Ty & Cinda–A Tale of Forbidden Love

TY AND CINDA—A TALE OF FORBIDDEN LOVE

When I first wrote this story Ty and Cinda were 16 because I thought that was the minimum age here. I’ve rewritten it so although Ty and Cinda meet when they’re 17, they celebrate their 18th birthdays less than two weeks later and, thus, are 18 when they first have any kind of sexual contact. It was a lot of work making everything fit together and make sense. I couldn’t simply change “16” to “18” because there aren’t many 18 year olds in tenth grade. Now they meet after tenth grade and marry during eleventh when both 18. I also extended the story to include their days in college and two characters who had only minor roles early in the story.

INTRODUCTION

It wasn’t that Ty was shy, because he wasn’t. He was just upset about having to leave the family farm in Indiana. After listening to his parents argue and disagree almost daily for the past two years, the one thing—the only thing—they did agree on was that Ty had to leave and live with his mother and her parents, people he’d never even met.

Now he was stuck in Louisiana, a few miles south of Morgan City, with Grandpa Lew and Grandma Emma. They were nice to him, dripping with politeness, but he would have much preferred to be back home on the farm. It was hot and humid here, even at night. The local park—the only place to find a basketball game—was populated by black kids. That didn’t bother him. He’d grown to know plenty of black kids at basketball camps and AAU over the past six years.
He was content to stand by, dribbling his worn Wilson ball, and waiting for a chance to play, but he was unprepared for the racial jibes he received at the hands of the other kids—“whitey” and “paleface” being the mildest. Ty stood by and fumed. He could see the others play and knew that they were basically an undisciplined group with flashy offensive moves, but no defensive skills.

The jibes continued until he heard a voice from behind him. It was soft, but determined. “Monroe, you’d better stop that. Momma will kill you if she finds out you’re talking that kind of trash! You, too—Stephon! All that racial crap has got to stop. You leave this white boy alone.” Ty turned around, but stopped short. His savior was a light-skinned black girl with shining brown eyes, the whitest teeth he’d ever seen and a slender sexy body that just didn’t quit. Her short curly hair framed her oval face perfectly Ty thought. He was shocked by what he saw and, apparently, so was she. Ty was a slender, but strong six feet two inches. His body was what was frequently referred to as “ripped” with muscular definition from years of hard farm work and playing competitive ball.

CHAPTER 1

“Hi, I’m Lucinda…call me Cinda.”

“Uhh…I’m…I’m Ty. I’m new around here.”

She laughed and smiled. “I already figured that out. You here to play ball?”

Now Ty laughed as he twirled his ball in his hand. “I guess it’s pretty obvious. I hope I’ll get a chance.”

“Not to worry…Monroe, let Ty play. I’ll tell Momma if you don’t.”

“He can take my place,” DeJuan said. “I’m already late for work.”

Monroe came over to him and asked, “Can you actually play or are you like most of the white kids around here?”

“I guess time will tell.” Ty stripped off his t-shirt exposing his pale white skin. He recalled his father’s admonitions. “Self praise stinks,” his dad had often said, “Let your actions speak for you.” Ty could have bragged about playing on his age-group AAU team, a team that had gone to the national finals under his leadership and play or how he had been a starter for his high school varsity as a freshman and sophomore. He’d comment on it if the subject arose, but otherwise he’d not mention it at all.

Cinda came up to him with a bottle. “Ty, you’d better have some of this lotion. You’ll look like a lobster if you don’t. You wait a minute, Monroe while I save Ty from a bad burn.” She poured some lotion into her hand and wiped it over his shoulders and back. He was amazed at her touch. Ty had known some girls in Indiana, but none like Cinda, of that he was certain.

“Uh, thanks…Cinda.” He jogged onto the court, asking Monroe who he was supposed to guard. The game began anew with Ty guarding one of the lesser players on the opposing team. He more than held his own while Monroe was helpless with a guard on the other team. Marquis went around Monroe like he was standing still. After a drive and basket Ty suggested they change men. When Marquis dribbled confidently into the front court Ty had his number. He sliced left just as the ball left Marquis’ hand, knocking it away just after it bounced. Ty was on it in a flash and dribbled toward the other basket. Marquis was sure he’d block the layup, but Ty bounce-passed behind his back to the streaking Monroe for an uncontested shot. Marquis never scored another basket while Ty controlled both the offense and defense for his team. He only scored three baskets, but fed his teammates for six easy layups. They won 21-15, easily overcoming a 14-10 deficit. Ty was covered in sweat when Monroe clapped him on his shoulder.

“That was pretty good, Ty. You’ve obviously played some.”

“Yeah, it’s really big where I come from in Indiana.”

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“Living with my Mom and grandparents. My folks are getting divorced. I’ll probably never see my dad again.”

“At least you got to know him,” Cinda exclaimed. “I never even knew my daddy. He skipped on Momma before I was born.”

“That’s too bad; he missed out knowing a wonderful person. Well, I gotta go now. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll walk with you if you’re going toward the levee.” I agreed and a minute later Cinda and I left the park, me rolling my expensive racing bike alongside. It was priceless to me, probably the last gift I’d ever receive from my dad.

We walked slowly down the quiet road. “Where do you live, Ty,” Cinda asked.

“Down the road a couple of miles,” I replied, “just beyond the marina.”

“You don’t live with Capt. Lew Walker, do you?”

“Yeah, he’s my grandpa. I only met him yesterday, why?”

“I’m havin’ second thoughts about defendin’ you, Ty. He’s the biggest racist in this parish.”

“I can’t say anything about him good or bad. Like I said, I only met him yesterday and that was only because my mom decided to move here with her folks. Just because he thinks like that don’t mean that I do.”

