My name is Felicia and I lived in Branson Missouri. By the time I was seventeen and a junior in high school when this part of my story takes place, I had earned a reputation for being rather promiscuous. Not only was I having sex with my boyfriend James, but I was also having sex with other boys as well. I was not fooling around with other boys to be liked or trying to get popular or because I had low self-esteem or to be rebellious. I was having sex because I enjoyed it a great deal.
All of my sexual partners had been black boys and I once had been fucked by two boys in one night at a party I went to; not at the same time but one after the other. After the first boy was done, he left and his friend came into the room. I gave him a blowjob and he also fucked me. I thought it was fun.
It was not hard for me to get boys to have sex with me. I was pretty and had a great body, big breasts, and a fantastic butt. Then there was also my new reputation at school; guys knew I would put out. Some of the rumors about my promiscuous activities were exaggerated but some were also true.
My boyfriend knew of the rumors but he never believed them. James was not only very naïve but he refused to believe them. I didn’t feel guilty about cheating on him. I know that’s bad for me to say, but I didn’t. I never felt guilty for the sexual things I have done in my life.
I also didn’t want to break up with him either. I didn’t love James, and I never really did love him; I was just comfortable with him. I had known him since I was eight years old and he was my first boyfriend, but not the first guy I had sex with, and the only boy my strict, religious grandparents approved of me dating.
I met James at church when we were both eight years. He was a religious boy and my grandparents had known his family for many years. It was not until the first semester of my senior year of high school when I was eighteen that I did the right thing and broke up with James when I started seeing another boy on a more regular basis instead of random hookups.
I don’t like using the word hate and like to think that while there are people I dislike; I don’t hate any of them. But I did come to hate James after we broke up. I hated him because of what he did to me towards the end of my senior year of school when he told my grandparents about the older man I was having an affair with at the time; an older white man.
My grandfather did not like white people much at all. He did not believe in racial integration and of course, did not believe or approve of interracial dating. You could go as far as to say my grandfather was a racist.
I had gotten many switches and spanked with a belt by my grandfather since I was eight years old when I came to live with them after my mother was arrested and social services took me away from her. None, however, were as bad as that day when I was eighteen and my grandfather took his belt me.
They kicked me out of their home when James told them about the older white man I was having an affair with. But that’s a different story.
The summer after my junior year of high school I was introduced to not only having sex with my first white boy but also other first-time sexual activities. It was the summer I discovered I preferred white boys and white men over black boys and black men. Not that I gave up black men.
I met Steve when he and two of his friends came into my grandfather’s small grocery store and gas station. I was working behind the counter while my grandfather was in the back going over the inventory with a soda distributor on his order.
The first thing that drew my attention to Steve and his two friends was that they were white and in the store. White people did not come into my grandfather’s store often. They only came to the neighborhood we lived in for one thing. The next thing I noticed was they were not even from my side of town.
All three were dressed in expensive brand named clothes and they had pulled up for gas in a Range Rover. The only type of cars like that in my neighborhood were driven by the higher-up on the food chain gangbanger drug dealers. I figured that was what they were doing in my neighborhood, buying weed or other drugs. All one had to do was drive down any street where I lived and they could score marijuana or other drugs. I didn’t do drugs and did not drink much at all.
A lot of white people think driving to a neighborhood like mine to buy drugs was unsafe and could get them killed. That is not necessarily true. It can be scary, and yes it could be unsafe and it could get you killed, but only if you were stupid and tried to con or rip off the dealer.
Drug dealers are not stupid. They know who their customer base is and they are not going to do anything to jeopardize their business by shooting or beating up or ripping off their customers. It’s not good business. I won’t say it never happens, because it does on occasion but it certainly does not happen often. It mostly happens when the person buying the drugs starts acting like a fool. Most of the violence in my neighborhood was black-on-black and gang-related.
The last thing I noticed about the three white people was that all three were very nice-looking. Steve, as I soon found out his name, was tall, had dark hair, was well-built, and was very handsome. His friend Glenn was not as handsome but very cute. He was slightly shorter than Steve and had sandy blonde hair. The girl, whose name was Amber, was tall, very thin, had long red hair, and was extremely pretty to the point I would call her beautiful.
I won’t bother to go into detail about what I looked like; you can see that on my profile photos and from reading my previous stories. I will mention that I stand only five-foot-two inches tall; a short girl with short legs. I am currently twenty-five and over the years I have worn many different hairstyles, and at seventeen my hair was styled in a short afro. I have slightly almond-shaped eyes and thicker, full lips typical of a girl of my racial heritage.
I started paying more attention to the way I looked when I was sixteen and started to notice how boys and men looked at me with desire. Before then I would let my hair just grow naturally and it was wild and kinky looking like I was a native trial girl that lived in the savannahs of Africa. I then started to style it and get it trimmed. I was not allowed to wear makeup, however, and didn’t even know how to apply it.
The first time I used makeup was when I was sixteen and going to school one morning. I bought cheap makeup at Walmart. When I was leaving for school my grandmother told me I looked like a painted Jezebel, yes she used that name and told me to go wash my face. Honestly, I did look rather ridiculous because I didn’t know how to apply makeup and she did me a favor because I would have been laughed at, at school that day.
