I get out of work late, sometimes (part time, unstable schedule) anywhere from 10:30 pm - 1:30 am. I live in St Louis, (the Missouri side - not East St Louis, which is a very crime-filled place - but St Louis city proper isn't exactly crime free).
I should start with a little background - I'm 20, in college, still live with my parents, I have a boyfriend, but I am a virgin. I am saving myself for marriage. I was raised in a very conservative home.
I've written other experience stories on here about why my mind is warped the way it is - the short story is, I am obsessed with interracial porn (I'm white, and my bf is white too).
Sometimes at work - (in retail, dealing with customers all day) - I get hit on. I'm not super hot or anything, but I'm there, in front of them, and I guess that's enough. Most of the time I just let it go, but when a Black Man hits on me, especially if he is a group of his Black friends... I can't stop thinking about it. It seems that Black Men get more bold in their flirting when they are with other Black Men - at least that has been my experience.
A few months ago, a group of Black Men - none of them under 30 by the looks of them - came through my line. I don't normally wear a skirt to work, I did that day because I hadn't done laundry for a while. It wasn't a mini skirt by any means, but it was short enough that I was a little concerned that my manager might say something. She didn't. But the group of men that came through my line did. I won't repeat what they said, but it was vile.
It was slow, it was late on a Thursday night, and there were very few people in the store. The closest associate was many aisles over, the men stayed much longer than they should have, and kept asking me about what was under my skirt. Eventually, one got antsy and convinced the others to leave. But not before one of them said they'd meet me outside when I got from work. (Which wasn't long from when they came through my line.)
I was scared, to be honest. I couldn't be sure if that man was joking or not. But the worst part was, part of me hoped he wasn't.
When it was time to leave, I considered asking someone to walk me to my car, but didn't do it. Of course, I got to my car, and there was no one there. Obviously, how could they have known which car was mine? Or when I got off from work? It was all a lot of hot air.
But it really turned me on. The idea of that group of big older Black Men meeting me in my parking lot and forcing me to let them have their way with me... I couldn't let it go.
I was under a quarter of a tank - but instead of going to the gas station that was right there next to my store, I drove to a "bad part of town"... I kept driving around, hoping I'd actually run out of gas. In fact, I purposefully left my phone planning music with the screen on so the battery would die.
Honestly, I can't explain what I was doing. It's not like I really wanted to get *****. I didn't actually want my car to run out of gas and my phone to die so I'd have to walk the streets of a dangerous neighborhood until I got kidnapped. I couldn't possibly have actually wanted that to happen.
I have done that no less than 5 times since. Driving around "looking for a gas station" and passing half a dozen or more until I finally come to my senses, get gas and go home.
I wish I could stop. One day, I'm going to misjudge how far I can play with this.
I should start with a little background - I'm 20, in college, still live with my parents, I have a boyfriend, but I am a virgin. I am saving myself for marriage. I was raised in a very conservative home.
I've written other experience stories on here about why my mind is warped the way it is - the short story is, I am obsessed with interracial porn (I'm white, and my bf is white too).
Sometimes at work - (in retail, dealing with customers all day) - I get hit on. I'm not super hot or anything, but I'm there, in front of them, and I guess that's enough. Most of the time I just let it go, but when a Black Man hits on me, especially if he is a group of his Black friends... I can't stop thinking about it. It seems that Black Men get more bold in their flirting when they are with other Black Men - at least that has been my experience.
A few months ago, a group of Black Men - none of them under 30 by the looks of them - came through my line. I don't normally wear a skirt to work, I did that day because I hadn't done laundry for a while. It wasn't a mini skirt by any means, but it was short enough that I was a little concerned that my manager might say something. She didn't. But the group of men that came through my line did. I won't repeat what they said, but it was vile.
It was slow, it was late on a Thursday night, and there were very few people in the store. The closest associate was many aisles over, the men stayed much longer than they should have, and kept asking me about what was under my skirt. Eventually, one got antsy and convinced the others to leave. But not before one of them said they'd meet me outside when I got from work. (Which wasn't long from when they came through my line.)
I was scared, to be honest. I couldn't be sure if that man was joking or not. But the worst part was, part of me hoped he wasn't.
When it was time to leave, I considered asking someone to walk me to my car, but didn't do it. Of course, I got to my car, and there was no one there. Obviously, how could they have known which car was mine? Or when I got off from work? It was all a lot of hot air.
But it really turned me on. The idea of that group of big older Black Men meeting me in my parking lot and forcing me to let them have their way with me... I couldn't let it go.
I was under a quarter of a tank - but instead of going to the gas station that was right there next to my store, I drove to a "bad part of town"... I kept driving around, hoping I'd actually run out of gas. In fact, I purposefully left my phone planning music with the screen on so the battery would die.
Honestly, I can't explain what I was doing. It's not like I really wanted to get *****. I didn't actually want my car to run out of gas and my phone to die so I'd have to walk the streets of a dangerous neighborhood until I got kidnapped. I couldn't possibly have actually wanted that to happen.
I have done that no less than 5 times since. Driving around "looking for a gas station" and passing half a dozen or more until I finally come to my senses, get gas and go home.
I wish I could stop. One day, I'm going to misjudge how far I can play with this.
