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I received some great feedback on my other two, true-life stories. I also received several private messages asking that I write more and to tell about my first experience with a black woman. So I thought I’d try. Now understand, this is NOT a “sex story” so if you’re looking for that kind of a story you need to look elsewhere. I also am not making any type of statement except maybe we all need to open our hearts to all of mankind no matter the color of their skin. This simply is a true story of the road I traveled to my first experience with a beautiful black woman.
The opening of the story is a little repetitive of my earlier stories just to remind you of the transition I made over my life. The conversations I’ve recorded here are as close as I can remember them but of course I’ve taken some literary license as I cannot recall word for word what was said 35 or 40 years ago. Some words have been added to, some have had some words taken out but the general thrust is the same as it was back when it all happened. I have not used an editor as everyone I contacted either did not respond or was too busy. So when you critique it, bear that in mind and be merciful.
Private e-mails are always welcome and I sincerely appreciated the ones I received in regards to my other stories. I have also enjoyed the messages I have received from black women as a result of my writing my experiences. That was a very wonderful side effect of these stories I had not anticipated and I am very happy about it!
So, for what it’s worth, here it is. It’s the fall of 1972…..
I guess it was about 1960 that I had my first black girlfriend. I told you readers about her briefly in my first story I wrote for Literotica, “My First Black Woman”. We were both five years old. My dad would occasionally take me to a diner in downtown Tulsa for a cheeseburger and the cook there was a large, jovial (of course) black woman with huge breasts. Her little girl, whose name I have sadly forgot over the years, was always there. For this story I will call her Jane. The diner was next to the Ford dealership and our neighbor worked there and he would sometimes meet him at the diner for lunch.
Jane and her mother were the first black people I remember meeting in my life and I was fascinated by their dark skin color and bright, large lips and laughing eyes. My dad was a great man who I loved and respected, but like most white men back in those days, he had his prejudices. But he greatly enjoyed talking to the cook. Looking back on it now as a grown man nearly 50 years later, I suspect there was even some flirting going on between the two. Other than her huge breasts, I also can remember she wore ruby red lipstick….very pretty.
I can clearly see Jane in my mind. She was a skinny little thing and seems like she was always wearing the same white dress and no shoes. I also remember she always had five or six white bows in her hair. I thought she was very pretty. Regretfully, I don’t remember much else about her other than my sharing my bottle of Sun Crest orange soda pop with her; Jane sucking on one paper straw and me on the other. My dad teased me later about having a girlfriend “down at the diner”. Every time I think of that I see Barney Fife being teased by Andy about Barney’s girlfriend Juanita “down at the diner”. I guess Jane was my Juanita. Gawd but that was such a long time ago.
In the high school I attended out in east Tulsa we only had one black family and the daughter was my age. She and I were pretty good friends and she would refer to me as “Blue-eyes” and I called her “Chocolate”. No, that wasn’t very original on either of our parts but hell, we were 15 years old and that was 1970.
Chocolate and I never got together. Oh, we kissed (damn that girl could kiss!) and fooled around some but that was about it. Her older brothers and I did not get along very well and that kept us apart. In fact, I would later serve in the Marine Corps with one of her older brothers, Nate, but even then, we didn’t like each other and at one point had a physical confrontation. Nobody won the fight as it was broken up and both of us were threatened with “office hours” if our problems continued. There was a lot of racial tension in the mid-1970’s in the military and our senior NCO’s and company officers thought that was what the problem was between me and Nate and they were blaming him. I spoke up and told the First Sergeant that was not the issue at all. We just did not like each other, pure and simple and Nate resented my friendship back home with his sister. The matter died and Nate and I stopped our bickering but there still was no love lost between us. But I digress.
While I was still in high school, 18 years old and a senior classman, I was working at the Tulsa International Airport for a company called Sky Chefs. Our job was to pull a truck up to an airplane, raise the back of the truck up level to the plane doors that lead into the galley, and load food and beverages onto the aircraft and take off the dirty dishes. Yep, once canlı bahis upon a time you actually got real meals on real dishes when you flew on commercial aircraft! I would go to work at 4 PM, almost as soon as I got out of school, and would get home at about 2 AM every morning. No, my grades weren’t too good due to my lack of sleep!
