Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2000 11:08:33 EST
From: VicHowel@aol.com
Subject: Growing Up Sexual - chapter 13

I was asked early on in this series if I was going to have a Black
character - I think that was Eagleman but am not sure.  I took it as a
serious question and I think the questioner meant it seriously.  I
explained that I didn't see how I could - 1) I was "culturally deprived"
being white and growing up in Europe as a British subject; and 2) I
couldn't in good faith put a character into a situation where he could
easily have been lynched as this story is set in the rural South of the
50's.  I just couldn't see trying to write about grown men putting a noose
around a young boy's neck and hanging him from an old oak tree.

But the question has remained in the back of my mind ever since - at least
as it relates to my setting.  Though Blacks and whites rarely mingled in
the South of 45 years ago, it is difficult to ignore a little more than 35%
of the population.  The reality is that the South of that time was backward
in almost every way, compared to the rest of the country.  Maintaining Jim
Crow kept the South backward.  Destroying Jim Crow has caught most of the
South up with the rest of the country in these past 40 years.

I've decided to be faithful to the reality of the setting I chose
initially, to its society.  Oh yeah!  Trust me, there's going to be sex in
this installment.  But there's going to be the taste of reality as well.
There's no reason we can't read and write erotica that is historically
accurate.

A special thanks to Savannah Kid for giving me the idea for the sex scene.
Hope you like it.  Keep writing me.  I like getting ideas from you.  They
may not be presented exactly as you envisioned them or when you expect
them, but they very possibly will end up in this story.  Share your
thoughts with me at Vichowel@aol.com.
*****************************************************************************

Growing Up Sexual, Chapter 13, by Dave MacMillan


Two years of junior high school were behind me.  I was about to turn 14.  I
only had high school left before I'd be grown-up and free.  Twice in those
two years Billy had invited me over to his and Richard's house, and the
three of us had shared an afternoon of sex between us.  Those two times
were the only dick I'd had since Reverend Robertson's Thanksgiving retreat.

It was at night that I missed what I had had the most.  Then, lying in bed
with my 7" standing proudly, I relived every sexual moment of that summer
of my exploration.  The rest of the time, I told myself that I was too
young, that I could only have got into trouble that couldn't be controlled,
if it had kept on.  I managed to believe myself most of the time.  Except
when I beat my meat and dreamed of Richard's 8" plowing my butthole while I
sucked everything Billy's balls could make.

Don't get me wrong.  I was the normal American boy growing up in the
small-town South.  It's just that I'd already been much more than that, and
I knew that I was never really going to be able to give it up.  I glanced
at other boys in the showers after gym and learned not to get hard when I
did.  I longed for their touch at night when my hormones raged.  But, when
our teacher stepped out of the room, I kissed Betty Lou Knowles on the lips
in front of my whole 8th grade history class on a dare.  The rest of that
school year, she and I held hands as we walked through the halls.  I felt
silly doing it, but it cemented my position as a healthy, normal boy in the
minds of my classmates.

I started going back to Sunday School after Howard was transferred to a
church in Alabama somewhere, I played little league baseball, and I took
ballroom dancing lessons with the rest of the boys and girls in town who
were like us.  And I even understood roughly what "like us" meant.

It meant the twelve or so families in Soul and the five in the surrounding
county who were socially and financially acceptable to each other - all
white, Anglo-Saxon, and protestant.  My mother was a rarity among that
social elite - a woman who was equal in her own right, as opposed to being
someone's wife.  She didn't divorce Howard and nobody ever caught her in a
questionable situation with a man; the women of Soul came to trust her
again to leave their husbands alone.  Most of them were even proud of her
for being as good as a man and holding a man's job, even if they didn't
understand why she and Howard weren't living together.

"What do you want to do this summer, Vic," she asked me the night before my
birthday.  We had eaten; Mrs. Yokum had cleaned up and gone for the day.
It was our "together time" that mom instituted after we'd told her about
Rev. Robertson and Howard had moved out of our lives.  We sat at the table,
alone in the house.

I shrugged.  How did I tell mom that the one thing I really wanted was a
field of penises that I could harvest all by myself - one by one?

"I don't think I want to worry about you at a camp," she went on.  I
suddenly realized that I was not going to be spending the whole summer at
home like last year.  I sat up and paid attention.

"Tommie Mae said you could spend a couple of weeks with her.  If you got
along with the twins, it could even be a month."  My aunt was mom's older
sister.  Her husband had died four years ago, losing out to a nest of
rattlesnakes in a cow pasture.  She and her sons owned a big-assed farm
three counties above us.