The three white kids came to the counter to pay for their gas as well as several junk, snack foods. That confirmed my suspicions they had already scored some weed or were going to since they were preparing for the munchies. Once they piled their items on the counter, Glenn and Amber left the store.
Steve was left to pay for the items and asked for forty dollars in gas. I noticed the first thing he did was look at my breasts. I was not showing them off and dressed conservatively. I was wearing a hand-me-down sundress that my grandmother bought for me at the Goodwill store, where she got all my clothes. The floral print dress had a high neckline, the hem came down just about half an inch above my knees and the dress had short sleeves.
While I was not showing off my breasts, which I have been known to do, why not? I had great, large breasts so why not show some cleavage? Even though the sundress was a size too large for me, another thing my grandmother did; was buy me clothes that were a size too large to hide my body, the dress was still tight around my chest and it did not hide the size of them.
“A two-pack of Swishers,” Steve said as he looked at my chest. “Cherry flavor.”
I turned and got the two-pack of Swisher Sweet Cigarillos off the shelf. Yes, they were in the neighborhood to buy weed. I knew they wanted the cigars to make blunts out of. I may not do drugs, but I had grown up in this neighborhood and I knew the deal.
I also found it hypocritical how religious my grandparents were but they had no problem selling tobacco products and beer and cheap wine and even rolling papers in their store.
When I turned back around, I saw Steve looking at my ass. While the second-hand sundress draped over my body like a tent, as my grandmother wanted it to, it still had a hard time hiding the curves of my chest and butt.
When my body started to develop, I was embarrassed by it. By the time I was sixteen, my body had developed more rapidly than other girls my age and even older than me. I had large breasts and a tight, curvy “ghetto booty”. I had more curves on my body than I knew what to do with and it embarrassed me.
To add to the embarrassment of my developing body was my grandmother. As my butt started to get shapelier and my breasts got larger at an alarming rate but my waist stayed thin and stomach flat, my grandmother told me I should be ashamed of such a body. She told me that my developing body was sinful and that it would tempt men to lust after me and their lust would be my fault for having such a body and being an attractive girl. What kind of grandmother would tell a young girl that? I was not even told about shaving my legs or armpits.
I never got the birds and the bees talk from my grandparents and what I learned about sex was from sex education classes in school and the girl’s locker room in gym class or from overhearing older girls at the summer camp I went to. What I learned about sex in the locker room and at summer camp was a lot of false facts.
One may ask me how living with my grandparents was better than living with my mother. My grandparents were very religious almost to being fanatical about it, they were strict, they showed me very little affection, and my grandfather used his belt or switch on me for even minor infractions of their rules.
Well, with them I at least had a bed to sleep on instead of just a dirty mattress on the floor, I got fed, and I was able to bathe and shower every day. I didn’t have to worry about the water or power or gas being shut off for nonpayment because my mother spent the money on drugs.
I didn’t have to be scared of the series of men she would invite into our home and who would live with us for a week or a month or several months at a time. Having a switch or belt taken to my naked butt and the back of my thighs for breaking rules was much easier to take than having my hand put in a pot of boiling water for just spilling a glass of milk.
When the police took my mother away in handcuffs when I was eight, the social services lady told me not to look, not to be scared, and told me that once my mother gets help, she can come and get me from foster care. I did look and I smiled when I saw my mother being put into the back of the police car and I told the social services lady I hoped I never saw the woman again for the rest of my life. I didn’t. That was the last I saw of my mother and I am glad about it.
I don’t like or want people to pity me when they know the story of my mother. I hate when they say how sad it is and how sorry they are for me. I was happy when the police took my mother to jail and child services took me away from her.
Who do you think was the one who told a teacher at school what my mother was doing and the ways she hurt me? Even though I was only eight, I knew child services would do an investigation. I had seen it many times growing up where I did.
I spent a little over a month in a group home in foster care until my grandparents took custody of me. I didn’t even know I had grandparents that were still alive. At first, I was excited, but I soon found out they didn’t take me in out of love or affection, but because they felt it was their Christian duty to do.
There were a few things I appreciated about how my grandparents raised me. They taught me to be very articulate in the way I talked and not to use ghetto slang and my grandmother taught me how to be a lady. They told me they were not raising me to be “ghetto trash”. I came to appreciate that more as I grew older.
They made me study and do my homework, which at first I didn’t care for that but as I entered high school I was grateful for it. I recognized how much it helped with my grades and education and by my junior year, I was taking AP classes.
Don’t get me wrong, I could act the fool and act like a hoodrat when and if I wanted to. I learned that from other girls at my high school. But that was just an act to fit in and not who I was. Not that I had a lot of female friends in school.
I had very few and the ones I did have were school friends and not real friends I would hang out at school only. I never had any real girlfriends to have girl talks with or do makeovers with or do each other’s nails or anything like that.
