’s physique. He simply pulled by my ear all the way to the exterior door, which was incredibly painful. When we reached the door he launched an almighty kick on my backside, making me fly out of the door. I landed on my hands and knees outside, grazing my hands badly I tried to break the fall.
Then, when I looked up. I saw my entire crowd of friends gazing at me from the patio above, including Rebecca. And get this- the women were fucking applauding. Those hot women all burst into spontaneous fucking applause at Dushawn’s brutal action
“Wooooo yeah everyone, racist free zone!” Lisa said “High Five”
Then, everyone was high-fiveing. I presume they were anyway, I wasn’t watching, I was walking away. I was scared to look back. I was scared of seeing Rebecca. Was she high-fiveing too? How could the cruel bitch desert me in such a manner?
“Well done Dushawn” I heard Lisa say as I trudged away.
“Thanks Dushawn, that’s a relief.”
That sounded like Rebecca. That bitch, I thought once again. How could she??
I didn’t call a cab. Instead I went in a local bar, washed my hands, nursed my ear and sobbed. After five beers and whiskeys I was ready to do something stupid. I’d called Rebecca numerous times but she wasn’t answering her phone. Although I was terrified of the black men, I simply couldn’t believe what Rebecca had done to me, how she had acted so callously. Why did she go and sit with him? Had she been fucking Dushawn before tonight? I still loved her but I hated her guts at the same time.
Finally I plucked up enough drunken courage to return to the house. I skirted round some forestry at back, scaled a fence and managed to get into the back yard, which had a large lawn. Lights were on in the house and music was playing, but the curtains were drawn. I crept into the garden. It was a cold night and I was shivering as I silently approached a ground floor window and peered inside through a crack in the curtain. The sight I saw, I will still remember for the rest of my life.
It was like a scene from an interracial porn movie. Steph and Susan were both kneeling on the floor, slurping on the huge cocks of Ja’maal and Cap as the two men sat on the sofa sharing a joint. The two young NYU students were both making loud "mmmm" sounds, as though they had just tasted delicious food.
Then I saw Rebecca. She was laying on another sofa to the right, still in her dress and heels, slurping on Dushawn’s massive pole as he sipped a beer. It was like an explosion went off in my head. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Becky was eagerly fellating the man who had just assaulted me.
“Yeah, da white bitches are on heat aw right” Dushawn said as Becky slurped and licked. "On heat for da superior men. Des white bitches know what dey want"
I couldn’t look. I just couldn’t take it. I turned away and vomited. After I finished, I made to leave, but some awful urge pulled me back. I gazed in once again, just in time to see my Becky sitting on the sofa and hoisting that hot dress up over her hips.
“You want this bitch?” Dushawn said, standing up and holding his massive cock.
“Oh god, please, yes” Rebecca said
“No more white boys from now on babe?” Dushawn said. "Tell me, I wanna hear it"/
“No, no, I promise, no more Rob, no more white boys” Rebecca said. “Only black men from now on, I promise. Please Dushawn, fill me up”
“Spread your legs bitch” Dushawn said, and immediately Rebecca parted her long legs revealing her shaved, dripping slit. “I’m ready now Dushawn, please” she said. The guy was massive, and he just stood over her with this huge cock. No sign of a condom.
Then I panicked. I couldn't let him fuck her. I strode away from the window and called Becky on her cellphone. It rang a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. Then I walked back to the window and I saw she was consulting her caller ID. “Its Robbie” Rebecca said to Dushawn, holding the cellphone with her legs still spread.
“Answer it” Dushawn said. “Answer it and tell him you a black man’s bitch now”
Rebecca’s voice came on the line. “Hello Robbie” she said
Becky, please, come outside and meet me” I said “I need to…”
“OOOOOOOH” Rebecca cried. I looked again through the window, and saw that Dushawn had just ploughed his thick bare cock all the way up inside her. “Oooooh god yesssss” Rebecca hissed into the phone.
“Say it, tell him, and keep saying it, don’t stop” Dushawn said
“Robbie…er.. …er I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch” Rebecca said as Dushawn began to fuck her properly.
“Carry on sayin it” Dushawn said
“I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch,” my girlfriend said as Dushawn fucked her. “I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch”
“Yeah” Dushawn said, thrusting to the hilt. “Here. Gimme the phone.”
