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overheard two girls talking. “Hey did you hear about that girl Henry Jacobson was seeing? Not just seeing, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I did. I heard she can’t keep it out of her mouth, if you know what I mean.”

“She’s such a pig.”

I cried. When I moved here, I didn’t expect things to work out the way they were working out.

It got worse. The next day, standing in line at the base commissary, I overheard the woman in line ahead of me talking to the checkout clerk. “Did you hear there’s a girl here whose earned quite a reputation?”

“I did, but I don’t know who she is.”

That night in bed, I couldn’t sleep. All those rumors I’d heard were swirling around in my head.

The next time I had World Geography, I turned to Mitchell Coleman. “Hey Mitchell, about what you said the other day about black guys knowing how to treat a girl.”

“What about it?”

“Do you know any guys like that?”

I wasn’t thinking of Mitchell specifically. I wasn’t thinking of any one in particular.

“Sure, if you ask me nicely; I’ll take you out.”

“I-I-I, didn’t mean you, but a movie would be okay.”

“Friday night. A movie it is.”

Mitchell Coleman was older. He’d already served in the Navy. He was a perfect gentleman. I was uncomfortable sitting so close to him in the theater, even in the car. He didn’t try to hold my hand. When he drove me home, he didn’t try to kiss me good night. Like In said, he was a gentleman; not what I expected. I hadn’t had a date like that since high school.

“Cindy Lou, there’s a club down near the Gaslamp District. They have some good music; want to go tomorrow night?”

I didn’t hesitate. This born and bred Mississippi rebel girl didn’t hesitate. “Sure, sounds like fun.”

In bed, staring at the ceiling, I said almost out loud, “what were you thinking, Cindy Lou?”

It was fun, but it was different and I was like a foreigner in a strange country; that country was somewhere in Africa. I was one of the few white people in the place, and only one of two white girls. I was uncomfortable, although Mitchell was cordial and the music was great.

The problem, if you want to call it one, started when Mitchell asked me to dance. I mean the music was soft jazz. That means he was going to hold me. I didn’t think I could do it, but he was my date and like I said had given me no reason not to dance with him, except of course that he was colored.

Remember, I’m 5’11” tall. This was the kind of place where a girl wears heels. Mitchell was much taller than me, unlike little Henry.

I was shaking as he held me. I couldn’t help it. This was a first for me. It wasn’t a first like when Junior Jenkins took my virginity or when I blew Henry that first time, I mean this was something ingrained in me since my great-great-great-grandmother’s time.

We stayed on the dance floor for two more dances. Mitchell was a good dancer and I floated around the dance floor in his arms. He never held me too close, nor too far which would have looked awkward and unnatural. He never brushed against my 38DDs which he couldn’t help but notice; his hand didn’t slide down to my wide ass.

Before dropping me off, “Cindy Lou have you ever been to La Jolla?”

“No, why?”

“Black’s Beach is a great little place, just north of here. You’ll love it. Why don’t we go next weekend? We should get to know each other a little better.”

He said weekend. It sounded like it meant overnight. I know what that meant. “Ummmm, Mitchell let me think about it. Good night. Thanks for a wonderful; evening.”

“Good night.” There was no effort on his part to kiss me good night. Nothing. Like I said, he was a gentlemen. Of course, I never considered kissing him. No way. Robert E. Lee himself would roll over in his grave.

I didn’t sleep much Saturday night. I was in a daze all day Sunday. My mind swirled thinking of what would happen if I spent a weekend with Mitchell. I thought of what I did in the backseat of Junior Jenkins car, and in Henry Jacobson’s pickup.

I tried not to picture Mitchell on top of me or worse me on my knees. Oh God, no, no, no, no. I nearly threw up at the thought.

On the other hand, he was the only one who asked me out. It had been four months since I’d seen Dr. Wellman. Four months since I’d enjoyed the feeling of a cock inside my goodies.

Tuesday I had World Geography. I knew I had to give Mitchell an answer. I’d made up my mind; the answer was no thank you.

Then I surprised even myself. When I saw him, “Mitchell, I think going away for a weekend might be fun.”

“Great, we’ll leave right after our last class Friday afternoon.”

I was quiet on the hour drive, north.

The motel we checked into was modest and clean. The only time I’d stayed in a motel was when my mom and I drove out here from Mississippi. There was no doubt this was going to be different. Frankly, I cringed at the thought.

