There are things a man just cannot forget.

Things a man will remember until the last day of his life, no matter how much time passes.

The death of a loved one. The day you lost one of your limbs. The night you lost your virginity. The day your first child was born. The night you found out your wife cheated on you and that the child you spent five years raising wasn’t even yours.

Every man has one of those. I know that, because I’ve witnessed many of those moments myself.

You don’t make as long as I did without seeing at least a few of those moments. That is the price you pay for being a private eye. You end up meeting a lot of people who had those moments, and you sometimes end up witnessing someone else have those moments first on.

Not to mention when you yourself have moments like that.

A result of living life as dangerously as a private eye does.

However, you won’t hear me complain. No, John Blacksad was not the kind to complain about life and weep about how unfair it was to him. I’m not that weak.

Now, I don’t remember every single detail of my life. No one does. Well, save for those geniuses that they say will one day allow for people to take a walk on space with their rockets. People who can make twenty different calculations at the same time and recite every single word of a book they read when they were thirteen. Those guys are complete freaks, so I’m not sure if they count.

However, there are some cases that stuck with me. Some cases that were meaningful during my career as a private eye, and that I will always remember.

Those cases tended to be the worse.

However, that doesn’t mean all my memories of them are bitter and painful. Life might be garbage, but it is not a complete garbage. I did had good memories of some of my cases, like the friends I made...

That is one of the reasons why I remember the case of the Arctic Nation. Because it was how I met Weekly.

I must confess, at first I was at odds with that short weasel carrying a camera around his neck. Reporters could be troublesome sometimes, as they would go anywhere for a good story, and could get on the way of a good investigation. You won’t believe how many criminals ended up escaping just because some reporter decided it was a good idea to chase after a story.

However, I was glad to find out that Weekly was a nice guy to talk with. He was not arrogant or ambitious like most reporters. At least, he didn’t strike me as one who would stab someone just to go after a story, like some of those cut-throat paparazzi who would do anything for the fat bonus they received for having a first-page story.

And he didn’t had any problem with the color of my fur. If he had, he was considerate enough to not let it show. But I would later be sure that he had no problem with my fur. That would be one of the reasons why Weekly would end up becoming a good friend of mine and, a few years later, eventually more...

However, the [i]other[/i] weasel I met soon after proved to be the exact opposite.

That bastard had no problem in wearing his Arctic Nation uniform, which made him look like a Nazi soldier ready to report to his supreme commander. With that red band on his arm with the snowflake proudly displayed for the world to see, letting everyone who saw it know who he had decided to associate with. Showing it off as proudly as he would show his white fur if he could be naked.

As if white fur was proof of superiority over everyone else. Especially those who had black fur on most of their body.

Like me.

And, of course, the bastard came straight my way. Apparently, his pals on the Arctic Nation had gotten wind of some detective who was looking up on their business, and they didn’t like it one bit. Especially due to the fact that this detective was “colored”.

Wasn’t everyone else, though? Foxes had orange fur and retrievers had yellow. Why only those with black fur are the target?

That was one thing that, as a child, I thought didn’t make any sense. As an adult, it made a bit more chance. But very little.

It did, however, made all sense to the Arctic Nation. Including that stupid snow-colored weasel, who made sure to let me know that a “colored” should know his place, and not get into the affairs of “his betters”. He also made some not-so-veiled threats towards me, mentioning that I could make a good jacket once they were done with me, “so my colored hide would at least serve for something”.

Now, a man needs to have his limits, and I reached mine with that idiot.

I had long perfected the art to give anyone a smile that could be more threatening than the angriest expression. The fact that I was almost twice as big as that little white bastard certainly helped. One look at me from top to bottom, as I stood up from my chair and stood before him, and all of that bravado dropped off his face, as he only stared at me for a few moments, and then he turned around and left.

He did, however, cast a few glances back at me as he left. Probably memorizing my face so he could tell the Arctic Nation who to look for when they came to take me away and hang me? That was usually what groups like the Arctic Nation did, and no one stopped them. Not on that part of the country. That was why a group like the Black Claws came to form on the first place. To protect the black people of the area when the local authorities would not.

Even though, at the end, they could end up becoming as dangerous and detestable as the white supremacy groups they were trying to oppose.

And black people were still going missing and never being seen again. And those who were found turned up dead.

Just another reason why I wanted to close this case as fast as possible, and have all the proof I needed so the authorities would have no choice but to put down the Arctic Nation and arrest all of their members.

However, it was easier said than done.

Their leader turned out to be a very rich guy. Just another racist, but one with enough money to fund his stupid, bigoted ideas of a community for only “the right kind of people” to live. And charismatic enough to bring a lot of people under him who shared of his ideas, and to brainwash others into agreeing with his ideas.

And, on that area, a rich white guy had [i]way[/i] more influence than a poor black detective like me.

It was like an ant trying to fight an elephant.

But, as a guy who once brawled an actual elephant, I was more than willing to try.

I told Weekly that as both of us made our way out of that dinner and into the town, and Weekly advised me to be careful, as he did his own investigation, and he knew those guys were dangerous. Once more, he proved he had no ill-feelings towards me just because of the color of my fur. This would be one of the reasons why I would get closer to him in the future, and why he would become such an important part of my life one day. And he would be the one who would convince me to try on women lingerie...

