Text Stories

I first met Jeremiah in the Fall, a month after I had turned eighteen.
Eager to find a real job in order to earn spending money, something
besides working in the hay fields and watermelon fields in the summer,
which was seasonal, I applied at the town's only real restaurant.

The lady who owned the place said that she would give me a try and that
if I worked out she would eventually let me wait tables. However, she
was a firm believer that anyone new to the restaurant business needed to
learn the business from the kitchen out. So, I was initially hired as a
dishwasher. The first day I reported for work was when I met Jeremiah.
Jeremiah operated the huge electric dishwasher and cleaned the pots and
pans, and, it was in his hands that I was placed for training.

Jeremiah was a tall, skinny, African American kid, and was the same age
as me. His skin tone was what is referred to as "high yellow," most
certainly indicating that in his blood line there was Anglo stock. And,
if that wasn't enough, his nappy auburn hair and blue-green eyes most
certainly indicated the mixed heritage he carried in his genes.

Jeremiah was delighted to have some help and set about showing me how to
operate the dishwasher and properly scrub the pots and pans. I remember
he took particular delight that a "white boy" was doing that kind of work
and I think the rest of the kitchen staff did as well. All of them were
black. Simply put, I was the only white face in the kitchen. In those
days it was fairly common that no one in the kitchen was anything else
but African American.

Among the kitchen staff cussing was common and so was the topic of sex,
which seemed to come up on a daily basis. Naturally, any conversation
related to sex was always about "straight" sex and usually dealt with who
was "staying" with whom and what female, or male, had certain anatomical
characteristics that made them stand out. Of course, as one might
expect, I was also brought in on the conversations from time to time, not
infrequently being teased.

"Now deem legs of hers, dey is so long dey could wrap around a man's
waist three times. I bet o'l Justin dere would think an octopus done got
hold of him," Gerald the cook might say, prompting me to blush and the
others to laugh.

"That salad girl, Janis, sho got a fine booty. Hey, Justin, I bet you'd
like to get some of dat. You ain't really a man until you've had some
black booty," Ronald the pastry cook might say, prompting me to blush
again and the others to roar with laughter.

And so it went, for the months that I worked in the kitchen.

Not infrequently, the topic of sex would also come up between Jeremiah
and myself as we worked side by side. Naturally, although I was having
sexual encounters with three different guys at the time, I played the
"straight" role very well and talked about pussy, fucking, and the like,
with ease.

I was accepted by the kitchen crew, you know you're accepted when they
start teasing you, and people like Rosebud, Butter Roll, Gerald, Ronald,
Sly Fox, Jeremiah, and others, became a part of my life for eight
months. I will never regret that. It was probably one of the reasons I
was out on the streets marching for voter registration for minorities
when I was in college, and got arrested for it, I might add. I learned a
lot about black culture from those people with whom I worked and I
learned a lot about life, emotions, feelings and inequality. They were
lessons I have never have forgotten and that I remember to this day.

It was obvious to me, that although I was a "white boy," the fact that I
was willing to get in there and do, what they all called frequently
"nigger's work," made me accepted. Although I hate the "N word", and it
is the first time I have ever used it in any story I have ever written,
nothing else fits for my life at that time. I have never forgotten how I
was accepted, and yes loved, and it has helped me for the rest of my life
in dealing with people in ways too numerous to count.

It was sometime toward the end of the first month that I was working in
the kitchen that the topic of male sexual anatomy came up, and it was the
first time that I had ever heard the word "Johnson" used to describe a
guys cock, Jeremiah having used the terms peter, dick, and cock the same
as me.

The discussion itself was primarily between Gerald and Ronald and it was
about some black guy in town, whose name I don't remember, who supposedly
had such a large Johnson that no black woman would let him fuck her. Of
course, the conversation eventually shifted toward white guys and their
dicks and soon included me.

"I bet o'l Justin dare got a big Johnson. You got a big Johnson Justin?"
Gerald asked, prompting me to blush once again.

"Uh, I got plenty enough to get the job done," I replied, prompting
laughter.