Dushawn came on the line. “She don’t want you no more white boy” he said. “Don’t try to contact her again. If you do, I’m gonna kick your face to a fucking pulp. Stay well away ya hipster faggot”
He held the phone to Rebecca “Tell him baby” he said, as he continued to power into her.
“I’m a black man’s bitch, Robbie, I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch” Rebecca said. “I’m a black man’s bitch. OOOOOhhhh I’m a black man’s bitch. Ooooooooh I’m a black man’s bitch”
Dushawn them threw the phone to the ground and proceeded to power into her as hard and fast as he could, again and again, his physique was incredible. From the window I had a perfect view of Rebecca’s heels pointing straight in the air and she writhed and squirmed under her new man, who was fucking her harder and faster than I had ever done.
As he started filling her up, I started crying. He was ejaculating in Becky’s unprotected womb, something I had desperately wanted to do since the day I met her. I turned my back, absolutely desolated. As I started the long walk to the subway, it started to rain.
If that’s white privilege you can keep it, I thought.
They say words can never harm you but the way I was treated that night back in November mentally neutered me. The words that were spoken to me, they way I was taken down verbally, it was brutal. First the black men “took offence” at my innocent comments, and then the girls did the same. Jeez man, words can’t adequately describe the humiliation I felt. I now realize that for some people, voicing support for principles is a charade, designed to empower them and socially cripple their victims. Becky, my ex, is a prime example.
I’d first met Rebecca on the Black Lives Matter protests that shut down the FDR in Manhattan. I was immediately smitten. She was white, 26, and oh, she was hot as hell. She was wearing tight combat leggings and boots when we first met, separated from our respective friends after the police scattered the marchers. Rebecca had stumbled and I had helped her to her feet. She wore glasses, had big prominent boobs under a thin Ramones T shirt, long dark hair and a “fuck it” attitude that I immediately loved.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. “No damage done?”
“No, I’m fine, those cops don’t scare me” Rebecca said, dusting herself down. “Racist assholes”
“Wow, you’re more than a match for them, you’re fierce” I said. “My name’s Robbie, by the way, what’s yours?”
“Rebecca, but you can call me Becky,” she said. “And thanks for the compliment”
As we’d both lost our friends, I suggested we hit a bar to gather our thoughts. Rebecca thought that an awesome idea and the cocktail I bought her soon turned into four. Boy, that girl could drink me under the table.
At the time I sported a hipster beard and saw myself as pretty radical, and in that bar I did my best to woo her with my progressive views. I quoted radical gurus like Chomsky and Klein, not letting on that my tastes veered more towards Mailer and Bukowski. Rebecca hated Trump, the Republicans, and all they stood for, and Hilary was just as bad. “Capitalism is rotten to the core” she said.
We agreed that young people like us needed to take direct action against the corrupt, racist system that disempowers women and minorities. I didn’t tell Rebecca, but at the time I worked as a clerk at Chase Bank. Rebecca hated bankers, of course. She was a passionate supporter of gay and minority rights and prided herself on having many friends from the LGBT community. She also had numerous black and Latinos acquaintances. Even though most of my friends were white, I implied that I hung out with an equally diverse crowd.
Before we parted on the subway I had invited her to a chic Latino restaurant in Williamsburg the following night, and she had accepted.
Well, we had an awesome time at that restaurant. Rebecca wore a tight purple retro dress and was flirty as hell. Turns out she danced a bit of burlesque at an “alternative cabaret”. Boy, was she hot. I confessed to her that I worked for Chase, telling her I was just taking the money while I wrote a novel. She seemed sympathetic to my plight. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” she said, laughing, her big boobs jiggling under her dress. “I still think you’re cute Robbie”.
I took her back to my Greenpoint studio that night, and we smoked a joint watching the anti-racism riots on TV. I asked Rebecca’s permission before I touched her sexually, as men are supposed to do in this enlightened age, and she freely gave it. I fucked her on the couch, using a condom of course, and it was the best sex of my life.
“Wow, we should do this more often” she said as she rode my cock to orgasm. “Anytime baby” I groaned as I flooded the condom with sperm.
Soon Rebecca and I were dating regularly. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be with such a hot girl. She could really be the one for me, I thought. Although she dressed in a hipster manner, there was no hiding her curves and her hot ass. She was insatiable too, often needing sex two or three times a day, and I was very happy to oblige.