The motel room had two doors. One led into the room from the parking lot; the other led from the room down to the beach. I opened that door; I was stunned. The beach was beautiful. Gulfport had some nice beaches, and the beach where I’d given Henry that blowjob was gorgeous, but not nearly as gorgeous as what I was staring at.

“Mitchell, I want to go in the water.”

“Okay.”

I took my bag and went into the bathroom. My swimsuit was the same one that I wore in San Diego. A halter top, which covered those 38DDs and basketball shorts-like bottoms.

When I came out of the bathroom, Mitchell already had on his swimsuit. He was well-built, but I still couldn’t get his blackness out of my head.

I didn’t do much running, but I guess you could say I ran down to the water’s edge and waded in. Mitchell wasn’t far behind.

It took only a minute before I realized that most of the other people on the beach were naked. Completely 100% naked.

“Mitchell is that why you brought me here? To see me naked?”

“Only if you want to.”

I didn’t. I couldn’t imagine. I couldn’t imagine with Junior. I couldn’t imagine on a segregated beach back home if there was even such a thing. We heard that somewhere outside of Gulfport there was a pond where boys when skinny-dipping but none of my girlfriends or I would go there, even if it was to spy on boys. We were genteel southern ladies.

I tried not to look at the other people. Since I was little, I’d been told that if I saw a boy peeing to look the other way. The beach wasn’t very crowded, but still there were people everywhere.

We splashed around for a while, with the waves crashing against the shore. Half an hour later we were laughing and giggling; I guess I lost my balance and a wave knocked me over. Mitchell helped me up; I was in his arms.

It just happened: we kissed. I’m not sure who initiated it but I didn’t resist. In fact, I put my arms around his neck and let that kiss linger. “Cindy Lou, do you think it’s time we went inside?”

I knew what he was suggesting. Yes it was.

“Ummm, Mitchell, I should take a shower.”

“Me, too. There’s an outdoor shower next to our room. I can get all the salt off.”

In the shower I washed thoroughly. Last night, at home, I’d shaved my legs. I’d never done much grooming around my goodies. I mean every time Junior and I did the dirty deed it was in the dark. After that one time with Henry, I never took off my shorts or panties.

Now, I double checked. I wanted to make sure there were no stray hairs high up on my thighs. I wished I’d done that before seeing Dr. Wellman, but this was going to be different, wasn’t it?

My hair is light brown, so is my pubic hair. In the communal shower room at school, I noticed that not only were my breasts bigger than the other girls, so was my pubic hair. I mean, you could say I had a very full bush. It proved that I was a woman, right?

In my bag I had a nightgown. It wasn’t sexy but it was thigh-length. I came out of the bathroom wearing it. Mitchell was already in bed. The sheet up almost to his chest. “Mitchell, I’m a little nervous.”

“I understand, Cindy Lou. We’ll take it slow.”

I don’t think he understood. I was a Mississippi girl. I got in bed. I didn’t hesitate to start where we left off. I kissed him on the mouth. It wasn’t too long before our tongues got involved.

I have to say I was enjoying it. For a few minutes I didn’t think about color.

Mitchell’s hand went to my breast. “Cindy Lou, may I?”

Not only did I let him, I lowered the thin shoulder straps on that nightgown.

His hand was gently as he played with them.

I looked down, and it struck me, finally. The contrast. I’m pale to begin with; my breasts are the whitest white. Mitchell’s hand was black. My heart was racing. Could there be a greater taboo?

I had two choices. I could get out of bed and insist we drive back to San Diego or I could let this continue. Of course, I knew where it would continue to. I mean the end result was obvious.

“They’re beautiful. I’d love to kiss them.” Like I said his hands felt so good. Going back to Junior Jenkins who was the first boy I let touch them; his hands felt okay, but he didn’t really know what he was doing. Henry didn’t spend much time at all with them; I was too busy blowing him.

Mitchell lips felt so good. He knew how to kiss and lick and suck them. My goodies were getting wet.

The other thing was that my arms were around his neck and shoulders. I could not bring myself to slide my hand below the sheets. After I gave Junior that first hand job, I couldn’t wait to get in his pants; to feel his hard cock in my hand.

And Henry, well, you know what I couldn’t wait to do to Henry.