But that’s a story for another time.

Right now, the subject here is what happened on that same night.

The night when I went back to the cheap motel room I was renting. The place where I would be staying during my time on that small town, and where I would spend most of my days when I was not going around the town trying to get more information on the case. The place where I was trying to crack this case and find a way to connect all of the disappeared black people and the other local criminal activity to the group that everyone knew was the responsible for it.

But, like I already said, it was easier said than done.

Those guys were very good covering their tracks. The fact their stupid leader was rich enough to make problems go away with money, and smart enough to keep his own name clear from anything even remotely illegal, certainly made it seems like an herculean task.

But I as determined. I planned to continue investigating this case. That was how I always did things. Once I had a case of my own, I would go until the end to see the case closed, independent on how it would eventually end. I would either see the case closed or I would die trying to.

Taking on consideration everything, the latter was actually very likely on this particular case.

I wondered if anyone would ever find my corpse...

However, I was not prepare for the turn that the whole case would take on that one night on my inn.

I hadn’t been expected anyone to come to visit me. Which was why I was surprised when, as it was close to eleven on the night, someone knocked on the door.

Naturally, I was weary. I learned to be during my cases. That was how I survived so long. As soon as someone knocked, I slowly approached the door, my pistol on my hand. I looked through the spying glass and, at first, I saw nothing. I did, however, recoiled a bit when someone knocked on the door again.

“Blacksad! Are you in there? I need to speak with you!” Said the voice on the other side of the door. A voice I knew.

I looked through the spying glass again, this time looking slightly down and, look and behold, was a familiar weasel standing on the door.

However, this was not the pleasant weasel called Weekly. No, this was the white weasel bastard, still wearing his Arctic Nation uniform for the world to see.

[i]Great, what is he doing here?[/i] Was the thought on my head, before I started to play all of the scenarios on my mind, most of them involving him having come in here at the orders of his superiors to end me.

Was he armed? Did he had a gun or a knife and was ready to use it on me as soon as I opened the door for him?

Was he there alone? Or there was someone else waiting for his signal just out of sight, ready to grab me, beat me up, handcuff me, put a sack over my head and drag me away, never to be seen again?

As I thought of the possibilities, the guy seemed to be growing impatient, as he knocked on the door once again.

“Blacksad, you awake!? Did you drink yourself into unconsciousness like coloreds usually do!?”

Okay, that guy was really getting on my nerves.

With the gun on my hand, I used the free one to unlock the door, but I kept the chain in place. I opened it just enough to take a peek outside, ready to slam it closed again at the smaller sight of a gun or of another person on hallway to help him kidnap me.

“What do you want?” I asked him, glaring at him through the opening of the door. To my surprise, his demeanor changed right after he saw my face.

He actually started being polite.

“Just want to have a word with you.” He said, looking at me with seriousness, but with a face that was very close to be friendly.

However, I knew for a fact that dropping your guard is a sure way of getting yourself killed in cases like that. I needed to keep my guard up, maintain myself vigilant and mistrusting of others.

“Is that so?” I asked him, letting it clear to him that I didn’t believed that he was there just to “have a word” with me. I wanted him to know that I was not falling for his tricks, in case he had any. I continued to look him up and down, and that was how I noticed the briefcase he was carrying on his hand as he looked up at me.

“Yes, it is so.” He said, not sounding aggressive or impatient. Just sounding like he [i]really[/i] wanted to talk to me. He continued looking up to me, and I then asked him:

“What about?”

“Can I come in?” He said, and I eyed him with mistrust.

“You got a gun?” I asked, to what he looked at me and asked back:

“Do [i]you[/i] have a gun? Oh, what I am asking? Of course you have, your kind only walks armed, don’t you?”

Okay, I had it with this guy. I was about to slam the door, when he stopped me.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” He said, and he sounded like he certainly didn’t want me to close the door on him. I kept the door open, and I looked at him. “Sorry about that.” He said, and that surprised me. I didn’t expect for that guy to apologize to [i]me[/i].

“Look, I am not armed. I am not here to kill you. Believe me.” He said, and he sounded sincere as he said that. I opened the door only ever so slightly more. I looked at him, and he repeated to me that he was not armed.

“What’s in the briefcase?” I asked him, and he looked at me in the eye and asked me if he could come inside.

“Why?”

“I don’t feel very comfortable talking out here.” He said, and he looked at the sides. “I made sure not to be followed, but you know how this goes, right, Blacksad? A man can never be too careful.”

Yeah, I knew how that went. I was being careful when talking to him.

“Just tell me what you want already.” I said to him, as I was getting tired of those little games. “Tell me or I am closing the door and ignoring you for the rest of the night. That’s why they invented earplugs, you know?”

He looked at me, and he looked at the sides, as if to see if there was anyone looking their way from around the corner, then he leaned forward, and whispered to me:

“It has to do with your investigation.”

The way he spoke it made me feel curious. My instincts told me that there was something real in there. Something that perhaps was worthy paying attention to. Call it a hunch, but I did feel that, whatever this weasel wanted to talk about, was worth listening to him.

