All names and characters contained herein are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either living or dead. This story is a work of fiction, a fantasy -- so read it with a grain of salt and an open mind. All characters are at least 18 years of age. Voting and feedback is greatly appreciated, especially positive feedback and frequent "fives".
Recently I saw a news story about a teenaged girl who was put through a sexual hell. As I recall, her boss at the fast food restaurant she worked at received a phone call from a so-called police officer who claimed that the employee was stealing from customers. Over the next few hours this girl was strip-searched, fondled, forced to perform oral sex on the manager's boyfriend, and was basically sexually molested until they finally let her go. The first thought in everyone's mind was "why the fuck would she let them do that to her?" All she had to do was leave the office and call the police, her parents, her boyfriend -- anyone.
What we don't know is her state of mind. For all we know, she was three months behind on her rent, her car out of gas, owed $20,000.00 on her Visa, and really, really nervous about losing her shitty dead-end job. But still, it takes a special kind of subservient person to let something like that happen. This story was dreamt up after reading about the fast food girl, hope you like it...
****
The sign on the door read "Out of Service." Fuck it, I thought, and pushed through -- I really had to piss, and no sign on the rest room door of a shitty, dingy McDougal's restaurant in urban St. Louis was going to stop me.
Flush from my recent successful sales call, I was in a take-charge, fuck the world state of mind. As I stepped through the door into the stale, antiseptic, wall-to-wall tile bathroom I almost tripped over the girl.
She was hunched over on the floor in front of the sink on her hands and knees, scrubbing the nasty tile floor with what looked like an oversized toothbrush.
"Um, scuze me suh, the bat'room is closed," she timidly squeaked, peering up at me with big brown eyes.
She was pretty in her own way, with large eyes, flawless chocolate skin, a somewhat wide mouth with big, thick, red lips. Large, square, even white teeth flashed as she softly spoke.
Her black hair was swept back from her face, caught up at the nape of her neck in a small, round bun. Plastic, colorful barrettes held stray wisps down on the sides and top of her head.
Her big eyes grew even bigger as she took in my appearance, traveling from my $590 Salvatore Ferragamo 'Nicosia' Italian loafers, across my $4,000 Ralph Lauren charcoal pin-striped suit, lingered upon my $12,000 Rolex Cellini Prince wristwatch, and settled on my craggy, handsome, caucasian face.
Quickly casting her eyes back down at the floor, she made to get up.
"Stay right there, no need to stop what you were doing on my account."
She halted her movements and furtively looked back up at me as I stepped over in front of the urinal.
Some fast food restaurant bathrooms are better than others. This one was not. The entire room was about twelve feet by ten feet, with about a third of that taken up by the stall. In most bathrooms there is at least a metal partition separating the urinal from the sink. Not this one. The urinal stuck out from the tile wall like a sore thumb, about three feet from the sink.
As I reached down and unzipped my dress slacks, I saw her looking sideways up at me out of the corner of her eye.
Something about the situation was making me hard. Some visceral, caveman part of my brain was getting off on it -- black girl on her knees, brush in her hand, dressed in her polyester brown over brown uniform.
As I fished my cock out of the flap in my trousers, through the hole in my black silk boxers, it grew in my hand. Now, I'm no John Holmes; my dick is about average in length -- about six and a half inches -- but it's thick, with a large, red flared crown and heavy purple veins running down the side.
I held myself in my right hand and exhaled deeply while I pissed for a long time. The girl tried not to be obvious, but out of my peripheral vision I could see her glancing up and to the side every few seconds.
Finishing, I shook myself and turned slightly towards her.
"Hand me one of those tissues," I demanded, pointing towards the counter over her head. I could have just leaned over slightly and reached it with my own hand, but I wanted to see how she would react.
She reached up from her knees and plucked one from the box, and with eyes cast down at the floor, held it out to me.
I took it from her and turned so I was facing her, and proceeded to wipe the excess piss from the head of my now erect cock.
Her eyes slowly moved up my legs and stopped, focused directly on my groin. She licked her thick lips, gulped, and glanced up at my face.
"Um, suh, I gonna git in trouble wit you in here doin' that..."
I leaned past her and turned the deadbolt on the door, locking it from the inside. She flinched at the sound of the loud "click".