Doesn’t…Ty, not don’t. I may be black but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to speak.”

“Sorry,” I said with a laugh. “You sound like my mother.” Now it was Cinda’s turn to laugh.

“I like you, Ty. How old are you, anyway?”

“I like you, too…Cinda. I’m seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen in another week—on July 1st.”

“You’re two days older than I am, Ty. Are you going to be a junior or a senior?”

“Yeah…I mean yes, I’m going to be a junior.” She giggled then told me she was entering her junior year, too. We walked the rest of the way in silence until Cinda turned up a dirt path toward her home. I waved her goodbye, hopping onto my bike once she was out of sight. I was back home in a couple of minutes. I had the bike up to thirty on some of the paved areas.

“How was the park, Ty? Did you get to play?”

“Yeah, Mom,” I had a great game. I met….”

“You were down at the park with those niggers?” My grandfather had interrupted rudely. I could understand Cinda’s feelings.

“I was there with a bunch of black kids, yes,” I replied. “They were okay once they got to know me.”

“You’re not to go there again. You hear me, boy? I forbid it! I absolutely forbid it.”

“How could I not hear you, Grandpa? I’m right here and you’re yelling in my ear. Frankly, I was treated better by the black kids. I’ll go back there if I feel like it. I didn’t ask to come here. I was forced, but I’ll gladly go back to Indiana if you’d prefer.” I couldn’t believe I had spoken to my grandfather that way. My mother was appalled.

“You don’t mean that, Ty.”

“You know I do, Mom. It was bad enough that I had to leave my home where I had lots of friends to come here where I have none. Now I’m told I can’t play ball just because my grandfather is a racist. Send me home…please.”

“You already know you can’t go back there. Your father has no way to take care of you. You belong here with me.”

“Mom, I’m seventeen—almost eighteen. I’m old enough to make a lot of decisions for myself. Isn’t that what you’ve told me God knows how many times? I think I’m capable of deciding who can be my friends and who can’t.” I stood there my face red from the anger I felt.

“Don’t make a bit of difference; there isn’t a single nigger kid in your school.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your grandpa has made arrangements for you to go to a prestigious private school. There won’t be any black kids there.”

“Am I going to be able to play ball?”

“They don’t have any teams there. The school’s too small. There are only sixty four students, all from affluent white families—the kind you should be seen with instead of them niggers.”

“Forget it! I won’t go! I refuse! I want to go to public school.” Of course, they refused to listen. Two weeks later, after I’d made friends with all the kids at the park I was taken into town to buy my uniform. “You don’t get it, Mom. I don’t want to go to this school. I won’t do it.”

“Don’t be juvenile, Ty. You’ll make new friends.”

“What you mean, Mom is that I’ll make new ‘white’ friends. You’re getting to be as bad as Grandpa. Did you know that people around here think he’s the biggest racist in the parish?”

“He’s not, Ty. You’ll understand that once you know him better.”

“Mom, I don’t want to know him better. You need to open your eyes and ears. He uses the N-word all the time—the same word you absolute forbade me to use…ever. I’ve never used that word and I never will.” I stopped my arguing as we entered the store, but I did tell my mother that buying these uniforms was a waste of money.

I was all dressed up in my blue blazer complete with the school emblem and tie the following Monday—the third week in August, for crying out loud–when Mom drove me to school. I kissed her good-bye and walked dutifully into the school building. I was supposed to report to the office, but I kept walking…right out the back door. I continued to the lane behind the school where I turned right and walked slowly to the park. I sat there glumly on the bench until three in the afternoon when I walked down the road toward my grandparents’ home. I stopped along the way to watch the school bus stop up ahead. Monroe and Cinda exited as I walked up. Monroe saw me and pointed to me before moving on to his home; Cinda waited. She extended her hand and I was surprised when I took it.

“Why aren’t you in school, Ty?”

“I didn’t go. I hate the idea of that private school. I hate what my grandfather is.”

“I know, Ty. You’re just about the best person I know. I doubt you have a prejudiced bone in your body. Why don’t you come up the lane with me? I’ll bet my momma has some cold milk and cookies we can share. C’mon.” She held my hand as we walked up the road. Cinda was right; I was welcomed into their house. It was nothing compared to where I was living. It was old and rundown, but it was more welcoming by far. I could tell how much Cinda’s momma loved her children. Between bites I looked at Cinda’s textbooks. They were the same I had seen some of the eleventh graders use last year in Indiana. Reluctantly, I left around five, Cinda walking me to the corner.

“Bye, Ty—I hope you don’t get into too much trouble.” She reached up and kissed my cheek. I was shocked. I looked down and my head moved forward. Our lips touched. I felt the surge of electricity between us. Cinda noticed it, too. She smiled and turned away. Her gaze returned to me a few steps later. She blew me a kiss and returned home.

Well…the shit really hit the fan when I got back to my grandparents’ home. “Where were you, Ty? The school called and told us you weren’t there.” Mom was yelling, something she had only done with my father, and grandpa was glaring at me.

“I told you that I don’t want to go to that school. Look at me; I’m dressed for church, not school. I want to go to public school.”

“No grandson of mine is going to school with those niggers.”

I shook my head. “No wonder you have a reputation as the parish’s biggest racist, Grandpa. Fine, I’ll leave and find someplace else to live. I’m eighteen now.”

“You don’t mean that, Ty.” Mom was practically in tears.

“Why, Mom don’t I have any say in this? Isn’t it bad enough that you and Dad couldn’t make a go of it? Isn’t it bad enough that I lost all my friends and my AAU and school teams? Now you want me to go to a school that doesn’t even have any. I bet all those kids are just snobs.” I’d had enough; I walked away, slamming the door to my room.

