White Men Dating Black Women

[Captain Creeper]

Me and Jessie, my brother-in-law, were sitting there on the bank of the Hunglikeahorse River, named after a famous Cherokee warrior. We were sitting there fishing and taking it easy, both enjoying some cool beer as we watched our lines. We were bottom fishing for flatheads.



At one point, old Jessie turned and looked at me. He asked, “Hey, you ever have any cooter other than white cooter?” I replied, “Goddamn, Jessie!! What kind of question is THAT?!? What are you, one of these perverts you see on CNN?!?” Jessie continued, “Nah, man. Just making conversation. So, have you?” I sighed, looked down at my shoes, and replied, “No. I have not.”



Jessie was my old lady’s unmarried brother. He likes to party and get wild. My wife thought I would be a good calming, stabilizing influence on him. But so far it has not worked. He is dumber and wilder than ever. However, he is one heck of a good deer skinner!



Jessie continued jabbering on, “Yessir, I done had me some black poonanny last night, I did! But I don’t really count it.” Then he just left it at that, popped open another Busch Lite, and continued fishing in silence. I knew I should not pursue an inquiry here. But it was bugging me, so I had to ask. “What do you mean, it does not really count?”, I asked.



Jessie looked at me and grinned. “Well, you know, Captain, it just don’t count as much of a conquest”, he said. I replied, “What the f*ck do you mean?!? WHY NOT?!?!?” Jessie continued, “Well, you know, ‘member back in the slave days, back when old George Jefferson was at Monticello? Sh*t! He would go down to the slave quarters every night and get him some brown sugar! I mean, it was HIS, he owned it, ya know? There was no work to it, like with a white girl. They had no choice. Free cooch fer the takin’!!” Jessie had a big smile on his face.



I stared at Jessie in disbelief. I could not believe my ears. After a moment, I collected myself and said to Jessie, “Jessie, the slave women could not consent to – It’s THOMAS Jefferson, by the way – they could not consent to a tryst because they could have been killed or tortured. They were RAPED!!” Jessie looked at me when I said this, got a grin on his face, chuckled, and said, “Awww… You is f*ckin’ with me!! Ha ha ha!!!”



I tried to set Jessie straight, telling him that you cannot own other human beings and that black women are just as valuable as white women. He asked, “What about Michelle Obaman?!? That dude got a d*ck!”



I again sighed and looked down at my feet. It was no use. Every fiber in my body wanted me to pull my .44 mag revolver from the holster on my hip and pistol whip the unholy sh*t out of Jessie. It was not so much that I disagreed with him as it was not wanting him to go out and say, or do, something so stupid that he loses his job at the deer processor or gets shivved by a black guy. I had to look after old Jessie, or my poontang crop may dry up!



However, I first had to clear the air. I looked Jessie square in his dumb eyes and asked him, “Jessie, in all seriousness … Did you rape a black woman last night?” Jessie allowed a nervous laugh to escape his lips. But then, seeing how serious I was, he said, “Naw, man. Nawwwww!!!! I would never do that! Hell, I am still on probation for making liquor, remember???”



I did remember. Four years ago Jessie started making golden grain moonshine out of his garage. He sold it to all his neighbors. Unfortunately, he cut it with some ill-advised sh*t and everyone within a quarter mile of his house went blind. The District Attorney made a deal with Jessie that he would not prosecute him for the deaths because of technical problems he had with causation. But to drop the manslaughter charges Jessie had to plea guilty to manufacturing and distributing bootleg liquor. However, both the judge and DA were then struck blind and suddenly died of poisoning due to drinking Jessie’s brew. By the time they found a replacement judge, they just wanted to get past this, so they cut Jessie a deal for 5-years probation with no prison time.



After Jessie convinced me he did not rape the black woman he claimed to have screwed last night, I decided to point out his hypocrisy. “Look, Jessie, I do not know what kind of dumb you are suffering from, but you just claimed that black chicks did not ‘count’. You think you should just be able to grab one off the street and do your thing, which is rape. Now, you want me to believe (a) you got some cooter last night, (b) from a black chick. How do you reconcile your positions?!?”, I asked. Jessie narrowed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Then he asked, “What the f*ck does ‘reconcile’ mean?!?”



I wanted to put a bullet in Jessie’s head right then and there. There were some old concrete blocks just up the way, and I had some wire in the bed of my pickup. I knew for certain that I could wire up his body to those concrete blocks and lay him at the bottom of this here river and he would never been seen again. But I just couldn’t do it to my wife. She loves her dumbass brother. More importantly, it would cut into my poonanny supply.



“How did you manage to get a black chick to allow YOU to defile her?!?”, I asked. Jessie replied, “I paid her”, he replied. Now this made sense to me. Everything has its price, and prostitution is the world’s oldest profession. I actually felt a little bit of pride for Jessie. He manned up and paid for his cooter rather than just snatching it up off the street and running off to the woods with it. He was maturing!