The actual words of the rest of the conversation aren't really important.
What is important is that it eventually prompted a dialogue between
Jeremiah and myself, as we worked side by side, about cocks, especially his
own and mine.

"So, you really got a big one?" Jeremiah asked.

"Big enough," I replied.

"How big it be?" Jeremiah asked.

"I told you, man. Big enough."

"You ever measure it?"

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"Almost eight inches." I replied.

"Ain't no way! Ain't no white boy yo size and age got dat much!"
Jeremiah said.

"Well, I do." I replied

"You shoot cum?" Jeremiah asked.

"Hell yeah!" I replied.

"How far?"

"Shit! I don't know."

"Well, I bet mine's bigger dan yours and I can shoots from here to dat
dishwasher."

"No way!" I replied, taking note that the sinks where we were washing
pots and pans were at least eight feet away from the dishwasher.

The rest of the conversation is only important in that it led to an
inevitable showdown as to whose peter was bigger and who could shoot the
farthest.

The size question was solved the next afternoon when the topic again came
up and we took a smoke break in the large storage room behind the kitchen
in an area where the hot water heaters were. It was the area where
everyone that worked in the kitchen went to take a smoke break.

The experience was purely a "show me yours I'll show you mine" experience
and we both agreed to pull down our jeans and boxers at the same time.

Upon doing so, I was delighted to see that Jeremiah was uncut like me and
that he did have a nice peter, and from the looks of it in its flaccid
state, exactly the same size as my own. In fact, even his balls were
almost mirror images of my own, although his hung very much lower.

That was pretty much the whole event that day. However, the question of
length became a topic of debate and we eventually wound up in the
storeroom two days later, with a yardstick and our pants and boxers down
to our knees, wanking to get an erection, which both of us quickly
obtained.

In short, the measurement was made and our dicks were exactly the same
length. However, Jeremiah reached out his hand and took hold of my hard
cock, then took hold of his own, and determined mine was thicker.
Needless to say, I didn't let on that I enjoyed the touch of his hand on
my dick. Yet, I was pleased that Jeremiah acknowledged the obvious, for
mine was noticeably thicker, his being long but thinner.

With the length issue solved, next came the settlement of the issue of
who could shoot the farthest. That took place the next afternoon. I
went first, again with my jeans and boxers were down around my knees as I
wanked off in front of Jeremiah who had yardstick in hand. It didn't
take long for me to shoot my load, the farthest cum splat on the concrete
floor landing a respectable four and one half feet from where I stood.

Then it was Jeremiah's turn, and I stood, yardstick in hand, and watched
while he jerked off. He had beautiful facial expressions as he wanked
and kind of sighed as he blew his load. When he did, I was impressed. A
huge rope of cum shot out of the slit of his penis and flew through the
air and landed on the concrete floor with an audible splat. Two more of
less intensity and distance followed the first one before there was
nothing but dribbles. The measurement was taken, and true to his boast,
Jeremiah's initial cum splat measured a very respectable seven and one
half feet from where he stood. The guy could shoot!

Now, one might think that was the end of the sexual episodes right then
and there. However, that was not the case. Watching Jeremiah jerk off,
seeing his cum load, and thinking about that beautiful peter of his set
me to thinking. In fact, I began to think about it all the time. What
would it be like to suck his cock? A black cock at that. Would he let
me do it? I had to find out.

A week or so later, when our conversation at work turned to things sexual
again, it was I that brought up the topic of getting one's peter sucked.
I asked Jeremiah if he had ever had his peter sucked and he replied that
he hadn't. He knew some guys that had and they liked it. In fact, he
was quick to point out that it had been some black "queer" that used to
live in town that had done it for them. Naturally, I asked him why he
didn't get the guy to suck his peter and he replied that he just never
got around to it. Of course, I told him that was a shame because it sure
felt good. Well, I had baited the hook. Now all I could do was wait and
see if he brought up the topic again.

As luck would have it, one day as we were loading the dishwasher, the
topic came up among the kitchen staff and that set Jeremiah off to
talking about it again and bemoaning the fact that he had missed out on
his chance to get his peter sucked.

