South Texas She Devil

Here's a new story, very different from my previous interracial story. It came almost full blown into my head as I was listening to a blues number one night this spring. It is hopefully a successful attempt to write not only an erotic interracial story, but crime noir as well. I look forward to hearing your comments, both pro and con.

As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are fictional and exist solely within the confines of my imagination. Enjoy

Despite both sides of the boxcar standing wide open, the heat was pretty near suffocating as that freight train chugged along through the scrubland of South Texas. I sat in the open doorway, trying to take comfort from what little breeze was being created by the movement of the train, but the fucking Texas sun was broiling the land we were slowly crossing. Far ahead of the boxcar I was hitching a ride on, I could hear the locomotive ramping up as we began to climb a hill.

As we neared the top, the land south of the tracks seemed to go on forever, disappearing in wavering sheets of heat on the horizon. Nothing but scrub brush until suddenly, I could see a strip of yellowish brown sorta running parallel to the tracks maybe a mile off. Then underneath us we passed over another strip of yellow brown and I watched as it run off south, intersecting the other strip – two dirt roads meeting in the middle of nowhere. I could hear my daddy's voice suddenly in my head, "Tyler! Boy, you stay away from dem dere crossroads...the devil's always hanging 'bout, waitin' to steal yo' soul!"

I laughed at the memory, but after a moment's pause, I turned and grabbing hold of my duffel, jumped as the train reached the summit, it barely moving and landed cleanly amidst the scrub, spooking a jackrabbit that took off, zigzagging over the wasteland before me. I stood there as the train slowly rumbled past me, already thinking that I should turn around and clamber back on board and knowing I wouldn't do it. That's my life...one bad decision after another.

I took off my rumpled fedora and wiped the sweat band off with a crusty handkerchief, staring at the once fine lace embroidery that lined the square piece of linen, my mind wandering off for a long minute as I recalled one of those bad decisions I'd made. "Damn, boy, stand out here all day and get the sunstroke, why don't you," I muttered to myself. I put my hat back on and began to march towards that crossroad, angling to pick up the dirt road going south.

Hot it was...not that soul wearying hot of the Mississippi Delta country where I'd been born, but oven hot...the kind that would bake every last drop of water from your body and leave nothing but a leathery carcass behind. My brogans kicked up little swirls of dust as I hiked towards the crossroads, soon settling into the easy rhythm that I'd learned in the army...the pace that would eat up the miles without killing a man.

I remembered marching half way up Italy and then over most of France and Germany and back to France again. Some days, it seems I've spent half my life just slogging through life. "And the rest of it fighting the white man!" came my daddy's voice again. "Just let him be, Tyler. Stay away from him and let him be!"

"He got to let me be, first, Daddy," I murmured to myself, keenly aware that I was talking to myself too much here lately. Maybe I took one too many shots to the head back in the Houston jail. I shook my head to clear it and found myself standing in the middle of the crossroads. It was quiet as it always is in such desolate places, nary an insect buzzing or bird singing a song. I set down my haversack and fished out a canteen. I took a drink of warm water, swished it around in my mouth to clear the dust and then spit...the water making mud that dried in a matter of minutes. I took another drink...still warm, but by God, it was wet.

Yellow-brown dirt roads offered me four directions to go...north, south, west and...well, no, not east... "Nigger, you come back to Houston, we're gonna kill you slow. Lots of ways for a shiftless colored boy to die here. Y'all want to be dead, just come on back and we'll oblige you." I glared at the east sky, part of me wanting to go back just out of spite and get in one good swing at that cracker sheriff before I died. Then I sighed, my hand running over my ribs, barely healed and still tender to the touch. No, not east.

I looked to the north and then to the west. It was a long way to the Pacific coast, but maybe I could find a fresh start there. North...maybe, Lord knew enough of my people were in Chicago and St. Louis now, but...the weather further north reminded me of France and...Celeste. I wasn't sure I could stand being haunted constantly by those memories...especially of her.

I turned to the South and nearly jumped out of my skin. An old pickup was nearly on top of me and I moved to the edge of the road without thinking. Out here in the Texas wasteland, sound seemed to be devoured by the emptiness and I didn't hear the steady washing machine clatter of the '39 Ford truck until it damn near hit me. It roared by in a flash of dusty red primer...a glimpse of dull blue cloth and yellow hair whizzing by as my heart leapt up in my mouth.