I don’t think it was due to my reputation for being promiscuous. There were girls in our school who did a lot worse than I did and had sex with more boys than I did. One of the most popular girls in our school was a very pretty dark-skinned girl and head cheerleader. She was dating an older boy who was a gangbanger and rumor was he passed her around to his gang buddies.
I also heard that he would take her to a cheap motel and pimp her out to several guys a night. I didn’t believe the last part, but who knows if it was true or not. It could have been because I knew that happened to some of the girls that became hoodrat girlfriends to the thugs in our neighborhood. I did know she was still very popular and had a lot of friends.
I think it had more to do with the fact I was a loner type of person and also I didn’t socialize with many kids after school besides with the youth group at church. When I got out of school for the day I had to go immediately to my grandfather’s store and work and then after home to study and do homework. During the summer, except for the one year, I was a camp counselor all summer, I spent my days and evenings working in the store.
My grandfather introduced me to reading books. They didn’t have cable TV so I read a lot for entertainment. The books my grandfather read were mostly by black authors and books about the repression of the black race by the white race and biographies and autobiographies about black men and women. I did read some of those books, but by using my library card I was able to extend my reading education.
I read classic novels, non-fiction history books, biographies and autobiographies about various people of all races, and also fictional books. To this day I love to read.
Then there was a summer camp I went to. I loved summer camp. I had been going since I was ten. It was a camp for underprivileged black kids and ran by a Pentecostal church. It was not some fancy summer camp that offered a lot of activities, just basic things such as swimming on the lake, canoeing, archery, and nature hikes. It was fun though.
While it had strict rules regarding fraternization between the girls and the boys, other strict rules, and we had to attend religious services; I enjoyed camp a great deal. One of the reasons I enjoyed it was because it got me away from my grandparents for one week out of the summer. It was at camp when I was fifteen that another girl showed me how to shave my legs and armpits.
When I was sixteen, I was able to become a counselor at the camp so got to spend almost all summer there. We got paid and being away all summer was very nice. I also became a lifeguard at the camp. Being a lifeguard led me to trim my pubic hair.
When I first put on my red lifeguard one-piece swimsuit I noticed my pubic hairs sticking out and knew I had to do something about that. I went to Walmart and bought a small trimmer and trimmed the hair around my bikini line. I then thought I needed more trimming so trimmed all my black pubic hairs around my pussy. I liked how it looked so by the time summer camp was over that year, I had shaved all my pubic hair and had a hairless pussy by the time I started my junior year of school. I liked having no hair on my pussy, it felt neat.
Summer camp when I was sixteen was also where I gave my first blowjob, swallowed my first load of cum, and had sex for the first time. My boyfriend James was also a counselor at the camp, but his cock was not the first one I sucked and he did not take my virginity. An eighteen-year-old senior councilor was my first blowjob and a week later he was the first boy to fuck me.
I loved all three so much, giving a blowjob, swallowing cum, and getting fucked, that I also started giving James oral sex and letting him fuck me at camp as well. I was sneaking behind his back to have sex with the older boy but also having sex with James as well. To say I enjoyed my first year as a camp counselor would be an understatement.
After that year and when I entered my junior year of high school at seventeen I had changed. I was no longer embarrassed by my body and became rather vain and even a little narcissistic about my body and looks. I continued to shave my pubic hair and using the money I made at summer camp I was able to buy better clothes including panties and bras.
I had to hide my new clothes from my grandparents and would put them in my school backpack and change clothes at school before my first class. I was blessed with smooth, blemish-free skin so didn’t have to wear makeup, but knew if I did I would have looked better. I wished I had known how to apply it back then. Oh, I had the occasional pimple but never a breakout case of acne.
I didn’t buy very revealing clothes, just a couple of pairs of jeans, a denim skirt, a dress, and some tops. However, over that summer my breasts got even larger and my ass was even shapelier. The jeans I bought were tight around my butt and my tops were tight around my chest. I got a lot of stares from the boys, both the black boys and the white boys, at school and I enjoyed the looks and even some of the crude comments I overheard about my ass and boobs.
I also became more sexually active. I discovered I enjoyed sex and giving blowjobs a great deal and even though James was still my boyfriend, I didn’t feel I had to limit myself to one boy. I hooked up with other boys at school and even got invited to a party by a nineteen-year-old boy that came into my grandfather’s store. It was at that party that the nineteen-year-old boy fucked me and then after he was done I let his twenty-year-old friend fuck me also. I enjoyed them fucking me one after the other. I soon got a reputation at school, but I didn’t care. I was having fun.
I wanted to be a cheerleader. Not so much out of school spirit but because I thought I would look sexy in the uniform. My grandparents wouldn’t let me try out though. They did not want me to wear the cheerleader uniform and also told me I didn’t have time for extra school activities because I had to work in my grandfather’s store after school.
The high school I went to was the city school and was about eighty percent black. Most of the white kids went to the county school or one of the private schools. While I was fucking other boys and noticed that some white boys would look at me with desire, I had never had sex with a white boy. That changed when Steve and his friends walked into my grandfather’s store.