With that in mind, I closed the door again, removed the chain from it, and then opened, ever so slightly, always keeping my gun firmly held in my hand, hidden behind my back and ready to fire if I saw any sign of the guy trying anything funny.

“Come in...” I said to him, and he walked inside. I closed the door quickly as he walked inside, not giving anyone else the chance to force the door open and charge in.

Then, I looked at him. I could not see any gun, but you never know. That was why I kept my revolver on my hand, and I was ready to point it at him in case he tried pulling a gun on me as well.

However, he didn’t try pulling a gun on me.

He just... stood there.

Looking at me.

Nearly as if transfixed.

He kept looking at me. At my shirtless, semi-naked body. He continued to stare at me, in a manner not dissimilar to how I already saw other men looking at women.

As if they were undressing them with their eyes.

This did make me look at him with a raised eyebrow. Then, as his staring only dragged for too long, and I was starting to think he would start drooling from looking at me, I decided to speak:

“Seeing anything you like?”

This seemed to snap him back to realty, as he blinked and then shook his head, before looking away. I had the distinct impression I saw him blushing.

“So, you said you had something to talk to me about?” I asked him, looking at the weasel, as he recovered, and then looked at me in the eyes, and he said:

“You are really keen on finding information about the Arctic Nation, aren’t you?”

“Well, that should be obvious.” I deadpanned. “That was why you tried to intimidate me early, isn’t it?”

The weasel looked at me, and then he said:

“You really want to go along with it? If you do, you will be putting yourself in danger. Seriously, they are talking about hanging you.”

“I am willing to take the risk.” I spoke back to him, showing that I was not afraid. “A lot of people have been going missing since they showed up. Some of them children. There are even rumors that there might be a pedophile among them. I cannot just ignore that.”

He continued to look at me, now with a raised eyebrow.

“So, you are the righteous type, aren’t you?” He asked to me. “Or, is that just the ‘community mentality’ that your kind have?”

I had a lot of answers to give to that. However, I settled for:

“The way you speak makes me think that the Arctic Nation is actually not that much into community.”

He looked back at me as I said that. Then, to my surprise, he chuckled.

“Yeah, you are not wrong.” There was a smirk on his face as he said that, but his voice was devoid of humor. “Those guys are all about creating a ‘upstanding community’, but in the end they don’t really care about each other. Everyone in there only cares about themselves and about upholding their ideology. Honestly, it is kind of annoying.”

It was my turn to look at him with surprise, what translated to a raised eyebrow. This seemed to amuse him further, as he only chuckled a bit more as he saw my expression.

“Too hard for your brain to understand?” The weasel said to him. “Let me guess, you were expecting me to be a devout follower of their teachings and philosophies about their perfect and pure community?”

I looked at him for a second, before I said:

“To tell the truth, I kind of did. You know, considering you wear that uniform of theirs with so much pride.”

He scoffed at this.

“Pride... yeah, right.” He once more didn’t seem amused by this, even though he was smirking. “This thing here is like a clown suit, if you ask me.” He was grabbing the lapel of his uniform. “Just a thing they make me parade into to amuse them and make it seem that I support their causes, when in truth I am only with them because they welcomed me.”

I looked at him for a while more, and I was starting to understand what his deal was.

“So, all of those things you said about how the Arctic Nation was right and how I was a scumbag for wanting to stand against them...”

“I say a lot of things, Blacksad.” He looked me in the eyes. “Not all of them are to be believed.”

“So, you don’t actually believe in any of their views.” I said, looking at the weasel with crossed arms.

“I didn’t say that.” He told to me, and I continued to look at him.

“Don’t take me wrong, Blacksad.” He spoke to me. “I grew up in a community of coloreds. Our family was too poor to live in a decent place. I grew up seeing your kind every day, eating the same food as you and hearing to that noise you like to call music. I actually came to like it.”

He then shrugged.

“But, when I was given the chance to live in a decent place with people like myself, I jumped at the chance. I mean, it is not like a lot of what they say is wrong. But I am only with them for the benefits. I don’t really care about their community, and I certainly am not planning to dedicate myself to them. I just need to [i]pretend[/i] that I do, and I get a house, meals, and a steady income, all a white guy should have by right. You feel me?”

Oh, I did.

I did feel something.

A wave of disgust and spite towards that pathetic excuse of a man.

“So, in the end you always look out for number one, don’t you?”

“Ain’t that the natural thing to do?” the weasel was still smirking as he said those words to me. “This is another thing I learned from growing up among your kind. Do what it takes to survive and use others to get what you want. Lie and cheat if you want to stay alive. You coloreds certainly make for good teachers for important life lessons, complete with daily beatings.”

I continued to look at him. I said nothing to any of those in return. It was clear that this guy had gone through a lot in life. Perhaps that could explain why he grew up to be this bigoted bastard who was willing to associate with a dangerous group with a radical ideology just for the benefits that came from being a member, his personal feelings about black people aside.

“You haven’t told me why you are here yet.” I said to him. “You haven’t tried to threaten me yet, so I am assuming you came in peace.”

