I no longer pretend it never happened when I see the men on the train or in passing on the streets of New York City. They are just as guilty as I am for taking part in the ceremony of the flesh that occurred inside of Mt. Morris Bath House in Harlem four years ago. I was so high at the time that I did not care about how foolish we were. Condoms? Hell no, that would have slowed them down.

The light- skinned dude with shaved head was my favorite. He came inside me three times, I think. The night was perfect. I spent two hours at the gym earlier that day and didn't eat a thing. My diet for the past two days consisted of seedless green grapes and apples. I was clean as a whistle by 11 p.m. and ready to just lay out and get done.

I started rolling twenty minutes after popping the pill and knew that it was going to be one of those nights in Harlem.It was the usual early crowd inside the musty corridors when I arrived. I have seen their faces so many times. Some of them I've had, others were just in my way... the bottoms. They were all out for the same thing I was... the closeted straight men who came to the secluded bathhouse to let out their repressed desires. That's what all the bottoms lived for, at least that's all my life was about at the time... the thugs, the rough trade, the guys with the big black and latino dicks who liked to do the fucking.

Some of them were so much in denial that they called my ass 'pussy' when they thrust hard in me. That's what I enjoyed the most. It was like a silent revenge to me when their legs quivered as I bounced down hard upon all that they had.

'Dat's it, dat's it, throw me dat pussy.'

I thought about pretty women and how good they have it in a world where it's acceptable to be openly lusted after by masculine men. But that was my night and none of the men who payed $20 to enter the baths were there for fish. When I worked out at New York Sports Club, I spent 30 minutes a day just doing squats. Craving black rods like I do takes the proper tools of the trade and thanks to my dedication to fitness, I gave all sistas a run for their money makers when it came to having a bottie-lishous backside.

I deserved what I got that night, there is no doubt about it. I only feel bad for the strangers I see on the train who I had in that rape. They have no idea that I loved every moment of it. I was only pretending that I couldn't take any more. If they only knew the blood on the white sheets meant nothing to me, perhaps they wouldn't look away and pretend that they do not know me.

It must have been a real turn- on to see the burgundy fluid on my bright white ass cheeks as they took turns. It was for many of them, the ultimate fantasy... to fuck a white boy until he bled.

I still came, numerous times simply because it was a dream for me too. There is no reason they should be afraid of me when they notice me on the train four years later. I was just as much a part of the scandal that happened inside that little room and in the open hallways of Mount Morris as they were.

I let the guy with the dread locks crack the thin wooden door and turn on the light. I could have stopped him and made him close the door but he saw that I liked it. He noticed that it turned me on to allow others watch as I took all eleven inches of him. I stood against the wall, slightly bent my knees and stuck out my ass so he could get in deep. The men were standing outside in the hallway already. We must have been making quite a commotion and that's why they were all there outside the door. He talked so loud.

'You like that do you? That's some good boy-pussy. Can you take two dicks?'

'Hell, I can take fifty,' I said. He was a little more hesitant than I was and seemed a bit nervous as the guys outside started playing with themselves. I just stood there and relaxed my insides as he went to it. I looked away from them. I didn't want them to see my face. I wanted them to wonder what the face looked like that was attached to my pretty ass.A lot of the guys who went there did time in jail. That is likely where they picked up their addiction to bootie. It was what I always wanted though... to feel like a woman with a vagina and experience the ultimate thrill of being the bitch. They made their moves slowly by rubbing themselves against my thigh as I braced myself against the wall until my friend with the dreads got his first nut.

I was rolling. I didn't care. The next guy went in easy. He was only half the size. Then the bald guy got in me too. Then he took over. By then I was on the bed, face down. I could tell when it was the bald guy. He was the best. The fit just seemed perfect. The others were just there as intermissions it seemed. I kept wanting the light- skinned dude in me again and could always tell when he was back. I never looked up from the pillow. I just took them, one after the other, but I saw their faces when they came in me. I always looked up when I felt them shoot their wad. I smiled at them one at a time. All twelve of them.



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