The White Guy
The last white man I fucked was my husband. It was some time in 2012 and things were already strained with us. It was after that night that I told my lover and owner, Clarence, that I didn’t want to sleep with white men any longer. It felt weird. Not bad, not good. Just weird.
Scroll forward three years. I live with Clarence. I’ve slept with a lot of black men in between. Occasionally, a couple of times a year, he whores me out. Usually through his friend Rolly, who’s an actual pimp. This time though, things went a little differently. Clarence gave me the address himself and said, “One more thing. This guy is white.”
It started a fight between us. We don’t fight often and I’m not going to go into the details here. The point is, Clarence won. In the end, we both agreed that his rules, his desires were more important that my preferences.