Not with Mitchell. Like any Mississippi girl I’d heard the rumors about colored boys. They were more like animals than humans when it came to what they had their pants. My best friend back in Gulfport, Roberta Lee, told me that one time she accidentally saw a colored boy peeing in the woods. “Cindy Lou, you would not believe it.” She held her hands almost a foot apart. “I assure you, Cindy Lou, Bobby Joe Bonner has nothing like that.” Bobby Joe was her boyfriend, and she’d just admitted that she had some familiarity with what he had in his pants just like I was familiar with Junior’s.

Like I said, Mitchell was a few years older than me, had served in the Navy and unlike Henry was bigger than me. “Cindy Lou, let’s try this.” He rolled me on top of him. I’d never done it like that.

Now, my breasts, my 38DD breasts were right in his face. I giggled as he took them in both hands and rubbed them in his face. “Mitchell, I think you like them. Kiss them some more.” I was getting comfortable. Besides, his hands felt so good.

Actually, I made it difficult for him. I was swinging them in his face, and he was trying to catch one of my nipples with his mouth. I was beginning to enjoy the contrast between my pure white titties and his black face. And I was enjoying the way Mitchell was playing with them.

“Cindy Lou, you have the most spectacular ummm . . .”

“Mitchell, you can call them titties.” I knelt straight up and raised my arms over my head. He had full access to them. “In fact, I’d like it if you said, “Cindy Lou, you have the most beautiful titties.”

He did and his gentle hands were all over them. It was at that moment I decided that there was no going back. This colored boy, Mitchell Coleman could have all of me.

I rolled off him; pulled back the sheet, and got on my back. My legs were spread.

When I told myself he could have all of me, maybe I didn’t know as much as I thought. I mean I was ready to do the dirty deed. My goodies were drenched. Mitchell had other ideas. Sure, he got between my legs, continued kissing my titties, but and then the most amazing thing happened. He started kissing me lower and lower. Kissing me below my belly button.

Roberta Lee and some of my other girlfriends talked in general terms about such a thing, but like blowjobs, it was nothing we’d ever let happen. “That’s where I pee.”

“And don’t forget, have you ever seen a bloody napkin after a heavy day?”

“Who’d want to stick their tongue in there, EWWWWW?”

Well, apparently Mitchell did. “Cindy Lou, I’ve never seen a pussy like this. You’re beautiful.”

I thought he meant that he’d never seen a white girl’s goodies. I couldn’t bring myself to say pussy. I was pleased that Mitchell liked my goodies. Neither Junior nor Henry said anything about it being beautiful. They were boys; they just wanted to do it.

Contrary to my southern upbringing and referring to Mitchell as a colored boy; I knew he was a man. The way he did my titties proved he was a man, and now as his tongue started on my goodies; this was definitely a man.

Remember I’d never had my goodies licked. Until Henry fingered my special spot and then we did the dirty deed, I didn’t think sex was anything special. Then once I started sucking his cock, I thought that was the greatest thing.

Now, there was no question that having my goodies licked by a man who knew what he was doing was the greatest thing. If you don’t think so, I feel sorry for you. You just haven’t had your goodies licked by an expert.

That’s another thing: I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘eat.’ Mitchell was licking my goodies.

Mitchell was an expert; an expert at massaging my special spot. I know it was the first time, but I couldn’t imagine anything better. I know I was nineteen and had a long life ahead of me, but I had an orgasm, then another, then another.

That one time I did it with Henry, I thought my big ass was giving it to him good. That ass never moved so fast as it was when it was fucking Mitchell’s tongue; his marvelous tongue. “COME UP HERE AND FUCK ME, FUCK ME, MITCHELL, I WANT YOUR COCK. I NEED YOUR COCK.”

Did you hear that: me, the Mississippi rebel girl was begging a colored boy to fuck her while his tongue was doing amazing things to her goodies. Her goodies which she’d freely given him. In fact, at this moment, Mitchell could have anything he wanted.

Did you hear me: for the first time in my life, I used the word fuck. Back home, we always said the dirty deed. Roberta Lee and our friends were genteel, southern ladies. We’d been raised properly.

And now . . . and with a colored boy.

“Hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmm, Cindy Lou, you have the sweetest pussy. Let me eat it just for a few more minutes.”