I checked the white boy’s ID and he was eighteen so I sold him the Swishers. He started to flirt with me and introduced himself. I started to flirt back, he was super cute, and told him my name. We flirted back and forth and I kept looking at the back of the store to make sure my grandfather did not see me. I would have caught hell for flirting and it would have been worse since Steve was white.
His friends had left the store and were waiting in his Range Rover while we flirted. One of them would beep the horn occasionally for Steve to hurry up.
“We are going to the lake for Memorial Day weekend if you want to join us,” Steve told me.
“I don’t have a way to get there,” I told him. “I don’t have a car.”
I didn’t tell him I didn’t even have a driver’s license. My grandparents didn’t think I needed to learn how to drive until I was eighteen. I didn’t tell the boy that because I was embarrassed by it.
“We could pick you up,” he suggested. He was staring at my chest as he suggested picking me up.
I laughed at that. I could see three white kids pulling up to my grandparents’ house in a Range Rover. Either my grandfather would run them off with his shotgun and then take a belt to me or one of the homeboys on the block would carjack them at gunpoint. Hell, maybe both.
“Come on, it will be fun. You’ll have a good time,” Steve told me and gave me a very charming grin. Damn, he had a terrific smile.
“I have plans that day,” I told him.
That was true. The school year had just ended and I was going to a Lock-In at church for the youth group that night. In case you never grew up going to Sunday School or church, a Lock-in is when the youth goes to the church and they lock the doors and the youth group socializes for the night and you sleep there.
His eyes roamed up and down my body, I was not offended. By then I was used to boys and even adult men looking at me like that. I liked when they did. My grandmother had been right, my looks and body tempted boys and men to lustful thoughts. I liked tempting boys and men to lustful thoughts. If I had been more observant and not so naive about some things at that age, I would have noticed that my body and looks also tempted some girls and adult women to lustful thoughts.
Yes, I knew about same-sex relationships, but I grew up in a Pentecostal Church and with religious grandparents and same-sex relationships were not even discussed unless it was at church and the preacher condemned those people to an eternity of hell. So I was very unaware when girls and women looked at me like that. I was always unaware of the pleasure two girls can give each other, but eventually discovered that.
“A shame,” Steve said and then leaned over the counter. “Any chance you would sell me a twelve-pack?”
I looked at the back of the store to make sure my grandfather was still busy, and he was.
“Hurry up,” I told Steve.
As the boy walked to get the beer I looked at him. He was wearing shorts and had a cute butt and nice legs. When he returned to the counter I rang the beer up. I was not supposed to sell beer or the cheap wine we sold since I was not eighteen, but my grandfather did not care as long as it made him money.
“Do you know where the Walmart shopping center is on Branson Hills Parkway?” I asked Steve as he started to walk away.
He turned around. “Yeah.”
“You could pick me up there,” I suggested.
Steve grinned at me. “About noon?”
“I can be there at noon,” I assured him.
Steve smiled at me again and winked. I blushed and smiled back.
I planned to skip the Lock-in and take the bus to the Walmart Shopping Center and meet Steve and go to the lake. Skipping the Lock-in would be easy. James would not be there since he and his parents and sister were out of town and I could tell the Youth Director I had gotten sick. My grandparents would think I was at the Lock-in.
Surprisingly it was easy to sneak out of my grandparents’ house to meet the boys I was hooking up with or go to parties. All I had to do was tell them I was either meeting James or doing something with the Youth Group from Church. I only got into trouble when I broke curfew, which I did often when I went out but giving a blowjob, eating a boy’s cum, and having sex were worth it. James, however, always made sure I made it home by curfew.
The difficulty would be getting back into the house. The Lock-in was an all-night thing so I had to come up with something to be home before the Lock-in ended the next morning. I knew that the possibility of having sex with Steve was high; why else would a white boy want to ask me out on a date? Maybe he had a black girl fetish or an itch for a black girl that needed scratching and maybe I would help him that that. I was undecided but thought maybe it would be fun to have sex with a white boy.
I decided that I could just tell my grandparents I got sick at the Lock-in and got a ride home. That would work and also if I did that then I would not have to worry about a curfew and could get home any time that night.
One would think that they would question others about me going to church activities with the youth group and ask if I had a good time etc. They never did, because they didn’t care if I had a good time. As long as I was getting my dose of religion that was all they cared about.
I needed, well wanted a new bathing suit. I was tired of my two-piece and since I was no longer ashamed of my body and now enjoyed showing it off I wanted a bikini. It was off to Walmart again where I purchased a red bikini. I also was able to buy a pair of white denim shorts that were cut high up my legs.
I know you may be thinking I am promoting Walmart, but I am not. That’s just the only place I could afford to shop. I no longer have to shop at Walmart and have not set foot in one in years.
After that, I was broke until the end of the week when my grandfather paid me for working in the store. He didn’t pay me a lot and paid me in cash so he didn’t have to report to the IRS he had an employee. He also docked out of my pay items that were shoplifted from the store when I was working the counter. We had a lot of shoplifters. I was not going to get rich working there but at least it gave me some spending money. I didn’t have to worry about bus money, I had a bus pass.