My mom knocked about five minutes later. “Can I come in, Ty?” I opened the door and sat on the bed, my head down to hide the tears in my eyes. “Ty, you know that your grandfather just wants what’s best for you.”

“No, Mom…what he wants is to create another person like himself—another bigoted snob, or is it snobby bigot?”

“That’s not fair, Ty.”

“Fair, Mom? Is it fair that I’m even here? I didn’t have a choice in that, did I? Truthfully, Mom he hasn’t shown me anything I could respect or love. He didn’t take me in, Mom. He took you. I have a hard time believing you are even related to him. I don’t want to be like him. I want to be like my father—a decent, honest, hard-working man. I’m sorry if that hurts you, Mom.”

“That doesn’t hurt me, Ty. I know your father is all of those things. Unfortunately, we didn’t get along. You are right, though—you shouldn’t have to pay for that. I have to make dinner now. Can we talk again after we’ve cleaned up?” I agreed; Mom hugged me and kissed me then closed the door.

Dinner was like being in a morgue. We ate in total silence although Grandpa did comment once about eating “nigger food” when Mom put a big platter of fried chicken on the table. She knew it was my favorite. I gave my grandfather a look that would cut through steel at that remark, but said nothing. What would I say in response to that? What could I say? He may have been my mother’s father, but I had no love or respect for him. If he weren’t kin I’d cross the street to avoid him.

I helped Mom clear the table and put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. After wiping down the table I took the trash out to the street. Then I retreated again to my room. I had my own computer and printer, my own TV and stereo. I had a smart phone and everything else a rich kid could have. What I didn’t have was a feeling of being wanted or loved. I knew my mom loved me, but my grandparents would have been happier if I had stayed in Indiana.

Mom knocked on the door frame a few minutes later. She sat next to me after closing the door, putting her arm around my shoulders. “What will happen if I take you back to the school tomorrow?”

“The same thing, Mom—I do not want to go there…period. Mom, I met a lot of kids at the park. I like them. I met a girl, too. She spoke up for me when I first went there. Some of the guys made some racial comments. If I ever had any doubts what it is to experience racial discrimination I found out that day. She stood up for me even though she’d never met me. I like her Mom—I like her a lot.”

“You haven’t…”

I laughed. “No, Mom we haven’t done anything. She did kiss my cheek this afternoon, but that was mostly encouragement. I did kiss her briefly and I’d do it again if I could. She took me home and her mother welcomed me like I was family. They live in a dilapidated house off a dirt path, but there’s more love there in a single day than there is here in a year. She’s smart, too. She has some of the same textbooks they used last year in advanced classes in eleventh grade. I remember Jeremy having them.”

“Ty, you know I can make you attend that school, don’t you?”

“Sure, Mom, but you can’t make me do any work so what’s the point? I’ll go to all my classes and just sit there. After I’ve flunked out you’ll have to put me in public school.”

“Your grandfather thinks we should send you to military school.”

“Gee, why not just send me back to Indiana? It would be a lot cheaper and then Grandpa would be happy. I wouldn’t be here to remind him what a bigot he is. Don’t you ever stand up to him, Mom?”

“It’s complicated, Ty. He never wanted me to marry your father. Where would I go if he threw me out?”

“You could go back home and try to work things out with Dad. We both know he didn’t want this.”

“How could you know that, Ty?”

“I’m not deaf, Mom. I could hear you arguing and I heard Dad plead with you. I heard a lot of your arguments and, truthfully, I couldn’t understand why you were pushing him.” Mom held her head down and I could see a tear in her eye.

“I don’t know where to begin, Ty. You’re right—the separation was my fault, all my fault. I wanted more than your father could give me. Maybe I’m more like your grandfather than you think.”

“I know better, Mom. You may be his daughter, but you’re nothing like him. I’ve seen you hug the parents of my black teammates plenty of times. Somehow I can’t see Grandpa ever doing that.”

“What will happen if I let you go to the public school?”

“I’ll go—I promise—and I’ll do my very best, just like I’ve always done.”

“Very well—I’ll take you tomorrow and you can register. Happy now?”

“Happier,” I said as I returned my mom’s hug. Later I could hear her in the living room telling my grandparents. They weren’t happy—Grandpa swore a blue streak, ranting and raving like a lunatic–but I didn’t care.

CHAPTER 2

I was up early the following morning dressed as I would for school in Indiana with a short sleeved shirt and khakis. I ate a good breakfast, but turned down a sandwich for lunch. I’d rather buy lunch in the cafeteria than carry a sack like some elementary school kid.

Mom and I were in the car and driving toward the park and school beyond when I saw Monroe and Cinda waiting for their bus. “They’re my friends, Mom. Can we give them a lift?” Mom agreed and we stopped next to them.

“Hi, Cinda, Monroe—want a lift to school?” They did and I introduced them once they were safely in the car. They were glad I was coming to school with them. Monroe talked about informal basketball workouts, mostly to get into playing shape. Cinda was quiet, but I was sure Mom knew it was Cinda who had kissed me.
We walked into school together. I thought Mom was surprised at how many kids knew and greeted me, some with handshakes some with hugs. Mom showed my birth certificate to the main office staff and my transcript to the guidance counselor. I had a schedule—all advanced placement classes and Physics instead of Chemistry which I’d taken last year–about forty minutes later and was off to my first class. I’d missed math, but doubted that would be a problem—math was my best subject. I had some help from other students in my classes finding my way around the school. All in all I enjoyed my first experiences and was pleased to learn that I hadn’t missed much the first day. I had just paid for my lunch and was looking around the sea of mostly black faces for a seat when I felt a hand on my arm. I turned just as I had my first day at the park to see Cinda smiling behind me. She held my arm as she led me to a table.

