It Was Just A Stupid Bet
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Category: Erotica/Multicultural-Interracial Erotica
Description: It was just a bet. A stupid, stupid bet followed by the worst run of bad luck he have ever heard of in his life. Anyone knows that if you keep betting double or nothing you will eventually win, right? It's the law of probability. That's what Dale Smithson thought, but in spite of all odds he kept losing to Bass. When it came time to settle up, Smithson was in debt up to his eyes and Bass demanded payment?he wanted Smithson's little white wife. The wife, Tina, went ballistic when she heard they were in danger of losing their house so she decided to negotiate with the big black man. As it turned out, they all came out smelling like a rose, but it took a long time. First Tina had to take on six black men in a free for all gang-bang and suffer when Bass auctioned her virgin ass to the highest bidder. Things really got hot after that. So hot that Tina invited her sister to come join the action. Dale and Tina tell the story and pulls they no punches in this raw story of a "stupid bet".
eBook Publisher: Fiction4All/Black Stud,
eBookwise Release Date: May 2011
2 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [112 KB]
Reading time: 75-105 min.
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
It was just a bet. A stupid, stupid bet followed by the worst run of bad luck I have ever heard of in my life.
My name is Dale Smithson and I work for a big freight company as a loader. That is, I and the guys I work with, load the trucks. It's a damned good job and jobs are hard to find around here. We are not union, but the pay is great and the benefits are good, too. We were between loading assignments and during the lull my team and I were gathered around the TV in the break room watching a boxing match. I don't follow boxing, but most of the crew does and they were all caught up in the fight. It was a white guy and a black guy and the black guy was getting the shit beat out of him.
"Come on man," one of the black guys on my crew yelled at the screen. "Get your shit together."
That was funny. The black dude couldn't even see the other boxer. He didn't have any shit left to get together.
"Looks like your man is going down," I said laughing.
"Naw, he's just waiting for the right moment," Bass said from his seat on the couch. Bass was a huge black man and our crew leader. He answered directly to the foreman.
"Yeah right," I said. "I think the right moment has come and gone for your man...what's his name? Oh yeah Mad Dog Hays. I think somebody needs to put Mad Dog out of his misery."
"Hey man," Bass said, in his deep voice, "you don't know nothin' about fighting. Just shut the fuck up." Ordinarily I'd have shut up. Most people did when Bass told them to, but for some strange and stupid reason I didn't.
"I got twenty-five dollars that says the white boxer wins the fight," I said. I was confident that nobody would take me up on it.
"You sure you want to throw your money away like that?" Bass asked.
"I think it's a sure thing," I answered laughing.
"You're on," Bass growled. "Twenty-five bucks."
I was so surprised I almost missed what happened a few seconds later. The white boxer hit the black one with a right to the jaw. That was good, but he let his left down and the black guy nailed him with a right of his own. As far as I knew it was the only time in five rounds that the black boxer even hit the other one. The white guy hit the canvas and never even twitched. Stupid bastard was out for the count.
"That will be twenty-five bucks, Smithson," Bass said holding out a massive paw.
"I'll have to pay you payday," I stammered. "I ain't got it right now." Payday was still ten days off and I sure hoped that he was willing to wait.
"Yeah," Bass rumbled. "Payday it is."
That should have been the end of it. I pay off and learned not to bet on things I knew nothing about. But it wasn't. Next afternoon I made another bet with Bass over a basketball game. I lost that, too. Now I owed the big bastard fifty dollars.
The other guys on the loading crew were laughing at me and having a good old time.
"Hey," Bass said. "Tell you what, Smithson. I'll make it easy on you. I know you got a new little wife at home and can't afford to loose fifty bucks. Double or nothing that the next man that walks in the room won't be wearing shoes. What do you say?"
What could I say? The odds were in my favor. Hell we had to wear steal toed shoes to work on the loading docks. Nobody ever went bare footed. Son of a bitch, I lost again! The improbable happened. Sam Howell spilled something on his shoes and was carrying them when he walked into the break room. Now I owed Bass a hundred dollars.
Every day Bass would offer me a bet, double or nothing. I took every one of them because any fool knows that sooner or later you will clear the debt. It's a simple application of the law of probability. Bullshit! When payday rolled around I owed Bass sixty four hundred dollars. On what I made it might as well have been sixty four million. I was fucked.
"Hey, Bass," I said, slowly approaching him as he stood by the drink machine. "You surely don't expect me to pay you all at once do you?"
"I do expect you to pay me all of it and at one time," he said casting a mean look at me.
"Come on, Bass," I said, aware that I was whining and hating myself for it. "Cut me some slack, for pity sake."
"You made the bets," Bass said. "Pay up."
"Bullshit," I said. I was mad now. "When I have it you'll get it."
"Uh huh." he said still staring at me "I smell a renege coming on. Don't get cute with me, Smithson. I'll bust your head for you."
"Hey take it easy, Bass," I said hurriedly. I dammed sure didn't want Bass mad at me. I had enough problems. "I said I'd pay you and I will. It will just take a while to get that much money together. I just made a down payment on a house and some furniture and my savings is..."
"I don't give a shit about what you don't have." he said interrupting me. "I want to be paid and soon." He paused then said, "maybe there is a way..." He let it hang there.
"What?" I took the bait like a drowning man grasps at a rope.
"I might let you off the hook if you lined me up some prime white pussy," he said. "Not a hooker, but some suburban, married white gash. You understand me?"
"No," I said. "Where would I get some..." It hit me like a freight train. The big son of a bitch was thinking about my wife Tina. He had seen a photo of her in my locker one day. He had made several comments since then. "No fucking way, Bass! No fucking way."
"Suit yourself, Smitty," he said grinning at me. "One things for sure. You will pay me one way or another." He walked off laughing at me. I was so pissed off I couldn't think straight. I finished out the shift in a daze.