I received some great feedback on my other two, true-life stories. I also received several private messages asking that I write more and to tell about my first experience with a black woman. So I thought I'd try. Now understand, this is
NOT
a "sex story" so if you're looking for that kind of a story you need to look elsewhere. I also am not making any type of statement except maybe we all need to open our hearts to all of mankind no matter the color of their skin. This simply is a true story of the road I traveled to my first experience with a beautiful black woman.
The opening of the story is a little repetitive of my earlier stories just to remind you of the transition I made over my life. The conversations I've recorded here are as close as I can remember them but of course I've taken some literary license as I cannot recall word for word what was said 35 or 40 years ago. Some words have been added to, some have had some words taken out but the general thrust is the same as it was back when it all happened. I have not used an editor as everyone I contacted either did not respond or was too busy. So when you critique it, bear that in mind and be merciful.
Private e-mails are always welcome and I sincerely appreciated the ones I received in regards to my other stories. I have also enjoyed the messages I have received from black women as a result of my writing my experiences. That was a very wonderful side effect of these stories I had not anticipated and I am very happy about it!
So, for what it's worth, here it is. It's the fall of 1972.....
I guess it was about 1960 that I had my first black girlfriend. I told you readers about her briefly in my first story I wrote for Literotica, "My First Black Woman". We were both five years old. My dad would occasionally take me to a diner in downtown Tulsa for a cheeseburger and the cook there was a large, jovial (of course) black woman with huge breasts. Her little girl, whose name I have sadly forgot over the years, was always there. For this story I will call her Jane. The diner was next to the Ford dealership and our neighbor worked there and he would sometimes meet him at the diner for lunch.
Jane and her mother were the first black people I remember meeting in my life and I was fascinated by their dark skin color and bright, large lips and laughing eyes. My dad was a great man who I loved and respected, but like most white men back in those days, he had his prejudices. But he greatly enjoyed talking to the cook. Looking back on it now as a grown man nearly 50 years later, I suspect there was even some flirting going on between the two. Other than her huge breasts, I also can remember she wore ruby red lipstick....very pretty.
I can clearly see Jane in my mind. She was a skinny little thing and seems like she was always wearing the same white dress and no shoes. I also remember she always had five or six white bows in her hair. I thought she was very pretty. Regretfully, I don't remember much else about her other than my sharing my bottle of Sun Crest orange soda pop with her; Jane sucking on one paper straw and me on the other. My dad teased me later about having a girlfriend "down at the diner". Every time I think of that I see Barney Fife being teased by Andy about Barney's girlfriend Juanita "down at the diner". I guess Jane was my Juanita. Gawd but that was such a long time ago.
In the high school I attended out in east Tulsa we only had one black family and the daughter was my age. She and I were pretty good friends and she would refer to me as "Blue-eyes" and I called her "Chocolate". No, that wasn't very original on either of our parts but hell, we were 15 years old and that was 1970.
Chocolate and I never got together. Oh, we kissed (damn that girl could kiss!) and fooled around some but that was about it. Her older brothers and I did not get along very well and that kept us apart. In fact, I would later serve in the Marine Corps with one of her older brothers, Nate, but even then, we didn't like each other and at one point had a physical confrontation. Nobody won the fight as it was broken up and both of us were threatened with "office hours" if our problems continued. There was a lot of racial tension in the mid-1970's in the military and our senior NCO's and company officers thought that was what the problem was between me and Nate and they were blaming him. I spoke up and told the First Sergeant that was not the issue at all. We just did not like each other, pure and simple and Nate resented my friendship back home with his sister. The matter died and Nate and I stopped our bickering but there still was no love lost between us. But I digress.
While I was still in high school, 18 years old and a senior classman, I was working at the Tulsa International Airport for a company called Sky Chefs. Our job was to pull a truck up to an airplane, raise the back of the truck up level to the plane doors that lead into the galley, and load food and beverages onto the aircraft and take off the dirty dishes. Yep, once upon a time you actually got real meals on real dishes when you flew on commercial aircraft! I would go to work at 4 PM, almost as soon as I got out of school, and would get home at about 2 AM every morning. No, my grades weren't too good due to my lack of sleep!
Well, as I said above, I had been fooling around with Chocolate and I had what some people nowadays call "jungle fever". I wanted a black girl! I had already had sex with a white girl and, well, it was less than satisfying. But it was obvious to me Chocolate and I was not going to get together so I was looking elsewhere. And I thought I had found that girl, well, actually woman, at Sky Chefs.
Shirley East was a true black woman of the 1970's. She was buxom but slender, strong, proud and damn beautiful. She stood about 5'7" but looked much taller as she had a bushed out "natural" hairdo as was the style of the day, and it added a good four inches to her height. Her skin color was close to that of Halle Berry's with flashing black eyes and large, soft lips. I think she was about 32 or 33 years old at the time. The only negative thing about her was she wore pointy black framed eye glasses to read and they hung from her neck by a chain, bouncing on those tremendous boobs of hers as she moved about. They were not attractive. The glasses weren't, not the boobs. They were fantastic!
Shirley didn't take crap off of anyone. If you said something to her she didn't like, she had no problem in telling you what she thought. She did not suffer fools lightly. Our general manager was a real idiot and I can still see Shirley in my memories giving him a verbal ass-whuppin' for something stupid he had done.
I'd asked one of the other ladies she worked with if Shirley was married and she laughed saying that Shirley had no time for men or the stupid games they play.
I'd find ways to hang out in the kitchen area where she worked. I'd make small talk; help her move large pots or food carriers, etc, whatever I could do to help her. I took every opportunity available to be near her.
"Afternoon Miss Shirley. May I help you with that?"
"Hello Miss Shirley! Don't you look wonderful today! Here, let me get that for you".
"Do you need me to do anything else for you? No ma'am, it's my pleasure to help when I can."
Oh yeah. I was slick! As I grew older I would refine my "lines" when I talked to women but hell I was only 18. I still had a lot to learn.
I had been helping Shirley for a month or two and I knew she was taking advantage of my assistance as she began to save things for me to do or would holler across the kitchen at me to come do something for her. Some of the other ladies would kid her about me but she'd tell them to shut their mouths.
Well, as I've shown you, I was pretty bold. And I decided one evening it was time for me to take a step; to make my move on this woman. I suspected I would get the holy crap knocked out of me but what did I have to lose? She wasn't going to kill me. Slap me? Probably so. Complain to the boss about me? Probably not. Humiliate me? Well, yeah, that was a big concern as I didn't want my ego bruised.
Shirley got off work at 9 PM each night she worked. Before she left she would go into the women's locker room and shower, put on street clothes and go home. She was the last of the ladies to go home each night (the other's got off at 8 PM) and one of my jobs was to sweep, mop and empty the laundry cart in that locker room. My plan was simple, I would wait until she went in, then I would go in and make a pass at her. Now what could go wrong with that?
I watched as Shirley went in to the locker room, staring at the sway of her hips as she went. Five minutes later, I hitched up my belt, pushed my cap forward on my head and boldly entered the locker room. Shirley was sitting on a bench smoking a Kool cigarette in her bra and panties. She didn't jump up, scream or do anything for a few seconds as I stood there and looked at her. Okay, I was starring at her big breasts. Then she took a drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke out in my direction and spoke in a low, smooth even tone.
"Baby, you know you ain't supposed to be in here till after I'm gone". She always called me "Baby" and I loved it.
"Yes ma'am. I know. But I wanted to talk to you where no one else can hear", I responded.
Shirley took another drag of the cigarette.