The next six months were the best of my life. Rebecca and I were inseparable. We’d go to museums and galleries, cheesy Broadway shows, bars and comedy clubs. I was in love with her, and was actually considering proposing marriage. The only worry I had was Rebecca’s radical friends, many of whom seemed a little cool towards me. She, of course, was very popular, especially among the guys. She’s a natural flirt, and initially I enjoyed her teasing other men, proud that she was mine.
In the circles Rebecca and I mixed in, white males had to be very progressive to be fully accepted, and I did my best to ensure that I was. We’d meet all her radical friends in the back room of a dive bar in the Village, many of whom were interracial couples. Of course, I was in favor of interracial dating. After all, isn’t the point of being liberal that you support minorities and diversity? However, I did find it a little strange that almost all the couples consisted of a white woman and a black man.
One of Rebecca’s closest friends was Lisa, a white woman aged about 30 who Rebecca called her “guru”. Lisa seemed humorless and very militant to me, reminding me a lot of that woman Rachel Dolezal. She dated exclusively black men, and often adopted a scathing tone with me and the few other white men at our bar meets. It was rumored that Lisa was a member of ANTIFA, and helped plan “swoop actions” which I understood to mean targeted beatings of white nationalists.
Like I said, I was totally cool with white women dating guys of any race. But more than once I wondered why so many of Rebecca’s radical friends seemed to prefer blacks. While they were always friendly with the girls, many of those black dudes in our social circle were rude, borderline aggressive with me. One of the guys, Dushawn, had poked me hard in the chest one night, after I spilt beer on his shoe. So hard he left a bruise.
Dushawn, I learned, worked as a personal trainer in the daytime and a night club doorman at night. He looked like he spent the rest of his time lifting weights, such was his bulky physique. Occasionally some of our crowd would hit the hip hop club where Dushawn worked, and a couple of times Rebecca went without me. She assured me that she only went to dance, and never flirted, and stupid me believed her of course.
In confidence one night, Lisa told us about a recent ANTIFA raid in Pennsylvania where the activists caught this one far-right guy and stripped him of his clothing. “He begged us not to beat him' Lisa laughed. “The guys told him they’d spare him a beating if he stripped.” Lisa then showed us photos on her cellphone of a cowering, naked white man.
Also attendance that night was Dushawn, two other heavily muscled black guys, Cap and Ja’maal, and two hot radical white NYU students Steph and Susan. I must admit, all the girls including Rebecca seemed entranced by our three black companions. The guys were all buff and gave off an aura of cool confidence, dressing more hip hop than hipster. Once, out of the corner of my eye, I’d noticed Rebecca blatantly eyeing up Dushawn and licking her lips, which made me feel uneasy.
“Typical white racist.” Lisa said, showing us more cellphone images. “No balls. They really are cowards when you corner them. They have no backbone. And guess what” she giggled. “He was tiny, you know, down there”. Lisa laughed, showing us a picture of the naked man with his penis exposed, arms held wide by unknown assailants.
Really, it was one of the few times I saw that bitch smile.
To be honest, the poor guy’s dick was just about the size of mine. But our entire group including Rebecca were laughing about the alleged racist’s humiliation and “tiny penis”.
“Just look at that shrimp dick Nazi” Lisa said.
"How can he claim that whites are superior if that's all he's packing?" giggled Susan.
“He’s hating on the world due to the size of his dick" Lisa said. "Don’t worry girls, these pics are gonna be posted online soon enough.”
In truth I found it all a little distasteful – it stank of mob justice, I thought. A lot of these white power guys are just dumb and uneducated. Did they really deserve that?
Suddenly my imagination threw up a vivid image of Rebecca dancing and flirting with Dushawn in the club. I was starting to feel jealous and a little sick. I always saw myself as fashionably slim, but was suddenly very conscious that, in stark contrast to the black men, I was short and thin with no muscle tone. The black men smiled a lot, baring white, perfect teeth which made me conscious of my capped molar and numerous fillings.
After giggling at the photos Lisa suddenly got serious. She said that white men today should recognize that they enjoy a historic privilege. That, she said, should be a context for any discussion about race and gender politics. Rebecca and the other girls nodded their heads intently, and so did I. What else could I do?
“Yeah dat's right, you can’t discuss any politics without acknowledging the existence of white privilege” Dushawn said.
