He covered my mouth with one handand shoved my chest up against the wall, banging me so hard that myRay-Bans went flying, exposing my fear-filled baby...blues. He snappedshut the door latch and put a 5" buck knife to my throat, hissing, "sh-sh-sh" menacingly. With his other hand, he fumbled with his belt, buttonand fly, and his greasy jeans slid down his legs, revealing a long, partlyhardened cock. He pointed to it, and nodded commandingly. I noddedback and knelt on the slimy, piss-sprayed floor,. In the end, he'd simply given in to it's allure; and when he had stopped fighting it, the feeling of release (and the freedom that arouse out of it) had been wonderful.The tension he felt between his public racism, and his private surrender to it's opposite, often made him suffer, but he was not yet ready to openly declare that he regretted his participation in his country's long and sad racist history. He was a Southerner! Though there were Southerners who'd rejected their regions history in. More

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