Chapter 1

“What would you think about fuckin a black woman honey?”

It was my first visit to a whorehouse. I was eighteen on my first weekend pass after basic training at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Along with my two best buddies I took the bus from Fort Knox to Louisville. We went to a bar with a sign on the window that said, “G.I.s welcome.” After we had a couple 3.2% beers Tommy, the oldest at 19, asked the bartender if he knew where any whorehouses were. “They’re all over town son,” he said. “Just jump in a cab outside and tell the driver what you’re looking for and for three bucks each he’ll take you to the closest one.” Outside the bar three Yellow Cabs were waiting for a fare. When we got inside the cab Tommy asked him to take us to the closest whorehouse.

“That’ll be three bucks each,” the driver said, “up front.” None of us had ridden in a taxicab before and didn’t know about the meter. Without question we all dug into our pockets and pulled out three bucks and handed it to the driver. He started the cab, put it into gear and drove to the traffic light. When the light turned green, he made a U-turn and headed west to a side street about a hundred feet from the light. Making a right turn he drove another hundred and fifty feet or so and stopped in front of an old two-story house. “Just ask for Marva,” he said, “she runs the place.” As we all got out, we felt like suckers but didn’t have the gumption to say anything to the driver. We didn’t know that the bartender got a buck apiece for almost every soldier who left the bar, most of whom were looking to get laid for the first time in their lives.

“Howdy boys, I’m Marva,” the once attractive middle-aged woman said as she sized us all up. I always looked younger than my age and wasn’t surprised when she asked, “Sure you’re eighteen son?” I said yes but she made me show her my Army I.D. She embarrassed me when she said, “You sure look like a baby honey.” Pinching my chin between her thumb and forefinger she shook it then chucked my cheek with her fist and said, “Don’t worry sweetie you’re a real cutie (She winked). I think Ruby would be the best girl for you. What would you think about fuckin a black woman honey?”

She stared into my eyes as if she were throwing some kind of challenge to me. I stared back. The interesting thing was that she had asked me about something I’d dwelled on since I was a senior in high school when I had met a black girl that made me think about her obsessively. In my dreams I had fucked that girl many times, even though I really didn’t know what fucking was all about. To Marva I said, “I-I w-wouldn’t mind that.”

I don’t know why I felt embarrassed. But as the corners of Marva’s lips turned upward her challenging face morphed into a warm grin when she said, “Then I have the perfect answer for you.”

Leaving my buddies as yet unattended she took my hand, led me through the multi-colored beads of the doorway into the adjoining room that was kind of a parlor where four women, three white and one black, in slip-like attire were lounging and laughing. “Ruby,” Marva said, “here’s another bronc for you to bust. Treat him good, I think he’s one of those nice boys. Maybe he’ll come back if you’re good to him.”

Ruby who stood about 5’4” was painted heavily with makeup. Blacker than most colored people I had seen to the point she wore heavy aqua eye shadow. Her hair was pulled back in a bun where she wore a flower that looked like a Magnolia blossom. She wore a skimpy scarlet dress that fit her tightly enough to let me know that she wore no panties or bra. Low cut it showed her generous cleavage and the bumps of her large nipples that poked out in the thin fabric. Taking my hand from Marva Ruby looked at my crotch to see if there was a bulge, which there wasn’t because of my nervousness. Her hands were soft, not commanding but I knew she was in control. As we walked back to the bedroom that was furthest back, she said to me, “So is this yoah’s first time for black pussy white boy?” Her question was as if she were talking with someone who had been around. As I tried to swallow my oversized Adam’s apple, I shyly nodded my head. “Well, young man,” she said, “Yoah certainly makin Ruby’s pussy hanker for your white meat.” She giggled.

When Ruby led that trembling youth to the back bedroom in Marva’s whorehouse by the hand, I was dumbstruck. Inside the room she instructed me to take off all my clothes. Once they were hanging on the hook on the back of the door she led me to the dresser where she soaped up a washcloth in the basin of warm water and washed my dick and balls before drying them with a towel.

Taking my fickle penis in her hand she carefully milked it to make sure I didn’t have the “clap” then took off her red silk wrap, exposing her perfectly toned and flawless brown body. Her breasts were different than I had seen in pictures. They were long and pointy (some called them “tube tits”). Her nipples appeared to be the size of dimes, surrounded by areolas that were larger than the size of a silver dollar. But that was only the half of it: they we dark, dark purple, almost black. Her bottom was slightly larger than I suspected but was smooth and fleshy. I remember thinking of the word “cushion.” While most black women at the time had tight, curly black hair Ruby’s was soft and brown. Her eyes were almost jet black, and her sultry smile lit up my universe. Marva was a genius; Ruby was the perfect choice who would be guiding me through Carnal Knowledge 101.

She sat beside me on the edge of the bed, the heat radiating from her body was reflecting on me like warm sunlight. I was so nervous that my erection was trying to rise but would elevate a little before falling and trying again, finally beating its way up to the throbbing of my heart into a stiff erection. I had only been nude in group showers in school with other boys and in the army barracks. But I had never been naked with a woman before, and I was rather shy.

Talking to me sweetly Ruby kept calling me, “white boy.” She spoke of herself in the third person as “Ruby.” Though I wondered if she might be complimenting me or just taunting me, she seemed to be doing it in such a sweet, motherly way. Taking charge of my cock she gently kneaded it was hard to nearly bursting and seeped. Chuckling she said, “WOO WEE white boy, yoah manhood is a stupefyin ole Ruby,” which helped my pride. I had heard stories of black men who were prodigiously endowed. Mine was seven and a half inches long and quite thick yet I still felt intimidated by this woman who had probably known lots of those huge, black cocks. Going on with her praise she said, “Yoah gwine to make so many womens happy with this monster thing o yourn white boy.” Too naïve to understand marketing she made me feel special. A professional hooker would say the same thing to man with only a ONE-inch cock.