In a Drunken Rage


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/mt, Rape, Drunk/Drugged, Gay, Fiction, MaleDom, Humiliation, Sadistic, Interracial, Black Male, White Male, Anal Sex, .

Desc: Sex Story: WARNING- this is a story of gay forced sex, you know ass rape. It involves a young guy. It contains graphic depictions of rape. If you will be offend then don't read it. If you think you can handle it - read it by all means. If you are reading it to tell me what a terrible person I am for writing this trash - maybe it is good therapy for you, read on. I am very aware this is offensive - because - it is EXTREM. Consider yourself warned and ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.

WARNING– this is a story of gay forced sex, you know violent ass rape. Consider yourself warned and ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I sat at the back of the bar while mom flirted with the black men. She was a white woman, about 5 feet 2 inches tall. She, like me, had red hair and green eyes. She was pretty even though she was already 36 years-old. All the black men thought she still looked pretty good. She would haul me to this bar at night and I would sit in the back at a table. The bartender would keep an eye on me.

The familiar sounds of the bar filled the air. Dirty jokes, guys hitting on my mom. The TV blared out with live coverage of Monday Night Football. My mommy laughing at a joke and asking a guy to be 'generous.' She had a big top and the guys always tried to get a peek at what was there. There was some quiet, casual conversation at some of the tables, and raunchy goings on at others. The little bar was filled to the brim with black men and women. Mom worked her magic with a black man in a suit. She always said, "Shaun, a nigger in a suit is a man I can get money out of, they like white pussy. They like to brag about banging a pretty white woman and they will pay through their fucking nose for the privilege." I don't think she meant any disrespect calling them niggers. She talked about black people that way when they weren't around. She never used it if they were.

The bartender doesn't seem too concerned tonight about me. He hadn't checked on me for a long time. I watched my mommy and the big black man in the suit. She ran her hand down the front of the man's pants and smiled up at him. Then looked at the bartender and winked at him. My mommy gave him a nod when she left with the big black man in the blue suit. I just kept to myself drawing pictures on a tablet at the table located at the deserted back corner of the bar. He hasn't paid any attention to me in over an hour. It got late and no one was in there except me and a couple of black guys sitting at a table near the center. They didn't even notice my presence.

Then there was the big older black man at the far end of the bar. He kept talking to the bartender and sometimes pointed at me. He was real tall, and much older, and darker than all the other black men. He had a prickly gray beard and balding head. It didn't bother me at the time because he seemed to look right through me. The old man at the bar talking to the bartender realized I was there, but he didn't seem to see me when he looked at me. Every once in a while the bartender and he would cast me a sideway glance and whisper something. I was sure they were talking about my mommy. I was sure they were her friends so I knew I was safe.

At the time, I was very young. I was just a young, dumb 14-year-old white kid. I just was looking to relax and draw until my mommy came back. The older man kept reaching down into his jogging pants and adjusting himself. Like a baseball player but on the inside, not the outside. He would call the bartender over and whisper in the younger man's ear. He would guzzle down beer then drink a shot of dark brown liquid. Raising a hand to his face he wiped his beard with his hand. His hands were unusual the tops were dark as midnight almost purplish in color. While, the palms and underside of the fingers were pinker than anything I had ever seen. There were big bumps, called calluses, on his palms and fingers. When he looked at me, he had this hard stair that was almost mean. But it wasn't like he was looking at me, no it was like he was looking at someone on the other side of me.

The black men at the table have been here much longer than me. The men have gotten really drunk proving it with their wobbly and dizzy movements. I needed to piss, I mean, I had held it in for nearly an hour. Everybody in here's relaxed, no one would notice some white kid go to the restroom.

I set my pencil down and pushed my chair back and got up. It released a faint creak which sounded off in the room. Everyone ignored the noise. Everyone that is except for that tall, old black man who whizzed his head around to look at me. I ignored his short glare and moved towards the door to the restrooms. I felt his eyes follow me like they were burning into me. I wondered what his problem was. I didn't know what to think besides to ignore him. I pretended to not even notice him.