I couldn’t say no; his tongue was making my special spot so, so sensitive. “OH MITCHELL, OH MITCHELL, YES KEEP LICKING ME. LICK MY GOODIES. LICK IT GOOD.”

He did and I had more orgasms. Finally, he crawled up, and I could feel his cock probing between my thighs. It felt big. I reached down and helped guide it to my goodies’ opening. It felt bigger.

Then I could feel it starting inside me. It was stretching me. It felt still bigger. “Oh God, Mitchell. You feel so good. Give it to me. Give me all of it.”

He did. For the next I don’t know how long, Mitchell fucked me. Slamming his cock in and out. To be fair, I was certain I was fucking him, too. Fucking him good.

We were grunting, groaning, moaning, sighing. It was as if I’d never been fucked before. “KEEP FUCKING ME, MITCHELL. YOUR COCK, OH YOUR COCK.”

“You liked your pussy eaten too, didn’t you Cindy Lou?”

“Loved it, but not right now.” My big ass kept bouncing off the bed; my hips rolled back and forth. “Fuck me, Mitchell.” I was looking this colored boy in the eyes, with my arms around his neck. I tried to lock my legs around his back, but he was too big. That didn’t stop me from fucking Mitchell. Those legs were flailing up in the air every which way.

It was the best fuck I could imagine. “Mitchell that was the most amazing thing, when you’re ready, I’m going to want it again.”

I snuggled against his chest. I could hear his heart beating.

I thought to myself that I was insane to do what I’d done. Then I smiled. I’d just had my goodies treated like I was a queen, and I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever get fucked better.

Later that afternoon, after another dip in the water, we fucked again. Mitchell gave it to me just as good, maybe better than the first time. I was thrilled.

We slept in each other’s arms. Before falling asleep, I stared at the ceiling, wondering what I was doing. I wondered what my friends back in Gulfport like Roberta Lee would think. Back home, colored boys like Mitchell were barely considered human. Not only would they not do what I had done, they would recoil at the thought of even touching one or being in the same room alone. The thought would make their skin crawl.

In the morning, I was up early, walked out to the beach. It was heavenly, and the cool water felt so good on my goodies which Mitchell had given a pounding like it had never experienced before.

I had on my swimsuit, but even at this early hour there were people on the beach and in the water naked. This time I didn’t hesitate to look. Although the guys weren’t excited, they didn’t seem to have what Mitchell had.

As for the girls, some had titties like mine but most didn’t seem to have as much pubic hair. I smiled, my big bush didn’t seem to bother or deter Mitchell.

When I came back, Mitchell was in the shower. I did something no self-respecting Mississippi lady would have considered; I joined him.

“Mitchell, I need someone to wash the salt off my back.” I handed him the soap.

He laughed, “Cindy Lou, I’m sure you do, but I’d be more interested in washing the salt off your gorgeous titties.”

I giggled and stuck my chest out. “Mitchell, you have the best ideas.” He started soaping up my titties.

Looking down, for the first time, I actually had a good look at his cock. I was in awe.

I’d seen Junior Jenkins’ when I gave him hand jobs, and of course blowing Henry Jacobson, I’d seen his. I’d just seen the guys on the beach. They were nothing like Mitchell’s and it wasn’t just the color.

I was shocked that it had fit in my little goodies. I was looking forward to having it fit again.

What I’m trying to tell you is it was so big; standing so tall. Big, like Roberta Lee claimed that colored boy’s was when she accidently saw him peeing. Not big like the stallions on our farm, but bigger than I thought possible on a man.

I was pleased that playing with my titties made him so hard. “Mitchell, your cock seems like it’s so ready, and my goodies is so ready to welcome it. Let’s get dried off.”

It was the best morning. I was on my back, with my legs spread. Like I said my goodies welcomed Mitchell’s cock. His big cock.

Mitchell may have thought he was fucking me, but I assure you, I was giving him the best fucking.

Then I wasn’t. “Cindy Lou, I want to eat that sweet pussy, please.”

After the things his tongue did to me yesterday, and he said please. I couldn’t say no, although I was disappointed as that big cock withdrew from my goodies. Within minutes, I was in ecstasy. Mitchell’s tongue found my special spot and gently caressed it, then caressed it until my orgasms came in waves.

