This was an assignment that I submitted for class. (Yes, I got to write erotica for class, it's awesome). As usual disclaimers, this is an erotic story between two males, do not read if you do not like. Also, this is my writing and the only place that this is posted is here, on Nifty, and one paper copy for my prof. I'd also like to dedicate this to all people who read this. cackles Comments and love appreciated. Flames even more appreciated for academic study and laughs.
The bar owner of Yellow Fever stepped out on the stage in the slightly cramped quarters of the bar as he introduced the night's entertainment.
"And introducing, Phuc Yu!" the bar owner announced as he parted the sequin-covered curtain.
Phuc Yu fit the bill of the tastes of the all-white audience. He was a petit man/boy with delicate, elfin features, perfectly straight, coifed black hair, dark, slanted, almond eyes, dusky, tan, clean, hairless skin, and only was wearing a tiny little black g-string and a coolie hat. He was smiling brightly at the audience. He just radiated innocence and naivety.
The bar owner now acting as MC said, "Phuc Yu was an orphan that I took under my wing and taught the Trade. He knows how to serve a man very well. Using his innate ancient skills passed from generation to the next, he will make you melt with his magical hands. He loves cooking and cleaning. But what he loves the most is being fucked up his tight little ass by a big, strong, white man. But why doesn't he show you?"
Phuc Yu lowered his gaze demurely and spoke with a thick, oriental accent, "I like perform for you. Let you see my body and take enjoy it. I make you feel comfortable in this establishment." The last word, Phuc slurred as if he hadn't mastered English as of yet.
An oriental soundtrack started up. (Who knows or cares what kind it was?) Phuc took his coolie hat off and daintily placed it on the stage. He moved fluidly to the music in the ancient dance of his People. Phuc moved fluidly around the stage as well as a pretty geisha wearing a kimono. His body became a piece of art as he stopped momentarily in delicate poses that seemed to touch the edges of conscious recognition. As Phuc danced, he held his hands in graceful gestures in that way geishas (1) did. All the while, he smiled brightly at the men in the audience as he conveyed the ancient, exotic beauty of his foreign culture. As the last notes of the warbling sitar (2) ghosted through the room, Phuc froze in a flower-like pose gazing into the space above the audience.
Suddenly, the music changed to a club number. Probably some remix of Cher. Phuc's attitude changed as he sprung into action. His hands were running and pinching dusky nipples. His gaze was impassive as he gyrated his hips to the beat. His body was quite lithe as the audience saw, muscles undulating under his skin. Phuc's hands ran down his sides and started toying with the top of the black g-string he wore. Still smiling, he revealed a bit of skin, only to cover it back up once more. As he shimmied to the music, he teased the audience showing a bit of skin, only to cover it back up again. But each time he revealed skin, a bit more was revealed. Finally, he pulled the g-string down revealing his rather small penis. Still soft, and uncut, it was nestled against his hairless crotch. Phuc stepped out of the g-string with the same grace he possessed in the previous dance. He was baring it all. Phuc turned around and slowly bent over from the hips. His hole winked at the audience tantalizingly, but he was standing up once more far sooner than any of the men would have wanted. The music changed to another song as Phuc followed the beat...
Phuc danced to a couple more numbers. During that time, he had gone into the audience and had given a few men lap dances, and gave a couple a sensual caress. One of the men in particular was watching Phuc with more purpose.
John Johnson wouldn't have stood out in a crowd. He looked like your average professional. As everyone else at Yellow Fever who wasn't entertainment, John was white. Blonde hair, blue eyes, but looked really ordinary. He didn't do much with his hair, and didn't have the genetics to look really "masculine", but neither was he terribly effeminate. In fact, he could have easily passed as straight.
As the next performer came on stage (Toshi Lee), Phuc went to search for payment. The bar owner paid him a small sum for the performance, but Phuc needed to sell his "services" if he wanted to put food on the table. Phuc went around demurely chatting with one men, and rubbing the back of the next on request. When Phuc reached John, John grabbed Phuc by his slender hips and pulled him close.
