(mmmg, 1st, interr, lang, oral, preg)
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It was the during summer, and like every summer for the past nine years, ever since my dad was killed, I was at my grandfather’s home in the country. My mom worked to support us and during the school year, her hours were pretty much the same as mine. I’d be in school and she’d be at work. Of course I always got home several hours before she did, but that was okay. Most afternoons, I had after school activities like sports to keep me occupied and out of mischief. The other days, I just went home and did my homework before she got home. Yeah, I was a good kid. Despite the myriad of temptations to get into mischief, I stayed out of it. There was no way that I would do anything to cause Mom any more grief in her life than she had already suffered.
Summers were a different matter altogether. Mom rightly felt that with being unsupervised every day for three months straight, there was more than enough ways for a boy like me to get into trouble, so I spent the summers with my Pops. Pops still worked too, at the lumber mill, but being out in the country, there really wasn’t too much problem staying out of trouble. Pops made sure I had a long list of chores every day, and every day I did them without question and without grumbling about it. Once finished, I was free to roam the woods, pop water moccasins with my 22 down at the pond, or get together with the two Clanton boys who lived not far from Pops.
Pops’ only conditions were that I do my chores, be careful with my 22 and be home when he got there at five o’clock in the afternoon. Once he got there, we’d both shower and then put supper on. He was a good cook and taught me how to get around the kitchen. Over the years, this in turn allowed me to get supper ready for Mom some nights when she got home during the school year.
After supper we always played either checkers or backgammon. He patiently taught me the strategies and how to figure the odds in both games and how to think several moves in advance. He never let me win… if I won it was by outsmarting him, a feat that was difficult, but not impossible. We’d turn in fairly early, about an hour after dark around nine, as Pops rose very early each morning to get about the business of the new day. On Saturday mornings, he’d take me to a small lake nearby and we’d go fishing. I absolutely loved being with him.
Pops had his quirks. He had his pet Guinea hens, a pet pig and a collection of mutts and cats that he fussed over. He also liked to sleep in the nude. He said that he had to sweat his balls off all day and he’d be damned if he’d sweat his balls off all night too. I wasn’t all that hot at night, but how I slept was up to me, and of course I followed his lead. Mom didn’t let me get away with that during the school year, but at Pops, I slept very comfortably unrestrained. It wasn’t that Pops was an exhibitionist, but with me, his grandson, he was casual about nudity, but he never flaunted it.
While Pops didn’t mind whipping up a meal, he loathed general housework and doing the laundry in particular. I quickly learned that if I didn’t wear a shirt, I didn’t have to wash it. Therefore, I rarely wore a shirt, or shoes for that matter, just shorts or overalls if I was doing chores or running about. That kept my laundry to a bare minimum.
The only boys my age anywhere near to Pops’ were the Clanton boys, Jim Bob and Billy Ray. Mom considered the Clantons to be white trash and she wasn’t particularly happy about me hanging around Jim Bob and Billy Ray. Pops didn’t have any problem with them though, just so long as I didn’t get into any trouble. In fact, every Saturday while Pops and I were off fishing, Sara Jean (that’s Jim Bob’s and Billy Ray’s mama) cleaned house for Pops and did his laundry (all except mine… that was my responsibility during the week). She’d be just finishing up when we got back home with a mess of fish. Pops would then send me off on some errand to the general store... on foot.
As I grew older, I figured out why... he was fucking her. Yup, Saturday afternoons were reserved for balling Sara Jean. That was true even during the times when her “husband” would be home for a few days. He was a trucker and was mostly gone for all but a few days out of a month. Pops said they weren’t actually married, but everyone at their shack used Clyde’s last name, and he claimed all her children even though not a one of them resembled him in the least.
Jim Bob and Billy Ray knew all about Pops and Sara Jean and I suppose Clyde did as well. Pops wasn’t the only one to bed her on a regular basis… she had other men friends too. As Pops explained it to me, it’s was how she paid the bills. Sometimes I’d overhear a conversation down at the store at the crossroads where Sara Jean would be referred to as a whore. Pops never called her that, though that was what she did. Jim Bob and Billy Ray never referred to her that way either, even if they did call her by name and not Mom or Mama.
Once Pops knew that I knew what was happening on Saturday afternoons, he didn’t even try to hide it. He just told me to keep my mouth shut about it to my mom. I’d disappear for a while, but sometimes... I saw a lot of Sara Jean with her legs spread and Pops working away between them. I thought that Jim Bob and Billy Ray would be interested enough to ease drop, but they’d seen it all before, at home, so it wasn’t particularly interesting to them. Eventually I got my fill, and let them have at it in peace.