“Forget it, girls—I saw him first.” I laughed, but I could see she was serious. I sat at the table and Cinda asked to see my schedule. “Damn, Ty you must be a genius.”

“No…I just work hard.”

Cinda laughed. “I know that’s not true. We’re in the same English and History classes this afternoon and Geometry first period. I know that no amount of work is enough unless you’re smart, too. What was your average last year? Where were you in your class?”

“Um…do I have to answer?” Cinda laughed again as did her friends. “98.4–first…satisfied now?”

“Like I said—you’re a genius and an athlete, too.” I ignored her comments and dug into my tacos. They weren’t half bad for school food. We finished eating, cleaned up our table, and Cinda led me outside to the back of the school building. I knew that there was but a single high school in this county, what they called a “parish” here in Louisiana. There were almost 1,700 students here, many more than in my high school back in Indiana. Cinda and I talked with her friends. I was relaxed and at ease, especially when some of my friends from basketball stopped by to say hello. Marquis told me more about the informal practices, but said I’d have to get the coach’s okay first. I resolved to see him before school tomorrow morning.

Cinda and I walked together to English class. I showed the teacher, Ms. Ross, my schedule and was told to find a seat. I chuckled when I saw one next to Cinda. I’d sit next to her, but there’d be no fooling around. I’d promised Mom I’d do my best and I always kept my promises.

World History was next period and, once again I found myself next to Cinda. I couldn’t understand why such a beautiful sexy girl wasn’t surrounded by boys. I debated whether or not to ask her about it, but not now—Mr. Harris had begun his lesson. Mid-paragraph he delivered a textbook to my desk. It was heavy, but that was the price of taking AP classes.

I’d been in the gifted program in elementary school, but begged my parents to let me out after less than a month. “The kids in this program are freaks, Dad,” was what I had told him. At first he didn’t believe me, but after attending several classes both he and Mom agreed that many of the kids either lacked basic social skills or were just snobs. Worse than the kids were many of the parents who thought they were God’s gift to the community. They took me out shortly after their first encounter with the so-called Gifted Parents Association who wanted all the school’s money spent on their kids and nothing on the rest. I never looked back. Once I was in middle school I was enrolled in enriched courses—the same subjects, but in much greater detail and depth. I was the only “non-gifted” student in the program. In ninth grade, my first in high school, I’d taken all high achievement courses including Advanced Placement Algebra and Biology for which I could receive university credit. Tenth was pretty much the same.

My final course of the day was Physical Education, a course that alternated with a study period. The entire class was assigned lockers. I was surprised later in the week to learn that hardly anyone dressed for the class, wearing their regular clothes instead. Personally, I couldn’t stand being sweaty in my good school clothes. I was the only one in class to take a shower. I was also the only one who went all out in class, especially when we played team sports.

Cinda met me after school and showed me to the right bus. I got off at her stop even though there was one closer to my grandparents’ home. I still couldn’t call it my home and I doubted that I ever would. Some other kids walked straight home, but Cinda and I lingered behind. I was leaning against an old live oak tree, one with a huge trunk and standing more than forty feet high when Cinda walked right up to me and kissed me. “You can kiss me back, you know.” Cinda giggled as she took my hands in hers and placed them squarely on her hips. My fingers rested on her firm round butt as she reached up for a second try. I was ready this time. My mouth opened slightly and my tongue encountered hers. I felt that same jolt of electricity that I’d felt yesterday. I assumed that Cinda felt it, too. She moaned into my mouth. She broke the kiss a few seconds later and laid her head on my chest.

“Soon, Ty I’ll let you touch my titties. Nobody has ever touched them, but I want you to be the first.”

“Cinda…why aren’t guys falling all over you? You’re beautiful and sexy, too. You have an incredible body.”

“I’m glad you think so, Ty. It tells me a lot about you. Most black guys are turned off by my skin color and so are most white guys, too.”

“What? That’s crazy!”

She reached up again to kiss me gently before continuing, “My daddy was a white man, someone Momma met at the hospital where she works. That’s why my skin is the color it is. I’m not dark enough to satisfy some people and I have the wrong kind of body. Most black men prefer women with big hips and butts. Most white men either want a black whore or a woman who’s as lily white as they are.”

“Personally, I love your hips and butt. They’re cute…just like the rest of you.” I joined Cinda in giggling.

“Then there’s Monroe; he’s sworn to kill any boy who touches me.” She laughed when I recoiled in shock and horror. “Relax, Ty that doesn’t apply to you. Monroe likes you and he knows I’d kill him if he ever touched you.”

I looked down at Cinda who couldn’t have been much more than five feet five inches tall and 100 pounds while Monroe stood six feet three and weighed 200 pounds easily. “Somehow that’s not very reassuring.”

“This is—Monroe promised me he wouldn’t touch you. He knows how much I like you. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.”

“You obviously haven’t spoken to my grandpa. I really think he hates me, but that’s okay—I’m not too keen about him, either.”

“It’s hard to believe you’re related. You’re nothing like him.”

“Thank you.” I leaned down and our lips touched again. I felt the shock again and I knew that she did, too. She was breathing heavily when we broke it. “I’d better get going. I know my mom will be worried.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and I began the mile-plus trek down the road.

I walked into the house twenty minutes later, kissed my mom and excused myself to begin my homework. The door was open when Mom came back a few minutes later. “How was it?”

“Great, Mom; I saw almost all of my friends from the park and Cinda is in three of my classes. I got off the bus at her stop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, Ty I was young once, too.”

