The Farmhand

This little tale is DEFINITELY not for everyone. It's about interracial sex between a black man and a white woman set in the 1940s during the war. It deals with racial stereotypes, incest, interracial sex, miscegenation, and racial and sexual mores of the time. You've been warned!

All persons engaged in any sexual activity is at least 18.

The Farmhand

Chapter 01

Forty-five years old, Kay Randall pumped her plump hips up hard, meeting her husband's thrusting cock. After 30 years of marriage, their sex was familiar and comfortable.

Sixty-year-old Larry Randall's weathered face was contorted, his eyes were screwed shut, and his mouth gaped open in a grotesque Joker look. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, pulsing, and his face was florid. It would signal a heart attack on any other man at any other time. Experience taught Kay that her husband was going to cum.

She wrapped her legs around her husband's back, taking him deeper in her cunt, and flexed her Kegel muscles, squeezing his cock and pushing him to his orgasm. As she did, she noticed a stress crack in the bedroom ceiling and made a mental note to check the foundation. The Spring rains may have undermined the brick cairns their clapboard house set on.

She continued flexing her Kegel muscles, causing her pussy to contract rhythmically. Experience told her the added pressure would hasten her husband's orgasm. Sex with her husband rarely lasted more than five minutes, but she had much to do today and wanted an early start.

It was not that her husband was a marathon fucker. Quite the contrary, in thirty years, their longest fuck session lasted about 15 minutes before he came, and he was drunk then.

"AWW FUCK! FUCK! I'M CUMMING!"

Larry stroked hard into his wife's pussy, his flabby ass repeatedly clenching as he dumped his load deep in her. Afterward, he lay on her for a moment, gasping for air. He rolled off his wife and onto his back, his chest heaving. He also stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

Kay rarely had an orgasm; she got pleasure from satisfying her husband. She was part and parcel of the 1940s women's attitude toward sex. All she knew she learned from her mother, who got her limited knowledge of sex from her mother. The shared misinformation reinforced the ethos that women rarely got anything from sex but babies. Her mother cautioned her that only women of loose morals enjoyed sex.

Once, years ago, she and her husband were having sex after attending a church social and drinking liberally of the spiked punch served. She felt an explosion inside her like she had never felt like she was being turned inside out. The sensations were so intense that she nearly passed out.

Guilt wracked her afterward. She considered talking to the minister about it and rejected that out of hand. He was known to gossip.

Instead, she made a mental note to talk to Reverend Hagen's wife, Sally. She and her husband were from Vicksburg and more worldly than she was. She hoped she would help her understand what had happened to her.

"That nigra Noah Moses starts work today. Be sure to keep an eye on him! I expect a day's work for a day's pay."

"It's about time you got some help around here. Working this farm alone since the boys married and moved out is too much for you."

Kay lay naked on their brass bedstead, one arm under her head and the other hand resting on her mommy pooch. Her husband's cum ran from her pussy and leaked through her ass cheeks, wetting the muslin sheets.

"Why ain't he in the Army? There's a war going on!"

"The local Selective Service Board is deferring some Blacks because of a manpower shortage. Somebody has to do the hard work."

Kay's youngest son reported for induction a few years back. She recalled the intense emotions of loss and dread watching him board the Army bus. She felt his loss more intensely than she felt her other three sons. They were closer than his brothers, perhaps too close.

She recalled with mixed feelings that time after he got his draft notice. It was a rainy Spring day, keeping them from working in the fields. Her husband had gone into town for supplies. That usually meant he would linger at the general store and guzzle corn liquor with the other farmers.

They were feeding the mules when her son started crying, fearing what would come.

They sat on a hay bale while Kay comforted him, stroking his head as it lay on her bosom with his tears wetting her thin print dress. The buttons worked loose, and his moist lips were on her bare bosom as she comforted him. She recalled the shock when he took her nipple in his mouth.

Kay breastfed all of her boys. However, she let Caleb suckle longer than his brothers. He was close to seven before she weaned him. Now, under stress, he was seeking the comfort of suckling.

She comforted him, saying what a mother says to her frightened child, stroking the back of his head while he nursed. She noticed the bulge in his jeans pressing against her thigh and was startled when his hand slipped under her skirt, cupping her pussy. Involuntarily her butt rotated against her son's hand. His inexperienced hands fumbled, pushing her cotton panties to the side.