I pushed through the door that said restrooms. I walked down the long, narrow hallway quickly down to the men's restroom. It was one of those small and dirty toilets with one stall, a sink, and a urinal. Ignoring the lingering odor of piss, poop, and Clorox, I stood on my tippy toes at the urinal. I unbuckled my pants, unzipped and pulled them and my underwear down over my ass. Okay, the truth is my penis is sort of small. I tinkled in the urinal. Shook my pee-pee off as fast as I could and then moving back I put away my pecker and pulled up my pants.

I refastened my pants, pulled up the zipper, and turned and walked to the sink. Mindlessly I washed my hands and wondered when mommy would get back. I guess I was daydreaming staring into the water. The faint thump of footsteps outside in the hallway coming closer and closer caught my attention. Just as I turned off the water, the door creaked open and that tall, black grandpa walked in. His head scanned the restroom then his eyes dropped to mine.

I broke eye contact early. Fear rose up as my heart began to beat wildly. I grabbed a few paper towels and dried my hands quickly. The creak happened again as he closed the door. He just stood there blocking the door. His body loomed above me. His eyes were pink from all the drink he just stared at me. He seemed to be looking me up and down like a steak he was going to eat. I started breathing hard and shaking I was scared shitless.

I tossed the towels into the waist basket trying to act bravely I moved towards the door. I walked right up to him and step to his right.

"Excuse me," I tried to move past him. He threw his arm out to stop me.

"I've been watching yo little perky ass and cute face all night, white-bitch," he suddenly began.

"I'm a boy, sir." I corrected him.

"Don't talk unless I tell yo to, bitch!" He said gruffly clamping a strong hand on my small bicep. "Yo're a cunt bitch-boy is what you are. Ya know, I ain't no faggot like you are. The truth is I don't like you fucking faggots." He stuck his long pink tongue out and licked his full, thick, lips. "Ya're a damn girly looking faggot." He pulled me in front of him. He stuck his face down in my face and pulled a bottle from his pocket. It said Canadian Mist on the bottle. He turned it up and drank down most of it. Then stuck it in my face.

"Drink, all of it bitch." I don't know why but I opened my mouth just a little and he shoved the neck of the bottle back in my mouth. He upended it and drained it into my mouth. The taste was nasty and it burnt all the way down. I coughed and sputtered. He warned me if I puked it up he would kick the shit out of me. I kept it down, but it took a lot of effort. His breath was hot and nasty smelling with all the alcohol he drank.

"I especially don't like little Betty Crocker whores dumping their sissy faggot, white babies, up here when they out turning tricks like yo momma. They ain't suppose to do that shit. Suppose to keep to yo own kind, she must be a nigger lover. I don't like cracker cunt, especially nigger loving cracker cunt." He now moved in front of the door entirely. He moved his hand from my arm and touched my face gently.

"Ain't yo got the prettiest little white-bitch face? Yo long hair and that thin waist build, shit yo look just like a girl don't yo cunt?"

"If you would just, please..." I attempted to get by him. I moved toward the door. He grabbed me by the hair and roughly yanked me back. He pulled me to him my back to his front.

"Yo ass leaves when I say yo can, faggot," he growled, his voice grew even angrier. "Yo ain't twenty not by a mile yo cracker bitch. Yo looks like you twelve or somethin'. God damn it, boy, yo got a perky little ass." He reached down and squeezed my ass as he talked to me. "Just like a Buffy bitch, umm mmm. Yo know yo looks like an eleven year-old bitch to me. MMmm like busting me young white bitches wide."

He walked away from the door pushing me forward further in the restroom towering over me. He was much larger than I was. I was a just skinny kid with a feminine outline. It wasn't just him, I had been told that all my life. He stood a good foot taller than me. Turned to face him with false bravado I raised both my fist. He laughed and pulled his hand back by his head. His hand was open like he was going to back hand me. I cowered down in fear.

I was backed up to the center of the stinking nasty room. I realized what his intentions were. My heart was already racing, then it felt as if would explode. I couldn't stop what was coming next. A large, long, fat shape shown through his baggy gray pants. It was massive stretching the loose material taught. I could clearly see it was his rigid prick.

"Yo gonna learn tonight, yo white-girly faggot," He leaped forward and wrapped his hands around my shoulder and waist. He twisted me around then tossed me down like he dropped a pack of smokes. I was flat on my stomach and face in the stinking floor. His large muscled old body pressed on top of me. A rough hand wrapped itself tightly around my mouth before I could scream.

.... There is more of this story ...

The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account