When I got home I admired myself in my new red bikini and liked what I saw. My large breasts, my flat stomach, my ample butt, and my thick shapely thighs looked good in the bikini. I wished I was taller and had longer legs though.
I told my lie to my grandparents, got on the bus, and got to the bus stop at the shopping center an hour early. I had planned it that way. Carrying my pack back, I walked over to the Walmart, went inside, and then to the bathroom to change clothes. I was not embarrassed to change clothes in the Walmart lady’s room. It was Walmart and I was not the first and will not be the last to do that, especially the Walmart that was close to the neighborhood I lived in.
I walked back to the bus stop and waited for Steve to pick me up. I was wearing my white denim booty shorts, a white sleeveless tee shirt with the lifeguard logo on it that I had gotten for free when I passed the lifeguard qualification, and underneath my red bikini. On my feet was my pair of old worn-out sneakers. I only owned two pairs of shoes. My sneakers and a pair of dress flats I wore to church. I was not allowed to wear heels and only got a new pair of cheap Payless Store sneakers once a year; at the beginning of the school year.
I only had to wait about fifteen minutes when I saw Steve drive up in the Range Rover. I got in and he said he liked my clothes. I just laughed at that because it was not like I was wearing some designer outfit; just jean shorts and a tee shirt. I did assume he meant that he liked how my black ass looked in the shorts. I sure liked his Range Rover and the leather interior smelled good. I had never been in a car that extravagant.
Oh sure, I had seen cars this extravagant before but never rode in one. I had been offered rides by boys and young men who drove Lexus, Mercedes Benz, Lincoln Navigators, etc. when I would be walking the street from the bus stop to where I lived or walking home from my grandfather’s store or the bus stop from school.
They would pull up, make a comment about my ass, and offer to give me a ride or invite me to a party. They were drug dealer gangbangers and I was not stupid enough to get into the car with them. I had no intention of being some gangbanger’s hoodrat girlfriend.
Not that I had not had sex with a gangbanger before. You grow up in my neighborhood it was bound to happen because you could throw a rock without hitting a boy who was not in the local neighborhood gang. I was just not going to be one of their girlfriends.
“Where are the other two?” I asked. I was curious, not nervous. At that time I did not know Glenn or Amber’s names.
“They are going to meet us there,” Steve replied.
As we drove to the lake we made small talk. Steve and Glenn went to one of the private schools in Branson and Amber went to the Catholic private school. I asked if Amber was Glenn’s girlfriend.
Stever chuckled. “That’s hard to explain,” he told me.
I am a smart girl I can comprehend things very well,” I replied.
“They are on and off,” he explained. “Amber can be kind of messed up sometimes and gets in these moods. She sometimes has a boyfriend and sometimes she has several.”
The white boy did continue to explain. He, Glenn, and Amber had all known each other since they were toddlers and were best friends. Steve told me that both he and Glenn had dated Amber off and on over the years. I took the term dated to mean that their friendship with Amber was a “friends with benefits” type of relationship. I found that sexy, but didn’t pry any further. It was none of my business.
I never liked sticking my nose in other people’s business and don’t like when people do that to me. I also never liked when people asked me for their advice on personal matters because I didn’t like people giving me unsolicited advice on my personal life.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Steve asked me.
“Yes,” I told him the truth.
“Yet you decided to come to the lake with me,” he grinned as he drove. “Interesting.”
“Not so interesting,” I giggled. “He is out of town this weekend and I didn’t want to go to the church Lock-in and had nothing else do to.” I smiled at Steve. “Plus, I never partied with white folks before so I was curious; call it a social experiment.” Steve laughed.
“Why did you invite me to come to the lake with you?” I teased.
“I thought you were cool when you sold me the beer and would be fun to hang out with,” Steve told me.
I didn’t believe that at all. He had no idea if I was cool or not from just our brief meeting and flirtations. I didn’t sell him the beer until after he invited me to the lake. I knew what he wanted.
Steve must have had an “itch” for black girls with “junk in their trunk” and it was time it needed scratching again. I doubted I was the first black girl he “invited” anywhere. The boy was awfully cute and charming and I was sure I was not the first black girl to fall for his charm and looks and maybe even his money. Well, money his parents gave him.
I didn’t know if I was going to give the white boy what he wanted. Honestly, at that time I doubted I would. But if I did, he would find out I didn’t have junk in my truck; I had treasure in my trunk. While my ass was ample it was not flabby and loose or spotted with pockets of cellulite. It was tight and firm and smooth and blemish free.
We got to the lake; Glenn and Amber were already there as well as some of their other friends; a small group of about seven or eight boys and girls. There was another black person there, a boy, who I tried talking to thinking we may have something in common, but he was “whiter” than any of his white friends and such a snob and looked down on me for being from the side of town I was from.
When I took off my shorts and tee shirt I did get several stares directed at my butt and breasts in the bikini and I enjoyed that. Overall I had a nice time. I didn’t try to fit in with these rich kids and I ignored the few questions I got about life in the hood. Overall I was pretty much ignored. Not because I was black but because they were members of an already established clique I was not a member of.