Well, as I said above, I had been fooling around with Chocolate and I had what some people nowadays call “jungle fever”. I wanted a black girl! I had already had sex with a white girl and, well, it was less than satisfying. But it was obvious to me Chocolate and I was not going to get together so I was looking elsewhere. And I thought I had found that girl, well, actually woman, at Sky Chefs.
Shirley East was a true black woman of the 1970’s. She was buxom but slender, strong, proud and damn beautiful. She stood about 5’7″ but looked much taller as she had a bushed out “natural” hairdo as was the style of the day, and it added a good four inches to her height. Her skin color was close to that of Halle Berry’s with flashing black eyes and large, soft lips. I think she was about 32 or 33 years old at the time. The only negative thing about her was she wore pointy black framed eye glasses to read and they hung from her neck by a chain, bouncing on those tremendous boobs of hers as she moved about. They were not attractive. The glasses weren’t, not the boobs. They were fantastic!
Shirley didn’t take crap off of anyone. If you said something to her she didn’t like, she had no problem in telling you what she thought. She did not suffer fools lightly. Our general manager was a real idiot and I can still see Shirley in my memories giving him a verbal ass-whuppin’ for something stupid he had done.
I’d asked one of the other ladies she worked with if Shirley was married and she laughed saying that Shirley had no time for men or the stupid games they play.
I’d find ways to hang out in the kitchen area where she worked. I’d make small talk; help her move large pots or food carriers, etc, whatever I could do to help her. I took every opportunity available to be near her.
“Afternoon Miss Shirley. May I help you with that?”
“Hello Miss Shirley! Don’t you look wonderful today! Here, let me get that for you”.
“Do you need me to do anything else for you? No ma’am, it’s my pleasure to help when I can.”
Oh yeah. I was slick! As I grew older I would refine my “lines” when I talked to women but hell I was only 18. I still had a lot to learn.
I had been helping Shirley for a month or two and I knew she was taking advantage of my assistance as she began to save things for me to do or would holler across the kitchen at me to come do something for her. Some of the other ladies would kid her about me but she’d tell them to shut their mouths.
Well, as I’ve shown you, I was pretty bold. And I decided one evening it was time for me to take a step; to make my move on this woman. I suspected I would get the holy crap knocked out of me but what did I have to lose? She wasn’t going to kill me. Slap me? Probably so. Complain to the boss about me? Probably not. Humiliate me? Well, yeah, that was a big concern as I didn’t want my ego bruised.
Shirley got off work at 9 PM each night she worked. Before she left she would go into the women’s locker room and shower, put on street clothes and go home. She was the last of the ladies to go home each night (the other’s got off at 8 PM) and one of my jobs was to sweep, mop and empty the laundry cart in that locker room. My plan was simple, I would wait until she went in, then I would go in and make a pass at her. Now what could go wrong with that?
I watched as Shirley went in to the locker room, staring at the sway of her hips as she went. Five minutes later, I hitched up my belt, pushed my cap forward on my head and boldly entered the locker room. Shirley was sitting on a bench smoking a Kool cigarette in her bra and panties. She didn’t jump up, scream or do anything for a few seconds as I stood there and looked at her. Okay, I was starring at her big breasts. Then she took a drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke out in my direction and spoke in a low, smooth even tone.
“Baby, you know you ain’t supposed to be in here till after I’m gone”. She always called me “Baby” and I loved it.
“Yes ma’am. I know. But I wanted to talk to you where no one else can hear”, I responded.
Shirley took another drag of the cigarette.
“Well, what is so important that you need to come in here to tell me when I’m half naked?”
Suddenly, my mind went numb. I got nervous. I toed the floor with my foot like some hick trying to ask the prom queen out on a date. I went blank.
“Well… er… I wanted. Ummm…. I wanted to say that I…I…I think ah, I think you’re beautiful!”
Hell, I was about to pee my pants! What a freaking moron I was. This was not going anywhere near the way I had planned.
Shirley continued to sit on the bench. But she had dropped her arm over her knee and bahis siteleri there was no obstruction in front of her face. And she smiled. Oh my gawd, that smile! They say Helen of Troy was so beautiful her face could launch a thousand ships. Well let me tell you, she could not have been any more beautiful than Shirley East was at that moment.