"Baby, no, we mustn't!"

Her protest was weak, more perfunctory than commanding. Her son's finger in her pussy was the first other than her husband. She felt the beginnings of the explosion she experienced with her husband that night after drinking after the church social.

In her confusion about her sexuality and her intense love for her youngest son, she let him push her back on the hay bale and mount her.

"I love you, Ma' dear," he said hoarsely.

"Momma loves you also, baby, but we shouldn't do this!

Even as she spoke, Kay spread her legs, creating a cradle for her son to lie in as he positioned his tool at her entrance. His inexperience caused him to miss penetrating her. Kay pushed his hand away, grasped his shaft, and lined him up with her hole. She pumped her ample hips, slipping him into her channel.

Her youngest son was her favorite, and she could deny him nothing. If she had to fuck him to comfort him and give him the courage to go to war, then so be it.

"Oh, momma!"

Caleb's hips pistoned, reflexively driving his tool into his mother's honey hole.

"Slow down, baby! Momma's not going anywhere."

As she did with her husband, she wrapped her thick thighs around his back and pulled him deeper into her. As much as she wanted this intimacy to last, she knew her husband could come home at any moment. He would probably be drunk and want to fuck as he usually did.

The ethereal feeling of her son's cock in her pussy carried Kay to sexual heights she had never experienced. It started in her pussy and permeated her body which quaked as her pussy spasmed through her orgasm.

Her orgasm was so intense and pleasurable that she was prepared to risk her husband catching them. Fucking her son was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

"Slow down, baby! Make it last!"

She tightened her legs around him, slowing his frantic pumping. She wanted it to last, to experience more orgasms.

Kay felt her youngest son swell in her. She flexed her Kegel muscles, rushing his climax. He didn't last long, but Kay relished the intimacy of sharing herself with her favorite son.

At any other time, sex with her son would have been unthinkable. However, there was a war on, and the world was turned upside down.

"That's right, baby! Cum in, momma! Momma loves you, and she'll be here when you get back. We can do this again, but it must be our secret, OK?"

"Okay, Momma," he said.

Kay smiled as she felt him stiffening in her. His father used to be like that, quick to cum but recovering fast. Lately, he was just quick to cum, and there was no recovery.

"Take off your clothes, son. I want to feel your warm skin on mine."

Mother and son slowly undressed while the Spring rain beat a tattoo on the barn roof. Kay was surprised to see her son's cock was substantially larger than her husband's. However, her experience was limited, and she only noted it in passing.

Initially, he was embarrassed being naked in front of his mother. It wasn't like when they bathed in the galvanized tub, and she carried in pails of hot water to warm the bath. His mother was the first woman he saw naked. She was also the first to suck his cock!

"Sweet Jesus, Momma! What're you doing?"

"Watch your language," she mumbled around his tool in her mouth and slapped him on his thigh, "this is a Christian house."

She took him in her mouth, using all her skills on his father. Her tongue caressed his shaft while her hands rubbed his egg-sized balls. She fought her gag reflex and took him down her throat. It was much more difficult with him than his father.

"Oh my God, Momma! That feels incredible."

Kay stopped briefly sucking her son's cock as she looked up at him.

"Your momma loves you, Caleb, and there is nothing she wouldn't do for you."

She lay back on the hay bale, spreading her legs for her son. She beckoned him to lie in the cradle her legs created for him.

"Fuck your mother again, baby. Let her make you a man!"

Her son began pumping in her again, slower this time, the urgency of his need lessened by cumming in her the first time. This time, they held each other's eyes, drinking in the love they saw there. The flash of the lightning, the rumble of thunder, and the patter of the rain on the barn's roof added a counterpoint to their lovemaking. They both orgasmed multiple times as they fucked in the barn that day.

Just as she made her son a man that day, Kay also had an epiphany, realizing there was more to sex than just satisfying her husband. For the first time in her 45 years, she orgasmed. She ached for her son to return from the war so they could continue their new relationship.

But he never did! The letter from the War Department arrived a year later. Caleb was killed on a nameless rock in the Pacific theater.

