This is the story of a light-skinned black man condemned to death. If all the men in town were nude, you would recognize him; Goldie's penis is a beautiful golden color. While waiting to be executed, Goldie writes his life history, hoping it will result in his freedom and prove his innocence. This story is written in conversational English as the writer is unschooled. All characters are over the age of 18, and all sexual situations are consensual.
Goldie Part One - Goldie's Golden Penis
I'm writt'in this, my life's history, now that I'm here in the State Penitentiary waiting for my death sentence to be carried out. As slow as the wheels of justice turn, I've still got a bit of time before that fateful day when they inject that goop in my arm, and then it's bye-bye, birdie. That time will no doubt come, less'in the governor reads my story and finds I'm innocent.
I'm in this cell cause they say I killed an older man I used to work for. Well, you gotta know that is a lying crock of shit. I never killed no one. That there man was like a father to me, and I got nothing but gratitude for the way he and the missus treated me.
Let me start at the beginning.
A little about myself, I grew up in Whipsaw, Texas, not so far from the Louisiana border. My family settled there after there a hundred years ago after the slavery days; my grand gran-pappy escaped from a plantation in Alabama scared from the lashings. The little town of Whipsaw is evenly divided between Blacks, Mexicans, and Whites. We's all get along pretty good. Of course, we black people outnumber the white folk, but them Mexicans are keeping up with us. They sure is pretty good in the fucking contest.
The white folks own mosta the businesses and the nicer homes, but we's coming along. Nate Turnbell has a big old Barbeque restaurant and on a Sunday, the tables out back are filled with people of all colors, eaten and laugh'in, drink'en beer and moonshine. And Dolphus Jenkin's, who I went to school with, he's got a construction company and is a building tract houses over on the west end. It all takes a heap of time to complete them things
.
My mom was a golden brown color. Don't be asking me how big her ass was, cause that's off bounds. My dad was a German auto mechanic. He was working at the local dirt race track for several years here in Whipsaw. Mom said he spoke English real good and was a whiz at repairing them jalopies. Sad to say, he subbed as a driver and in one bad Sunday race he ended up in a fireball when I was still sucking tit.
I guess that ain't changed non, no matter how crazy this life gets, I still like to get a warm titty in my mouth, especially them that's got big brown nipples thick and chewy attached.
Being that my dad was real white skinned, I ended up a light honey color with brown curly hair, big hazel eyes and a pretty straight nose. Most folks take me for being a Creole. Mosta them gals have always found me attractive, especially when we get down to doing the nasty. My penis has a golden color that fascinates all of them. I've always been known as "the guy with the golden penis."
That started way back when kids in school start looking in gym class for them first sprouts of pubic hair that delineates having arrived at puberty. I never was heavy on pubic hair, mine it's kind of light brown and curly, doesn't grow real long so I could never compete with the "bushmen." They kids always referred to me as a "baldie," but as a grown man it looks like I shave my cock hair, but I don't.
How big is my dick, you ask. What the fuck does that have to do with anything? But, I figured you'd never ask. Well it ain't like one of the footballers who have 12 inches of black Alabama swamp snake hanging down alongside their leg. But it's big enough to be welcomed by most grown females who usually preface our coupling, by saying, "just take it slow Goldie." Yeah, you guessed it, "Goldie" is my nickname.
I've seen a lot of guys in the gym where I used to work, lots of them have nice-sized cocks, but usually they got balls that are the size of ping pong balls, they slip and slide as they walk around in the nude. My balls are big, almost the size of tennis balls, well maybe a little smaller but the skin around them tight so they is well contoured. I've even been called "Cannon ball" by some who notice. I'm guess'in they is the gay dudes. I don't have no problem with them, they tip good, even if they do squeeze my cock every once in a while, just to see how it's a hang'n.
I guess I ain't too inexperienced with sex . In Texas we start out smooch'in with 1st cousins, but that don't go too far. There is I've heard some folks who are a mess'in with their sisters, but I wouldn't go for that. There is several events I wanna tell ya bout. The first time I got the chance ta' get some real pussy, I was work'n for Mr. Bentley, an older gent. He was a vet of one a them Asian wars, and he walked with a limp. Always wore a US Army hat to "keep my bald spot outta da sun," he'd say, while puffin on one of the Bull Durham cigarettes he'd roll himself.
Back then I was just outta high school, and I was driving an old yellow jeep. I guess that's why Mr. Bently called me "Yella." I didn't really like that name, but he paid me a fair price for day work, and all had to do was spruce up the place, clean the barn, bring in the chicken eggs and clean out the pool out back and of course help his woman carry in the groceries.
One day he took me aside and said,
"Yella, my prostate is shot to hell, can't fuck no more, Merrybell's birthday is coming up. I know she loves to get fucked. If you could stand in for me I'd be happy to make it worth your while."
He had to repeat himself a few times before I was sure of what he had in mind. Seems he'd taken a peek when I was pissing and he liked what he saw. What the hell, anything to help an old vet. The missus was probably 25 years younger than Mr. Bentley. A lot of vets married nurses who figured they'd collect down the road when the old guys passed on.
So he tells me,
"Brush yo teeth and wash real good that big dick a' yours and show up about 9 o'clock tomorra' morn'in."
So I does what he says and next morning I'm a knock'in at the door. Old man Bentley comes out and puts his arm around my shoulder and walks me upstairs to the bedroom. I knew Mrs. Bentley must'a been in there cause I could smell that female shampoo and perfume.
Bentley walks me in, and I see the wife, she's in a red bathrobe with big red roses outlined in white and piped across her chest. She looked pretty good to me. Her tits looked real big, even under that robe. I'd checked her out a few time while following her into the house carrying her purchases and watching her big ass in those tight white shorts and her titties a shaken in a halter she had tied with a big knot in the back.
Old man Bentley, he introduces me,
"This here is Yella, Merrybell,"
"Goldie" I correct him real quiet like,
"Ok, yeah, Goldie. He's my birthday present to you. He doesn't know much, but I think he'll perform real good for ya if you take him in hand."