“Thank you baby. That is very nice to hear. Now, get out of here so I can get cleaned up and go home!”
And without a word I turned on my heels and quickly exited the locker room.
Crap! What a dumbass I turned out to be. Here was this gorgeous, voluptuous, sexy black woman, in just her bra and panties, and I couldn’t do a damn thing except stutter out a few stupid words. Yeahhhhh buddy. I was reallllly slick! I figured she must be sitting in that locker room laughing at me.
The next day when I came to work I was as nervous as a one-eyed cat peeking into a seafood store. Shirley didn’t say a word as I walked by. No big deal as that happened a lot anyway. I didn’t go over to help her with anything as I was too embarrassed and she did not call out to me. In fact, she seemed a little on the grumpy side and her co-workers didn’t seem to want to be around her. The same thing happened the second day, and then the third. Then she was off for the following two days and I was off one of those same days and the next (we worked four days together each week and shared one day off). When I came back to work, she still didn’t acknowledge me.
That night, I went out onto the loading dock for a smoke break (yeah, I smoked then – started when I was 9 years old and didn’t quit until August 1988 cold turkey – never had one since though I want one everyday). Shirley came out shortly thereafter to dump a trash can and as she did so, she caught me looking at her. It was almost 9 PM and time for her to go home.
“You still think I’m beautiful?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am, I surely do. In fact, I think you’re just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen”. My gift of gab was back Look out, I’m hot tonight!
Shirley stood there for a second staring at me. Then said, “What is it you want, Baby?”
“I want to see you someplace away from here”, I responded as I smoked my Marlboro.
She pulled a pack of Kool’s from her work dress pocket and lit one up. She looked a hole through me then smiled and snickered.
“I must be getting soft”, she said. “I’ve been mopping around all week because you ain’t been over bothering me and getting in my way while I’m trying to work,” she said.
Then her expression softened and she said, “I’ve missed you being nice to me. Not too many people around here is nice to me, especially white people”.
“I’ve been miserable myself not being around you but I was afraid you were mad at me. And I hadn’t noticed anyone being mean to you ma’am. And if I had I’d have done something about it”, I said with a great deal of confidence.
Shirley smoked some more and looked at me as if she was contemplating something.
“I must be crazy. You’re still a boy,” she mumbled and with that she threw her cigarette off the dock, grabbed the trash can and went back inside to building.
I stood there for about 30 seconds and tried to figure out my next move. Had I been older and more experienced I would have known what to do but I still had a lot to learn. So instead of going in after her and taking her in my arms ala John Wayne, I went back to work.
The next day I greeted Shirley like I used to do and helped her with her work. As I helped her with a food carrier, my fingers touched hers and they both lingered on the carrier handle. Without thinking of what might happen, I moved one of my fingers and stroked hers. It was obvious what I was doing. She rose up and harshly looked me in the eye, but did not move her hand away from my stroking finger. Then her gaze softened and her fingers began to slowly dance lightly with mine.
My gawd! She had responded to me! I was the king of the world at that moment.
“Oh baby. You have no idea what you’re getting into here.”
And then she slowly moved her hand away, brought it to her waist and rubbed it with her other hand as if it was hurting her. She then reached into her pocket, brought out her cigarette case and pulled out a small slip of folded paper and handed it to me. I started to open it but she reached out and stopped my action.
“Look baby. That’s my phone number. We need to talk about what’s going on in that cracker box head of yours. I’m off tomorrow so you call me.”
She squeezed my hand lightly and told me to go load the trucks. That was a nice way of saying “get the hell out of here and leave me alone for awhile”.
I turned and walked away, folding the slip of paper and placing it carefully in my wallet. It was my treasure map and pathway to Nirvana!
The rest of the night I was on Cloud 9. I knew that I was going to have sex with a real woman. Not some high school bimbo but a real woman. And she was a black woman bahis şirketleri which made it even better! Damn but I’m a stud! “Who’s your daddy? I’m your daddy!” I couldn’t wait to call her. I damn near mutilated myself that night during the throes of self-abuse. It was one awesome orgasm.
