I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in my third year at a small liberal arts college in South Carolina when I met Matt; he and I shot hoops together at the campus rec center. We became good friends over the course of that year so it was no surprise to me when he invited me to go home with him for a weekend visit. Matt lived a few hours away from the college in a rural, backwoods part of the state. He told me that I shouldn't get self-conscious if some of the townspeople stared at us being together.
"Shit," he grinned. "We don't see many black folks in our neck of the woods."
I was a little concerned, but not enough to cancel the visit - Matt was a pretty good guy and I was always up for a new experience. He did warn me however about his father.
"Daddy's got pretty old-fashioned attitudes but he don't mean no harm. That's just his way of thinking."
Matt headed for home that humid, Friday morning. His mother had called the night before and wanted him to drive her to a nearby town to visit his grandmother who had suddenly become ill. I would've gone with him but I had a late afternoon class that I couldn't miss. Matt was to pick me up at the town's Greyhound station later that evening. My bus arrived exactly as scheduled - 9:00 p.m. on the dot. I looked for Matt but he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was no one at the station other than me. I was as nervous as a whore in church - not to mention the fact that I didn't have any change to use the beat-up looking payphone right outside the station.
"Where in the fuck is he?" I thought to myself.
Before I could answer my own question, I heard the swift, crunching sound of tires on gravel. The headlights on a red pick-up truck nearly blinded me as it came closer and closer and finally halted to a screeching stop. The driver was a rough, good-looking white man about fifty or so. I could make out his gray hair from underneath his worn trucker's cap; a silver mustache framed the thick, black cigar that jutted from his jaw. His eyes bored a hole in me as he barked out in a baritone southern drawl,
"You must be Matt's friend - git in the truck, boy. I'm his paw."
As we drove back to the house Matt's dad told me that his wife's mother had taken a turn for the worse. She and Matt would be staying overnight to monitor her condition. In no time flat we were back at the house. It was pretty large as I remember it - a basement and everything. Acres of land surrounded the property. It was so different from the apartment I had grown up in. Speaking of large, I didn't realize how big Matt's dad was until we had gotten out of the truck. I guessed him to be about six foot two - he had to weigh at least 220 pounds. We sat at the kitchen table talking as he chain-smoked Winstons and guzzled brew after brew. During our conversation I couldn't help but notice the way he kept staring at my mouth when I spoke. His eyes had gotten glassy from the beer and he soon began to slur his words a bit. No way did I think my first night at Matt's would be watching his dad get shit-faced.
"All that fucking beer got me needin' to take a piss," he belched out. I watched his hulking frame lumber down the hallway to the john. He hadn't been in there a full minute when I heard his call - "Hey boy, git in here."
"What the hell could he want?" I thought. My brown eyes froze as I stepped up to the open door and saw him standing there holding his thick, uncut white cock.
"Looks like I need a little help over here, boy," he said. "Git over here and hold it for me." I assumed "it" was the plump sausage in his hand - I didn't know what the hell to do - was he serious? However, his harshly toned, "NOW motherfucker!" immediately got my attention and I quickly stepped over to him and took it in my hand. "That's it nigga - hold a white man's dick while he takes a whiz." With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he began to let loose a river of the warm, recycled brew. "Aw yeah, you fucking piece of charcoal shit . . . stick your fucking tongue out down there and have a taste." I did as I was told and let the acrid piss slowly coat my tongue. "You look good down there, boy - just where a good nigga SHOULD be." As the last few spurts of piss emptied from his bladder, he let out a belch that shook the room. "Now suck it bitch! Take this white meat down your cocksucking throat, you fucking darkie - suck it for me, baby. Suck that big 'ole white dick!"
And suck it I did. As I went down to deep throat him I heard the crinkling sound of cellophane - he had unwrapped a thick cigar.
"Your master needs a light, boy," he said as he shoved a zippo in my shaking hand. As he leaned down I flicked the shiny lighter and watched intently as the cigar took the flame and began a slow burn. As Matt's dad pulled deep on the aromatic tube of tobacco, his dick got harder and harder. "Good nigga," he said as he smiled and patted the side of my face. "You know what you need, boy?," he queried. "A white man's jizz - that's right- you need to taste my sperm, you fucking nigga cum-bucket. And Big Daddy's gonna give it to you - straight from the motherfucking tap, boy!"
That blistery spring evening Matt's dad fucked my face with the tenacity of a sailor on shore leave with a bow-legged whore. The kneeling position I had assumed left my legs numb as he thrust his cock harder and harder between my lips.
"Look up at me, boy," he groaned. "Look up at your Master, you goddamn slave - worship that hard, white cock." Our eyes were locked in pure fuck-lust as he shoved my head down further and ran his hands through my short afro. The raunchier he got, the harder I sucked. His filthy fuck-talk was about to send him over the edge . . . closer . . . closer . . . closer . . . and then . . . "Aaawww, FUCK! Suck it up you 'sum bitch - catch them motherfuckin' baby-bullets . . . you black fucking nigga-bitch . . take it . . . take it you jizz-lovin' CUM-WHORE! Aw, yeah . . . fucking yeah, buddy."
"Git naked boy and git your black ass in my bed," he said as the last few drops of cum leaked from his cock. "Daddy'll be in there shortly."
I quickly went to the bed where he no doubt fucked his wife and got under the covers. I lay there trembling as I listened to the sound of water running from the shower. The sound soon stopped and I heard heavy, booted footsteps as he made his approach. The flame from his lighter illuminated the darkly lit room as he fired up a cigarette. He stood there buck-fuckin' naked except for a pair of scuffed, worn cowboy boots. "Daddy wants to fuck his his lil' nigga boy's pussy," he whispered in my ear. That sound good to you, baby?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I quickly replied.
"Then suck my big white cock some more, boy - git it nice and stiff so I can stuff it inside that sweet black cunt of yours." He took one last drag off his smoke and then ordered me to lay on my back and spread my legs.
"I wanna eat it before I fuck it, baby - spread those black pussy lips for me, bitch." Soon his wet, slippery tongue was lapping at my rosebud, darting his tongue in and out quickly like a starving hummingbird feasting on a tasty flower. The feeling was fucking incredible. Matt's Dad lifted my hips off the bed and brought my ass up to his mouth for a closer feeding. He sucked and sucked and sucked . . . my pussyhole was on fire from the hot rimming the horny trucker was giving me. I just HAD to have his big, uncut dick inside me.
He stood at the side of the bed as I slicked up his mule cock with cornhusker's lotion; the throbbing pole bobbing and swaying as I carefully slathered on the grainy liquid. Throwing me on my back, he stopped to light a cigar and get himself in position. He then pushed against my tight rim and his big, pink-headed cock slowly inched its way inside my tight boy-hole.
"You like getting fucked by a big 'ole stogie-chompin' white man, don't you nigga-boy? Don't 'cha cocksucker?!" I squirmed underneath his hairy chest as he pushed harder and harder inside me. Smoke from the cigar filled the room as he thrust deeper and deeper. Beads of sweat poured off his body as he fucked in a rhythmic motion that had my skull bucking against the headboard.
"Take this DICK, boy," he bellowed. "Your white Daddy's gon' breed his cocksucking nigga slave . . ."
Matt's old man fucked me so hard that night I lost consciousness temporarily - when I came to he lay next to me - a brew in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other.
"You may be my son's FRIEND, boy," he bellowed as he took a deep drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke in my direction. "But you'll be my NIGGA, you got that boy? - my private, personal cocksucking pussyboy." Believe me, I got it.