“You bagged you an old black ho-bag, eh? Nice going, dude!”, I said. We then fist-bumped. Jessie explained, “She ain’t technically no ho, Capt. Creeper. It’s old Ms LaShandreeka Brown. She done fallen on hard times since her old man, Willie Mohammad Brown, got sent off to prison for selling drugs. She need some help.”



I thought on this for a moment. The black woman Jessie apparently banged, was known to everyone in the county. She is a matronly old woman. She birthed 32 chilluns, and 12 survived. She worked on the farm during the day, ran it actually. She made all her chilluns and their chilluns work it too. Her old man was always out whoring and gambling and doing drugs, and selling drugs. He was a George Floyd type, if ya know what I mean. He would come home to the farm ever now and again, beat up LaShandreeka, steal her money, and then he would be gone again, for weeks on end. Just terrible.



I was a might proud of old Jessie again, for helpin’ out the poor woman. “Well, all your prurient sh*t aside, you was doin’ a good thing for that woman. Though, might I suggest that next time you just buy some vegetable from her instead so she does not have to whore herself out?”



Jessie said, “Sheeyit!!! That woman screws like a b*tch dog in heat!! She nearly sheared off my pecker!!”. I lowered my head into my hands. “My God, what a f*cking scumsack Jessie is”, I thought to myself. When I raised my head out of my hands, my right hand took on a life of its own and went for my gun. Fortunately, I was able to compose myself before I pulled the trigger.



I tried one last time to allow Jessie to redeem himself. “Well, I sure as f*ck hope you paid her well. She has a tough life and needs the money”, I said. Jessie responded, “Oh hell yeah, Capt!! I paid her 3 chickens and a gallon of my homemade shine!!”, he proudly said.



That night I went to go see an old girlfriend named Anna. Her full name is Anna Conda. She’s a fabulous girl, and always up for anything! Dynamite girl!! We had us a great old time that night! After we got ourselves worked raw, Anna turned to me and said, “I thought you were married, darling. What happened to your bride?”



It took a couple days for me to remember exactly what had happened due to the drugs and booze. Even then, all I could remember was a loud gunshot, going swimming in the river, and for some reason telling my old lady that he cooter was not worth an asshole, then taking off.

 

[DennisPTate]

Me and Jessie, my brother-in-law, were sitting there on the bank of the Hunglikeahorse River, named after a famous Cherokee warrior. We were sitting there fishing and taking it easy, both enjoying some cool beer as we watched our lines. We were bottom fishing for flatheads.



At one point, old Jessie turned and looked at me. He asked, “Hey, you ever have any cooter other than white cooter?” I replied, “Goddamn, Jessie!! What kind of question is THAT?!? What are you, one of these perverts you see on CNN?!?” Jessie continued, “Nah, man. Just making conversation. So, have you?” I sighed, looked down at my shoes, and replied, “No. I have not.”



Jessie was my old lady’s unmarried brother. He likes to party and get wild. My wife thought I would be a good calming, stabilizing influence on him. But so far it has not worked. He is dumber and wilder than ever. However, he is one heck of a good deer skinner!



Jessie continued jabbering on, “Yessir, I done had me some black poonanny last night, I did! But I don’t really count it.” Then he just left it at that, popped open another Busch Lite, and continued fishing in silence. I knew I should not pursue an inquiry here. But it was bugging me, so I had to ask. “What do you mean, it does not really count?”, I asked.



Jessie looked at me and grinned. “Well, you know, Captain, it just don’t count as much of a conquest”, he said. I replied, “What the f*ck do you mean?!? WHY NOT?!?!?” Jessie continued, “Well, you know, ‘member back in the slave days, back when old George Jefferson was at Monticello? Sh*t! He would go down to the slave quarters every night and get him some brown sugar! I mean, it was HIS, he owned it, ya know? There was no work to it, like with a white girl. They had no choice. Free cooch fer the takin’!!” Jessie had a big smile on his face.



I stared at Jessie in disbelief. I could not believe my ears. After a moment, I collected myself and said to Jessie, “Jessie, the slave women could not consent to – It’s THOMAS Jefferson, by the way – they could not consent to a tryst because they could have been killed or tortured. They were RAPED!!” Jessie looked at me when I said this, got a grin on his face, chuckled, and said, “Awww… You is f*ckin’ with me!! Ha ha ha!!!”



I tried to set Jessie straight, telling him that you cannot own other human beings and that black women are just as valuable as white women. He asked, “What about Michelle Obaman?!? That dude got a d*ck!”



I again sighed and looked down at my feet. It was no use. Every fiber in my body wanted me to pull my .44 mag revolver from the holster on my hip and pistol whip the unholy sh*t out of Jessie. It was not so much that I disagreed with him as it was not wanting him to go out and say, or do, something so stupid that he loses his job at the deer processor or gets shivved by a black guy. I had to look after old Jessie, or my poontang crop may dry up!