I called Shirley around 1 PM the next afternoon. She agreed to allow me to come to her apartment but made it very clear we were only going to talk and if I got out of line she’d “kick my ass out the door”. I had no doubt she would do it, too. I agreed I would be a perfect gentleman and drove to her place at about 90 mph. When Shirley opened her apartment door, she stopped me from coming in at first by holding her had straight out like a traffic cop.
“I mean it! You get out a line and out you go!”
“I understand Shirley. You have my word I will be good.”
Good. Yeah, that’s what I wanted to be. Good at kissing, good at licking, and good at making love…..yeah, I wanted to be very good. Teach me what I don’t know and make me better than good!
Shirley let me in and motioned for me to sit at the kitchen table. She offered me a Pepsi which I gladly accepted as my mouth and throat were dry from the anticipation of seeing her and possibly getting into her panties.
Shirley gave me my can of Pepsi and I peeled off the ring top and took a long swallow as she sat down and lit a cigarette. She offered me one which I took even though Kools were not my brand.
“So baby, what is it you want from me,” she asked.
“Love? HA! What you mean is pussy. You just want some pussy is all ain’t it?”
“No ma’am. I want love. Or, maybe a better word is affection and I want it from you.”
“It’s still sex and I ain’t gonna do that, especially for someone as young as you. Hell, I bet you’re still a virgin and you think some older woman is the way to go to lose it. Are you baby? Are you a virgin?”
“Hell no! I lost that over a year ago. And I’m not here just for sex.”
Okay, that was a little white lie (no pun intended). I was there for sex. But I also realized at that moment that I truly was attracted to Shirley in another way. I enjoyed being around her. I liked how strong and confident she was. It was a lot different than anyone I had messed around with in school that was my age. I look back on it now and realize that it was her maturity. I liked her maturity and I loathed the giggly crap I got from the girls my age in school. Even Chocolate was sometimes like that.
“It’s just you Shirley,” I went on. “I told you I think you are beautiful and I do. But I also like just being around you, talking to you, listening to you. Your smile is so pretty and your eyes sparkle when you laugh. I enjoy my time with you and hate it when you leave work at night or we’re on our days off as I cannot see you. I sometimes stand by the time clock after you have left work just so I can smell the air and enjoy the perfume you wear”.
Shirley laughed at that admission. It was all true, even the part about the perfume. I remember it was my favorite perfume and one a lot of the teen girls wore because it was strong and cheap. It was called Tigress. And Shirley was definitely a tigress so the aroma was very appropriate for her. Her laughter did not insult me. In fact, I giggled myself. And as I did, she reached out and took my hand in hers and lightly ran her thumb over the back of it.
“You’re a sweet young man, baby. But you don’t know anything about me or what I’ve done in my life. There are reasons I am the way I am which you don’t need to know. But you have touched my heart, that’s for sure. You have ever since the first day you came over to help me with my work. I knew from the git-go you liked me. But I’m twice your age baby. You needs to find someone your own age to play house with.”
“Yes ma’am. You’re right. I don’t know anything about you other than what I’ve seen at work. But I also know I want to be your friend. Well, more than just a friend. I want to be something special to you. I know I can’t be your ‘man’, but I want to be as close to that as I can.”
Shirley continued to hold my hand and caress the back of it as I in turn caressed hers and tightly held her fingers.
“Well baby that brings me back to my question. What do you want?” she asked again.
“Right now I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad my heart aches.”
Shirley looked at me for only a couple of seconds but it seemed like forever. Then she stood up and stepped over in front of me. In the blinking of an eye I was on my feet as she brought her hand to my face.
We looked into each other’s eyes.
Shirley turned her face up to mine and I lowered my lips to hers and they lightly touched in a soft, intimate kiss. Then she pulled away and once again starred me in the eye.
“You’re right baby. You can’t be my man. But you can be special to me”.
With that comment I lowered my lips to hers again but this time, the soft, tender kiss gave way to one more powerful, more urgent and intense. Her lips parted and I felt her tongue dance at my lips and they parted to accept her gift in my mouth. Our tongues danced with each other as our lips meshed into one soft, warm wet living thing.
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