"I know that you want to please a real man. How about you come home with me tonight and I'll show you what a real man can do," John growled.
Phuc smile plastered onto his face answered, "Eighty dolla sucky fucky, okay?"
John paused for a moment to think, pursing his lips, then said, "Sure, come with me."
Phuc excused himself to get dressed in his street clothes, and followed John out of Yellow Fever to the parking lot out back. Phuc was hoping that the man would also drive him close to his home after he was done. Also was hoping that the man would insist on using a condom. He didn't like risking his health, but did what he had to do.
Wordlessly, John took his keys out, unlocked the doors of his car, and got in. Phuc followed suit and got in the passenger seat. And then they were off.
"Sir, what may I call you," Phuc asked politely.
"John," was all John said as he drove. He barely even acknowledged that Phuc was in the car.
They reached one of the suburbs. John lived in an expensive looking apartment. The security buzzed them in and John drove into the underground parking lot. As they waited in the elevator, John was watching Phuc intensely. He wanted to rip the sweater and jeans off Phuc to reveal all that smooth, clean, skin. Those clothes were rather unbecoming.
John didn't a lay a hand on Phuc, and Phuc didn't dare make the first move all the way up the elevator. But once they were inside John's apartment did things start to happen. Phuc didn't have the chance to see more than a glance before John practically attacked him. Phuc found himself pinned up against the door by John's larger body.
"Pretty little thing you are. Boy, how long have you been in Canada for?" John asked as he attacked Phuc's neck.
Phuc moaned softly latching his arms around John's back, and said, "Came here year ago, Canada really good. Can be gay here."
"Yeah, Canada is really great. Bet you can't be gay in Asia. But how did you get here, did the bar owner sneak you into the country?" John said as he rolled Phuc's sweater and the shirt under it up revealing the taunt tan skin underneath.
John clearly didn't believe that there was no such thing as gay (let alone lesbians, bi, and trans folk) in anywhere outside of North America and Europe...
"N-no, I came on own, as refugee from -"
"Don't care, take your clothes off for me," John interrupted stepping back.
Phuc was slightly miffed, but did as he was told. He pulled his sweater clear off his head which was soon followed by his jeans and the g-string he wore at Yellow Fever around his ankles.
John drank in Phuc's smooth, boyish features once more. He smirked wickedly and walked further into his apartment. "Get over here, onto the bed."
Phuc followed obediently. He took the time to quickly take in his surroundings. The place wasn't very well furnished, but it was liveable. John clearly wasn't the type to spend a lot of his time and money on interior design. John's bedroom had a couple pieces of discarded clothes lying around, but it wasn't too messy. Of course, the double bed caught his attention.
John was stripping as well. Off came the suit (and then hung against a chair to be folded later) and the underwear. Phuc glanced over John's body feigning surprise and wonder. John wasn't as hairy as Yellow Fever's bar owner, but John's body had a light covering of dark blonde hairs on his arms, legs, crotch, armpits, and chest. John was already hard, and according to Phuc's experiences, John was pretty average sticking out the socially acceptable requisite 6 inches.
John was staring at Phuc expectantly, almost imperiously. "Get on the bed and spread those legs," he commanded.
Phuc did as he was told and jumped on the top sheets. John went to the bedside table and took out a tube of lubricant. Phuc spotted it and asked, "Condom?"
John gave Phuc a hard look and took a condom out as well. He got up and stood in at the base of the bed staring down at Phuc. John said unbeknownstly recreating neo-colonialist attitudes, "Play with that small egg roll of yours."
Phuc felt that moment of unease from the food imagery, but did as he was told and started stroking his dick. He tried to think sexy thoughts. Mostly thoughts of getting a chance to top someone.
John's lips turned up in a small smirk as he chuckled. "What are you thinking of? My big, white dick parting your pussy lips?" "Y-yes, please, put it in," Phuc answered pitching his voice higher and moaned softly. He spread his legs out and up revealing his ass. He played with the tight little hole with his fingers wantonly.