“You’re still young, Mom and you’re still beautiful, too.”

“Flatterer! I assume that Cinda is the girl who kissed you yesterday.”

“Yes, Mom; I kissed her again today. I felt a shock—like electricity—and I know she felt it, too.”

Mom smiled and hugged me. “I’m glad, Ty. She seems to be a very nice girl, and pretty, too. Just don’t do anything you’ll be sorry for.” I knew what she meant—don’t get her pregnant.

“I won’t, Mom. I’d never do anything to hurt Cinda or to embarrass you.” Mom turned away and I dug into my homework. I was almost done by the time Mom called me for dinner. I finished about an hour later, after helping Mom and Grandma clean up, showered, and went straight to bed.

I caught the school bus the next morning, sitting alone until Monroe and Cinda boarded. I was happy when she sat next to me, taking my hand in hers. We chatted quietly until the bus stopped in front of the school building. I walked in, going straight to the gym with Monroe who introduced me to the basketball coach.
“What’s your name, young man?”

“Feldner…Ty Feldner.”

He sat back and was obviously thinking. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir…I moved over the summer with my mom from Indiana.”

“What is the greatest honor a man can receive, Ty?” I was confused and it showed on my face. “The greatest honor is when your best friend names his son after you.”

I looked down again at the name plate on his desk—Beamon…Beamon. Then it hit me: “You played with my dad at Indiana! You’re Ty Beamon!”

“That’s right and you’re Todd Feldner’s son. My God…I never thought I’d meet you. Your dad was the best I ever played with. He was All Big Ten and would have made All American if he didn’t hurt his knee. Now…I want to hear all about your playing experience. Start at the beginning.”

I did—how I began in fourth grade, how I went to basketball camps every summer, all about my AAU experiences–everything right up to starting on my high school varsity as a freshman and sophomore.

“Right-handed?”

“Yes, but I’m ambidextrous. Everything I do righty I can also do lefty, including writing. I can dribble, pass, and even shoot with both hands.”

“Knowing your dad I assume you play defense, too.”

“I can testify to that, Coach. You should have seen Ty shut down Marquis at the park our first time playing together. Nobody wants to be guarded by Ty.” Monroe, who had been silent through the entire interview, couldn’t help but brag about my experiences at the park. He continued until I had to tell him to be quiet—he was embarrassing me.

Coach Beamon stood and walked around the desk. A huge smile shone on his coal black face. He was about the same height as I was—six feet two inches—and he was slender and muscular as though he was still playing daily. He gave me several sheets of exercises and told me to prepare for official practices to begin in mid-October. A handshake later I was en route to my homeroom.

I soon settled into a routine—up early for school, spend a few minutes with Cinda after school, dig into my homework before and after dinner then run through the exercises in the back yard until showering and bed. My first round of exams went very well. Unfortunately, Cinda was having trouble in math. I solved that problem by staying with her until dinner to work together on our math—studying and homework.

We studied together all weekend for our second test. I received another 100; Cinda had an 89. I was shocked when the teacher accused her of cheating. “Mr. Piersall,” I interrupted, “I know for certain that Cinda knew the work. We studied together every day and all weekend, and I do mean ALL weekend. I quizzed her myself.” He let the matter drop; Cinda squeezed my hand briefly before we continued the lesson.

Spending an hour or more with Cinda very day worked out in several ways—we got to know each other extremely well and I got to stay away from my grandfather who was becoming more and more belligerent and abusive toward me. I couldn’t count the number of times he’d told me to stay away from “that nigger bitch.”I was convinced that he was involved somehow in my parents’ divorce. I ignored virtually everything he said.

We had just finished up a difficult theorem one afternoon when Cinda told me she’d be alone all weekend. “Momma is taking Monroe to Lafayette and Baton Rouge to look at the colleges there. They’re leaving early Friday afternoon. I’m kind of afraid to be all alone.”

“You won’t be alone, Cinda. I’ll come and stay with you if that’s okay with your mother.” It was okay–in fact Cinda’s mom was thrilled. We planned to study hard for another math test during the day and Cinda confided in me that she hoped we would make love every night. That’s what I was praying for, too.

“I wish we had some kind of gun, Ty. It can be dangerous here sometimes. We get drunks on the lane pissing and worse. Momma has a pistol, but she always takes it with her.”

“I don’t have a gun, Cinda, but I have something just as good. I’ll bring them when I come Friday afternoon. I’ll show you then, okay? Just don’t touch—they’re razor sharp. I’ll explain everything on Friday.” Cinda nodded and smiled then she kissed me. We kissed often and I still found her body as enticing as ever—probably even more. I was looking forward to holding her soft smooth skin against mine all night.

I had a secret—one neither my mom nor her parents knew about. Dad had taken me to play ball beginning in fourth grade and some of the places we went to were dangerous. He wanted to know that I could defend myself so he took me for karate lessons once a week. My mom was against any kind of fighting so we kept the lessons a secret. Dad told her we were going to play ball, but instead we went to a dojo in the next town. My sensei—instructor—had done a great job with me and had given me a gift when I left for Louisiana—a set of throwing stars. In the dark they’d be just as effective as a gun, maybe more so.

I had packed a backpack for the weekend over the strenuous objections of my grandfather. He called me every name in the book and what he said about Cinda was even worse. I was disappointed that my mother sat by silently during his tirades even though I could see that she disagreed. I had retreated to my room to study and was deep into my Spanish studies when she knocked. “I put a little something into the pocket of your backpack, Ty. Be sure to use them.” She kissed my cheek and left. I was surprised to see a dozen Durex condoms there. I guessed that Mom approved of Cinda even if Grandpa didn’t.