Then the brake lights flashed through a coat of Texas dirt and I heard gears shift as it came to a stop and then began to back up, coming to a stop beside me in a cloud of that damn yellow dirt. I wanted to run, figuring nobody in South Texas would be looking kindly on a negro vagrant, but my feet seemed mired in the dirt as if it had turned to mud.

To my surprise though, as the dust cleared, I found a white woman staring hard at me through the window of the truck. She had long, stringy blonde hair that framed brilliant blue eyes that flashed with anger and she said, "Boy, what the hell are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Her voice though soft was full of the same anger that I saw in her eyes and I looked to the ground as I said, "Just trying to figure out where I'm going to get off to next, ma'am."

I instinctively took a step back as she suddenly swung the truck door open and hopped out. I took another step back as I looked at her and knew that this woman wasn't right. She was barefoot and wearing a faded blue sack dress that was unbuttoned nearly to her crotch, hanging open so wide that I could pretty much see her breasts, large and meaty and lying like gourds on her chest. Dime sized nipples stood out against blood-red aureoles, erect and angry. In one hand, she held a bottle of Wild Turkey.

In a sneering voice, she said, "Don't you know, boy, you are plum smack dab in the middle of the asshole of the world? Ain't no place near enough to walk to before the buzzards be gnawing on your black ass."

I nodded and took another step back. "Yes'm, but I was...well, I was thinking of maybe going to Mexico. Seems like a likely place to maybe get a fresh start."

She snorted at that and then took a hit from the bottle. Wiping her mouth, she looked me up and down. "You look to be in good shape, boy. It's over fifty mile to the river. You might walk it if you can find water before then." She looked at me hard, her eyes traveling down to my crotch and she licked her lips in a way that reminded me of a hungry tiger I once saw in a zoo in Paris after the war. It stared at me the same way she stared at me now.

"Maybe I'll do you a favor and give you a lift. Would you like that, boy?"

She took a step towards me and it was all I could do not to turn and run. I knew trouble when I saw it and Daddy's warning about devils at the crossroads ran through my head again. "Oh, ma'am, I don't want to be no bother. I can get along fine."

She laughed and said, "Wouldn't be a bother, boy. I do you a favor, you do me a favor." She reached out and palmed my crotch, rubbing her hand up and down and despite my fear, I could feel my cock responding.

That white woman stepped up to me, pressing her body against mine, her hand with the bottle slinging around behind my neck to keep me in place. "A woman gets lonely out here in this shithole, don't you know, boy?" She was rubbing my crotch with more effort now. Her angry eyes stared into mine and she whispered, "A woman gets lonely for what she needs. I'm lonely for what you got here."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed me, her mouth open and her tongue insistent against my closed lips. I could taste the cheap bourbon she'd been drinking and cigarettes. I could feel the softness, the lushness of her body as she began to grind herself against me. I knew I needed to push her away, but I couldn't make myself do it. I opened my mouth and her tongue snaked inside, curling around mine in a way that sent tremors through me and she moaned approvingly as she felt me growing harder and longer below.

She broke the kiss as suddenly as she had begun it and handed me the bottle and said, "Have a drink, boy!" She shoved the bottle into my hands as she abruptly squatted down, her hands fumbling at my fly.

"Ma'am...ah, you shouldn't be...we ought not be doing this here thing. Oh my Lord!" I moaned as she reached in and expertly fished out my cock, now nearly erect, long, and thick.

She chuckled madly and hissed, "Now this here's what I've been needing!" She looked up at me as she lashed the swollen helmet of my dick with her tongue. "Boy, you got a fine looking cock!" Amazed and afraid, I watched as this blond woman began to suck my cock like a whorehouse pro, her tongue a pleasure wielding demon as she rolled and flicked it across my swollen member.

I glanced around even as I stood there trembling with pleasure. A white woman was sucking me off in the middle of nowhere with no-one else in sight, but this was Texas in 1952. I get caught with a white woman's lips wrapped around my dick, I'd be dead before dark and it would be a hard death. Still, the way her mouth was working my hard-on, I was thinking it might be worth it. Been my experience that most women didn't know how to really suck a dick, and while no blowjob was really bad, an expert cocksucker was an experience that was hard to resist. Memories of Celeste, her pale face between my dark thighs, lips stretched tight around my erection flitted through my mind.

