Tracy was scared. I didn't even know the girl's last name or where she was from. About all I knew was that she was scared and on the run, and even that was more my gut feeling than anything the girl had told me. When I had pulled over to the side of the road after almost hitting the darkly clad little waif hitchhiking on the edge of the highway, she looked into the car with a lot of trepidation.
I could understand that well enough. The road was dark and not well traveled, and I was a stranger. A black stranger at that, and while I think that I'm a gentle spirit at heart, my bald skull and rather hulking frame give a different impression to those who don't know me.
The girl opened the door of my car, doing a couple of double takes while glancing back down the highway in the opposite direction while I tried to smile and make her feel at ease, but I wasn't going to sit there idling the car forever.
"Looking for a better ride?" I said with a chuckle. "I know this old Toyota isn't much, but I don't think there's much traffic around here this late at night so if you're hoping for a comfier ride you might have a long wait."
The girl did another false start before hopping into the front seat, mumbling an apology as she buckled up and stared straight ahead.
"No problem," I said, getting a glimpse of the cute little thing just before the overhead light blinked off. "Where you headed?"
"West," she said, and that was the way I was going too, but I knew that having this girl in my car around these parts was not all that good an idea.
The first reason was obvious. I was black and she was white and the contrast was even greater when you add in that I'm very dark skinned, while the young lady in the seat behind me was pale white, a red head with freckles galore. This might be the 21st century, but some things never change around these parts for some people.
The second reason that the girl was young. How young? I don't know. I'm not a great judge of ages, and since I turned 50 a while ago everybody looks like a kid, but in the dim light and all with her huddled in baggy army fatigues she looked like jail-bait.
What did this matter to me? Was I out on the prowl for sex? Not really. I've got insomnia which has gotten worse since my wife ran off on me, so sometimes I go out for long drives to try and relax and get a bit weary so I can drop off when I get back.
That's not to say that I haven't gotten lucky a couple of times. Picking up hitchhikers probably isn't all that safe, but I've never had much problem, mainly because at 6'3" and about 240 pounds I tend to discourage anybody with bad intentions.
Picking up young girls is safe though, and I've been able to get lucky with a couple of them. Didn't even have to make a move. They did the persuading and I was happy to go along with it. Girls these days don't seem to have the same prejudices that people of my generation had, and good for that. It's about time.
So sex was not on my mind when I started talking, just hoping to make the poor thing relax and introducing myself with my standard routine.
"Name's Deacon," I declared. "Rhymes with beacon and I'm 56 years old and my back is creakin'!"
"Tracy," the girl said softly in response, not exactly doubling over in laughter after hearing my rap, but at least she didn't jump out of the car.
"I can take you about 20 miles in your direction," I told her.
"Okay."
***
Three hours later and Tracy was sitting across from me at the kitchen table. We were no longer strangers, although getting to know Tracy was like peeling an onion, with so many layers beneath the surface.
It was her idea to come to my house and when she shyly asked if she could crash overnight, well - who was I to say no? It's lonely out here on your own sometimes so the prospect of company was very alright with me.
When we first got to my place and Tracy went to the bathroom, I took advantage of the opportunity to look in her backpack. Her wallet was in there, but I wasn't interested in the three dollars she had but was more concerned with the driver's license.
Sure enough, Tracy was 18. Tracy Comstock of Wells, New York, which was about 200 miles east of here. Green eyes and red hair and 5'4", although she seemed much tinier. With that age concern out of the way, my mind went back to the usual guy things.
The stuff she was wearing was so shapeless that it was impossible to tell what was underneath the drab fatigues, although judging by her tiny fingers I didn't suspect much at all.
I managed to get the stuff back in Tracy's sad little backpack before she came back out, and when I offered her a drink she readily accepted. She drank a shot of Jack Daniels without blinking, which earned her some respect from me, but I noticed a discoloration around her right eye, something I hadn't noticed in the car because that side was facing the other way.
"Bumped my head," Tracy said, and while I didn't know whether I believed it or not, it was obvious that she didn't want to discuss it so I left it alone.
So for three hours we talked about us, mostly me. About my unfaithful wife and my years as a NYC cop, and how I thought that retiring and living up her would be a pleasant change of pace from Brooklyn, not knowing that my ex was a city girl who couldn't take it up here in the sticks. Instead of talking about it, she left, leaving me alone.