I got off the bus with Cinda on Friday afternoon. She took my backpack, the one I always took to school, and walked home after kissing me goodbye. I hustled down the road to my grandparents’ house. I walked in, changed my clothes, kissed my mother and returned on my bike to Cinda’s, my spare backpack securely attached to my bike rack. I was there less than forty minutes later.

I walked in; Cinda stood there in a lacy bra and panties. They were pink and clung to her body like a second skin. I couldn’t take my eyes from her. Cinda’s breasts weren’t huge, but they looked so appealing. “I knew you were a gentleman the first time I met you. Now I know it for sure. You’re the only guy around here who wouldn’t have grabbed my titties the first time you kissed me. Now I want you to touch and rub them.” She walked right up to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed those alluring tits into my chest.

“Think you can get my bra off?” I nodded nervously as I leaned down for our first kiss of the weekend, but definitely not the last. My fingers found the clasp of her bra and, after a few feeble attempts, separated it from her body. She broke the kiss and stepped back to allow the garment to slip from her chest. I looked down, amazed by her beauty. Cinda was curvy where she was supposed to be curvy and flat where being sexy demanded it. She was even more incredible than I had ever dreamed.

My hands moved to cup her breasts; my thumbs finding her sensitive nipples. I could see them harden and swell in response to my touch. Cinda groaned into my mouth as her body pressed into mine. I knew now that I was glad to be in Louisiana even if that meant having to live with my grandparents. To be fair my grandma was nice to me, but she was completely cowed by her husband. She never argued or stood up for herself—not even once! Cinda broke the kiss and looked up. “Let’s go to bed, Ty then we can unpack your stuff and maybe even study a bit before dinner. I gulped several times before allowing her to lead me to her bedroom.

I’d been in Cinda’s room before, but never under these circumstances. I dropped my backpack on the floor as Cinda’s fingers snaked their way under my shirt. A second later it was on the floor. Her hands ran up, down, and all over my chest and back. She kissed me again, her tongue dancing with mine as her hands found my belt and opened my shorts. My boxers were next. Her hands felt my growing cock and heavy balls. My cock was soon its full six and a half thick inches; it ached for Cinda.

“I’ve never…,” I whispered.

“Me neither, but somehow I think we’ll figure it out. You are a genius, after all.”

I reached down to open the pocket in my backpack. “Look what my mom bought.” Cinda laughed then turned to her dresser. It was old and beat-up, nothing like mine. She opened the top drawer and showed me another box, also condoms. “So did mine!” I looked at her and a second later we both laughed then she held her box out to me, her eyes inviting me. She moved back, her hand out to mine. We fell together onto the narrow bed. I found her lips; we shared what I thought was the kiss of a lifetime. My entire world was defined by that kiss—those soft plump lips, that demanding tongue.

Her hands led mine first to her breasts and finally to her hot wet pussy. Her hair was curly and soft but trimmed neatly into a triangle. She led me to her warmth—to her oozing tunnel. I couldn’t believe she was so wet or so tight—there was barely room for my single finger. I wondered if my organ would even fit. Of course, I’d seen internet porn so I understood that pussies became wet and I understood why, but experiencing it up close and personal was something different—something new and wonderful.

My fingers explored her and soon they, too, were covered in her juice. While I explored Cinda she was exploring me, running her hand over my cock and around my balls. I couldn’t ever recall my cock being harder or bigger. I looked again into Cinda’s eyes. She looked into mine then she pulled me into another long searing kiss. It went on and on. There was no one—no one but us. We were lost in each other until Cinda pulled back to show me her hand and the condom it held. She rolled me onto my back, opened the foil wrapper and rolled it onto me. “Lots of practice—on a cucumber; it’s much more fun putting it on you.” She rose up onto her knees. I watched amazed as she rubbed the tip into her slit then slowly sunk. “I know it’s going to hurt, Ty. Please help me. I’m such a coward sometimes.”

I watched, amazed, as my cock disappeared into her and even more amazed that she could stretch around me so easily. Holding her hips I drove up into her. Cinda cringed and I pulled her into my embrace. I stroked her curly hair and kissed her cheeks, wiping her tears from her face. “I love you, Cinda.” I continued when she began to shake her head. “Yes…I do. I know hate when I see it so I think I know love when I see it, too. I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Cinda began to laugh into my chest. Raising her head she grinned. “I’m not.” She began to move on me. Oh God, the sensations in my cock were incredible. I knew I wouldn’t last long. There was no privacy in my grandparents’ home. My room was right next to the living room. I could only masturbate late at night when everyone else was asleep. Even then I had to be careful—my grandmother did the laundry. She’d already told me several times about what the Bible said about sins of the flesh. It was a wonder my mother wasn’t completely fucked up between the two of them.

I drove into Cinda and then it happened. I couldn’t help myself I blew with the most intense orgasm I’d ever had. Six times I lifted Cinda off the bed. Six times long thick ropes of slick white semen erupted from my cock. I was exhausted when Cinda relaxed on my chest. “I’m sorry, Cinda.”

“Don’t be. Momma told me what to expect. Next time you’ll last a lot longer and we can always take care of each other with our hands and mouths.” She gave me a quick kiss then jumped up pulling the half-full condom from my wilting organ. “I remember this from Health class.”

“I think everyone remembers that, but whether they bother to do it is another question.” Cinda was back in a minute with a warm wash cloth. She washed me tenderly then returned to the bathroom to wash her thighs and sex. I climbed out of the bed and began to unpack my backpack. I had laid a folded tee-shirt on the floor when Cinda picked it up. “Be careful. Remember what I said about my weapons being sharp?” I took the package from her and carefully opened it. Inside were six throwing stars, each sharp enough to shave with, not that I shaved all that often.

