Trust me, growing up in a small town in Virginia isn't a whole lot different than growing up anywhere else. Even when I was a kid, it began to dawn on me that it wasn't the where you lived that made a difference, it was the who you were with that made the difference. The whats, whens and whys are pretty much the same, some good, some bad. Personally, I started out with some pretty pitiful people. Had they stayed around any longer than they did, I probably wouldn't be writing this.
I was born Tucker Rollins. I never met my father. My mother used to say he was the love of her life, the man who had come to Smithfield and swept her off her feet, if only for a night or two. He worked at the packing plant along with my mother. He killed them...she packed them; a match made in heaven. He was gone long before I was born. She did the best she could, I guess. I don't recall her spending much time alone in bed. Nor do I recall her hand ever being more than a few feet from a bourbon bottle. She died when I was twelve. I didn't have any other family and because my mother was such a drunken slut, she didn't have any friends. No one really gave a fuck about what happened to me, except for Jess, my best friend.
I guess being really poor, white trash can be a blessing at times. For a white kid in Smithfield, having a best friend like Jess, a kid so black he disappeared at dusk, wasn't cool. But, If you were dirt poor, it seemed to neutralize the color or your skin and it made everything fine. Jess managed to talk his mom into letting me stay at their house for a few days after the funeral. A few days turned into a few weeks and so on. Pretty soon, Lena Jefferson became "Mom" and Jess's baby sister Tawny became "Sissy." Jess stayed Jess. And for the first time in my life, the house I lived in didn't smell like dead pigs.
We were still poor. Mom cleaned houses for a lot of the rich Smithfield families, and aside from what little money Jess and I earned doing odd jobs, hers was our only income. But life was good. Mom was one hell of a cook, Sissy was a pain in the ass and Jess and I were inseparable. We had to kick a lot of ass growing up, being salt and pepper and all. But when we both made the all-state basketball team in our junior year of high school, we both got whiter. The following year we took our team to the division finals. Our division wasn't much...something like Division Minus 5...but damn it, we won.
That triumph won us both our first trip to the big city of Richmond, our first night in a hotel and our first piece of ass. Looking back, I'm really not sure which one was the best. I don't even remember her name, so that should say it all. But basketball became our tickets out of Smithfield. The fact that Mom had always made us keep up with school made it possible to actually attend real schools. A full ride to Florida State for Jess and another to Virginia Tech for me, exposed us to worlds we had never dreamed of.
We both came home whenever we could and summers were a welcome relief to our hectic schedules. We were celebrities as far as Smithfield was concerned. We got great summer jobs and the extra money made things a lot easier on Mom. She was smiling a lot more and actually was able to take a few short holidays with the family. She also started looking prettier. I guess I never noticed how beautiful she was. Hell, she was Mom. But my meeting to a lot of different women at school and on our road trips made me appreciate how beautiful my mom really was.
She was still a young woman. I had never thought about it much before, but I realized that she had been a lot younger than my real mother when she had Jess. It didn't take long for the college boy to do the math. Damn, she had only been fifteen when she had Jess and a very, very old 27 when I moved in. It also didn't take long for me to realize that a ripe 35 year old black woman was a whole lot sexier than the skinny white chicks I had been dating at Tech. That summer after my junior year ended far to quickly, though I wanted to stay, I had to go back. I needed to make sure my future was solid. A lot of things had changed that summer.
I realized I was hanging out around the house far more than Jess. More often than not, he was out till the wee hours of the morning, dragging his six-six, sorry ass into the same bed, in the same room we had shared since I moved in. I once laughingly asked if he was trying to fuck every woman in Smithfield by the time the summer was over. He just laughed and hit me with a pillow. I dated a few times, but was happiest when I was at home, alone with Mom.
Sissy was growing up and was gone as much as Jess, spending most of her time with friends. I could see a lot of her mom in her, that beautiful smile, those flashing eyes that peered down over her nose when she was angry at you. But her skin must have come from her father. It was much lighter than Mom's, a creamy brown with just a hint of the color of port wine. I suppose that's where the name Tawny came from. In any case, she was going to be a heart breaker for sure. Jess and I made a pact, regardless of what happened after we graduated...she was going to school.
But her burgeoning beauty wasn't enough to take my attention away from Mom, or Lena, the name my mind began to use in the lurid fantasies it created. At home, she liked to be comfortable. She went barefoot most of the time, silently padding around the house as she tended to the things that needed to be done. I would watch her every move; when she cooked, when she cleaned, whatever she was going. She rarely wore a bra, I assumed a concession to her need for comfort. Of course, this allowed her huge tits to sway and bounce under her top in a way that drove my youthful libido crazy.
I began to develop a set of my favorites outfits. One particular sun dress usually left me painfully hard and in desperate need to relieve myself. It was an old and threadbare sun dress, its design more for a young girl than a lushly curved, mature woman. The straps tied behind her neck, becoming the bodice, as they curved around to the front, gradually widening as they flowed down over the opulent mounds of flesh they vainly tried to contain. Her breasts nestled into the material, natural and free, moving as if they had a life of their own. Dark shadows surrounded the ever present dimples her nipples made as they attempted to poke through the fabric. They would extend and thicken in a chilling breeze, as if inviting a set of warm lips to comfort them. But if her tits deserved a place on Mount Rushmore, that woman's wondrous ass deserved the whole mountain. It was absolutely a mouth-watering experience to watch.
The back of her dress was non-existent, leaving an acre of silky smooth, milk chocolate skin exposed from her shoulders down to the tops of the cheeks of her ass. Her lush buttocks pushed out abruptly, swelled into deliciously curved moons which tucked back into the tops of her thighs with that same abruptness. And, that dress displayed her lovely bottom with the perfection it deserved. The material lay across the swells of her cheeks, caressing each smooth curve until it fell off the edge to hang loosely down an inch or two below the juncture with her thighs. Her ass defined booty...treasure...candy for the eyes. Simply seeing her ass, in that dress, always had the same result...a raging hard-on that needed to be tamed in the privacy of the bathroom. I studied every detail of that magnificent woman, leaving images that burned themselves into the fabric of my mind, fodder for my fantasies that always followed.
I'll never forget the first time I caught a glimpse of her panties. I came instantly, spending my seed into my tightly cramped briefs and had to rush out of the room to hide my embarrassment. Of course, there were more times that delightful sight came into view. Often, as she bent over to fetch something from the fridge or a low cabinet in the kitchen, my eyes could follow the graceful curve of her legs up under her skirt to her panty clad ass. One would have expected them to be a modest, cotton, granny style. But they were sheer, almost transparent...the come fuck me type a woman didn't wear to church. When the light was right, you could see every detail of her succulent and completely shaved pussy. The first time I discovered she was shaved came as a real shock. Her puffy, crescent shaped vaginal lips were darker than the rest of her skin, begging to be licked right through the gauzy material that pretended to hide them. Obviously, there was another side of this woman...one that I hadn't expected.
July came along with much more than the intense heat of summer. Steamy nights often found one or more of us kids sleeping on the back porch. Those of us, who couldn't sleep inside, would drift out one at a time seeking a respite from the scorching heat. Mom never slept outside, hating the smell and feel of the oily bug repellent on her skin. The heat seemed to dilute patience and modesty. There were never out and out fights, but frequently tempers would flare, followed by a smart remark or two. The diminishing modesty had its benefits...as the temperature increased, clothing decreased and the heat of a different kind began to rise.