Well, to be quite honest with you, I’ve always been a little uncomfortable with the concept of “white privilege”. Neither of my parents were wealthy, they rented a house in Queens and both worked to make ends meet. I received a scholarship at Cooper Union, and even then I’d had to work long, long hours at Starbucks to support my studies. Even as a liberal I wasn’t quite into all that shit.
“So what do you mean by white privilege?” Steph asked.
“White men need to right the wrongs of the past through affirmative action” Dushawn said. “They need to take responsibility for the plight of the black man, and address their subconscious racism. All white men are racist to an extent even if it’s not conscious.”
The girls all agreed, and I nodded too. I couldn’t help noticing that Rebecca seemed to be hanging on every word spoken by Dushawn while I was somewhat isolated from the conversation.
Then Lisa addressed me. “How’s life at Chase Bank?”
Inwardly I squirmed. That was supposed to be our secret. Later, Rebecca apologized, telling me the information had “slipped out” by mistake.
“Can’t complain” I said. “It’s a paycheck, after all. That’s it. I need to pay the rent while I write the novel”
“That’s fine, if you don’t have a conscience” Lisa said. “Others might consider the policies of Chase unethical, and refuse to work for them. Did you know they don’t believe in racial quotas? Are you not supportive of racial quotas Rob?”
An awkward silence followed. Rebecca frowned and crossed her sexy legs, still gazing at Dushawn. I’d noticed of late that Rebecca was dressing less hipster and more chic. That night she looked mouth wateringly hot, in tight designer jeans, black heeled boots and a T-shirt emblazoned with the word “Justice”. The shape of her big boobs was really visible through the T-shirt. She looked ravishing.
Well, luckily Lisa got a text then and no more was said, but I was conscious of Rebecca glancing first at Dushawn, then at me, the at Dushawn again, as though she was comparing us, our bodies. Her gaze remained on Dushawn, her breasts poking out at him, as though she were inviting him to gaze at them.
Looking back, that night in the bar was when things began to change between me and Rebecca. She seemed to become more scornful of me, less open. We’d been seeing each other four, five times each week, but after Lisa’s scolding of me she began to put off dates with me, saying she had a headache or was studying for her degree. Her sexual appetite was certainly lower. Knowing what I know now, I suspect my sweet Rebecca was fucking that bastard Dushawn way before she ditched my ass and saw me humiliated in public.
Let me tell you about that. It happened a couple of months later.
The night had actually started well. Rebecca and I had been for some great Indian food in the Meatpacking followed by a spot of bar hopping with Steph and Susan in the East Village. At some point in the evening Steph got a text from Cap inviting her to a private club at a property in the Bronx with an open bar that was in some way linked to Jay Z. She showed us the text, and Rebecca asked if we were all invited. Steph texted back to ask if she could bring three guests and was given the OK. I wasn’t too enthusiastic but the girls were pretty eager so I agreed to come along. We were told to wait on Bleeker for a limo to pick us up.
I guess it all seemed like fun until the moment we tumbled into the limo. There were five big black dudes already in there, including Ja’maal, Dushawn and Cap. Lisa and another girl, Carol, were also present, both wearing tight dresses and high heeled shoes. It was a bit of a squeeze. I sat on a seat between Carol and Rebecca, who sat beside Dushawn. We were all handed glasses of champagne, and the car set off with a jolt causing me to lurch against Carol awkwardly, before heading up the West Side Highway towards the Bronx.
“Welcome to da hood” Dushawn said as we crossed the East River, which roused a cheer from Carol. She seemed both horny and high.
To be honest, Jay Z connection or not, I’d been expecting the pad to be in a sketchy area like the South Bronx, but surprisingly we were soon driving through a district of fine old houses bordering the Hudson. “Wow, this neighborhood’s really nice” I said.
“That surprising to ya boy?” Cap said. “That a black man could have a crib in a nice neighborhood like dis?”
“Wha..aat?” I said, unsure if I had heard him correctly.
“Yeah” said Dushawn. ”Listen up. Turn it around, if it’d been a white boys crib no one be makin no comment bout a nice neighborhood, ain't dat right”
“Yo se dat ingrained racism ladies” Cap said. ”All da white men got it. Its da white privilege, they only see things from da white man's perspective”
“Why shouldn’t people of color live in nice neighborhoods Robbie?” Lisa said.
I had no reply. Suddenly I was reminded of being picked on by bullies at school.
“Actually Rob, you just made a racist comment.” Lisa said “Racism is racism, regardless of the context. And there’s no place for racism in our circles.”