Peter and John were identical twins, two years older than me.  Tall, slim,
muscular, brown hair and blue eyes, they were enough to make even John
Wayne drool.  Only, they'd never given me the time of day before.  I was
their kid cousin they had to put up with when mom and I visited.  And they
made sure I knew it.

I couldn't tell them apart but part of me had wanted to go exploring for
distinguishing characteristics ever since Julian invited me to taste his
dick.

"You don't want me to stay in Soul?" I asked tentatively, mentally
stripping my cousins to find those distinguishing characteristics that
didn't exist in the usual, normally visible places.

She frowned.  "Things may get a little rough here in Soul this summer," she
mumbled enigmatically.

My eyes rounded.  What was she talking about?  I knew better than to push
mom.  Gentle couching, yes; direct questioning, no.  It got me nowhere
fast.  I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of hers.  She
looked up and studied me for a moment.  She smiled.

"I guess you're old enough.  When it happens - and it's going to happen -
you're going to have to understand it.  We all are - or we're going to have
a far bigger blow up than the one that's coming."

This sounded dicey, even scary maybe.  What blow up?  I figured then it was
a man.  I imagined it in full technicolor.  She had a boyfriend.  I studied
her, wondering if maybe she was doing it with him.  If she was, though,
that could mean I was about to become a big brother.  I shuddered.  I
sweated as I waited for her to decide to tell me, thinking that I didn't
want to hear any squalling in the house.  How could I explain that to my
friends?  Blow up?  What if he didn't marry her and left her with a damn
baby?  Sweet Jesus!

"There are rumors that the Blacks in town are about ready to explode, Vic,"
she said softly, burying her head in her hands.

I blinked.  I felt suddenly chilled sitting across from her, the sweat on
my body cooling fast.  It was only the Blacks bothering her.  Thank God!  I
wasn't going to have a baby brother to embarrass me the rest of my life,
after all.

"Richard and Billy mentioned something about that," I offered.  "So did
Lindy Bennett."

She looked over at me.  "They all have Black maids in their homes, don't
they?"  I nodded, remembering the women who cleaned and cooked - and stayed
out of everybody's way.  There but not there - like ghosts.

"What do they want, Mom?"  Every time I'd seen Black kids they just looked
away or got pulled close to their mommas in the stores whenever they were
near white people.  The only time I'd seen Black kids my age was when their
high school's band marched in the 4th of July parade.

She smiled and reached over to ruffle my hair.  "They want what you and I
have, honey."

I looked around the kitchen of the home that mom had made for us.  My jaw
set.  "They can't have it," I growled.  "It's ours."

She snorted as she shook her head.  "No, Vic, Blacks want the right to buy
the same things whites have; they don't want to take it away.  They want
good schools and good jobs-" She looked around the room.  "And nice things
too."  She looked down at the table and then at me.  "They want the equal
chance to have the same things we have - if they earn them.  They want an
equal piece of the American dream, Vic."

"They've got schools - jobs too."

Her face lost any animation and her eyes took on a distant look.  "Their
high school was built in the 30's - when was yours built?"

"The new one?  Last year-" I sort of thought I saw where she was heading.

"The Supreme Court has already decided that schools can't be separate but
equal. And the reality is that most counties don't have the money to keep
up two equal school systems.  The Army's already integrated."  She nodded.
"It's inevitable, honey.  It should have been done a long time ago - before
we were forced so far apart."

"So-" I hesitated, trying to see the future mom was seeing.  "Will I have
to go to high school in their school?" I asked, bringing it home to me.
"You said it was way old - run down too, I'll bet."

"I haven't see it-" She looked startled for a moment then a smile started
growing across her face.  "I'll bet none of us have seen it."

"What're you thinking, mom?" I groaned.  I knew she had some bright idea,
though.

She looked at me, the smile still on her face, and ruffled my hair again.
"Vic, I heard something about a parade.  That and some wild talk about
Black people coming out of the quarters and looting and stuff.  I just know
that, if there is a parade, it's going to be hairy around here for a while.
If it starts looking like that's going to happen, you'll go visit your Aunt
Tommie Mae."

"Why?" I whined.  From what I was hearing, this sounded like it would be
wildest time I'd ever heard of in Soul.  I sure wanted to stick around and
see it.  I wondered if every other kid in town was going to be shipped out
to relatives.

"Because I'm not going let you get hurt.  You're going some place safe if
or when things start getting rough."

I nodded but was already marshalling my arguments for her to let me stay if
something big started happening.  What kid wanted to be shipped off to
Siberia when the fun started?  Not me.

* * *

Two days later, mom appeared at the house at eleven in the morning.  She
was supposed to be at work.  I hadn't expected her and she didn't tell me
where we were going until we were in the car.  "I'm going to show you
something, Vic," was all she'd said.

