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The vibe was friendly for the first few days, and then he wanted to see some pics, which I was more than willing to share.

I sent a face pic to start and he sent one back. He was a bald, rugged, bearded man with green eyes. Suffice to say the dude was really hot and definitely checked off a few boxes in the "my type" department.

We talked for a week and he eventually asked me if I had a dick pic. I sent the most recent one and waited for him to send something back. Two hours later he sends a pic, but it's not of a body part or another sexy face pic, it's a picture of him and his sister with the caption "hot pic.

He then responded with a picture of him smiling with his grandmother, saying nothing else afterwards. Two days later he messaged me to ask what I was doing. I told him I was just enjoying my day off and asked him what he had planned for the day. He then sends a picture of his spread asshole dripping with cum, a picture of him and his dog, and then a picture of him having family dinner, again saying nothing else. At this point, I wasn't even mad or upset. The dude clearly wasn't serious. That or he had a fucked up sense of humor. As funny as the whole thing was, I decided to stop communicating with him entirely.

I often wonder what a dripping asshole, playing with your dog, and eating dinner with your family could be code for, but I guess I'll ever know. He messaged me back and said he comes to Toronto for work every day and wondered if we could hook up later that evening. I told him we should drink a few beers at my place and see where it goes.

He came over around I wasn't expecting things to heat up after the weird beer comment, but after six beers we just went for it and started making out.

Before things escalated, he stopped me and said he needed to tell me something. I remember being puzzled and asking what was wrong. He told me he was into a few kinks, but didn't know how to talk about them. Fetish is always an awkward subject for people, but I assured him I wasn't easily weirded out. He looked extremely flustered and scared to say it, but after about five minutes of circling around the big confession, he sheepishly blurted out that he was into "racial play. I kind of giggled and then looked at him again. At that moment I realized he was being serious and took a deep breath because, as a black man and a human being, the whole thing had just thrown me off.

Solely based on curiosity, I asked him exactly what this type of roleplay scene would entail. It scared me to imagine where this conversation was going to go, but I still couldn't quite process what I just heard.

I've done some weird shit, but this whole thing was fucked up and I didn't understand what turned him on about it exactly. He asked me if I was mad that he was into that.

I told him no because I actually wasn't pissed at all. After having another beer he got into the finer details of how a "racial play" scene would go down. According to him, a play scene would involve me in a cage, getting choked with his dick, while he spits on me and calls me nigger a few times. He assured me that while it was a lot to handle, it was actually a pretty popular fetish. It's just something that nobody talks about. I looked at him, extremely puzzled after that statement. He stood, confident in his belief that was an acceptable thing to get off to, and it took a minute for me to figure out the best way to respond to this very unsettling fetish.

Wanting to end this interaction on a peaceful note, I told him that while I respect his honesty, the thought of a man getting off to calling me racial slurs and performing violent sex acts on me was enough to make me want to commit murder. When I said that he laughed it off, but once he saw the expression on my face, I could tell he knew it was probably in his best interest to call it a night.

After he left I Googled racial play and found a lot of crazy shit, most of which I wish I could unsee.

There are certain thoughts and images that linger in the subconscious and lead us to the fetishes we have. I think most things are fair game, but if me picking cotton gets you horny, there probably won't be a second date. We immediately hit it off and it turned into an ongoing thing. We met up for sex about twice a month for a couple of months.

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