Introduction- The following is a work of erotic fiction. I used a social political backdrop that has undertones of current events to create a scenario in which two people met under circumstances they otherwise probably never would have been exposed to. It is not meant to express any personal political views so please just read it for what it is: a story about interracial sex. Hope you enjoy.
The Reparations Act
The Reparations Act. Nobody gave it much of a thought when a few years back a small faction of people from the liberal far left started making noise about how white people should be paying reparations to black people for the years of social and racial injustices that they had endured for so long. Like what did it even mean? During the tenure of the latest republican president most of these voices were squashed as nonsense and swept under the rug by most everyone except some of the most dedicated social justice warriors. Then, after the election the democrats took over the White House as well as the house and the senate. Some of the far left ended up in positions of power and over the next year more and more the talk of reparations gained steam and even though many were against it, the ones that were for it latched on to their cause and pushed harder and harder and yelled louder and louder until it actually became an idea that people were considering, from politicians to average citizens. People protested for and against, but lobbying for legislation involving some sort of restitution to black American citizens for the suffering they had endured at the hands of white people gained enough steam and traction that eventually the day came and it became law.
The Reparations Act.
Under the new law, white American citizens over the age 21 were required to pay a 2.5% tax on their earnings. The tax was then paid out to black and some indigenous citizens that applied and were approved to receive the money. Of course, it was determined that there should be some exceptions within the law, and the interpretations of the exceptions opened up some loopholes in the law.
For example, in lieu of paying the tax due to lack of income or other circumstances, a white person could sign up for community service in which they could pay their share by performing civic duties for a black person that signed up to receive the service in forfeit of their receiving a check in the mail. Failure to abide by the new law could result in a fine or even jail time.
On February 1, 2023, the president signed the law in to effect.
For most people, their lives remained relatively unchanged. Many people were able to absorb the 2.5% deduction in their pay without much trouble. Black people started receiving checks from the government, that although were not life changing, seemed to offer validation to many that they had been wronged on so many levels, and it was now being acknowledged. This seemed all well and good but behind the scenes, things were a little different. After a while and the money ended up being more of a token of good will than a real benefit, more and more black people started signing up to receive their reparations in the form of having white people performing their community service directly to them. They wanted to see white people uncomfortable so they really could understand what is was like to be in a black person's shoes. Underground groups got together and started spreading ideas on how to exploit the system, and the law as it was written. And so, let me explain how that ended up affecting my life.
My name is Beth, and I am a white woman. I and 26 years old and am married to my white husband, John, who is considerably older than me at age 37. We met as coworkers and I've always been attracted to older men. We've been married for 3 years.
John treats me like a princess, he takes care of me and leaves me wanting nothing. We don't work for the same company anymore, we decided it was best if we didn't, but John makes considerably more money than I ever have. When the R.A. went into effect we both dutifully paid our tax and both agreed that it was a good thing, maybe me more so than John. It went on like this for a while but since my income was considered my spending money I soon started to miss the extra money. Without telling John I decided to to sign up for community service so I could keep my extra spending money for myself. I mean, what can I say, I like to shop!
The way it works is once signed up for community service, each white person is matched up with a black person who had also signed up to receive community service. It turned out, however, that black women like to shop too and they mostly wanted to keep the extra money they had been receiving. And white men were too proud to be seen as weak or unable to pay their share, with the exception of a few beta boys that actually seemed proud to perform their civic duties. So if you're keeping track, the people most often paired together were white women and black men.
I ended up being paired with a man named Rodney, who was probably in his mid 40's. He wasn't married, that I knew of anyway, and he lived in a modest house in not the best of neighborhoods. I received my orders to report to his house on a Saturday and he would let me know what my duties would be for the day.
Rodney answered the door with kind of a snarl on his face, looked me up and down and waved me inside. He was wearing a basic t-shirt and sweat pants. He was about 6 feet tall maybe 175 pounds, in pretty good shape it appeared. I came ready for work in a fitted t-shirt, leggings, and some running shoes. As I had kind of expected, Rodney wanted me to clean his house, which tidiness was obviously not his strong suit. No matter, I thought, I'll get this place spiffed up right quick. Rodney had me start with laundry, which I spent pretty much all freakin' day doing. It appeared he had been saving it up for me LOL. I was in good spirits though, doing my part I thought to myself.
Rodney didn't say much, and at the end of the day after I had finished laundry and cleaned his bedroom and bathroom, he simply said,
"So I'm gonna need you back tomorrow ok." I was pretty sure the rules were 8 hours of service per week, and I had already put in my 8 hours. But I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot so I cheerfully replied,
"Ok sounds good. See you tomorrow!"
John wasn't much too happy to hear what I had volunteered for, and when I told him I had to go back again tomorrow he was downright pissed. But tomorrow he was going golfing with his buddies anyway so it's not like we had plans or anything. I was sure he wasn't going to bring up what I was doing with his buddies however.
The next morning I went back to Rodney's house, dressed in a similar outfit. I knocked on the door but no answer. I knocked again and waited. I knocked a third time and finally heard movement in the house. Rodney answered the door in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, showing me that he was in fact in very good shape, fit and toned. Even though he was much older than John, his body put John's to shame. He also had what appeared to be an erection, though I tried avert my eyes.
"You're early" he muttered, and I just apologized even though it was after 10 o'clock in the morning. He had me start by sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor and he disappeared from the room. I swept everything up and looked around for a mop. I found a bucket but no mop, so I called into the bedroom to Rodney to see where the mop was.
"I don't have a mop," he said. "Just gonna have to use a sponge or a rag or something. PineSol is under the sink."
WTF I thought to myself and suddenly was second guessing my choice for this community service crap. But I found a sponge and set about cleaning his kitchen floor on my hands and knees.
"How degrading," I thought, but then checked myself as I thought maybe that was the point. Rodney was making sure I understood what this was about and now I was starting to get it. I re-committed myself to the process in that moment. Rodney appeared from the bedroom and sat down in a kitchen chair and just kind of watched me. He had put on a t-shirt but remained in his boxer briefs. I diverted eye contact with him but I could feel his eyes on me, and every now and then he would make a grunting sound and let out a muffled,
"Damn."