"Where are we going?" I asked when we got through downtown and started
towards a section of town I'd never been to.  I knew it was the Colored
quarter but that just didn't make any sense.  Neither mom nor I belonged
there.

"You're going to see how the other half lives," she answered.  "Vic, my
generation can begin to make up for the wrongs our people have done to the
Blacks - but it's your generation that's going to have to learn to live
with and work with Colored people."

Oh boy!  I was on summer holiday, and here I was going to take a civics
lesson.  Mom got the weirdest ideas sometimes.

The paved road quickly turned to hard-packed, rutted sand.  Otherwise,
though, the houses looked about like those that poor whites lived in.
Little kids played in their yards but almost each house had an older kid
watching the younger ones closely - and glaring at us as we passed.

A couple of blocks into the quarter, we reached a ramshackled building and
I was surprised when we pulled over to the side of the road behind Billy's
and Richard's car.

I looked around as I got out of the car.  There were broken windows in the
building and it needed painting bad, but it was obviously a school, even if
it did look like it ought to be condemned.  There was no sidewalk and very
little grass.  I was suddenly glad I was going to my high school when
school started again.

Billy and Richard were standing at the door with their mother and father.
I saw Lindy Bennett with his parents.  I knew with certainty that, somehow,
mom had got every prominent family in Soul to bring their kids to the
Colored quarter this morning.  I didn't want to think what that could mean
for my social life when school started again.

Mom smiled to every man and woman as she walked right up to Joe Phillips'
father.  Joe's dad was the Baptist minister and was a doctor of divinity.
"Thank you for coming, Dr. Phillips," she said.

He smiled, kind of fatherly, but real gentle.  "I couldn't not come, Sallie
Jual."  I noticed that he was standing beside a small, distinguished
looking Black woman.  "This is Mrs. McKinsey, the principal of Mt. Sinai
High School here," he said introducing the woman to mom.  Mom took her hand
instantly and thanked her for being willing to show us around.

We got the deluxe tour.  Mrs. McKinsey never apologized for the window that
had been broken for two years, the doorless cubicles in the toilets, or the
worn condition of the textbooks stacked in the classrooms.  At the end of
her tour, she turned to face all of us, parents and kids alike.  "We've
always taken your hand downs in the past, but that's not good enough any
more.  The world is changing; and a man has to have a good education to
succeed in that world.  We want our children to have the chance you're
giving your children.  We want a chance to live in that world too.  We
don't want any more than that."

As mom drove me back to the house, I felt ashamed of being white.

A week later, there was going to be a march from the Colored quarter to the
courthouse.  Rumors ran through Soul like a wildfire.  The Blacks were
going to race through town, looting and burning every store.  Black men
were going to kill white men and rape the women.

Dr. Phillips called for every white family to not listen to the rumors.
Other minsters joined him.  People like mom and me - Billy's and Richard's
dad and Lindy's dad - they all stood right there beside Dr. Phillips,
facing down the rumors.  They told us in the newspaper and on the radio
that the rumors were stupid.  They told us that the Black people were just
going to march through town and that they had the right to do so - just
like any other American had.  Nobody was going to be hurt. Everything was
going to be all right.

* * *

My cousins showed up at the house late the evening before the big march on
the court house.  If anything, Peter and John were better looking at 17
than they had been the year before when I'd seen them last.  I was real
careful around them - mom too - I didn't want anybody seeing my hard-on
snaking across my groin.

We were ready to leave for their farm at the crack of dawn the next day.
It was already 85 degrees and not even full light yet.  Wearing a tee-shirt
and swimtrunks, I lugged my suitcase out to their pick up and loaded it
into the bed of the truck.  I looked back at mom standing all alone on the
porch, watching me.  I sort of didn't want to back to her - not in front of
my cousins.  They already thought of me being almost a baby.  I could
imagine what kind of fun they'd make of me going up to mom.  I knew she
needed a hug right then, maybe even a kiss on the cheek.  I walked back up
to the house and threw my arms around her and just buried my face on her
shoulder.

All right!  So, I had a lump in my throat.  I even needed her hugging me -
at least as much as she needed me hugging her.  It felt like the world
would have changed when I saw her again.  As I walked back to the pick up,
I didn't care what Peter and John might think.  I was me and I didn't have
to be anybody else.  And that was my mom standing there walking me escape
she didn't know what.  I figured she was a little like Jorel as he watched
the baby Superman's rocket take off - just before Krypton blew up.

I opened the door of the truck and saw one twin under the wheel and the
other one beside the window.  The space between them didn't look all that
big.  "Where am I going to sit?"