There was a long silence, and Rebecca kind of shuffled away from me slightly, so she was kinda in the middle of me and Dushawn, as opposed to sitting close to me as she had been before
“No, I didn’t mean it like that…” I started
“Don’t worry about it boy” Dushawn said, reaching over Rebecca with his big paw and offering his hand. “Shake on it”. I held out my hand and, unbelievably, he simply crushed it. No way was it unintentional. Man it was all I could do not to yowl out loud in pain, though I did let out a suppressed yelp. He had some strength in his hands, I can tell you. I was actually flabbergasted that he was so rude and aggressive towards me, but at the same time I was at a loss for words.
For the remainder of the ride, Rebecca’s body language seemed different. She was listening intently to Dushawn talk about how “the white man” was responsible for all the woes of the world. She had kind of half turned her back to me, leaning towards him. I couldn’t seem to get her attention or get in on the conversation. When I tried to speak I was ignored,
“So Lonogo, how was Lagos ?” Lisa said, addressing one of the black guys I didn’t know. What I did know was that he was a mean-looking young African guy with big muscles and tattoos on his face.
“Not too bad baby, not too bad” Lonogo said. “I got time to party some. If you ever wanna just let your hair down and party baby Lagos da place to do it, jus let me know”
Apparently, and I never got the full story as no one bothered telling me, but Lonogo had some kind of interest in the import export business, gold and minerals from Africa, and he’d been in Lagos to check on his investments.
“Some baaaad places in Lagos though” Lonogo added. “Life, it tough out there”
Actually, just the year before I had worked on an independent documentary about the campaign to get multinationals to pay a fair wage in Nigeria,. I knew a bit about life in West Africa, including the poverty levels in Lagos. I was hesitant to speak up again, and my hand was still sore, but I thought this may be my chance to redeem myself
“You can party man but Makoko man, it’s a floating slum,“ I said. “I’m telling you, it’s just getting worse in Lagos while a few elite are getting rich. It’s awful, the conditions the poor live in. Those people are living like animals, man, while the capitalists are getting richer and richer.”
There was a silence, maybe only ten seconds, where nobody said anything but the atmosphere changed. One of the black guys made a “tcchhh” sound, clicking his tongue. The silence was broken by the other black guy who I later learned was named Shakaa.
“What do you know about it boy, you been in Lagos?” Shakaa said
“Well no but I edited the sound on a documenta…”
“So you never been there but you think we all livin like fucking ANIMALS?” Shakaa shouted. He leaned right over to me, his face inches from mine
“Actually, I’m quite offended by what you just said Robbie” Lisa said. “Animals? Really”
“You think we animals, that what you think boy??” Dushawn said. “Say dat again”.
“What kinda animals, apes?” Lonogo said. “You comparin’ us to apes boy?”
“Noooo, you’ve got it all wrong guys” I said, “I’m saying that life in that slum is..”
“WE KNOW WHAT YA SAYIN’ AN ITS OFFENSIVE AN WE DON’T WANNA HEAR NO MORE” Shakaa yelled, right in my face. There was a long silence, broken only by nervous giggles by Susan and Steph, while Lisa looked on. Rebecca looked down the floor. She appeared embarrassed.
“GOT THAT?" Shakaa yelled
“Yeah, man, whatever you say, just chill out, okay?” I said. “It’s cool, its all cool”. Suddenly I was starting to feel really, really uncomfortable. I reached for Rebecca’s hand, but she pulled it away. She turned even further away from me and wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Thankfully the ride ended soon afterwards, and we entered the house where the party was being held. It was done up like a sleazy club, lines of cocaine were on offer and all top shelf drinks were free. There weren’t many others there, just a few more guys and girls. Actually I didn’t see any other white men apart from the catering staff. Our party got drinks and sat out on a kind of balcony patio above the front door, with heat lamps. I sat next to Rebecca but she still wouldn’t take my hand or meet my gaze. In fact, she seemed to be staring intently at Dushawn, who was sitting opposite us on a two-seat lounger with his legs arrogantly spread.
“So, tell us about this African documentary Robbie” Lisa said. “What was it all about?”
I really didn’t want to go back there, and would have preferred to change the subject completely, but then Susan piped in:
“Was it about racism Rob”?
“Well, it was about how the big multinationals are exploiting the wealth..."
“How many black men worked on this film boy?” Cap asked
“Well none, it was an independent..”