John just chuckled as he batted Phuc's hands away. He replaced them with his own fingers toying with the tight little hole. Phuc moaned convincingly and pushed against the fingers. John teased the opening momentarily before removing his hands. He grabbed the lube, slicked his fingers, and returned them to Phuc's ass. This time, he pushed his first two fingers past Phuc's tight sphincter.
"So tight, bet you get a lot of business with this boy pussy. Was that how you got past the immigration officers? Did you bend over and offer your pussy to them? Naughty boy," John said huskily as he slid his index and middle finger in and out of Phuc's hole.
Phuc didn't voice his disapproval. He needed to get paid, so he shut up and endured the presumptions this john (who was amusingly named John) was making of him.
John deemed Phuc was ready for him (not really) and pulled his fingers out. He wiped them on the bed sheets and leaned forward to lick Phuc's dick to distract the boy from what he was doing. He had poured some lube into his hand and was busily spreading it on his cock and didn't want Phuc to know it.
John took the tip of Phuc's dick into his mouth and ran his tongue along it. Phuc moaned on cue and writhed slightly as if he were experiencing swells of pleasure. John only spent a very short time sucking Phuc off before pulling off. That had been the distraction. Leaning forward using Phuc's upraised legs as support, John got on top of Phuc. Before Phuc had time to protest, he was pushing his fleshy cock head against Phuc's sphincter.
Phuc cried out in pain as he felt John penetrate him. Wait, did John put a condom on? He tried to sit up, but John just pushed him back down and forcefully thrust into Phuc's warm depths. John didn't like using a lot of lube on his bottoms. It wasted money and he liked hearing his bottoms scream. He also didn't like condoms, they reduced the sensation and he liked filling up his bottoms with his seed. It made him throb just imaging Phuc's tight little boy hole spewing his cum out after he was done with it.
Phuc yelled as he felt his ass practically violated. The colonial violence of the white man taking whatever He wanted. He felt John's cock slide deep into his gut. It hurt like hell, like fire running from his ass all the way up his spine and his whole body. But he couldn't do anything about it. John was bigger, stronger, and Phuc needed to get paid.
John groaned with pleasure as he hilted himself deep inside Phuc. "You took every fucking inch. Like how my cock stretches your pussy up wide? Bet you won't be able to close it up for hours after I fuck you raw."
Phuc mewled and purposely pushed himself against John's hairier body causing the man's cock to shift slightly deeper inside him. John didn't waste time. He slowly withdrew, then slammed his cock back in hard. He wasn't very keen on pleasing Phuc, only interested in his own pleasure.
"John... So big! More, harder, use me for your pleasure," Phuc stuttered.
"Yeah, that's right. Let me show you how we do things over here in Canada. You won't ever want to go back to Japan, Vietnam, or wherever you come from," John said arrogance tingeing his voice.
John didn't wait for Phuc to respond as he jack hammered his cock in and out of Phuc. There was no real fineness, or creativity to his fucking. It was just the constant, in and out motion. Phuc moaned appreciatively as he felt his body try to acclimatize to the intruding organ. John's hairy balls were steadily thumping against his ass cheeks. Phuc was still in pain, but he just tried to endure it.
John was turned on by how submissive, young, and smooth Phuc was. The boy was the perfect fuck toy. Minus the condom requested. He wouldn't take long to cum. The boy's ass was just so tight, it felt like Phuc's asslips were sucking his cock deeper inside. John growled and slammed in hard a couple times and came. His cock spasmed a few times depositing its load deep inside Phuc's passage. He pulled out and grinned down at Phuc.
"Push your ass muscles. I want to see my cum squirt out of you," John commanded.
Phuc was surprised. How did John get away with fucking him bareback? It must have been while John was sucking him off. ...Not that he felt he had much choice at that time. But he did as he was told expelling the white-ish, clear fluid from his body allowing it to drip down his cheeks and thighs down onto the sheets.