I did overhear some whispered comments from a couple of the white girls that reminded me of that 1980s humorous rap song about black girls’ butts and that they got back. You are familiar with how the song starts I am sure; the white girls saying something like, “Oh my God, look at her butt”, and it goes on from there.
I was not embarrassed nor was I insulted. I was proud and vain about my ass and breasts. Let them say what they wanted, many white guys at school and elsewhere stared at my ass and Steve was one of them. Their super, cute, white friend wanted my “ghetto booty” and I knew it.
Steve, Amber, and Glenn were the only three that seemed interested in me and what I had to say. I pretty much assumed Steve’s only interest was his chance at some black pussy that night, but he was very polite and respectful, and attentive to my needs.
Amber on the other hand was very sweet and kind and I liked her. She was extremely pretty also. Her bikini, which I was sure had to be a size zero, hung slightly loose on her tall, thin body. She had very small breasts and a skinny butt. Her small breasts could not fill out her small-sized bikini top, but while her ass was skinny it did protrude out from her slightly and looked good in her bikini bottoms.
I was worried that her alabaster skin would burn easily but she told me she applied and had ready high-SPF sunscreen. She wore her long red hair in a high ponytail that day and I noticed that she had at least five or six piercings in her ears. My ears were not pierced because my grandparents would let me get them pierced. They didn’t approve of me wearing jewelry at all.
I was fascinated by the pretty tall redhead as I watched her interact with her friends and when she interacted with me. The way she carried herself and her mannerisms and the way she walked captivated me. No, it was not sexual. I was not into girls sexually at that point in my life, but I did think once or twice if I ever did have sex with a girl I would like for it to be her.
About seven months before that day at the lake, I had just finished reading Gone with the Wind, a book I had to hide from my grandfather. I would have caught holy hellfire if he caught me reading it. The book became one of my top five favorite books of all time and when I saw the movie years later I loved it as well.
As I read the book I did my best to imagine the aristocratic southern belles. How they walked, how they talked, their perfect mannerisms and etiquette, and how they could flirt subtly and make it appear so innocent but they knew exactly what they were doing.
As hard as I tried to picture it in my head I could not fathom it. That was until I saw Amber that day at the lake and how she maneuvered and socialized with her friends. I then knew that was what Margaret Mitchell described in her book.
At one point during the day, Steve and I went for a walk in the wooded area around the lake and we ended up making out with my back pressed against a pine tree. He was a great kisser! He kept trying to put his hands on my breasts but I would push them away. I did let him grind his swimsuit-covered hard cock into my swim-covered wet pussy and let him cup my butt with his hands.
When the sun went down, Steve sat down on a blanket next to me as we watched the fireworks show over the lake. I let him put his arms around me and I placed my head on his shoulder. I glanced over to the blanket next to us and saw Amber and Glenn making out.
After the firework show Glenn mentioned his parents were out of town and if we all wanted to go over to his house. Steve asked me if I wanted to go and I said sure, why not.
I knew these kids had money or their families did, but I did not realize just how much until I saw Amber and Glenn get into a red BMW convertible. I later found out it was Amber’s. Her father gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday. Must be nice to be rich, I thought.
We arrived at Glenn’s parents’ house and it was only me, Steve, Glenn, and Amber. The rest of the clique did not come over. The house was large and I thought it was a mansion, but at seventeen I didn’t know the difference between a large home and a mansion. The house was large and beautiful and in a neighborhood, a black girl from the hood would never set foot in unless it was to clean it…or rob from it.
Before we got out of his car, Steve reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a small, brown, paper bag. I assumed it contained some of his weed.
I was not given a tour of the house and I followed the white kids to the basement. The basement was not like any basement I had ever seen. It was furnished with a large sofa, and a recliner; there was a pool table, a ping pong table, a large TV, a bar, a bathroom, and another room off to the side that was a door that I later found out led to a bedroom.
We all four sat on the large sofa, I sat in one corner and Steve sat next to me while Glenn and Amber sat on the other side of the sofa. The sofa was so large there was still space between us for two more people. Glenn offered us something to drink and we all declined.
“Why do your parents always keep it so cold down here,” Amber commented and grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa. She spread it out over her and Glenn.
“Are you cold?” Steve asked me.
“Yeah,” I told him.
I wasn’t but I wanted to be under a blanket with him like Amber and Glenn were. Steve took a blanket that was draped behind him over the back of the sofa and spread it out over our laps.
We talked some more, the three white kids did most of the talking. It was not that I was uncomfortable but that they just knew each other for a long time and had stories to tell me about growing up together. As Glenn was telling a particularly funny story, Glenn was a great storyteller and very funny; Amber reached into her small purse and pulled out a blunt.
She lit it, took a few puffs, and passed it to Glenn who also took a few puffs. Glenn passed it to Steve but before Steve could bring the blunt to his lips I leaned over and pressed my mouth to his ears.
“Don’t,” I told him. “I don’t want you stoned when we fuck later. I want you to be able to fully enjoy the sensation of my black pussy around your white cock.”