“Yeah, you can say that.” He said to me with that smirk again. There was something about it that made me weary, but not on the way that the rest of his fellows of the Arctic Nation did. His looks were more liked that of a hungry dog looking at a piece of meat.

I received looks like that before...

“So, that begs the question...” I finally tackled the question. “What you came here for? And what is in that briefcase?”

I kept my eyes on it since the moment he walked into that bedroom, as I knew for a fact that he could be hiding a gun there, maybe even explosives.

That was not my first rodeo, after all.

“Okay, for the first question...” He said, looking at me with a smile. “I am here to help you.”

I continued to look at him, not letting any expression betray my surprise. I could not be the best at poker, but I am sure I am decent at it.

“Go on...”

“The Arctic Nation became a bit too strong for me.” He shrugged as he said those words. “They are getting more and more radical with each year, mostly because of all of those militant-type young fellas who had been joining. They are talking more about going into weapons and this is not sitting well with me. Also, there is those rumors about this pedophile who is making everyone edgy, and that is the kind of thing I prefer to avoid associating with. Also, there is the fact that a lot of the guys on the community are starting to say that I am free-loading off them and don’t pull my weight, and that I should be put to do more work and... yeah, I think it is time to jump ship while I still can.”

“And, since I am abandoning the ship...” He concluded. “I might as well put another hole in it so it will sink faster.”

I kept looking at him.

Was this guy serious?

Was he really going to abandon this community that he pledged himself to only because it became inconvenient to him?

Well, I guess that was to be expected, considering what he told me, and that confirmed to me that he was not committed to this community at all, and just associated with them for his own benefit.

None of that made me had any more respect for him, however. Quite the opposite.

“So, you will help me?” I asked, cautiously, to what he scoffed, and made a commentary about “my people’s” intelligence, what made me pull the hammer of my gun back, causing a *click* that he certainly heard.

“Okay, okay, no need to be threatening me with a bullet. I got enough of that from the coloreds of the neighborhood I grew up on.” He said to me. “The point is, I have information on the Arctic Nation that would certainly interest a guy like you. Nothing on those missing people, they keep it off the records, but there are other things in here that you certainly would [i]love[/i] to have your scrummy black fingers on. Things that would certainly damage the reputation of that ‘peaceful and morally correct community for honest and hard-working folks.”

As he said that, he lifted the briefcase he had with him, shaking it a little bit. Showing it to me as if I was a toddler who needed to be shown things with gestures to the able to understand.

“Let me see.” I said to him, as I stepped back. That was when he moved the briefcase back quickly, as if he knew, for a fact, that I was going to try to snatch it from his grasp at any second.

“I will...” He said to me. “But not in exchange for nothing. Another lesson I learned from your kind, Blacksad: if you ever have something another person wants bad, never give it to them for free.”

I looked at him, and then I sighed.

I should have expected this.

“I can get you a hundred bucks.” I said, and he chuckled.

“I gathered [i]a lot[/i] more than this on my time on the Arctic Nation. Keep your money, Blacksad, that is not what I want.”

“So?” I asked him, raising my eyebrow at him. His smirk widened.

He placed the briefcase down, and then used his foot to slide it to a corner of the room, as if he wanted to get it out of my reach. Or out of his way.

Then, he started unbuttoning his jacket, opening it and letting it slide off his shoulders and into the ground.

Then, he started unbuckling his belt.

“You can see where this is going, can’t you?” He asked me with a grin that, at that moment, I [i]really[/i] wanted to punch off his face.

“You are disgusting.” I told him as I glared down on him. To that, he said back:

“More than half of the men you see down on the city on those secret clubs?”

I could not help flinching at this, my eyes widening before I could stop it.

“You can’t go trying to poke your nose on the business of the Arctic Nation and expect them not to poke their noses on your personal life, Blacksad.” He told me. “Our benefactor is a man of resources. He got a lot of juicy information on you that most folks, black or white, would [i]certainly[/i] not look on the favorable way. Nowhere near as bad as being a pedophile, of course, but not much better, in the opinion of some.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with it.” I said to him, putting momentarily aside the fact that the Arctic Nation’s benefactor knew about my private affairs and focusing on the matter of hand.

“What can I say? I am not picky.” The weasel shrugged. “I can be turned on by a curvaceous woman with breasts as much as by a man with decent muscles. You certainly fit on that bill.”

He was eyeing me with hunger.

“Besides, I have been in quite the dry-spell lately. Blame it on the Arctic Nation for not having anyone who appeals to me... anyways, I think I will settle for you, since that’s all I could find.”

The condescending way he said that made me want to kick him out the door without any of his teeth. However, for some reason I didn’t.

“Does anyone else knows about my personal life?” I asked him. “Anyone of the Arctic Nation?”

“What, worried they might come knocking here with pitchforks?” He asked me, that infuriating smirk still on his lips as he stepped out of his pants, now standing before me only on his briefs, as white as his fur, and on his black socks, after he already removed his shirt. “They would do it anyways only because of your color, you know?”

I said nothing in return to this, and he then said:

“Don’t worry. No one other than me knows. Not even our benefactor. I managed to intercept the report from the guy he hired to investigate you before it made it to him. I have the only copy. You don’t need to worry about anyone finding out your dirty little secrets.”

