After Pierre Fitch's racist tirade, needless to say I was pissed off. But not because I was hurt by his words. It was pissed because there comes a point when you become tired of feeling sorry for people because of their ignorance, and as often as I have addressed the issue of racism in this blog, I am really fuckin' tired.
But my trip home put a smile on my face. First, because I was proud of myself at how I handled the situation. And then second reason was a complete surprise.
I was waiting for the PATH train at 14th Street, and I saw a White guy walk through the turnstile. He looked familiar, and we kept looking at each other. He then got up and started walking further down the platform, but still looking back at me as he walked away. I stayed the distance where I was for a bit, then saw the train coming and went to stand a couple of yards away from him. So when the train door opened, we got in the same car.
He sat diagonally from me at first, then at the next stop of the train, he moved to sit on the same side as me with just 1 seat between us. This is when to my surprise I grew a pair of gigantic balls.
I made the 1st move by saying to him, "You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"
He said, "I don't know."
Remembering his name, I said it to him, and he told me I was right. I recall where I met him.
He then whispered to me, "Did we hook up?"
I told him that we did get together, but we didn't have sex. Well, not anal sex. You see, I immediately knew who I thought he was, which was a guy I met one night at Splash about 3 years ago. We talked alot, then went on the roof of his place where he started giving me a blowjob. And he was quite impressed with my remembering all that including the exact state his Southern twang came from.
This time, we did pretty much the same. We talked about what was going on in our lives, including my doing porn, which he thought was pretty hot.
After talking about other things, one subject that came up was our necessity for sex. So right there sitting in the middle of the car on the PATH train, with practically everyone else in the car sleeping, he asked me if he could touch my dick.
I told him, "Go ahead."
I had my bag sitting in my lap, so he slipped his hand underneath it and started feeling my cock through my pants. He was still so incredibly sexy, I was hard before he started feeling it. He then started working his way into my pants, then actually pulled my cock out, and started jerking it. He said he wanted me to come, so he could lick it off his fingers, but as hot a thought as that was, I knew I wouldn't. Looking back, I probably could have shot a load, if I had thought at that moment to slip my hand down the back of his pants and feel his ass. After all, if memory serves me right (as it had so far), he had an ass I wanted to bury my face, tongue, finger, and dick in. And in that exact order.
When it was time to get off the train, luckily with everyone sleep and having to wake up, no one saw how I had to slip my dick back into my pants real quick. As we rode the escalator out of the PATH station, he asked me if my cum was sweet or not,and I told him it's been a while since I tasted it.
We may very well live not too far from each other. But while I took a nearly 15 minute walk home, he took a cab, and we parted ways.
Looking at my history with this guy, as others have unrequited love, me and him have unrequited lust. We have never fucked or came when we got together from that 1st meeting 3 years ago to this one.
That adventure made me forget all about Pierre Bitch's drunken racist outburst. In fact, it counterattacked it, because it reminded me of how many White men are out there who are open-minded, therefore enough of a worthwhile existence to know that Black is just as beautiful as White. And although this guy was hoping to give me the kind of "happy ending" you can get from a massage, after a night like the one I had, the ending I got from that reminder is a happy ending that suits me fine.