To show Steve I was serious, I started rubbing his hard penis over his bathing suit. Our laps were under the blanket so the other two people in the room couldn’t see what I was doing. Steve wisely passed the blunt back to Glenn without taking a hit on it.
While I like hearing dirty talk during sex and can say some nasty things myself, I normally was not that forward and did not talk like that. I did so then to show Steve I was going to let him fuck me that night and also I found it sexy to emphasize the difference between our races. Something that I found out later really turned me on and still does when I have sex with a white person.
As Amber and Glenn smoked a bit of their blunt, Steve and I started making out. I continued to rub his cock and spread my legs so Steve could rub my pussy through my shorts and bikini bottoms. As we made out I forgot about Amber and Glenn and focused my attention on Steve. I was excited to have sex with my first white boy.
The only thing separating my hand from Steve’s cock was his bathing suit material and the thin mesh liner. I didn’t think that was fair since I had on denim shorts and my bikini bottoms. I stopped kissing the boy, kicked off my sneakers, and then pulled down my shorts. Still, under the blanket I got on top of Steve and straddled him and we started kissing again.
As I was grinding myself against him, Steve reached down to his waist and pulled his bathing suit down just enough to free his cock. I ran my fingers down the boy’s stomach and took it in my hand and started to jerk it up and down. While we kissed and I was stoking his cock, Steve placed his hands on my breasts. He mashed and squeezed them hard before his fingers found my erect nipples. I moaned into his mouth as he teased my nipples.
“Fuck, I want you so bad,” the boy whispered in my ear. “I want to taste that black pussy.”
That excited me more, him saying black pussy instead of just pussy and also that he wanted to taste it. I had never had a boy go down on me and use his mouth on my pussy. Seriously, I hadn’t! I heard other girls at school talk about it, but just thought either they were lying or that most boys or men didn’t do that. I certainly wanted to try it.
“I’m sure it tastes the same as the other black girls you have been with,” I teased Steve.
“I have never fucked a black girl before,” he admitted.
That surprised me. As much as he had flirted with me and invited me to the lake with him, I had certainly thought he had been with other black girls before because he was so confident about it with me.
“Do you have a condom?” I asked.
I always practiced safe sex and never had sex without a condom. Being seventeen and with religious grandparents, I was not on birth control. No way was I going to risk getting pregnant and if my grandparents knew I was sexually active I would catch hell and a beating.
“Yes,” the boy told me.
“Let’s go somewhere we can be alone,” I told him.
I was sure the large house had plenty of bedrooms and since Glenn’s parents were not home we could use one of them.
“Suck my cock first,” Steve told me.
“Here? I can’t do that here,” I told him. “Amber and Glenn with see us.”
Steve chuckled. “I don’t think they would mind at all.”
I looked over at the other couple. I could not see Amber at all. I saw Glenn with the blanket over his lap, one hand on the back of his head and the other under the blanket over his lap. His eyes were closed and he had a look of pleasure on his face. The blanket was moving up and down and I could hear faint whimpers and muffed moans coming from under the blanket. Amber was sucking Glenn’s cock!
I was not shocked but I was surprised and also aroused by it. I wished she did not have the blanket covering her head so I could see her sucking the other boy’s cock. I had never seen porn before.
My grandparents didn’t have internet in their home, I didn’t have a computer or laptop, and the only cell phone I had was a prepaid phone I purchased myself and added minutes to it when I could. The phone could only make and receive calls and text messages. It couldn’t even take photos. My grandparents didn’t know I had the phone and I kept it hidden from them.
I looked back at Steve and smiled and then moved off the sofa and got on my knees between his legs. I pulled his swim trunks down past his knees and took his cock in my hand again. Steve moved the blanket to cover my head and his lap but I pushed it away as I looked up and smiled at the boy. I wanted Amber and Glenn to see what I was going to do. The thought of them watching me excited me as much as the thought of me seeing them.
“I know it’s not as big as you are used to,” Steve told me.
I laughed at that. I was not laughing at Steve or his penis. I laughed at his comment. Apparently, he was like many white people who bought into the myth that all black men were well-endowed. The largest guy I had been with up until then was about eight inches at the most. The others had average size cocks and they had no problem satisfying me sexually. The only time they could not, was if they orgasmed too quickly before I did. That was rare since I orgasmed extremely quickly and often when I had sex.
“It’s fine,” I told assured Steve. “It’s very nice.”
And it was. I liked the look of his white cock and the length and girth of it. It was maybe seven inches long or maybe even slightly shorter; I didn’t know because I didn’t measure it. His shaft was smooth and the head of his penis blended in well with the shaft. What I liked most about Steve’s cock however was that it was white. I discovered that day that I liked a white boy’s cock much more than a black boy’s.
Don’t get me wrong, I liked and still like black cock; I like a man’s penis in general. While I have seen many shapes and sizes and various races of a man’s penis as I write this story, I have never come across a penis I thought was ugly. I just found and still find a white man’s penis more erotic. Maybe that’s how white girls and white women find a black man’s penis as well.