The one nearest me patted the seat between his brother and himself.  "Here,
in the back, or on my lap."

"Let me get between you then," I told him.  I climbed over his legs and got
to the seat between them.  "Which is which?" I asked, knowing I sounded
dumb.

"John's driving," Peter chuckled from beside me.

John tooted his horn and we all waved.  Mom waved back and I saw one of her
hands come up to her face before we got too far away for me to see her.
I'd never seen my mom cry before; I never did again.

It was only then that I found out why I hadn't wanted to sit on the seat
between the twins.  John reached down between my legs; instinctively, I
scooted my butt over the couple of inches of seat I had.  He grabbed the
stick and upshifted to second gear.  He rested his hand on knob of the
gearshift and his wrist on my thigh.  My dick threatened to tear out of my
swimtrunks, hoping his wrist would move another couple of inches up my leg.

I looked over at Peter, at his crotch and his lap.  I figured that, if I
wanted to keep any sort of reputation with my cousins, I'd better swallow
my pride and plant my butt on his lap rather than keep the gear stick
between my legs.

"I guess I'll sit on your lap, Peter - if you don't mind."

He shrugged and continued looking out the window.  "Just sit still, no
squirming around, okay?"

Peter's legs were slightly apart but I straddled them rather than sit
between them.  My butt rested on the tops of his thighs, and his chest
became the back of my seat.  The pick up was old, its springs had seen
better days, and there was no way I could help but bounce around on Peter's
lap a little.

A mile out of town on US 1, we came up on three highway patrol cars, their
lights flashing.  There were two cops standing in the road checking each
car.  Others were leaning against their squad cars and watching the
traffic.  John slowed down and came up to the cop in the center of the
road.

"You boys heading out of town?" he asked John.

"Yeah.  Our aunt has us taking our cousin home with us."  He pointed at me.
I didn't like being pointed out to a cop, it felt strange.  My whole
situation came rushing back at me and I realized it was stranger than
strange.  A kid having to leave his home just because some people were
going to hold a parade.  It didn't make any sense.

"Drive careful, son," the cop told John, and we pulled out of the
roadblock.

"Jesus!" John groaned as he got back up to speed.  "Count on Aunt Sallie
Jual to come up with a real humdinger.  Did you see all those state boys?"

Peter nodded behind me.  "Why are they here?" I asked, turning and looking
over Peter's shoulder to see if I could still see them.

"Vic, there are some nuts who've been claiming all week there was going to
be a race war in Soul.  They've been calling for folks to come down and
help them out."

I stared at John, my eyes bulging.  "A race war?" I croaked "In Soul?"

"That's what the Klan and their buddies are saying.  Mom says it's the Klan
that'll start any war-"

"I agree with her," Peter answered before John could get started.  "You and
me - we get along with all the Colored folks who work for us."  I was tried
to look back to see him.  "Mom went to a funeral at their church a month
ago - alone - and nobody bothered her at all."

"This race war shit is just a lot of crazy talk, Vic," John grumbled.
"You've got to believe that, or you'll go crazy worrying about them being
anywhere near you.  They bleed, shit, eat, and fuck just like us whites
do."  He chuckled.  "They even put their trousers on one leg at a time,
like we do."

"There's not a lick of difference between them and us," Peter threw in,
"except we've been holding them down and letting them have only what we
don't want.  They're tired of that, and it's going to change.  But it's not
going to hurt any of us - not like those nuts are saying."

I hadn't been sitting still during their attempt to reassure me.  I began
to realize that there was a real large tube pressing into my buttcheek.
Actually, it was my body that recognized that Peter had popped a hard-on -
my brain was still working out their arguments against a race war happening
in Soul.  And it was body, not my brain, that had me wiggle my fanny very
obviously on his jeans-covered crotch and grind against my cousin's hard
dick.  Peter gasped softly, trying to swallow it.  I did it again, hoping
he'd get the idea.

I hadn't had sex since the last time Richard, Billy, and I got together.
That was a good six months ago.  Since then, I'd kept my thoughts about sex
to my jerk off sessions.

"Sit up a minute, Vic," he suggested, his hands on my hips lifting me.  His
hands left me but, a moment later, returned to guide me back against him.
He had me situated further up his belly than before.  I instantly felt his
hard dick spread my crack.  He'd moved himself so that it was pressing
against the fly of his jeans, lined up with my crack.