Like I said, it was during summer and I was staying at Pops. Jim Bob, Billy Ray and I were idling away a blisteringly hot July afternoon. No one had air conditioning back then, so we just bore up to it as best we could without complaint. The subject of pussy came up. I was fourteen then, same as Billy Ray; Jim Bob was year older. What I knew about pussy came from watching Pops and Sara Jean rutting over the years. With that and what Pops told me, I was well versed and familiar with the subject, but personally inexperienced.
“Ya ever fuck a girl, Lester?” Jim Bob asked me. “I bet ya never have.”
“No, but I seen my Pops and your ma doing it,” I replied getting in a dig.
He snorted, “That don’t count for shit! Ya ain’t the one doing the fuckin’, yur Pops’ is a doin’ it,” he countered. Gathering up his salvia, he sent a wad of spit sailing three feet to splatter on some bug crawling by. “Best feelin’ in the world. Ain’t it, Billy Ray?”
“Damned right, Lester,” Billy Ray agreed in support of his brother and adding another wad of spittal to the unfortunate insect. “Ain’t nothing like it.”
I tried for the bug, but missed. “Oh, you’ve fucked a girl?” I challenged. “You’re both full of shit.”
“Watch who you’re calling full of shit,” parried Jim Bob. “Fact is, we know where some pussy is… right now… ready and willing.”
“Who your sister?” From what I heard at the general store, his older sister Jean An had a reputation much like their mama’s.
“No, not Jean An,” Jim Bob replied with hard fist to my shoulder. “Another girl.”
He leaned back and added, “She ain’t but ten or eleven, but she looks a lot older.”
Now I knew he was full of it; wouldn’t have been the first time. “You are so full of it, Jim Bob,” I confidently challenged.
“I’ll bet ya a new box of 22 long rifles,” Jim Bob boasted.
With the gauntlet thrown down, I accepted the bet with the proviso that he prove his point that very day.
“Well, let’s go,” Jim Bob said with a grin.
Barefoot and shirtless, we cut through the woods behind Pops’ and came upon the ramshackle tenement house where a black woman lived with her gaggle of kids. I knew they lived there, but I never gave it much thought. Racial prejudices ran deep back then and years ago Pops had told me to just “leave them niggers alone. They aren’t hurting nobody.” Back then, everyone, whites, blacks, and in-betweens used the racial pejorative as casually as saying “Amen”. My Mom, however, didn’t like the term and insisted I use the term Negro. Anyway, they weren’t living on Pops’ land and there was no reason to interact with them, so I always stayed away.
We hung off in the brush, close to the house but out of sight. The mother was hanging laundry on a line and the kids were milling about, the littlest ones with nary a stitch of clothes, playing this or that, but not really doing much at all. Having finished her task, the mother went inside. We waited and watched, for what I did not know. It was hot and getting hotter and finally I asked, “Okay, now what?”
“Keep yer shirt on,” Billy Ray whispered.
“I ain’t got a shirt on,” I countered.
“Hush up, will ya?” hissed Jim Bob.
As we waited and waited, Jim Bob and Billy Ray seemed pretty much immune to the horseflies that were biting me. I’d feel the sting of a bite and swat the bastard. Jim Bob would elbow me to keep quiet, but another would land to help themselves to my blood. Finally a black girl wandered over close to where we were concealed.
“Psssst! Pssssst! Luby Mae! Luby Mae!” Jim Bob whispered loudly. The black girl looked our way, glanced back at the house and then took a few steps closer.
“Whacha doin’, girl?” asked Jim Bob.
“Nuttin’,” she replied listlessly.
“Wanna do sumptin’?”
“Like what?” she slowly drawled.
“Ya know what.”
Luby Mae glanced back at the house and then slowly said, “Mama’ll skin me.”
“Your mama ain’t gonna know shit,” retorted Jim Bob.
“Ah can’t jes go sneaking off,” she replied in the time required to recite half of the Gettysburg Address. “My mama don tol’ me ta stay put.”
“We ain’t gonna be long.”
“Long ‘nuff to get me a whipping!” she rejoined looking away and off into the distance.
Jim Bob thought for a minute. “I know. Tell her yur gonna pick blackberries.”
Luby Mae thought about that for a few moments and then slowly sauntered off towards the house. It was several long minutes later before she emerged barefoot carrying a one gallon molasses can. Dithering about as she went, she made her way to over where we waiting.
Jim Bob and Billy Ray headed into the woods. I was behind them, but soon noticed the black girl was nowhere to be seen. I backtracked and came upon her, strolling along, looking at this and looking at that, and in no apparent hurry. I looked back to see if I could still see my buddies, but now they were nowhere in sight. I wasn’t at all sure what I should do, stay with the girl and hurry her along, but to where? Or should I try to catch up with Billy Ray and Jim Bob?
