The early 1960's, in a rural area of Monroe County, and an event that changed the life of an 18 year old lad.
***
Sound travels in the night out where I grew up, on a farm hidden on a back-road far away from anything remotely resembling civilization, so when I heard the faint noises coming from the barn back behind our house, I had to investigate.
Clad only in my underwear, I tiptoed down the hall so as not to wake my folks. I had a hunch I knew what was going on, because I heard similar noises one time last summer.
I still remember seeing Janie Philips back there in the barn on her back in the hay with our farmhand Lester Jones on top of her, pounding away like there was no tomorrow. After I got over the initial shock of seeing the preacher's homely daughter getting screwed by Lester, I jerked off while watching.
Afterward, when swearing my best friend Tyler to secrecy, I told him about it, it got him so hot that we ended up giving each other hand jobs. That was something we did a lot of anyway, seeing as how this area wasn't the social hotbed of Monroe County.
"Did you get to see Lester's dick?" Tyler asked him as we stroked each other's boners. "I heard the black guys all got big ones."
I hadn't, I informed Tyler, having only seen his big black ass and his balls slapping into little Janie's crotch, but if the size of those balls were any indication, I figured that maybe Tyler's theory was right.
So with that memory still fresh in my mind, I moved silently in the night out to the barn, expecting to see Janie getting drilled by Lester again. My dick was already hard in anticipation as I moved to the same place I had spied on Lester before, but what I saw and heard was not what I expected.
Lester was back there alright, and he was as naked as the day he was born, his shiny black skin shining in the dim light given off by the lantern hanging on the beam beside him. He was standing behind somebody, and he was fucking that person too. Hard.
It wasn't Janie this time though. The person was naked, and was as starkly white as Lester was black, with only a farmer's tan on the arms and above the neck providing any color. It sure wasn't Janie, and I almost fainted when it was obvious that it wasn't even a she.
It was a man - an old guy - and he was standing on something to make up for the difference in their height as Lester stood behind him, humping hard while the skinny white man stood with a wide stance, bracing his hands against the wall of the barn and grunting with every savage thrust that made his entire body lurch upward.
My initial reaction was to charge in and help the poor old guy, even though Lester was so big and strong he could probably knock me out while continuing to pound away on his victim. Clearly, Lester had to be forcing himself on the old geezer, because I knew that man all my life, and he would never do anything like this willingly. You see, that man was my father.
The more I watched though, the more I realized that this was no rape. My father was there because he wanted to be. A red bandanna was stuffed in his mouth to likely silence him, and his face was strained and nearly as crimson as the kerchief, but Dad was being taken willingly.
Lester's hands were around my father, with one around his chest and the other down between my Dad's legs. Lester had my father's dick in his clenched fist and was yanking hard on the skinny pale dick that practically disappeared in the big black paw.
Harder and harder Lester went, and I could hear his feral-sounding breathing along with my father's muffled grunting. Dad's eyes were first bugging out and then rolling back in his head, as jets of cum erupted from my father's dick.
My father's body seemed to go as limp as his dick was, and Lester seemed to be holding him up as he made a face and then exhaled loudly. All went silent before Lester moved around and took my Dad in his arms. They embraced, and then Dad picked up his clothes, his wiry body now looking even older than his 55 years as he threw some of them on before leaving the barn while walking gingerly.
I remained where I stood, watching Lester pick up his overalls, his hard muscled body drenched with sweat. Tyler was right, I noted. I didn't know if all black guys had big ones, but Lester sure did. That wrinkled black tube looked like an elephant's trunk as it swung between his legs.
Just before his pulled on his clothes, I came, spurting a load and a half all over the back wall of the barn while watching Lester dress. I stayed back there as Lester made his way out the side door of the barn and down the path to the little cabin he shared with his wife.
His wife. Lester was married. What was he doing with my Dad? A better question would be, what was my old man doing with him? Dad was married too. Inside the house, I saw the downstairs bathroom light go on. Dad was probably taking a shower, rinsing the evidence of his midnight antics before climbing back in bed with Mom.
I was wide awake now, and so instead of waiting until it was safe to go back inside I decided to take a ride down to my friend Tyler's farm. If there was anybody around, the sight of an 18 year old kid in his underwear riding a bike would certainly raise eyebrows, but this was very rural country and a car driving down that road even during the day was a rare event.
It was about a half mile to Tyler's, and after I pedaled down there I ditched the bike in the weeds and went to the back of the house, using our own method of knocking on the door.
After the second pebble grazed Tyler's bedroom window, he opened it and stuck his head out, looking as groggy as you would expect one being that just got rousted out of bed.
"Gotta talk to you," I hissed, and I guess that was enough to get him down a minute later. Tyler had pajama bottoms on, and when he saw me in my underwear he laughed as we went into his barn so we didn't wake up his folks.