I realized then what had happened - my brain did.  I blushed and started to
pull myself down onto his legs.  His hands on my hips held me in place.  I
figured I'd been found out.  I didn't know if my cousins were going to beat
me up, or tell on me, or what.  I looked over my shoulder at Peter as his
hands came up my chest, pulling me back against him.  He didn't look like
he was ready to start throwing punches.  His dick throbbed inside his
jeans.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered at my ear.  I nodded hesitantly.
"You done it before, Vic?"  I nodded again, even more unsure of myself.  I
was still scared about being found out, but I was beginning to wonder if
Peter was interested.  An almost forgotten itch began to flare deep in my
butt.  I wiggled my butt on him again, making sure his dick slid up my
crack.  "Sit up again."

I heard rustling behind me and felt Peter lift his butt off the seat.
Between my legs, I saw his jeans bunching up along his thighs.  His hands
came back to my waist and pulled my swimsuit off my butt.  I felt him
direct his dick to my a-hole then; his other hand was still on my hip and
it started to pull me down onto him.

"Jesus Christ!" John yelped from behind the wheel.  I looked over at him
watching his brother's dick slip into my butt.

"Get your eyes back on the road, John," Peter told him.  "We don't want an
accident because you're gawking at us."

"You're cornholing him!"

Peter was all the way inside me and I was again sitting on his lap, feeling
his pubes scratching the walls of my crack.

"Our cousin has some sugar in his tank.  You like my big dick buried in
your butt, don't you, Vic?"  I nodded and watched John, not sure of what to
do but liking the feel of Peter inside me.

"That's-" John sputtered.

"John, you and me - all we've ever known has been our fists on our meat.
Vic here is willing to help us out.  I, for one, am ready to stop being a
virgin.  You can stay with your hand or let Vic help you out too.  Which is
it going to be, brother?"

"If anyone finds out - I'm not ready to have the guys at school call me
queer."

Peter patted my knee.  "We'll keep this just between the three of us,
right, Vic?  You'll only have sex with John and me?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, lifting myself a couple of inches off of Peter and
sliding back down his dick.  The past two years were already forgotten.  I
had dick in me again.  I never wanted to go back to what my life had been
after Rev. Robertson's Thanksgiving retreat.

"I ain't going to do anything back," John growled.  "All he gets is my
dick."

I nodded my agreement.  I started to fuck myself on Peter's dick and forgot
all about anything but the pleasures crashing through my body.  Peter's
hands slipped up my sides, pushing my tee-shirt up.

"Shit!" John groaned.  "He's 3 years younger than us but he's still as big
as us.  What has your momma been feeding you, Vic?"

I just moaned and rode the waves of pleasure pumping out of my butt, my
balls, and my dick.  I was learning to appreciate them almost like they
were brand new experiences, it'd been so long.

Peter began to hump me, taking over our fucking.  I squeezed my anal
muscles hard on his dick in appreciation.  His breathing was labored and
his thrusts were already short and quick.  "Sweet Jesus!" he moaned,
shoving everything he had into me and holding me against him.

His pole thickened and began to throb inside me.  I wrapped my hand around
my meat and pumped hard to catch up with him.

"Aim it at the floor, Cuz," John told me.  "Pete, spread your legs.  You
don't want momma finding his load dried into your jeans."

I ground against Peter's pubes, keeping his dick on my joy spot, as my
balls rose to ride my pole.  I aimed at the floor under the glove box.  And
I blasted.  Load after load.  Peter's dick tickled me just right, and I
kept shooting.  I thought I was never going to quit.

"We're about 15 minutes from Lumber City," John announced after I laid back
against Peter's chest and gulping air into my lungs.  "Think I could take
my turn after we're past there?"  I nodded happily.  "We'll change over
there then," John continued.  "You drive the rest of the way home, Pete."

The rest of the way to Lumber City, we talked about how we were going to do
this and keep it quite the next couple of weeks.  Peter's dick stayed hard
in me until he pulled it out on the outskirts of the town.  I smiled at
John while Peter pulled his clothes up; he grinned back at me.  I figured I
wasn't missing much back in Soul.

Of course there's more to come.  Vic's only got past junior high school.
He's still got Auntie Clyde's to explore.  Julian's going to return.  There
are all new adventures with Joe Phillips and Lindy Bennett - and others as
yet unnamed.  Gadfly's even made some suggestions to keep the ending (when
I finally get to it) interesting.

In the meantime, you can order the anthology I edited, CASTING COUCH
CONFESSIONS, from Nifty's link to Amazon.  You'll help Nifty, which is
nice, because they bring you all of these stories you've been reading free.
You'll also get one of the horniest, hottest erotic book collections
around.  Just make sure you order through the Nifty link.  Amazon ships
anywhere in the world (well, maybe not Kosovo and a few other places).

Dave MacMillan