My big ass never moved like it did from the things Mitchell’s tongue did. His tongue didn’t stop; my orgasms didn’t stop. I never knew it could be like this.

I don’t know what was on Mitchell’s mind, but I thought he was licking me to get my goodies ready for more fucking. He’d do me so good that I’d beg for his cock.

It worked, after all those orgasms, “PLEASE, MITCHELL, YOUR COCK, I NEED YOUR COCK. MY GOODIES NEED YOUR COCK. COME UP HERE; FUCK ME.”

As I said above, it was the best morning.

I slept most of the afternoon. Mitchell took a swim and then snuggled against my titties. I was certain I smiled, as his face burrowed into my cleavage.

That evening we went out to dinner and to a dance club Mitchell knew. We danced once, “Mitchell, I’m still exhausted from everything you’ve done to me today.”

He laughed, “are you complaining?”

“Maybe, but I promise you, you can have my goodies tomorrow. All I need is a good night’s sleep.”

“And your titties?” He looked down my low-cut dress and smiled.

“In the morning, Mitchell. In the morning.”

Back in the room, I undressed and crawled into bed. This time naked. Why bother, I thought. Mitchell joined me, kissed my titties, “sweet dreams, Cindy Lou, I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

So was I.

If I had been looking forward to getting my goodies licked and fucked, it didn’t happen at least not right away and it was all my fault. In the morning, I woke up with a smile on face. Mitchell was half awake. “Mitchell, do you remember why we first went out together?”

“Ummm, there were some rumors, and I said that you should find a black guy who would treat you right.”

“Yes, and I found you, and I couldn’t be happier.” I rolled into his arms. “I won’t go into details about those rumors, but . . .”

I went down on him.

Yes, this is the same Mississippi girl, who cherished her rebel ancestors, and had always thought white people were superior to the coloreds and fully believed in segregation.

First thing you should know, as I crawled between Mitchell’s legs was that now that I had an up close look at his cock. I was in awe. Damn, like I said above, I could not believe it fit in my little goodies. Oh, it fit alright.

I took it in my hand and stroked it. I giggled, “wake up, Cindy Lou wants to play.”

I looked Mitchell in the eyes, as I kissed his circumcised cockhead. Kissed it first with my lips and then with my tongue.

Remember between when I met with Dr. Wellman and when those birth control pills became effective, I spent two, three, sometimes four nights a week blowing Henry. I had lots of practice.

Of course, Henry wasn’t nearly as big as Mitchell, but I was determined. Still looking him in the eyes, I slid my lips over that head and slowly down his shaft. Not only was his cock longer; it was fatter. Like it stretched my goodies, it stretched my lips.

I liked sucking Henry’s cock. In a few minutes, I discovered that I love sucking Mitchell’s cock. In fact, I said to myself, ‘Cindy Lou, don’t just suck it; make love to it.’

After all, the way Mitchell licked my goodies and fucked me, anything else would have been a disaster. “Hmmmmm, hmmmmmmm, hmmmmm,” my lips slid up and down his shaft.

Not all the way; of course not. Mitchell’s magnificent cock was too big.

I have to say, I loved having Mitchell’s cock in my mouth. I loved making love to it with my mouth. Best of all, I found that I gave Mitchell a much better blow job than I ever gave Henry.

You know how carpenters must have the right tool to do the job right? I now had the right tool to do a blowjob right. That tool was more than seven inches long, fat and black.

Before we left for San Diego and home, Mitchell licked my goodies until I begged for his cock. Every time he fucked me seemed better than the last time.

One evening after dark, we went down to the beach naked. I loved the freedom. I found a secluded spot and gave Mitchell a blowjob just like I gave Henry Jacobson. Well, not just like. I was so much better; I made love to Mitchell’s cock; I didn’t suck it. And Henry’s cock was nothing like Mitchell’s and it had little to do with color.

We started seeing each other on a regular basis. I wouldn’t have done any of this in Gulfport. I mean we held hands; we were seen in public. People couldn’t help but see that I had stars in my eyes. They just had to know that my goodies were taken care of; very good care of, and I assure you that I was taking good care of Mitchell’s cock.

More than once in bed, I promised Mitchell that I wanted to practice having his cock in my mouth until I could take all of it.

“You’ll choke to death.”

“Mitchell, I can’t think of a better way to die.”

It didn’t happen.

TO BE CONTINUED

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