Friday, February 6, 2015

I Want My Vanilla To Fuck Your Chocolate, But...

I recently presented at the NYC erotica open mic event, Titillating Tongues, a poem entitled "Weapon Of Mass Seduction". It was about how some of the many compliments on my ass come not by words, but actions from some unlikely sources. Here is where you can find one previous story told on this blog based on each stanza:

3rd Guy Stanza:
There have been a number of sexscapades that had me initially thinking I would be a top, and even with my dick rock hard, I wound up being the bottom. But none were as popular as the encounter I talked about in "Prince Albert Goes Inside".

1st Guy Stanza:
When I first wrote "Weapon of Mass Seduction", I thought the only situation I was going to tell of where my ass enticed a guy enough to make them go against their own script where anal sex actually resulted was that from the 3rd verse. As it turns out, there was another. For I did get a guy claiming to be "straight" to fuck me for a bit. I told the story on this blog almost 5 years ago in "2 3-Ways, 1 Week, #1 - Straight's 1st Gay Poke".

2nd Guy Stanza:
Now, if you're wondering why I'm going so out of order in leading you to the stories that motivated each stanza of my poem, it's because there was no single story written beforehand about my ass being desired by a racist. I've only mentioned that such instances exists. Well, I'll tell of one exact such instance now.

One night I went to a bar's underwear party. I know the coat/clothes check guy, so I occasionally came by and chatted with him. While he was helping someone else, I stood back a few feet away. During that time, an initially cute White guy about my height (5'6") with brown hair and glasses walked in. Once my friend was able to help him, he started stripping into his underwear. It turns out he had a nice gym body. Now before, during, and after the time my friend was helping him, I was never looking right at him, but my peripheral vision caught this guy repeatedly looking over at me. And my peripheral vision caught him because I later realized that I was standing at a profile to his line of view. Unintentional as this standing position, it of course means that in his looks over, he saw my ass poking out. I didn't know him, so I took his glances to be those of interest.

With that in mind, shortly after, I did my usual investigating into the backroom area. Along with that was my usual rules for playing ----

 I'm here to observe sexual behavior, first. But if someone catches my eye, then I'll multi-task while playing.

And someone did catch my eye. A cute light-complexioned Latino who did not discriminate in what color of guy he played with, just as long as they were cute. He played with the White guy with glasses, as well as the Latino on one side of him, and another White guy on the other.The White guy with glasses had no problem sharing this Latino with the other light Latino and the other White guy. However, when that Latino decided he wanted me to be one of his playmates, the White guy with glasses had a fit. One like that of a pre-schooler.

He actually stormed off. Pushing people out of the way. I felt like calling Jo Frost from "Super Nanny" so she could "place him on the naughty step". The sight of it spoke tragic volumes about him, but his sense of White entitlement would never consciously see or admit it. Meanwhile, it was hysterical and ego-boosting for me. For here he is the age and race gay media & nightlife kisses the ass of and tell him that he's a sexual god. Yet, he runs like another little White faggy bitch when someone's attraction my 40-something milk chocolate skin & dark chocolate dick challenges how gay media and nightlife told him wrong. Even though his 1st look at me showed me that he already knew they were wrong.

So this Vanilla guy was interested in my chocolate for 3 possible reasons:
a) He was attracted to me, but denied himself to show it. For the racism he's been taught by either his inept racist parents, friends, media, nightlife, or some combination of the aforementioned that he is to only love and lust for white/light skin forbade him to show he had any sexual interest in me whatsoever;
b) My sex appeal threatened him. For even if he wasn't sexually attracted to me, the aforementioned racism told him that only white/light skin was beautiful. Therefore, he was beautiful. So while his natural knowledge of how all colors are beautiful is oppressed and suppressed, the mere sight of my sexy chocolate ass made that natural knowledge peek out. Making him realize that his white skin was not the only beautiful color in the bar. So as it does many White/light people, even though they will never say it out loud, scared the holy fuck out of him. Or;
c) A combination of a) and b).

Whatever the case may be, the fact is he, like too many other American males allowed racism to get in the way of his fun. And maybe, also like many other American males has allowed racism to dismiss a chance at love.
For there's a reason you see so many males sitting alone at these bars who seem ready to pounce on any good-looking guy of any color. Those are the ones who have learned. Meanwhile, there are still those American males so stuck on their sense of entitlement (in Whites) and hardships (in Blacks) that they keep their interest on the color accepted by the racist in their group. But even some of them have given me a hard gaze of interest when I'm go-go dancing at the bar. Regardless as to whether they have learned or not, their lusting for the young (or young-looking like myself) of any color has come too little, too late.

And that is what that White guy from that night, and the too many like him need to wake up and see. For that smooth youthful, white skin one favors, won't be forever. At some point, gay media, nightlife, and the community at large will discard you like the used and wrinkled paper bag that they'll say you look like. So you should check that racism now before Karma gives you that rightful bite in the ass.

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