"Hey, I know this guy that might suck your dick," I said, hoping to set
the hook.

"Yeah? Who?"

"I can't tell yah his name. I'm not even sure he'd do it."

"He a white boy?"

"Yeah."

"You know some white boy dat would suck a black dick?"

"Yeah. He'd probably be afraid you'd tell though."

"Hey, I sho ain't gonna tell, especially on no white boy. Shit, all he'd
have to say is I raped him or sumthin and my black ass is gone. Folks
ain't gonna believe my word over no white boy's."

"Well, I'll ask him if he'll do it."

"Dis guy a friend of yose?"

"Uh, yeah. Kinda."

"Fine. Sees if he'll do it. I ain't gonna tell." Jeremiah replied.

Well, the hook at been set. Of course, there was no way that I could
suck Jeremiah off in the restaurant storage room. So, I had to set up a
scheme whereby we could meet up with the mythical white boy that was
gonna suck his dick. I decided that the best place would be an old barn
behind a vacant house I knew about that was located about a mile from the
restaurant.

I waited a few days and then told Jeremiah that the guy would do it and
tomorrow afternoon, after we got of work, we could ride our bikes over to
this old barn I knew about and the guy was gonna be there waiting.

That next day, all Jeremiah could talk about was how he was gonna get his
dick sucked. So, when we got off work and jumped on our bikes he eagerly
followed me. Of course, when we arrived at the barn no one was there
waiting.

"Where is the mutha fucka?" Jeremiah asked, looking around the obviously
empty barn.

"Uh, well he said he'd be here." I replied.

"Damn! Jus when I was all ready to let him suck on my black dick!"
Jeremiah said.

"Well, he probably got scared you were gonna tell on him," I said.

"Man, I done told yah I wouldn't tell. I jus wanna get my dick sucked,"
Jeremiah replied.

"Yeah, you really want it bad, huh?" I asked.

"Oh man! I could jus feel that mouth on my dick," Jeremiah replied.

"Then drop your pants." I said, and smiled.

"Huh? What you mean?" Jeremiah asked.

"I'm the guy. I'm gonna suck your dick," I said.

"Mutha fucking shit! You! You's de one?"

"Yep. I'm gonna suck yah," I replied, and smiled again.

"Oh man! I ain't believing dis shit! You sho?"

"Hey, I suck my own dick. Yours ain't that much different," I replied,
shrugging my shoulders, and not about to tell Jeremiah that I had had
plenty of dicks in my mouth besides my own.

"No way mutha fuckah! You can't suck yo dick!"

"Watch," I replied, and kicked off my sneakers and began unbuttoning my
jeans.

Of course what Jeremiah didn't know was that I had had about the same
size dick since I was thirteen. Since I had long legs but a short torso,
something that would be the case until I got my final growth spurt at
nineteen, I was able to reach my dick with my mouth easily and suck
myself off.

Soon, I was naked from the waist down wanking my cock while Jeremiah
stood there watching me. Then, I lay down upon the barn floor that was
littered with old hay, threw my legs back over my head, put my hard dick
in my mouth, and began to bob my mouth up and down on it.

"Well, I'll be a mutha fuckah! You can suck yo dick!" Jeremiah
exclaimed.

"Now, you gonna drop your pants or not?" I replied, after taking my mouth
off of my dick and lowering my legs.

"You mutha fucking right I am," Jeremiah replied, and grinned as he
unbuttoned his jeans.

What followed that first time was just a straightforward blow job, me on
my knees wanking my own cock and sucking Jeremiah's, his jeans and boxers
down around his ankles. Needless to say, I was very good at sucking
cock, by the time I was sixteen, and Jeremiah loved it.

Jeremiah's dick got so hard as I licked the head and slobbered over the
shaft that the foreskin completely retracted. Then, to a litany of moans
and groans I began to bob my mouth up and down on his eight-inch tool.

It didn't take long and Jeremiah was leaking pre-cum like crazy and
moaning even louder. Then, when I took hold of his cock with my hand and
began to jack it and suck him at the same time his sounds of pleasure
grew even louder.