However, I first had to clear the air. I looked Jessie square in his dumb eyes and asked him, “Jessie, in all seriousness … Did you rape a black woman last night?” Jessie allowed a nervous laugh to escape his lips. But then, seeing how serious I was, he said, “Naw, man. Nawwwww!!!! I would never do that! Hell, I am still on probation for making liquor, remember???”



I did remember. Four years ago Jessie started making golden grain moonshine out of his garage. He sold it to all his neighbors. Unfortunately, he cut it with some ill-advised sh*t and everyone within a quarter mile of his house went blind. The District Attorney made a deal with Jessie that he would not prosecute him for the deaths because of technical problems he had with causation. But to drop the manslaughter charges Jessie had to plea guilty to manufacturing and distributing bootleg liquor. However, both the judge and DA were then struck blind and suddenly died of poisoning due to drinking Jessie’s brew. By the time they found a replacement judge, they just wanted to get past this, so they cut Jessie a deal for 5-years probation with no prison time.



After Jessie convinced me he did not rape the black woman he claimed to have screwed last night, I decided to point out his hypocrisy. “Look, Jessie, I do not know what kind of dumb you are suffering from, but you just claimed that black chicks did not ‘count’. You think you should just be able to grab one off the street and do your thing, which is rape. Now, you want me to believe (a) you got some cooter last night, (b) from a black chick. How do you reconcile your positions?!?”, I asked. Jessie narrowed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Then he asked, “What the f*ck does ‘reconcile’ mean?!?”



I wanted to put a bullet in Jessie’s head right then and there. There were some old concrete blocks just up the way, and I had some wire in the bed of my pickup. I knew for certain that I could wire up his body to those concrete blocks and lay him at the bottom of this here river and he would never been seen again. But I just couldn’t do it to my wife. She loves her dumbass brother. More importantly, it would cut into my poonanny supply.



“How did you manage to get a black chick to allow YOU to defile her?!?”, I asked. Jessie replied, “I paid her”, he replied. Now this made sense to me. Everything has its price, and prostitution is the world’s oldest profession. I actually felt a little bit of pride for Jessie. He manned up and paid for his cooter rather than just snatching it up off the street and running off to the woods with it. He was maturing!



“You bagged you an old black ho-bag, eh? Nice going, dude!”, I said. We then fist-bumped. Jessie explained, “She ain’t technically no ho, Capt. Creeper. It’s old Ms LaShandreeka Brown. She done fallen on hard times since her old man, Willie Mohammad Brown, got sent off to prison for selling drugs. She need some help.”



I thought on this for a moment. The black woman Jessie apparently banged, was known to everyone in the county. She is a matronly old woman. She birthed 32 chilluns, and 12 survived. She worked on the farm during the day, ran it actually. She made all her chilluns and their chilluns work it too. Her old man was always out whoring and gambling and doing drugs, and selling drugs. He was a George Floyd type, if ya know what I mean. He would come home to the farm ever now and again, beat up LaShandreeka, steal her money, and then he would be gone again, for weeks on end. Just terrible.



I was a might proud of old Jessie again, for helpin’ out the poor woman. “Well, all your prurient sh*t aside, you was doin’ a good thing for that woman. Though, might I suggest that next time you just buy some vegetable from her instead so she does not have to whore herself out?”



Jessie said, “Sheeyit!!! That woman screws like a b*tch dog in heat!! She nearly sheared off my pecker!!”. I lowered my head into my hands. “My God, what a f*cking scumsack Jessie is”, I thought to myself. When I raised my head out of my hands, my right hand took on a life of its own and went for my gun. Fortunately, I was able to compose myself before I pulled the trigger.



I tried one last time to allow Jessie to redeem himself. “Well, I sure as f*ck hope you paid her well. She has a tough life and needs the money”, I said. Jessie responded, “Oh hell yeah, Capt!! I paid her 3 chickens and a gallon of my homemade shine!!”, he proudly said.



That night I went to go see an old girlfriend named Anna. Her full name is Anna Conda. She’s a fabulous girl, and always up for anything! Dynamite girl!! We had us a great old time that night! After we got ourselves worked raw, Anna turned to me and said, “I thought you were married, darling. What happened to your bride?”



It took a couple days for me to remember exactly what had happened due to the drugs and booze. Even then, all I could remember was a loud gunshot, going swimming in the river, and for some reason telling my old lady that he cooter was not worth an asshole, then taking off.

You Sir are definitely a good writer of satire and comedy! Way to go!

May I recommend:

Thread 'M. J. Wahl is one of the funniest writers that I have ever found.'

Feb 13, 2026

In my opinion M. J. Wahl can be compared with Richard Sapir and Warren Murphy who got me into rather twisted humour ever since I was not much more than ten years old.

I believe that I found "The Hardy Boys" books when I was nine or ten but a few years later I began to read "The Destroyer" series created by Richard Sapir and Warren Murphy. These two authors were so sarcastic and funny that they got me reading one or two or even three books per week by many authors, [but it was Remo Williams and his mentor Chiun, [The Master of Sinanju], who got me into the habit of reading voraciously...

• DennisPTate
• Replies: 7
• Forum: Humor

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