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BLACKED IN THE OLD BLACK MAN'S STORE! SISSY WHITE BOY KELLY 2
Kelly knows what she is. A sissy white boy on hormones with a blonde wig, a mini skirt, and nothing between her legs worth mentioning. She's been going out like this for a year now - dressed up at midnight, walking through neighborhoods she doesn't belong in, looking for men who'll do something about the way she looks. She can't stop. She doesn't want to. Tonight she's going to the 24-hour laundromat six blocks from her apartment.
The one in the bad part of town. She's got a bag of clothes that need washing. I wasn't going there to do laundry. The old Black man behind the counter sees right through it. He's sixty-something with a grey beard and thick arms and he's been running this place for thirty years. He takes one look at the skinny white sissy in heels and a crop top and goes back to his newspaper. Kelly stays. She loads her machine.
She bends over at the change machine. She sits on a vibrating washer six feet from a man who won't look at her and waits for something to break."I know what you are. I ain't blind. You a white boy in a wig doing your little sissy laundry at midnight in my store.""Do your laundry and get out. I don't need this shit. I ain't into that."She doesn't leave. He puts the newspaper down. He walks to the front door.
She thinks he's kicking her out. He locks it. What happens next is raw, intense, and escalating. No romance. No tenderness. No aftercare. Just a "straight" older man and a willing sissy in a locked store at midnight. His contempt doesn't go away when the door locks. He doesn't warm up. He doesn't ask her name."You want attention that bad, white boy?"And when he's done - when he's completely, thoroughly done - he unlocks the door, sits back on his stool, picks up his newspaper, and says five words:"Get your shit and get out."Kelly walks home at midnight with her clean laundry over her shoulder and proof of what happened leaking down the inside of her legs!
The one in the bad part of town. She's got a bag of clothes that need washing. I wasn't going there to do laundry. The old Black man behind the counter sees right through it. He's sixty-something with a grey beard and thick arms and he's been running this place for thirty years. He takes one look at the skinny white sissy in heels and a crop top and goes back to his newspaper. Kelly stays. She loads her machine.
She bends over at the change machine. She sits on a vibrating washer six feet from a man who won't look at her and waits for something to break."I know what you are. I ain't blind. You a white boy in a wig doing your little sissy laundry at midnight in my store.""Do your laundry and get out. I don't need this shit. I ain't into that."She doesn't leave. He puts the newspaper down. He walks to the front door.
She thinks he's kicking her out. He locks it. What happens next is raw, intense, and escalating. No romance. No tenderness. No aftercare. Just a "straight" older man and a willing sissy in a locked store at midnight. His contempt doesn't go away when the door locks. He doesn't warm up. He doesn't ask her name."You want attention that bad, white boy?"And when he's done - when he's completely, thoroughly done - he unlocks the door, sits back on his stool, picks up his newspaper, and says five words:"Get your shit and get out."Kelly walks home at midnight with her clean laundry over her shoulder and proof of what happened leaking down the inside of her legs!
