Clinton

Her hugely dilated asshole was proof to Clinton of his superiority to the honky shemale bitch. Wide enough for him to insert his whole damned fist into, if he'd wanted to do so, her anus demonstrated his better, finer nature and his dominant disposition. Anyone who'd willingly take a cock up the ass the way this bitch had done showed him- or herself to be beyond contempt, Clinton thought.

He wasn't the only one to think so, either. Mexican men--the macho among them, at least--saw no shame in fucking another man; the shame was in being fucked by another of one's own sex; such a man was less than a man; he was a woman, despite his male genitals. The ancient Greeks had held the same view of the matter. A sodomite was all well and good, but a catamite was contemptuous and vile. Prisoners agreed, accounting the active, penetrative man as a man, but the passive, penetrated dude as a punk, pure and simple, who was to be accorded no respect or consideration except as a piece of ass to be fucked, shared, and pimped.

A shemale, like Tiffany, was in the same category. Despite her cock and balls, she was just a bitch; in fact, since she took money in exchange for sex, she was no better than a common prostitute, or whore. Calling herself a "call girl" didn't change her status in the least.

"Git on yo' knees, bitch," he ordered the white whore. "I'm goan make you eat yo' own shit while I fuck yo' white trash face."

Again, Tiffany, obeying her john's orders, repressed a smile at the obviously affected ghetto dialect. Judging by the handsome suit Clinton had been wearing when he'd arrived--Armani, unless she missed her guess--and the Rolex watch he still wore on his right wrist, Clinton was anything but a street thug. If he'd been born in the projects and raised in the 'hood, which, she believed, was unlikely, he'd come a long way since those days--outwardly, at least.

"You bedder be able to deep throat a cock, bitch, cuz, if you kaint, you goan choke to death on dis monster muvvafuckah."