“That jus’ typical” Dushawn said, cutting me off. “They exploitin' the black man further, making money from their poverty. Some call it poverty porn. I call it racism”
“No, it’s not like that…” I began "We interviewed lots of...."
“Where the FUCK did you find this clown Rebecca?” Shakaa suddenly asked my girlfriend."He a fucking JOKE man".
I couldn’t believe it. Rebecca said nothing. She just stayed silent beside me, looking at the floor. I could tell she was highly flushed and seemed embarrassed. She was wearing a tight thin pink dress and heels, her modesty protected by a formal jacket.
“He works for Chase Bank, you know Shakaa” said Lisa. “No racial quotas. Truly a product of white privilege”
“Guys” I said. “Honestly, I’m not racist, I have lots of black friends. Really”
“Typical response of a white man, thinks he’s not racist because he sometimes mingles with people of color” Cap said. “Tell me boy, how many black folks you give a mortgage to this week?”
I didn’t even work in the mortgage department, but I stuttered to find a reply. I tried to laugh it off, but to no avail. They were all staring at me, and I felt the hostility increase.
“Actually I’m feeling quite uncomfortable now” Carol said. “I don’t know him and I don't want to, but I find this man’s attitude offensive. He was infringing on my personal space in the limo, it was creepy. He smells bad too.”
“What?” I said. I couldn't believe what I had just heard.
”Actually, I’d be more comfortable if this man left,” Carol continued, addressing Cap now, placing her hand on his muscular thigh. "I don't know his name but I'm not enjoying his company one bit".
There was another silence. They were all looking at me. Then Rebecca did something shocking. She simply stood up, walked away from me to the other side of the patio and sat down on the lounger next to Dushawn. She then placed her hand on his muscular arm, and looked at me icily. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Look, you’d better go now Robbie,” said Lisa. “No one wants you here anymore.“
“Guys, listen, wait, I’ve done nothing wrong,” I almost sobbed. “Rebecca, what are you doing?”
Rebecca was still staring at me, not saying a word. Then she removed her jacket completely, revealing her hot, curvy body encased in that tight dress, and crossed her legs.
“I think you should leave now Robbie” Steph said.
“You’re not welcome here anymore boy” Dushawn then said. “Fuck off”
“Rebecca please” I said again, staring at my girlfriend, who still had her dainty hand wrapped around Dushawn’s forearm. “Tell them, I’m not a racist, Becky. Tell them I did nothing wrong”
“She don’t want you boy, can’t you see that?” Lisa said. “You’re a weak, racist white man. You’ve already been told to leave. Why are you still here?”
“Please guys, you can’t just kick me out, I’ve no got any cab fare” I said.
“Use daddy’s credit card white boy” Cab said
They started laughing at that. Funny thing is, I don’t even have a credit card, only a debit card, and I only had about 40 bucks on it. I’d actually taken out a loan to woo Rebecca.
I gave one last despairing glance at my girlfriend
“Becky, are you coming with me?” I said. She stared at me.
“It’s best if you leave alone Robbie,” Rebecca said icily.
I simply couldn’t move. I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe how I’d been suddenly expelled from the group. Once again I simply stated “but I’ve done nothing wrong”
“GET THE FUCK OUT WHITE BOY” Dushawn suddenly yelled. YOU FUCKING DEAF BOY?
The black man then strode up to me and started pulling me by the ear. I was no match for Dushawn’s physique. He simply pulled by my ear all the way to the exterior door, which was incredibly painful. When we reached the door he launched an almighty kick on my backside, making me fly out of the door. I landed on my hands and knees outside, grazing my hands badly I tried to break the fall.
Then, when I looked up. I saw my entire crowd of friends gazing at me from the patio above, including Rebecca. And get this- the women were fucking applauding. Those hot women all burst into spontaneous fucking applause at Dushawn’s brutal action
“Wooooo yeah everyone, racist free zone!” Lisa said “High Five”
Then, everyone was high-fiveing. I presume they were anyway, I wasn’t watching, I was walking away. I was scared to look back. I was scared of seeing Rebecca. Was she high-fiveing too? How could the cruel bitch desert me in such a manner?
“Well done Dushawn” I heard Lisa say as I trudged away.
“Thanks Dushawn, that’s a relief.”
That sounded like Rebecca. That bitch, I thought once again. How could she??