Getting anything out of Tracy besides stories about high school was hopeless, and she did not want to talk about her family at all, getting emotional whenever I would ask even an innocent question. After a few more drinks I was ready for bed. When I offered to sleep on the sofa and offered Tracy my bed she refused, saying that the couch was okay, so I left it at that and went to bed.
***
I was in bed for less than a minute when I heard a gentle tapping on the door.
"Deacon?" Tracy whispered, peeking inside.
"Come in Tracy," I said, swinging my feet onto the floor as she came into my bedroom.
"Don't you like me?" Tracy asked as she looked around the bedroom, pawing at the floor with her foot.
"Of course I do," I answered. "What makes you ask that?"
"It's just that - you know," Tracy said haltingly, fumbling for words. "My Daddy - he said that... black men really love to get white girls - you know."
"I'm guessing he never said the word "black" when he said that either," I replied, noting the hesitation at that word when she spoke. "I like women of all colors, if that's what you're asking. You didn't seem interested in me that way, so I didn't push it. Figured you were tired anyway."
"It's just that - guess I'm kinda scared."
"Of me?" I asked, and Tracy shrugged her shoulders. "Would you like to sleep in here with me tonight?"
Tracy nodded, and I got up and went over to the dresser and started rooting around in the bottom drawer, where my wife had left some pajamas she used to wear. I guess living alone fro all this time made me a little unaware that I was naked, and when I saw Tracy's eyes bug out when she saw my cock swaying around, it hit me.
"Here," I said as I tried to hide myself a little while offering Tracy as pair of pajamas.
Tracy shook her head and kept staring at my cock, so I sat back on the end of the bed and covered myself with the sheet while I waited for her to do something.
The little redhead undid her pants, sliding them down her legs, which were very slender but had a little shapeliness to them. She wasn't wearing any underwear and with her back to me I got a look at her tiny butt, which was pale white and adorable.
Tracy was unbuttoning the baggy army surplus top, and when she shrugged it off of herself I was struck at the sharpness of her shoulder blades beneath the sea of freckles and how skinny her arms were. This poor girl needed a few square meals in the worst way, and before she turned around I was almost dreading seeing what the front of her looked like.
I certainly wasn't prepared for what I saw, with a modest and frightened Tracy turning slowly, a skinny arm across her chest in a futile effort to hide her breasts, which were enormous.
Maybe not enormous in and of themselves, but the sight of those full breasts on that tiny frame was stunning. Tracy's breasts were like footballs, jutting out and dominating her entire torso. Her pale pink aureoles were almost the size of drink coasters and her nipples were plump pegs slightly darker in color.
Now standing there, with one arm across her chest and her hand doing an equally poor job of hiding a wide and dense looking forest of blazing red pubic hair, she was trembling, seeming to be unaware of how erotic and exotic a woman/child she was.
"Please don't hide yourself," I asked while Tracy bit her lower lip. "No woman in the world has less reason to cover themselves than you do. Let me see you."
With a slowness that was almost painful to watch, Tracy lowered her hands, exposing her body to me. A body that was both frail and voluptuous at the same time, and such beauty I had never been privileged to see before. I felt like I was seeing something unveiled for the very first time.
"You're the most beautiful creature on earth," I said, and she shook her head, perhaps thinking that I was using a line on her, but I wasn't.
She was mine for the taking if I wanted her, and if she thought I wasn't sincere, when her eyes went down and saw my cock fully engorged and pointing straight at her, she became a believer.
"Haven't you ever been with a man before?" I asked when her staring became trance-like and her mouth remained open.
"Couple," she muttered, but by the look on her face, neither of them had been built quite like me.
I had the equipment that you would expect on a 6'3" black dude, and while it wasn't much bigger now then than when she had first seen it in the semi-aroused state moments ago, maybe it was the sight of the black cherry colored glans that had worked out from under the darker foreskin that got her attention.
"You aren't going to hurt me, are you Deacon?" Tracy asked when I took a step closer to her.
"Hurt you?" I said, shaking my head. "Of course not. Why on earth would I want to do that?"
Hurting Tracy was the furthest thing from my mind, and while I admit to thinking quite a bit about things I wanted to do to and with her, pain wasn't on the agenda.
Tracy took a step toward me, putting her hands on my chest and letting her fingers slide down my skin as she knelt in front of me. Her mouth enveloped the plum-sized head of my cock, and as she pushed her lips down further her freckled arm came up, grabbing the shaft of my member half way up and beginning a slow pumping motion.