I chose the latter and took off through the woods. I didn’t catch up with them though. Indeed, they had vanished. I wandered about for a while and just as I was about to give up and head home to Pops’, I stumbled across them in a small shaded clearing. Luby Mae, still holding her molasses can, was with them too.
“Where ya been?” exclaimed Jim Bob when he saw me.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I explained.
“Ya found us. Now git over here.”
“Lester, this here’s Luby Mae,” began Jim Bob. “Luby Mae this here’s Lester, old man Potter’s grandson. Lester, he ain’t never fucked a girl before.” She looked at me with a puzzled expression as if what Jim Bob had just told her was unheard of. “Now go on and get outta da dress, girl.”
Luby Mae sat the molasses can down and began unbuttoning the front of her simple hand-me-down housedress. Without the least hint of embarrassment, she slipped the dress over her dark shoulders and stepped out of it. She wore absolutely nothing underneath and (with the exception of Sara Jean) I had my first look at a live naked female. Carefully she laid her dress on the leaf covered forest floor.
“Ya wanna touch her tits?” Billy Ray asked.
I stood transfixed studying the dark skinned naked girl before me. She wasn’t exactly black (though her mother was), but rather medium brown with nearly black nipples. She didn’t have too much black hair between her legs, but she had some. She was rather skinny, but she did have tits. Not huge tits, but girl tits. But she did have an ass, full and rounded, a sight to behold. She was well developed for being only ten or eleven, but then there was this girl back in fifth grade, Jane, who already had knockers.
“Go on, feel her tits,” Jim Bob urged. “She likes to be touched.”
I stepped up and reached out, filling my hand with a very brown tit. It felt incredible. Soon I had both hands occupied and was feeling up my first girl.
“Kiss it,” Billy Ray urged. I stopped mauling her and looked at my two buddies… They couldn’t be serious, could they?
“Ya ain’t gonna turn into a nigger if ya kiss her tit,” Jim Bob chided with a smirk. They were serious! “Go on,” he urged.
I suspected that the Clanton boys were setting me up. What if they told anyone that I kissed a Negro girl’s tit? Everybody would know! The fact that there really wasn’t anyone around to tell escaped me. My apprehensions aside, it did have a certain appeal to it.
I looked down into her dark, dark eyes, eyes so dark that it was difficult to discern her pupils. Her thick fleshy lips curled into a sweet smile, and her broad nose flaring as she breathed.
Jim Bob stepped up and grasped a tit in his hand giving it a good squeeze. “Go on, Lester. Suck her tit like a baby. Ya ain’t chicken, are ya?”
Chicken? Hell no, I wasn’t chicken! But with that ultimate challenge to my manhood, he had had cut off any avenue of honorable escape. No longer having a choice in the matter, I lowered my head to the tit not in Jim Bob’s grip and kissed her black nipple. It really wasn’t much of a kiss, just a peck, like you’d kiss a great aunt.
“Ya kin do better’n that!” he chided.
Committed now to the act of putting my lips on a Negro, I took a much bolder kiss, mouthing the firm erect flesh. She tasted salty, but that was to be expected in the sweltering heat; sweating was a fact of life and I certainly knew what my sweat tasted like. Other than the salty taste of sweat, there wasn’t any other flavor, certainly nothing repulsive, and after a moment, even the initial salty taste faded. Her tit may not have had a taste, but oh my word, it felt incredible against my lily white lips. It must have taken me fifteen seconds to come to the conclusion that this was great!
I began to suck on her tit in earnest, bringing my tongue into play. “See, I told ya ya’d like it,” Jim Bob said from a few inches away. He hadn’t said anything of the kind, but what did that matter?
I went from one tit to the other, scouring the sweat off as her fingers ran through my close cropped hair. Suddenly she pulled my head away from her nip and looked at me. Her bright pink tongue flickered across her fleshly dark lips. Her face got closer and closer. My god! She was going to… Her lips met mine, the thick flesh softly encasing my thinner “white boy” lips. Her tongue darted out to probe into my mouth. ‘This wasn’t part of the deal,’ one part of my brain said while another said, ‘this is nice.’ I closed my eyes and nice won out.