I didn’t call a cab. Instead I went in a local bar, washed my hands, nursed my ear and sobbed. After five beers and whiskeys I was ready to do something stupid. I’d called Rebecca numerous times but she wasn’t answering her phone. Although I was terrified of the black men, I simply couldn’t believe what Rebecca had done to me, how she had acted so callously. Why did she go and sit with him? Had she been fucking Dushawn before tonight? I still loved her but I hated her guts at the same time.
Finally I plucked up enough drunken courage to return to the house. I skirted round some forestry at back, scaled a fence and managed to get into the back yard, which had a large lawn. Lights were on in the house and music was playing, but the curtains were drawn. I crept into the garden. It was a cold night and I was shivering as I silently approached a ground floor window and peered inside through a crack in the curtain. The sight I saw, I will still remember for the rest of my life.
It was like a scene from an interracial porn movie. Steph and Susan were both kneeling on the floor, slurping on the huge cocks of Ja’maal and Cap as the two men sat on the sofa sharing a joint. The two young NYU students were both making loud "mmmm" sounds, as though they had just tasted delicious food.
Then I saw Rebecca. She was laying on another sofa to the right, still in her dress and heels, slurping on Dushawn’s massive pole as he sipped a beer. It was like an explosion went off in my head. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Becky was eagerly fellating the man who had just assaulted me.
“Yeah, da white bitches are on heat aw right” Dushawn said as Becky slurped and licked. "On heat for da superior men. Des white bitches know what dey want"
I couldn’t look. I just couldn’t take it. I turned away and vomited. After I finished, I made to leave, but some awful urge pulled me back. I gazed in once again, just in time to see my Becky sitting on the sofa and hoisting that hot dress up over her hips.
“You want this bitch?” Dushawn said, standing up and holding his massive cock.
“Oh god, please, yes” Rebecca said
“No more white boys from now on babe?” Dushawn said. "Tell me, I wanna hear it"/
“No, no, I promise, no more Rob, no more white boys” Rebecca said. “Only black men from now on, I promise. Please Dushawn, fill me up”
“Spread your legs bitch” Dushawn said, and immediately Rebecca parted her long legs revealing her shaved, dripping slit. “I’m ready now Dushawn, please” she said. The guy was massive, and he just stood over her with this huge cock. No sign of a condom.
Then I panicked. I couldn't let him fuck her. I strode away from the window and called Becky on her cellphone. It rang a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. Then I walked back to the window and I saw she was consulting her caller ID. “Its Robbie” Rebecca said to Dushawn, holding the cellphone with her legs still spread.
“Answer it” Dushawn said. “Answer it and tell him you a black man’s bitch now”
Rebecca’s voice came on the line. “Hello Robbie” she said
Becky, please, come outside and meet me” I said “I need to…”
“OOOOOOOH” Rebecca cried. I looked again through the window, and saw that Dushawn had just ploughed his thick bare cock all the way up inside her. “Oooooh god yesssss” Rebecca hissed into the phone.
“Say it, tell him, and keep saying it, don’t stop” Dushawn said
“Robbie…er.. …er I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch” Rebecca said as Dushawn began to fuck her properly.
“Carry on sayin it” Dushawn said
“I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch,” my girlfriend said as Dushawn fucked her. “I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch”
“Yeah” Dushawn said, thrusting to the hilt. “Here. Gimme the phone.”
Dushawn came on the line. “She don’t want you no more white boy” he said. “Don’t try to contact her again. If you do, I’m gonna kick your face to a fucking pulp. Stay well away ya hipster faggot”
He held the phone to Rebecca “Tell him baby” he said, as he continued to power into her.
“I’m a black man’s bitch, Robbie, I’m a black man’s bitch, I’m a black man’s bitch” Rebecca said. “I’m a black man’s bitch. OOOOOhhhh I’m a black man’s bitch. Ooooooooh I’m a black man’s bitch”
Dushawn them threw the phone to the ground and proceeded to power into her as hard and fast as he could, again and again, his physique was incredible. From the window I had a perfect view of Rebecca’s heels pointing straight in the air and she writhed and squirmed under her new man, who was fucking her harder and faster than I had ever done.
As he started filling her up, I started crying. He was ejaculating in Becky’s unprotected womb, something I had desperately wanted to do since the day I met her. I turned my back, absolutely desolated. As I started the long walk to the subway, it started to rain.
If that’s white privilege you can keep it, I thought.
