The bar was empty apart from the bored bartender and a guy at a table. He called, ‘Hi gorgeous.’ She ignored him. He tried again. ‘Hi Mandy.’ ...tartled she turned, recognized him and said, ‘Hi Harris.’ ‘Buy you a drink?’ ‘Yes please. Single shot vodka on the rocks.’ ‘Kate?’ ‘I heard,’ said the bargirl. Mandy went over to Harris who rose and kissed her, flush on the lips. So she flushed. Harris went over to fetch her drink and Mandy recalled who he was, the youngest son of Rev. and Mrs Walsh,. Back to the dream---In it, I'd received a letter in the mail informing me that as a Southern white male, and who's ancestors had been confirmed slave owners, that I was to report within the next week to one of the many 'Reparation Centers' that had suddenly popped up all across the South. Mine was close by: Atlanta. The letter went on to inform me that I had been assigned the task of sucking one thousand black cocks (and swallowing each of their loads of cum), as MY contribution towards the. More

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