Steve did not seem to mind at all that I did not allow him to cover my head and his lap with the blanket. I know he didn’t mind us being uncovered when I lowered my head, parted my full brown lips, and took his white cock in my mouth.
The boy moaned out and placed his hand on the back of my head as I proceeded to give him a blow job. I placed my hands on his knees and used just my mouth to pleasure him. I started by taking just a few inches of his cock into my mouth and running my tongue over the head of it and licking off his pre-cum. Steve gave a moan of pleasure which gave me a feeling of satisfaction that I was pleasing him. I am a giver sexually and like making a guy feel good. It turned me on when I knew I was pleasing him.
After s few moments of me teasing his cock with my mouth and tongue, Steve put more pressure on the back of my head and I took the hint and took more of him in my mouth. Soon I was bobbing my head up and down faster and even deep-throating him several times until my lips were pressed against his pubic hairs. Based on the boy’s grunts and moans he was happy with how I was sucking his white cock.
At one time during my oral sex of the boy, I took my mouth off his penis to catch my breath after I had deep-throated him repeatedly several times and I looked up at him. I saw Steve looking over at Glenn and he was giving Glenn the thumbs-up sign with his free hand. Honest to God he was! God, boys, and they’re bragging! I would have giggled about it but Steve pressed my head back down and I took his cock in my mouth once more.
It was not long before Steve started making a series of louder moans and grunts and I knew he was close to orgasm. I started bobbing my head up and down faster and used my right hand on his shaft, which was now slick with my saliva.
“Uuugh fuck, Felicia, I’m going to cum,” the boy grunted out and his hand pressed on my head harder.
He came rather quickly from my oral attention on his cock. I would like to think it was my blowjob skill that made him cum so fast. Maybe that was part of it because I do know how to suck a cock. However, I think it had more to do with the fact I was the first black girl to ever suck his dick and that excited him much more. If that was the case, I knew how he felt because sucking my first white penis excited me more also.
As Steve’s warm, thick, sticky fluid exploded in my mouth I kept sucking and jerking him off as I swallowed his cum. When his orgasm ended I continued to milk his cock with just the head of it in my mouth to get as much of his fluid as I could. I do enjoy the taste of cum.
“Fuck, Felicia, that was awesome,” he told me after he was finished and I took his cock out of my mouth.
I placed my head on the boy’s lap and smiled up at him. “Glad you enjoyed it,” I told him sincerely.
I then turned my head to watch Amber and Glenn as I seductively ran my fingers over Steve’s thighs. Glenn had pushed the blanket off his lap by then, maybe because he was inspired by seeing me give his friend a blowjob, and I could see Amber sucking his cock.
She was moving her head up and down at a rapid pace while her hands were on Glenn’s legs. Unlike me, Amber didn’t get on her knees on the floor between the boy’s legs. She was still on the sofa and bending her head down to his lap. Amber was making these muffed whimpers and moans as Steve was holding her ponytail away from her face and I could see her clearly.
The sound Amber was making was sexy and so was seeing the expression on her lovely face as she sucked the boy’s cock. Glenn’s penis looked about the same size as Steve’s, maybe a little thicker but the length was about the same. I was surprised by how much watching her aroused me. I enjoyed seeing her suck Glenn’s cock.
Glenn started to push Amber’s head down harder and pull it back up by her ponytail and started forcing his cock deeper down her throat. It was not long before he was pushing her head hard and fast and the poor girl started to choke and gag.
I saw Amber press her hands on the boy’s thighs and try to push herself away but Glenn held her tight by her hair and kept forcing her to go up and down on him. Soon spit started spewing from her mouth in gobs as she choked on Glenn’s cock and the saliva covered his penis and his lap and ran down her chin. Amber’s earlier sexy little whimpers and muffled moans turned into loud whimpers and loud muffled moans of what sounded like distress to me.
When Glenn orgasmed, he pushed the girl’s head down hard until Amber took him completely down her throat. She gagged and choked as Glenn came into her mouth and she seemed to do her best to swallow it. Glenn was making a series of short hard thrusts up into the girl’s mouth making her gag and choke even more and some gobs of her saliva and his fluid spilled out of her mouth.
I don’t know if I would have liked that, having a boy forcing me to take his cock like that and the gagging and choking, but Amber didn’t say anything once she took her mouth off of Glenn’s cock when he was finished with his orgasm. She just wiped her mouth and looked at me and smiled. I would have been pissed if that was me.
Later that night I told Steve it was mean what Glenn did to Amber when she was giving him a blowjob and Steve just chuckled and told me she liked it that way. I doubted that was true because I would not have liked it, but I kept my mouth shut about it. That was her business, not mine.
After watching the other couple and after sucking Steve’s cock, I was horny and wanted to get fucked. I moved to straddle Steve again and kissed his neck.
“Fuck me now,” I whispered in his ear. “Take me somewhere and fuck me.”
Steve grinned as I got off of him, stood up, pulled up his swimsuit, picked up the brown paper bag off the coffee table, and held out his hand to me. I took it and he helped me up and led me to the room off the basement that I found out was a bedroom.