The kiss didn’t last but thirty seconds or so, but it was a profound moment. Suddenly and to my disappointment, our lips separated. I opened my eyes and saw her pull away and the sink to the ground, to lie upon her dress. I had seen Sara Jean and Pops get after it enough times that I knew what was next and what I needed to do. Quickly I buttoned my shorts, unzipped and pulled them off. Luby Mae was waiting for me, legs spread, ready to be fucked. I climbed on top and after a brief problem with finding the right spot, I slid into her pussy. It was the most exquisite feeling in the world! She was hot and slippery, her cuntal tube molding around my virgin dick, the rippled walls caressing me as moved into her. I had just gotten in when I lost all control, ejaculating into her cunt. Hell, I hadn’t even started and I was finished. It was embarrassing as I had no knowledge that virgin teen males last on average ten seconds or less.
If Luby Mae was disappointed, she didn’t show then nor any other time. As soon as I took my full weight off the skinny girl, Jim Bob was naked and took my place.
My ego wounded by self-inflicted barbs, I watched as Jim Bob pumped and pumped away with the girl hunching her hips upward stroke for stroke. As he went on and on, my competitive spirit took hold. No way was a white trash Clanton boy going to beat me! After a good ten minutes, Jim Bob was finished and Billy Ray took his turn. His stamina proved to be as good as his brother’s.
By the time Billy Ray had dismounted, I was ready to take my mulligan with the girl. As I started to climb into the saddle, she stopped me. Was it all over? She twisted around onto her stomach and then tucked her knees under, raising her brown ass up. I’d seen Pops and Sara Jean do it like this, so once again I knew what to do… question was, would I be up for it or would I be a pathetic as I was the first time? Once again I felt that most exquisite feeling of my cock sliding up a girl’s sex, only this time it was very juicy and somewhat of a mess. Pressing my rejuvenated rod into her, cum from my two compatriots squeezed out of her pussy and around my cock. This wasn’t what I was exactly expecting, but I bravely soldiered on.
As I plowed into her, I was intrigued and turned on by the sight of her brown butt cheeks shaking at the culmination of each thrust. It was a beautiful sight, jiggling ass meat, one which I’ve never tired of my entire life. Gripping her hips tightly, I fucked and fucked, a ring of white foam forming around the base of my dick. The entire time I was fucking her, her ass never stopped moving. Who knows how long we fucked, but things became even more interesting when Jim Bob moved in front of her on his knees, lifted her head by her hair and thrust his dick into her face. Jim Bob grinned at me while she got after sucking his dick.
I had assumed that we’d be doing it like this for quite some time, but once he was good and hard, he pulled out her mouth and announced, “My turn, Lester.” I so wanted to show up him and his brother, but it was a moot point as the only one making an issue with my first fuck was myself and I’d gotten over it. I yielded Luby Mae’s pussy to Jim Bob.
I didn’t know it then, but yielding to another cock was a good thing. Before Jim Bob came, his brother had his cock sucked to an erection and he took his place in the driver’s seat. This enabled the three of us to fuck that girl for well over an hour. We would have fucked her longer except that she finally had had enough and put a stop to the wanton fornication. Just as well as we were all a little tired ourselves, tired but happy.
Luby Mae rose up and shook out her dress, then slipped it back on. There were a few wet stains and some new dirt, but tattered as it was, that made little difference. It covered her and that was all that was expected.
“Youse boys gonna help me?” she asked slowly as she buttoned up.
Still naked and sitting leaning back on his arms, Jim Bob asked, “Do what?”
“Blackberries?” Both Jim Bob and Billy Ray snorted.
“Sure, I’ll help you pick blackberries,” I said. “And so will they.”
It didn’t take the four of us very long to have that gallon can filled. When she had her can filled, she thanked me. “Dey’s not hep’d me without yo sayin’ so,” she explained. Then she lifted up on her toes and gave me a kiss. Funny, kissing a Negro girl now seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. She broke the kiss and asked me, “Ya wanna hep me pick mo blackberries tomorrow?”
“Yeah, you bet!”
I picked a lot of blackberries that summer, with and without the Clanton boys’ help and I had the scratches and chigger bites to prove it. Luby Mae picked so many blackberries, that her mama came around and sold Pops a dozen jars of blackberry preserves as well a blackberry cobbler or two. That provided her family with some sorely needed cash, and I in return had a sore dick most of the time.
Nearly every day Luby Mae treated me to poontang. I was as familiar with her body and the bright pink secrets of her coochie as one could be. She was born to fuck and fuck we did. I also confirmed that Luby Mae was also pretty young. She didn’t know for sure, but we figured out that she would be 11 by Christmas.
That Thanksgiving, Mom and I went to Pops and naturally I sought out Luby Mae for some youthful indiscretion. By that time she was showing. “Yo boys done put a ba-bee in me,” she slowly drawled while rubbing her swollen belly. Wow, her tits were also noticeably bigger! “But dats awl right, Ah loves babies.” I loved fucking her again too, preggo or not.
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