He then approached me, closing the distance. As he got closer, the difference of size between me and him became even more apparent, as I stood nearly twice his size. Once more, I saw that look on his eyes.

At first, I had confused it with fear. Now, however, I could see it for what it truly was: lust.

He got turned on be me since that moment back on the cafeteria. That was probably why he decided to come see me in the first place.

“But, enough of useless chatting.” He said to me. “Do you want the information I have for you? If you don’t, just say it now, and I leave and we pretend I was never here in the first place, good luck finding anyone around those parts who is brave enough to talk to you about the Arctic Nation.”

I stood before him, and then I crossed my arms before him.

“What if I just beat you up and tossed you out while keeping the briefcase and everything in it for myself?”

It was a genuine question, and one that I think that the little guy may have overlooked. However, to that, the guy only smirked back at me.

“Then go ahead and do it.” He said, as his hand went to the waistband of his briefs. “But that would mean you would not be able to get [i]this[/i].”

He pulled the front of his underwear down, allowing his package to flop out.

And what a package it was.

That guy could be short, but I had long learned that only because a guy was not very tall, it didn’t mean that he was small down there.

And that guy was not small down there, by any means.

Just looking at it caused my asshole to clench and my mouth to water.

“How about it for ‘albeit small’, hmm? You like them big, don’t you?” He asked me, still smirking. “The investigation report on you included some nice collection of photographs of you with other men. And you were[i] always[/i] the one on your knees or bending over.”

That much was truth. I could not deny it.

What could I say?

Some guys could not help but be bottoms when it came to sex.

“And, right now, I’d like to see you on your knees.” He said to me, licking his lips. “And before you get any ideas, I am only here for the sex. Don’t expect me to give you a kiss that mouth of yours at the end. I don’t put my lips anywhere near your kind.”

The kinds of things that the guy said nearly killed my desire. But the sight of him swinging that tool of his’ at me, like he was swinging an actual piece of meat to a wild animal, was enough to make the desire stay.

Later, I would tell myself I did it for the information. That I did it only so I could have the intel I needed to be able to bring down the Arctic Nation for their crimes.

But, if that was the case, then I could have just given him some punches and thrown him out of my bedroom with only his underwear while keeping the briefcase, like I had originally threatened to do...

But I’d only think about it later. At that moment, I was too busy kneeling before him.

Even on my knees, it was obvious how much taller I was than him, as I still needed to bend over to look closely at his junk. Which was, I do admit, bigger than my own.

“Now...” He said, as he placed his hand on my head, stroking it as if he was doing it to a pet. “Don’t just stare at it. Come on, touch it, Blacksad.”

There was a condescendence on the way he said those words. As if he suddenly got an extra sense of superiority over me as I was kneeling before him...

Like a black slave before a white master.

I pushed this realization to the back of my head, because if I focused on it that would totally keep me from enjoying this at all. Instead, I only reached with my hand to cup his member, feeling how heavy it was. Especially the balls.

The guy [i]really[/i] seemed to be on a dry spell...

I rubbed and massaged his member, and soon he was leaking. His pre was sticky and I could tell it had a strong smell. His dick, in overall, had a strong smell. I could tell that the guy was not keen on hygiene.

But, I’ve had worse.

Which was why I didn’t hesitate when he asked me (more ordered me) to give it a lick.

I did make a face, as the guy clearly has not washed his dick in a couple days. However, he was certainly not as rancid and stale as some fat greasy man I was with just before coming to this part of the state. So, I just powered through it and I continued to lick his dick, from running my tongue over the body from the bottom, to pulling back the foreskin and swirling my tongue all around his dick’s head.

This certainly got a reaction from the guy, who was moaning loudly as he voiced his approval, while calling me things like “slut” and “faggot”, all coupled with a selection of racial slurs and commentaries that one would expect from a member of a white-supremacy group like the Arctic Nation.

I tried my best to ignore them, as I took the tip of the head into my mouth and started sucking on it, slowly working my way into bobbing my head across it. This always did a good job to please my lovers.

However, it seemed not to be enough for that darn racist.

“You are not doing it right, you colored whore.” He said, as he grabbed my head. I could feel his fingers gripping on my fur firmly. “You gotta use that mouth of yours better! Like THIS!”

That was all the warning I had before the asshole shoved his entire dick into my mouth.

Good thing I developed a good control over my gag-reflex from all my “experience”, otherwise I would have downright vomited from having that thing shoved down my throat like that. I am sure that would have put a dampen on the evening for both of us.

I did, however, teared up as I felt that thing invading my gullet, and I had to fight back the urge to gag or bite out of reflex, and also had to hold my breath as he held my head in place with a grip that was surprisingly strong for a guy half my size.

The guy seemed to be enjoying this. I could sweat I heard a chuckle when he heard me gurgling around his cock as I started to feel a bit airless. That was when he finally let me pull back so I could breathe.

Then, he went savage on my mouth.

He was nearly violent with his way of fucking, sending nearly his whole dick in and out of my mouth with each thrust. All the while pulling on my head’s fur like a caveman, and hurling abuse and insults at me like a true racist jackass. Saying things like how my kind knew how to use our mouths to get to thing, be it lying to get our way or sucking dick to get some favor.