“When I began playing ball way back in fourth grade the games sometimes took us into the inner city. Dad was concerned for my safety, not because some of the people were black, but because of drugs and crime. Mom didn’t want me fighting so he took me to karate lessons while we were supposedly practicing basketball at the Y. I’m not a black belt and I doubt that I ever will be, but I can defend myself even against four or five assailants. I actually had to do it last year when a group of older kids jumped my friend Kenny and me. They hit Kenny with a baseball bat so he couldn’t help me at all, but I didn’t need any help. I beat the living crap out of them in only a couple of minutes. These were a parting gift from my sensei—my teacher. C’mon, I’ll show you how they work.” I took Cinda’s hand and we walked outside.

There was a dead tree across the lane. I stood thirty feet away, the stars in my left hand like a deck of cards. I threw them like a baseball with my right—all six in less than ten seconds. They all struck within a six-inch circle. “Wow, that’s incredible, Ty.”

I laughed. “Not really; the sensei could do it faster and the circle would have been half as big, but I’m good enough to discourage any prowlers.” I pulled the stars out carefully and carried them back into the house. Then I took out our math book and we spent the next hour reviewing. We took a break to make dinner—spaghetti and meatballs which Momma had cooked for Cinda to reheat in the oven. We returned to the math after dinner, quitting around nine to watch TV before returning to bed.

Cinda and I stood in the old bath tub, pulling the curtain around us. We showered quickly—Cinda had told me their water heater was old and small. I loved washing her slender body—almost as much as I loved the sensation of her hands on mine. We scampered back to Cinda’s bed. This time I did last longer—long enough to bring her to what she described as the most wonderful orgasm. She did well by me, too—exhausting me once again after draining my balls completely. We slept well that night, Cinda draped loosely over my body.

CHAPTER 3

I was asleep on my back the following morning when I felt something on my face. I squirmed, twisting and turning my head. I was about to push whatever it was away when I remembered where I was—in Cinda’s tiny bed. Opening my eyes I saw her tongue running up and down my cheek. I turned my head toward her and stuck my tongue out to meet hers. Our tongues danced together for several minutes until I pulled her down to me and our lips met, too.

“Morning, Ty—I guess you slept well.”

“Yeah—I’m usually a really light sleeper. I didn’t know how I’d be with all the natural sounds here. Also, I’m not accustomed to having a super-hot babe draped all over my body, but you felt wonderful. Can we do this more often?” Cinda giggled and kissed me before jumping up and trotting off to the bathroom.

My grandparents are rich. Their house has central air conditioning and is usually quiet, the only sounds coming from the air rushing through the ducts. Cinda’s family is poor. There’s no air conditioning. The screened windows are all open to permit the natural movement of air through the house. I could hear the wind whistling through the trees, the rustle of leaves and the occasional call of animals through the night. At first the sounds of the night had kept me awake, but I found comfort in the softness of Cinda’s body and I was drained from our sexual experiences earlier in the evening. It was rare that I would cum twice in a period of five hours as I had last night. It was a truly thrilling experience that I hoped would be repeated today.

I struggled up, checking the clock. I was surprised to see it was after 8:30. I was usually up much earlier. I followed Cinda to the bathroom. She grabbed my cock and aimed it to the old rusty toilet. I peed a few seconds later. It was the first time I’d ever had help at the toilet. Cinda giggled and reached up for another kiss once I was done then led me to the kitchen still naked.

We ate a simple breakfast of cold cereal with banana and milk. Cinda sat in my lap, my cock hard and hot between her legs. I panicked when she turned to straddle my legs until I saw the condom in her hand. “How…where did you hide that?”

“I’m not telling…a woman has to have her secrets…her mystery.” She kissed my nose as she slid the condom down my shaft, her slender sexy body following shortly after. I kissed Cinda as we moved together. This was fun, but much of my length was blocked from her by the thickness of my thighs and I couldn’t move much in the chair.

I shifted my legs, moving my feet behind me to maintain my balance. Slowly I leaned forward, lifting the two of us up from the chair. I pressed Cinda against the wall and supported her legs with my arms. Deeper and deeper I drove my cock until our pubic hairs meshed—until our pubic bones pressed firmly into each other. “Oh God! Ty! Ty!” Cinda shook as she came. It was incredible watching and feeling her shake and shudder in my grasp. Finally, Nirvana came to me. I erupted into her again and again until I sagged against her, the wall being the only thing that kept us from falling to the floor. Eventually our strength returned and I lowered Cinda’s legs. I walked to the trash can and dumped the condom into the plastic bag. We walked hand in hand back to the bathroom where we washed up and brushed our teeth then it was on to the bedroom where we dressed. Cinda made the bed while I cleaned up the kitchen. We were back to our studies within an hour.

Cinda and I studied all day as I broke the subject into little pieces that eventually added up to the entire chapter. Then I quizzed Cinda until she knew everything as well as our teacher. We broke after lunch to hold and kiss each other again. At five we showered and began our walk to the small strip mall across the street from school. We ordered a pizza and a couple of Cokes. Their pizza was okay, but not as good as what we had back home in Indiana. I noticed several people eying us, but nobody said or did anything of concern. We finished, I paid, and we began our walk back to Cinda’s home, her tiny hand surrounded by mine.