"Oh man! I'm gonna blow! You better get yo mouth off dat thing!"
Jeremiah warned after awhile.

In response, I kept on sucking and shook my head no.

"Oh man! I can't believe you is gonna eat my shit!" Jeremiah exclaimed.

Then, his breathing became very heavy and his stomach muscles tightened
as his cock grew even harder in my mouth.

"Mutha fuckah! Here it comes!" Jeremiah exclaimed, then grunted loudly.

Jeremiah's first blast of cum went clear to the back of my throat and I
swallowed it quickly. It had a very strong taste. That initial blast was
followed by two more just as intense, the same as when he had shot off in
the cum shooting contest. Then there were smaller spurts, then dribbles,
as I sucked his balls dry, blowing my own load on the hay strewn floor
beneath me as I did so.

As I said, that first time wasn't all that hot, for me at least.
However, I now had Jeremiah hooked on getting his dick sucked. A week
later, in the same barn, I was lying on the same old hay and Jeremiah,
naked from the waist down, was fucking my face, his low-hangers banging
my chin with every thrust. Naturally, I had my pants down and was wanking
my own dick as he did so,

I have to admit, as time went on I made a game out of it. The two of us
would slip off into the storage room and I would suck Jeremiah's dick
just enough to get him hard and hot, then scoot back to work. I made him
go for a week at a time before I'd suck him again. Then, I told him he
had to jerk me off after I sucked him off or I wouldn't do it again. He
agreed to do it and things eventually progressed to the point where we
would do it every time in a sixty-nine position with him on top, where he
would fuck my mouth and wank my dick at the same time. More than once I
blew my own load as I was gulping down his.

That spring, Jeremiah got a job as a mechanic trainee at one of the local
auto dealerships. I worked a couple of months longer at the restaurant
after Jeremiah left. Then, when it became obvious that the owner had no
intention of moving me out of the kitchen, I got a job working in the
watermelon and hay fields again that summer. And, an incident that
happened on that first day of work, when we had gone out to begin
harvesting the crop, dramatically comes to mind.

When the truck got to the field and it was time to pick the melons and
toss them up to the two guys in the bed of the truck to stack, I hit the
ground with the rest of the crew, as I had done two summers before.

As usual, I was the only white kid in the crew. The routine was that the
crew would go along the rows and pick the melons and throw them upward to
the truck so that the two guys in the truck bed could then stack them for
transport to the tractor-trailer rig that was waiting to be loaded. So,
I hit the ground ready to do what I had usually done.

"What yo fucking white az doin on the ground, Justin?" Delbert, the tall,
nineteen year old, black guy who was the acknowledged foreman hollered at
me, standing alone in the bed of the truck.

"Uh, I'm doing what I always do!" I hollered back.

"Get yo mutha fucking white az up into dis truck. You done done dis too
much to be on the ground. You is gonna stack and drive this summer bro!"
Delbert said.

And that's the way it was. All season long, as we harvested one field
after another, three of us rotated driving and stacking as we hauled one
load after another from the fields and filled one eighteen-wheeler after
another with East Texas watermelons.

Nothing was ever said, but I found out years later that Delbert was a
close friend of Jeremiah's. I will never forget that, because it was the
last season I worked in the watermelon fields and I felt like, there too,
I had become accepted.

I never saw Jeremiah again until many years later when I ran into him one
time when I was visiting my hometown. He seemed very interested in my
life and career at the time and not a word was said or hinted about
anything we had ever done sexually. At that time, Jeremiah had four kids
and another on the way, and I could readily understand with his sperm
output how that could be so. He seemed to be a happy and successful
mechanic and I was as happy for him as he seemed to be for me.

I seriously doubt if Jeremiah ever had another male mouth on his cock
since those days when we were both sixteen. I do know that he enjoyed
fucking my face immensely and I enjoyed having him do it. And, I will
always remember that Jeremiah was the first black cock I ever sucked and
that he was beautiful in my eyes in so many ways other than sex, as were
all those people I worked with in that kitchen the year I was eighteen.