The intimacy they shared added to the poignancy of her loss. Kay lost not only a son but a lover! When her husband fucked her, she thought of her son, that day in the barn, and the intimacy they shared. Her only regret was that she had not got pregnant that day. At least then, she would have something of his to comfort her.

Larry stood and walked naked from their bedroom into the bathroom down the hall. The sound of water running said he was washing up and getting ready to start his day.

Kay fumbled in the dark, found her flannel robe, slipped it on, and turned on the lightbulb hanging by a wire from the ceiling. She strode past the bathroom and into the kitchen to start breakfast for her husband. The grey dawn broke over the hemp fields they grew for the war effort.

Since she and her son fucked in the barn, she took sensual pleasure in the feel of her cum filled pussy. Despite her mother's admonition, she began to feel something when she and Larry had sex. It was the same feeling she felt when her son penetrated her. It was a warm feeling starting in her nether regions and permeating her body. She always associated the feeling with satisfaction with pleasing her husband, not her arousal building toward an orgasm.

Chapter 02

Kay Randall stood on her porch, ogling the powerfully built Noah Moses, chopping wood in the yard. He was shirtless, his muscular ebony body gleaming with sweat. The muscles on either side of his back corded, emphasizing their definition. The ax's downward stroke caused his neck, arms, and shoulder muscles to bulge with the effort. He seemed to never tire from the repetitive action.

The women in her church often whispered of the rumored sexual prowess of Black males. Under the influence of the spiked punch at the monthly church socials, her female neighbors whispered of enormous cocks and incredible stamina. Sally Hagen drunkenly confided she fucked a Black man when she lived in Vicksburg and was sore for a week.

Kay shook her head, pulling herself out of her ogling the young Black man's body. Watching him during the week he worked for them was part of her daily routine. She rationalized that it was to be sure he was working. Larry told her blacks were notoriously lazy, and you had to keep after them.

She filled a jelly jar with water and carried it out to him.

"Good mawnin', Miss Kay! It's a powerful hot today."

Noah mopped his face with a ragged handkerchief he pulled from a pocket in his coveralls.

"Good morning, Noah. Yes, it is, and we could use some rain. When you finish the wood, I need you to check the cairns under the house. I think they may have slipped during the Spring rains."

She handed him the water and watched raptly as he turned it up and drained it, the water running out of the corners of his mouth, down his jowls, and across his beefy chest.

"Yessum, I can do that now. This wood ain't going nowhere!"

As Noah lay on his back, sliding under the house, he noticed Kay looking at him. She gave him the same look he got from Black women at the juke joint down by the river. It meant she was interested in him, and it terrified him.

Being caught with a White woman was a certain death in Mississippi in the 1940s. They lynched a boy over in Sharkey County because a white woman just said he raped her. The whisper in The Bottoms where Noah lived was that they had been fucking for weeks, and her husband caught them naked fucking in the fields.

When she went to visit family for several weeks, the old women in the Bottoms said she went away to have the lynched boy's baby.

"Yes, ma'am, one of the cairns toward the center of the house has slipped."

Noah was on his back under the house, inspecting the supports. Homes in the Delta were usually built on supports, so the Spring floods ran under the house and not through it.

Kay stood above his legs, eyeing the bulge in Noah's coveralls. She recalled Sally Hagen's drunken tale of fucking her Black farmhand, how big his cock was, and how long he fucked her. She was the preacher's wife but was still known to stretch the truth!

"How bad is it?"

Kay's dress rode up when she squatted beside Noah's prone body.

"Not that bad," Noah croaked hoarsely.

Noah could see her white cotton panties pulled tight across her hairy Mons from his vantage point, creating a sizeable cameltoe. His cock hardened, creating a bulge in his coveralls.

Kay's eyes widened at the substantial lump in Noah's jeans.

Perhaps Sally Hagen was right, she thought.

When she realized he was looking under her dress, two emotions fought for prominence. The first was modesty. She shouldn't allow him or anyone else to see under her skirt. Another man, a Black man, saw what only her husband saw.

The second emotion was arousal. She got a salacious thrill at being exposed. It was like the times in town when the wind blew her skirt. She was ashamed that she was exposed and, at the same time, excited, hoping someone noticed. Like then, her pussy moistened.