I took a hit of the cheap hooch, feeling the wet liquid burning a trail down my throat while her hot mouth worked to take as much as me down her throat as possible. Now, it ain't true that all black men are hung like horses, but the good Lord had more than blessed me between the legs and while she couldn't swallow all of me, I was impressed as that blonde haired girl got more of me down her throat than anyone I could recall.

Her blue dress came up over her knees and while she held me in her mouth, one hand cupping my balls, she snaked her other hand between her legs under the hem and began playing with herself, her moans vibrating sweetly around my throbbing cockhead. Her eyes, blazing with some unnamed fury never left my face as I stared stupefied down at her watching her lips run up and down my long dick.

Almost on instinct, I reached down with one hand and ran it gently through her stringy blonde hair which felt like damp cornsilk. I realized that she was a beautiful woman under the grime of the road...reminding me a little of that movie star from years back, Veronica Lake. A cold shiver ran over me as I recalled that Lake specialized in roles where her men got fucked over...usually hard.

She tightened her grip on my dick, lips clamping down while her tongue went insane over the head of my cock and I knew I wasn't going to last. "Girl...ma'am, I'm about to lose it. I'm gonna shoot my stuff!"

She sucked me all the harder, locking her lips around the shaft of my cock, letting me know that she'd decide when I could slip from her mouth and then things broke loose inside me and I hollered with pleasure as I gushed my jism into that white woman's mouth. She made obscene gobbling noises, drinking my cum like it was liquor, sucking me harder and gently squeezing my balls before stroking my long, throbbing cock, milking me for every hot drop of my seed. I felt dizzy, my head spinning in the hot summer heat as I stood there on a Texas dirt road while a white woman sucked me dry.

Finally, she let me slip from her lips, having totally drained my dick of sperm. She ran her tongue over and around her lips in an almost dainty fashion...like a little girl getting the last smidge of ice cream off her lips. As easily as she had squatted down, she rose back up and smiled for the first time. I wasn't sure which expression scared me more...her pissed or smiling. "Goddamn, there ain't nothing like a real man's load."

She reached out and put a hand against my chest where it was open and spread wide, her hand warm against my sweaty skin. "Damn, you sure a black one, aren't you?" I didn't know what to say and I don't think she really cared because she didn't wait for an answer, but said, "Boy, you're coming home with me."

I was sure that was the wrong thing for me to do and I tried to back off but she flexed her fingers, nails digging into my skin as I said, "Ma'am...I'm thinking I should be on my way and all, heading towards Mexico-like. I...I thank you for...um, what you did, but maybe I better mosey along."

Her smile fled and she had a look of violence about her as she said, "You're coming home with me, tonight, boy! I'm lonely and I want you in my bed come dark. I'll take you to Mexico like I said I would, tomorrow...maybe the day after, but I'm lonely and I need a man and you are definitely a man." She reached down and stroked my still half erect dick and then gently slipped it back inside my trousers.

I licked my lips, both scared and excited by her words. "Ma'am, I don't even know your name."

She took the bottle back from me and took a long swig. Then she threw her arms around me and rubbed her body slowly against mine. "My name is Arlene, boy and tonight you're going to fuck me silly, hear?"

My mouth was dry, my heart was pounding and I could barely speak as I rasped, "I'm Tyler, A-Arlene." Out of instinct, I offered her my hand and she stared at it for a second and then laughed...a sound nearly as scary as her scowl.

She shook my hand with a firm grip and then jerked a thumb at the truck. "Throw your shit in the back and let's go, bo – Tyler."

Reluctantly, I obeyed her and after depositing my haversack in the bed of the truck, climbed in on the passenger side, Arlene already inside, her worn dress up over her knees and taking another hit off that bottle of bourbon. She smiled grimly at me and in a terrible grinding of gears, catapulted us down the dirt road.

With a long trail of dust rising up behind us, minutes of silence followed with Arlene rocketing down the road, the ass end of the pickup slewing back and forth as she worked the speedometer up to nearly seventy miles an hour. Finally, I worked up the courage to ask, "Um, Miss Arlene, where exactly are you taking me?"

Hardly sparing me a glance, she shot back, "My house...live on a farm here in the middle of bumfuck Egypt...not that anything grows there."

Licking my lips nervously, I said, "Who all lives there?"