I would be mad at him was I not too busy through to keep my gag-reflex under control under this rough facial breeding. And there was also the fact that he would occasionally slap me in the cheek when he was not satisfied with something.

“Use your tongue more!”

“Suck harder!”

He would say things like that and then smack his open palm on the side of my face while still thrusting his dick into my mouth.

At that point, I did have half-a-mind to just clamp my jaws around his dick and bite it out.

However, before I could, he buried his dick deep into my maw once again. I could feel his dick throbbing inside of my throat, and I knew that he was orgasming. I allowed him to do so, just kneeling there and trying to relax my throat as much as possible while letting his cum go down my esophagus. I swear I could feel a warmth on my stomach as his semen pooled in there.

He eventually pulled out, and I coughed and retched once his dick was out. A mix of saliva, pre, cum and slime from my throat leaked from my lips. The same mixture coating his dick as he looked down at me.

“Gotta give it to you, Blacksad.” He said, that shit-eating grin still on his face. “You certainly make for a really good cock-sucker. Maybe you could earn your living like that if you ever get tired of being a detective. I certainly think you look better as a whore.”

Now, a personal confession of mine: I did, once, came to [i]seriously[/i] consider make a living from servicing men. Becoming a street hooker and earn a living from pleasuring others, but I eventually gave up on it, as I decided I was not [i]that[/i] desperate for money just yet.

However, I was certainly not about to admit it to this ass.

“You nearly choked me, you idiot!” I told to him, looking up at him with anger on my eyes. He seemed not intimidated by it at all. Perhaps because he still felt a big high from his feeling of superiority due to having so thoroughly dominated the big, scary black man and used him like a cheap street whore.

“Oh, are you saying you didn’t like it?” He asked me, “Well, that little thing between your legs says otherwise.”

I looked at him for a second, before looking down, already knowing that I would see.

My dick was hard and tenting the clothes I was wearing. My erection was so obvious that I would have my face burning from embarrassment in any other situation.

What can I say? As detestable as this guy could be, he knew how to handle a submissive.

I have always liked it rough...

And that weasel seemed to like it too, because the next thing he did was step on my crotch. At least he was without his boot as he did it.

“Just look at you, all hard and needy from just having my dick in your mouth.” He said to me as he rubbed the sole of his foot over my crotch, causing me to groan as he did so. “You coloreds really are no different from wild beasts. All driven by your basic needs and wants, unable to keep decorum like the civilized people. Just a bunch of horny savages.”

It seemed that the racial talk helped this asshole get his rocks off. Perhaps this was just an extension of him exercising his need to ascertain his superiority over me just because of the fucking color of his pelt.

However, at this point, I was finding it to be somewhat tolerable, with the way he was stepping on my crotch. Not stomping, for it was not painful. He was only rubbing his foot up and down my crotch, across the outline of my hard dick, but he was applying pressure with his foot, nearly as if he wanted me to know well that he could stomp down on my dick and very much neuter me if he wanted to.

It didn’t take long for me to come. I threw my head back as I was unable to hold back my moan as I came, the warm feeling of my own seed staining my underwear spread across my crotch as I was washed by the familiar feelings of ecstasy and euphoria as my orgasm hit hard, like it always did when I was being manhandled by someone who knew what he was doing.

As it passed, I was left panting in the afterglow, as he could still feel that foot pressing on my crotch. Not painfully, but enough to make me aware it was in there even as I panted.

The weasel scoffed.

“Really nothing but a pitiful animal.” He said, pressing his foot down a little harder, now starting to get only slightly painful. “Maybe next you came come by humping my leg...”

“Fuck you...” I said to him as I panted. The next thing I felt were his fingers grasping the fur of my head and forcing me to look at him as he grinned at me with that snarling mouth.

“Wrong, colored.” He nearly growled to me. “It is [i]you[/i] I will be fucking. Get those off and get on the bed! Now!”

There was just something about when a man talks to me with such authority and dominance that just makes me want to obey him. However, it is only in sexual situations. I learned from a young age to not be a pushover.

Still, you would be excused for mistaking me for one as I obediently removed the clothes I was wearing and standing naked before the weasel. My crotch was still soaked with my own semen as I made my way in to the bed and climbed in it on all fours.

“Nice ass...” He said, running a hand over my buttocks. “Looks tight... quite firm too.” He slapped my ass-cheek as he said that, causing me to flinch. “No wonder you are so popular.”

I could practically hear the smirk on his face as he said those words. He then climbed on the bed himself. I could feel him behind me. And then I could feel his dick, hard as a diamond, in between my cheeks.

He rubbed it across my ass as he moved. He was leaning forward, placing his hands on my shoulders. The way he massaged them caused me to shiver. Then his hands ran down my arms, until they arrived on my wrists.

His fingers grabbed my wrists hard and then he pulled back. My hands were forced back, and I was put into what was nearly a wrestling hold, as he had a grip so firm on my wrists that it was almost leaving bruises.

Once more I was surprised at how a guy that small could be so strong. Another proof that you can’t judge a book by the cover.

However, in that case, the content of the book was not exactly the best.