Cinda’s mom was a nurses’ aide at the county hospital. Their family home reflected her limited earnings. The house was up almost three feet on pilings made of concrete blocks with a small set of steps front and back. Wooden lattice enclosed the crawl space on all four sides. Inside there were but five rooms—a combo living and dining room, a galley kitchen, and three small bedrooms. There was just the one bathroom. Outside there was a carport with a fiberglass roof suspended over a steel pipe frame and an unpaved surface. That’s where my bike was—securely locked to one of the vertical supports.

We watched TV for a few hours. They had one; my grandparents had seven, including a fifty-five inch flat screen mounted to the wall of my bedroom. The furniture was old and worn, but I could tell that it was well cared for. I had noticed that Cinda and Monroe always removed their shoes in the house so I did, too. We watched TV, but we didn’t really. We made out like crazy. I couldn’t believe our hunger for each other. It was a hunger that I doubted would ever be satisfied. We retired around ten to our first incredible bout of oral sex.

It was something I’d seen on the internet of course, but like everything else with sex, something I’d only dreamed about. We lay naked on the bed, the sheet and blanket pulled down. We barely needed them on this sultry night. I loved the sensation of Cinda’s skin against mine. I doubted I’d ever experienced anything as soft and smooth. Certainly, I’d never experienced anything as exciting. I was on my back again and Cinda lay atop me, her legs spread so she dripped onto my abdomen. We kissed and soon our faces were covered in spit. Cinda broke the kiss and licked my neck. She surprised me by licking her way down my body, stopping only when she reached my abdomen. Then she looked up, smiled, and kissed the head of my cock.

I was in total ecstasy, my cock pulsing with desire. The head was swollen and reddish purple, the arteries bulging with every beat of my heart. Cinda’s lips moved up and down the entire length, covering my cock with kisses as her tongue teased my shaft. My hand found her short black hair and I tapped her head until she looked up again. I twirled my finger in a circle and was rewarded by Cinda’s grin as she swiveled around until her legs straddled my head, her pussy covered with tiny droplets of her juice just inches from my mouth.

I began by inhaling. I’d read that girls had a special smell, a sweet aroma. It was one of the few things that turned out to be actually true. Dear God, Cinda’s aroma was intoxicating. I kissed her thighs; they must have been the softest part of her wonderful soft body. I moved slowly up to her sex, licking her labia first before probing her tunnel with my tongue. It was a voyage of beautiful discovery. I found that she tasted sweeter than the finest chocolate. I knew then that I’d do this again and again as long as she would allow.

Cinda had licked and sucked me with the obvious result. I felt my balls contract and the familiar churning. “Cinda! I’m…oh God…oh God…oh God, Cinda!” I was beat, but I owed her-big time! I reached up to suck her clit. I couldn’t believe how quickly or how hard she came. My face was covered with her juice. I pulled her to me with the little energy I had remaining. I was almost asleep when I jolted awake.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

“You swallowed. You swallowed…everything!”

“Of course! You don’t think I’d waste a tasty treasure, do you?” I laughed and hugged her even closer. I fell into as deep a sleep as I’d experienced in ages.
I’d always been a light sleeper. Back in Indiana the walking of the hands across the yard or movements of my dog Fred would wake me. I’d go back to sleep almost immediately, but not tonight. I heard a “CLUNK” and I knew there was trouble. Someone was trying to get into the house.

I was awake in an instant; my hand over Cinda’s mouth as I woke her. “I think someone’s in the house,” I whispered. “Roll off the bed and stay there until I come back for you.”

“Please be careful, Ty.” I gave her a quick peck as I reached down to my sneaker, coming up with my stack of throwing stars. I snuck out of the room keeping low and in the shadows. I was almost to the kitchen when I saw his silhouette against the moonlight. He was in the window and leaning toward the door, I assumed in an effort to open it. He fell into a heap, making what I thought was a racket—awfully clumsy for a burglar, I thought. I could see his scraggly long hair and hooked nose in profile when he rose. That wasn’t all I saw. The glint of steel told me he was armed with a pistol. I realized in an instant that this was no burglar.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE,” I shouted even as I ducked behind an upholstered chair. He turned quickly and raised the gun. I acted more from instinct instilled by my years of training than anything else. Two stars left my hand in an instant. I heard a shot then two anguished screams.

“Arghh! Arrgghh!” I knew I had hit him. He doubled over, screamed again, and ran out the door. I made sure he had truly gone before turning on the light. Lying there on the kitchen linoleum was a blood-soaked star in a shallow pool of blood. A trail of blood led to the door and outside. I stood and opened one of the drawers to remove a plastic bag. Once the star was wrapped securely away I cleaned the floor and returned to the bedroom for Cinda.

I found her huddled under the bed, tears in her eyes. “Oh Ty, I was so worried. Are you sure you’re okay? Was that a shot I heard?”

“I’m fine, Cinda which is more than I can say for our friend. I hit him…once for sure. I found the star lying in a pool of blood.”

“I can’t believe that someone would actually come here to hurt me. I’m glad you were here to protect me.”

“I don’t think you were the target, Cinda. I think he was after me, otherwise why come now?”

“But…who?

“How many people know I’m here? You and me, of course. Your mom and Monroe. My mother, my grandmother and grandfather. I didn’t tell any of our friends.”

“Neither did I. Momma told me to keep quiet about it to avoid any possible trouble.”

“Then ask yourself who would try to kill me. I’ve asked myself that question several times while I was cleaning up outside. I can only come to one conclusion. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Cinda clung to me tightly. “Do we,” she whispered hesitantly, “have to go to sleep now?”

“No–but if we play now I don’t know if we’ll be able to in the morning; I’m only human, you know.”

She reached up and kissed my ear before whispering again, “Sometimes I wonder.” She kissed my cheek and snuggled up to my body. We were asleep in minutes.

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