She had these strange urges in the year since she received the letter from the War Department about her son's death. She began to like being exposed and enjoyed men looking at her. Shamefully she would imagine what it might feel like to fuck another man. At a later time she would seek therapy, but that wasn't an option in 1940s America.

"Maybe I should come under and look so I can tell Larry how bad it is?"

"Yessum! I'll slide out."

Before Noah could slide from under the house, Kay impulsively dropped to her back and slid under the house next to him. They lay shoulder to shoulder, jammed between the brick cairns with the floor inches from their noses. His strong musk invaded her nostrils, causing strange sensations to permeate her body. She had never been this close to a Black man. It was at once terrifying and exciting.

Noah froze. The heat of Kay's body next to his was like the heat of a log fire in winter, warming the side of him that touched her.

"Where...ummmm...where is the damage?"

"It's on the other side of you, Miss Kay!"

Noah's mouth had the metallic taste of fear. If Mister Larry, or any White man, saw him this close to a White woman, they would lynch him.

He inhaled, taking in her aroma. It was one he had smelled before with the Black women he fucked. It signaled their arousal.

Kay turned toward the damaged support in the tight confines beneath the house. Her shoulder pressed against the underside of the wood floor, and her butt pressed against Noah's rigid manhood. The position was reminiscent of spooning, a sexual position she and Larry rarely did.

The bulge in Noah's coveralls pressed against her behind through the thin cotton of her dress. Her panties had twisted and pulled between her cunt lips, pressuring her clitoris. She felt strangely warm.

"I can't see it. Point to it!"

Her voice quavered with emotion as Noah reached across her, pointing at the damaged cairn, his arm brushing her breast.

Kay impulsively grabbed his hand and pressed it to her bosom. She was unsure why she did this and was surprised by her forwardness. Her husband and her deceased son were the only men to touch her like this. She groaned when Noah's callused hand squeezed her tit.

She pressed her ass against his manhood while holding his hand on her breast. They dry humped, causing the gusset of her panties to pull tighter to her little man in the boat. Kay gasped as their grinding against each other caused her dress to rise.

Noah's stiff rod against her thin cotton panties felt like a shovel handle. She moaned when he slipped his hand between them and squeezed her bottom.

Noah slipped his hand inside her panties' elastic band, his finger tracing the line between her ass cheeks. Her panting when he pressed his index finger against her starfish was like any other woman, excited by the suggestion of penetration of this most intimate of orifices.

His work-roughened hand slid around the waistband of her panties. It slid through her cleft, found her clit, and rubbed it.

"Oh, my God, my dear God!"

Kay was more aroused than she had ever been. This Black man had fingered her anus and was doing the same to her pussy. She drove her hips forward, burying his finger in her honey hole.

She experienced sensations similar to when she and her son had sex in the barn but more intense. It didn't come from love but animal lust. It rivaled but was vastly superior to the feeling she had fucking her son.

Her breath came in short, painful gasps, her hips pumped against Noah's finger in her hole and his grinding his cock against her behind.

"FUCK! FUCK!"

Kay orgasmed hard, bucking and writhing on Noah's finger in the tight confines under the house. When Noah's work-roughened hands pushed her panties down, she knew what was coming and welcomed it.

"Yes! Fuck me, Noah; please fuck me!"

Her words snapped Noah back to reality. He realized where he was and the risk he was running. He snatched his hand from her dripping wet pussy and scooted from under the house; his throat constricted with fear. He frantically searched the fields and the dirt road, looking for a place to run and hide, but knew there was no place.

He had felt up a White woman and was close to fucking her. If she told, he was a dead man!

"Help me from under here."

Kay was on her back, her dress around her waist, and her pussy lips split by the gusset of her soaked panties. She tried to wriggle out but was pinned between the ground and the house floor.

Noah grabbed her ankles and yanked her from under the house. Fear caused him to pull harder than he intended.

Kay's dress rose to her chest as Noah pulled her from under the house. She lay there momentarily, the hem of her dress on her belly, staring up at this black man mountain. His strength frightened and intrigued Kay. He was robust enough to make her do anything he wanted.