“Coloreds like you need to be handled properly.” I said to me. “Like handling wild animals. You have to be rough to make sure you know your fucking place.”

He pulled on my wrists harder, making me groan in pain as he did so. And yet, the rough treatment I was receiving was making the blood rush back to my crotch and causing my dick to get hard once more. Especially as I felt that dick rubbing between my cheeks. He did that for nearly two minutes.

“Will you just shove your dick in my ass!?” I finally said to him, once I could no longer take the teasing. My own dick was throbbing with need, and now I [i]really[/i] needed that dick inside of me.

“Oh, an eager slut...” He said, and I could see the smirk on his muzzle as I looked at him over my shoulder. I felt his grip tightening on my wrists, and I knew what was coming when he shifted his dick and pressed the head in my ass.

“I [i]love[/i] eager sluts!”

And he shoved it in.

Just like he did with my mouth, he shoved all of it in at once. Then he pulled out and shoved again and again. The bastard totally ignored the grunts I was making as I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming.

He didn’t care if I was enjoying it or not. I mean, not that I was expecting that racist prick to care, anyways.

He just kept going, shoving his dick in and out of my ass hard. The feeling of being spread like that by such a big dick made my asshole burn, and that was the kind of thing that hurt like hell.

However, as it was usual during such occasions, the pain slowly started to subside, being replaced by a feeling that I was much more ready to welcome. My grunts of pain turned into moans of pleasure.

“Enjoying it, you black slut?” He asked, as he continued to pound at me.

My answer to that was to moan louder. And, after a few minutes, I could not help but say:

“H-harder...”

“What was that?”

I close my eyes, moaning loudly as his dick speared my sweet spot, before I said again:

“H-harder... please...”

“Oh, are you asking for more, Blacksad?” He said to me. “Are you asking for more of me? Are you asking for more of my white dick on your colored ass because it is too good, and you can’t resist it?”

I groaned, but it turned into another moan as his dick hit my sweet spot again, and I had the impression that it was on purpose this time.

I knew I had no other choice.

“Yes!” I said to him, nearly yelling, not even caring if one of the neighbors was going to hear. “Yes, I want your fucking white dick! I want it because it is the best one I’ve had in months! It is superior and better than me in every possible way just because of its fucking color! Is that what you wanted to hear!? Now please, [i]please[/i], fuck me harder! Please, I need it bad! Please, breed my black ass with your white cock!”

I was not sure if that was what the guy wanted to hear or not. I was just saying what I thought would please him, even if it meant getting along on his game.

He apparently liked it, because then he said:

“Since you asked nicely...”

It had been years since anyone fucked me that hard and that long. My rational mind lost the ability to think as this guy, as detestable as he could be, used his manhood like a true master of the art of sex. I could hardly do anything other than moan as he bred me raw and hard, shoving his dick deep into me and angling it to reach corners inside my asshole that very few other men had managed to reach before or since.

My dick throbbed and spasmed as I cummed, spilling my load on the bed, and the just continued to breed me. Then, eventually, he came, hilting inside of me. I could feel his seed filling my ass, my eyes rolling on their sockets as a breathless moan escaped from my lips, before I collapsed on the bed as he let go of my wrists.

I heard him sigh and, without any care or hesitation, he pulled his dick out of my ass.

I could feel his cum oozing out of my abused anus. I heard footsteps behind me and then rummaging as the guy searched for something on his clothes. Then I heard a metallic click.

Even on the state I was in, my heart jumped. I looked over my shoulder, half-expecting him to be pointing a gun at me, probably thanking me for having given him my ass so easily before pulling the trigger and ending me.

But, as it turns out, that metallic click was just from an old lighter with the Arctic Nation’s logo in it.

He took a drag from his cigarette as he held it to the flame, before flicking the lighter closed and blowing out the smoke.

“You gonna offer me one?” I asked him as I saw him smoking. He looked at me, before scoffing with a smirk.

“Those are expensive, Blacksad.” He said to me. “Way too good for your kind.”

I continued to look at him, scoffing myself as I did.

“Spitting on a plate you just ate from is part of how you get your kicks?” I asked, and he chuckled.

“Oh, you want to talk about spitting? I can do that to you.” He said, walking to me and climbing on the bed again, towering over me as I flipped myself on the bed. “In fact, you keep running that smart mouth of yours, and I might just spit right on your lips.”

“You do that, and I’d punch yours’.” I said to him.

“You think you can, colored?” he asked me, “Go ahead and do it. You already saw that I am strong despite being small. I will just pin you into submission and I’ll fuck your ass again, and this time I will not be as gentle.”

I continued to look at him, and I saw the way he licked his lips as he talked about fucking me again. I could see the lust that was still on his eyes. The desire.

The longing.

“The idea of fucking me pleases you, doesn’t it?” I ask him, and I could see his smile faulter just a little bit.

“You know, I could not find any clues on the Arctic Nation’s activities as I asked around the neighborhood.” I told him, “But I did hear some other things. Some rumors about some white guy who was going around that part of town. Talking to black women. Offering them money if they allowed him into their houses. A guy who they said was ‘short, but surprisingly strong’.”

His smile was vanishing as I continued.

“You better stop talking now.” He warned me. However, I continued.