John watched with pride as his seed oozed out of his fuck toy. "Alright, get dressed, we're done here," he said dismissively.
Phuc once again did as he was told. He hated the sensation of cum dripping in his underwear, but he wasn't given much choice in the matter. "That be eighty dolla" he said.
John glared at Phuc once again. "You got a load of my cum. Didn't I make you feel good?"
"Eighty dolla," Phuc repeated with a bit more force.
John grumbled and got his wallet and grabbed a wad of bills and ushered Phuc towards the door. Once he had the boy outside, he handed Phuc the wad of bills and quickly shut and locked the door.
Phuc was pretty suspicious and counted the money out. He found only fifty dollars there. He knocked loudly on John's door and yelled now without the thick, pan-asian accent for the rest of the money.
"You got what you deserve. Now go away before I call security to get you arrested and deported back to China," John said through the door.
Phuc was frustrated, but didn't have much choice. He actually was an immigrant, and was even to this day, was afraid of getting deported. He left without a word.
Phuc had to walk home. It would take two hours to get home. Phuc hadn't gone more than a few blocks within the twisting, winding streets of the suburb when he heard a voice out of the darkness of the night.
"Hey you! Chink! We don't like chinks here!" Phuc heard suddenly breaking his dark thoughts. Phuc saw a rather rough looking white man with a buzzed head, tattoos, and wearing baggy, army-esque clothes. Phuc barely had time to react. He was gagged by the skin head's hand and stabbed repeatedly. Phuc grew weaker from loss of blood and pain, and died.
The crime went completely unpunished. The skin head had taken Phuc's body and buried it along with other people of colour he had murdered. There was never justice served as the cops weren't particularly interested in dealing with non-white missing people.
Author's Notes:
Phuc Yu's real name was actually Harry Chiu. His family was from Shandong province and were actually alive. He still lived with them, and tried to make a living to help support all four of them. Yes, he still had his paternal grandma alive to take care of. He was twenty years old.
His family moved to Canada to give him a chance at a better education. His dad worked under the table jobs such as cutting loose threads off shirts and being paid by the shirt. His mother was a salesperson who worked almost exclusively by commission. No one could get jobs they were qualified for. His father managed a factory while his mother worked an office job while he was in China. It's not as if they weren't qualified. They'd been in Canada for over fifteen years (Harry wasn't Fresh Off the Boat, he clearly put it on) and his parents kept on being turned down from jobs. It's as if there was something trying to make them take the jobs no one else wanted...
Harry had been saving money and would have soon had enough saved to go to University to study political science. He had better luck finding jobs than his parents, but not much. When he had been approached the first went to a gay bar if he wanted to make some easy money, he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
He couldn't tell his parents that he was gay. He understood they only wanted what was best for him (to be happy), but they understood that to be happy, it required that he get a good job, find a girl, marry her, and have kids. This is why he had to work at Yellow Fever in secret.
He hated working at Yellow Fever, hated constantly having to smile when all he wanted to do was smash in the faces of all the men in the room. Hated having to play up a stereotype that he happened to look like. Where were the other Asians in porn? (For that matter, what about people of colour in general?)
He spent a lot of his free time since he discovered he liked guys searching for community but practically everyone was white in porn. Everywhere he turned, he saw clone-like pale, muscular bodies, strong jaws, sharp noses, big dicks, tight bubble butts, and almost always Caucasian. To be Asian... It was like you didn't exist. Weren't desired in a way. And when he saw Asians (including himself) they/he was seen as a fetish. Like it was abnormal to desire Asians. Not to mention the fact he was always assumed to be the bottom. What if he wanted to top? It felt racist and he couldn't quite fit within the gay world either... But he'd never find those answers.
(1) This is just another example of misappropriated Asian culture. I was referencing what you'll typically see when you see "traditional" Chinese dancers. Another example of misappropriation is the character's name, Phuc Yu which is a combination of Vietnamese and Chinese names.
(2) An Indian instrument, would totally not match with the supposedly Chinese culture.