She gave an amused snort and replied, "Just me anymore." She looked over and I suppose picked up on what was bothering me. "Don't be worrying none, Tyler – ain't nobody around for twenty fucking miles. Nobody's gonna know there's a colored man fucking a white woman at the old Keller place. Hell, I ain't seen anyone in I don't know when. You're the first person I talked to in maybe two weeks."

I told myself that that made things better, but I had a bad feeling about this Arlene, despite her big, pretty titties and her long blonde hair and the way she could suck a cock. She reminded me of Terry Harlow...a guy in our company...an angry young black man, pissed off at the whole world. He walked us into a Kraut ambush in early 1945 and though he was the only one killed, the rest of the squad always thought he did it intentionally. The kind of guy you know is gonna get killed, but you expect will be taking a whole passel of folks with him.

We rolled along at a suicidal clip for nearly thirty minutes before she rocketed off the dirt road onto a rutted lane, middle overgrown with brown weeds. We headed up over a rise that led down to a dingy gray wood house and barn, both looking as if a mild wind could take them down. A rusted Desoto decorated the front yard which was more dirt than grass, sharing it with two old hound dogs that rose up and ambled over once we'd slewed to a stop.

"C'mon, Tyler," Arlene said in a demanding, expectant tone. One of the hounds pulled back its teeth and began growling at me, but as she passed it, Arlene kicked it in the side with her bare foot, sending it yelping away to cower under the ruined car. Hurrying to catch up, I followed her into the house, passing through a parlor that had seen better days...a heat warped piano, festooned with old yellowed photographs inside cheap five and dime frames and a rug that was littered with cigarette burns and a hole that looked as if one of the dogs had been chewing on it. Mismatched furniture were scattered around the room, all of it looking worn and used out.

"C'mon," she said, leading me through a dark hall with more faded photographs hung on the walls and into a kitchen with a fairly new wood burning stove and an ice box. She turned and with a shrug, let her old blue dress slide off her shoulders to pool at her feet. I gawped at her brazenness – standing completely naked before me. Her breasts were spectacular, sagging just a bit from a lack of a brassiere. Her bush was a wild growth of dark blonde hair, much darker than her head of hair, making me wonder about its real color. Arlene's body was lean except for those large titties, wiry and muscular and I wondered suddenly how it would feel to have those long legs wrapped around me.

"Get them duds off, Tyler. I'll wash them later and brush up that jacket." She gestured at me with a pointed finger. "C'mon now, skin out of them clothes. You need a shower. I aint gonna let you climb into my bed with a layer of that shit-yellow Texas dirt covering you." She moved up and undid my belt and then was unbuttoning my shirt and then there was pulling and tugging and I was as naked as she was. "Come with me, boy," she smiled wryly as she reached out and took my semi-erect cock in her hand and led me onto an enclosed back porch. There was a rectangular enclosure on one end with a plastic curtain instead of a door and she slung it open and I could see a shower nozzle extending down from above.

She pulled me inside and said, "This is 'bout the only good damn thing about this whole place," as she turned a faucet knob. I let out a yell as cold water suddenly hammered down on us, feeling almost painful amidst the heat of a South Texas summer day. Arlene shivered as the water plastered her hair down and said, "Cold, ain't it? Might shrivel you up some, but I got a cure for that." She stood on tiptoe again and kissed me, hard and passionate, her naked body sliding against mine. Her busy tongue and the feel of those tits rubbing against my chest, did take my mind off the stinging spray.

At some point, Arlene produced some soap and she lathered me up and then I returned the favor, soaping up her big breasts, pausing for a moment to tease those long, hard nipples and then the rest of her, wiping suds over her tight buttocks and then between her legs. I liked how my fingers slicing through her pussy lips made Arlene moan and lean her head against my chest, her pelvis hunching hungrily against me. I finished by washing her hair with the soap, her backed up against me, ass cheeks brushing against my thighs.

Then we were toweling off hurriedly with a rough towel and she was taking me through the house, hand again wrapped around my cock. We climbed a rickety set of steps to the upper floor, ceilings all at angles as she led me into a bedroom that was near stifling with heat. Arlene paused alongside an unmade and sagging brass rail bed, blanket twisted and rumpled and turned and kissed me again, more need than anger in her lips this time. Finally, she broke the kiss and whispered, "I'm so lonely, Tyler, please come lie in my bed with me!"