“You said you are not picky, but I think you lied about it. I think you have a [i]type[/i].” I said, looking as his smile vanished completely and was replaced by a frown. “You said that no one on the Arctic Nation appealed to you. Could it be because they were not the right color?”

“Shut it, Blacksad.” He said, and now that sounded less like a warning and more like a downright threat. However, I was never the type who allowed myself to be intimidated to easily, not even by a guy who was literally towering over me while I was naked in a bed.

“Can you even get aroused if the person you are with is not black?”

Suddenly, his other hand shot forward, grabbing my jaw and squeezing painfully. His face was very close to mine now, and I could smell the smoke of the cigarette on his breath as he spoke.

“You know, that is one thing that always infuriate me about your coloreds...” He then brought his other hand, holding the incandescent tip of the cigarette before close to my lips. “The fact that you think you can run those mouths of yours and say whatever you want if no one comes to teach you your place.”

For a moment, I thought he was going to force my mouth open and press that burning tip on my tongue. If he did, I was ready to give him a punch right on the throat.

However, he instead just put out the cigarette on the ashtray by the nightstand.

“You coloreds should be using those mouths of yours for better things.” He said to me.

“You mean, like sucking white dicks?” I asked, looking at him with disdain. To that, he said:

“Like kissing.”

I looked at him in silence for a second.

“Didn’t you said you don’t kiss ‘my kind’?”

To that question, he only more smiled. An angry, snarling, almost predatory smile.

“Like I told you, Blacksad...” His hand left my jaw, but quickly moved to the back of my head.

“I say a lot of things.”

And he pulled me into a kiss.

This was not a romantic kiss, but a forceful, nearly angry one. He pressed his lips into mine and forced his tongue inside of my mouth as if he was trying to claim it as his property.

As if he was trying to claim [i]me[/i] as his property.

There was not a shred of love on that kiss, that much I can tell you.

But still, that kiss was enough to get both of us aroused again. Soon, we were at it again.

Then again.

And again.

That bastard was a machine! He just kept going and going, and he made sure to breed me in every way he could, and to let me know that he was the one in charge.

He kept calling me “his black slut”, and that was the nicest thing he called me that night.

He fucked my mouth, and then he fucked my ass, and then he went back to my mouth. He slapped my cheeks, both from my face and from my ass, as he fucked me.

In one moment, he was pressing me against the wall, a hand on the back of my neck and keeping me pinned there as he railed me hard. At another, he had me on all fours, and he kept slapping my ass while ordering me to “beg better”, what I, drunk from pleasure as I was, did. Then, he would make me lay on the bed and he would shove his dick in my mouth, looking down at me and seeing the bulge of his dick as he shoved it up my throat and made me choke on it. Then he climbed on the bed with me, holding my legs above my head as he shoved his dick in and out of my asshole like there was no tomorrow. Then I would be back on being against the wall, but this time sitting on the ground and my back pressed on it as he fucked my mouth hard, making the back of my skull bang against the wall.

I swear, I have no idea how anyone didn’t hear that.

We kept going for hours. Last time I checked the clock, right before I passed out from exhaustion after being driven to my sixth orgasm, it was three a.m., and I could tell that he was still going on hard and strong by the time I lost my senses.

I woke up later, with the sound of knocking on my door. It was the cleaning maiden, coming to check on me and clean the room. She would certainly be in for a shock when she came inside and found out that the room smelled like an orgy had happened there.

My asshole felt sore, and my jaw was aching. I concluded that the bastard must have kept fucking me even after I fainted. He did, however, covered me with the blanket before leaving.

And he left the brief case.

Inside of it, like he promised, were documents. Documents that gave a very clear idea of the kinds of illegal activities that the Arctic Nation was involved in. The kind of hard evidence that even that state’s racist police could not just brush off.

The whole community was dismantled before the weekend. Nearly everyone of the higher circles of the community was arrested.

Except for a guy who was killed by the very members of the Arctic Nation under suspicion of being the pedophile. Later I would find out that it was his wife, in truth his own daughter, who arranged for him to be killed by the very same white supremacist group that he dedicated his life to.

Oldmills, the benefactor of the entire Arctic Nation, was not arrested. Expecting for a rich white heir like him to go to jail would be way too much. But, once I leaked some of the information I got from those documents to me new friend Weekly (as an anonymous source, of course), the rumors born from the subsequent headlines and first-page news greatly affected his reputation and businesses.

All in all, it seemed that it was an open and shut case that was over, and I could go back home.

However, there was one thing: the white weasel was never arrested.

Guess he really did bail before the heat could get to him.

I am glad that he did.

Now, don’t take me wrong, I detested that guy from the moment I met him.

He was a conniving coward who was willing to associate with a dangerous group only for the advantages they offered him. He was a rat who would not hesitate to betray said group (and possibly anyone else, for that matter) if he thought there were good enough reasons for it. He was a fucking racist who hated black people, and who probably hated himself for being attracted to black people.

But he was also one of the most passionate lovers I ever knew, and he gave me, on that one night, on that dirty bedroom of that dingy motel, one of the greatest nights of my life, of which I will remember until the day I day.

And, to this very day, I still don’t even know his name...