Chapter 5
INTER-RACIAL AFFAIRS
Negroes represent about fifteen percent of our country's population. While there are Negroes, males and females, in the Youth Exchange they make up only about ten percent of the club with far more young males than older females predominating. There are very few mature Negro women applying for young studs, white or black. The Youth Exchange does not have a racial policy. The club takes money from anyone no matter what color they are.
It is unusual enough for an older woman to make love to a much younger male but it is even more unique when this boy is of another race. To some women inter-racial sex stimulates their erotic leanings. Forbidden fruits are always sweeter and inter-racial love making is still largely forbidden in this country.
In going over my list of women who preferred boys of another color I've found that most were centered in the Deep South. Here interracial love was considered even more forbidding and this, it seemed, made the women desire it all the more. The following is a typical example:
CASE HISTORY: Nancy, age 45.
This subject had once been married but her husband had taken the "poor man's divorce" of just picking up and leaving one day. Nancy is a large, raw-boned woman with red hair and sunburnt skin. She is attractive in an earthy, animalistic sort of way. Although she never went past grade school she has managed to make a a good living for herself in selling farm equipment.
Nancy lives alone in a comfortable farmhouse. She has no use for servants or maids preferring to clean and cook herself as she had been doing long before she had become, in her district, wealthy. Her husband abandoned her when she was twenty-five letting her raise their four children alone. Nancy, like so many other deserted mothers, found the strength to hold her family together and raise them until they were old enough to marry and leave to start their own families.
Once the last of her children had left the big house Nancy was very lonely. She lost herself in work but she hated to return to the farmhouse that seemed so empty. Since her husband deserted her Nancy did not even look at another man but now she had the time and the inclination to enjoy sex again. At forty-five she was in no mood to give up the pleasures of love. Nancy ruled out another marriage. Her first husband had not divorced her legally and she did not want any legal complications. This left having affairs. She was hesitant about this, too, since she was well thought of in her community and her business depended on this feeling. Her problem was complicated by the fact that she could not dare have a man stay overnight at her place without causing scandal. But, when she discovered the Youth Exchange, her problems were solved. She often hired colored boys to do some heavy work around the house and it was not unusual for them to stay a week or so until this work was done. Nancy did not consider making a sexual proposition to any of the black boys who worked for her because that would cause the greatest scandal of all. But, boys from the outside, hired just for their sexual skills would not spread any gossip about her.
Nancy did not share the anti-Negro attitudes of many of her neighbors. She had grown up with blacks and knew that they were no different from any other race. She made her feelings known to the Youth Exchange and they sent a husky sixteen year old colored boy named William. No one took notice of the boy as he was picked up by Nancy at the bus stop. To the local people he was just another worker she had hired. What happened afterwards are told in Nancy's own words:
"William was a nice looking boy, soft-spoken and polite. He was a Southerner, too, and he had left his state to find better opportunity in California. What he found was the Youth Exchange that sent him out on assignments to make love to white women who wanted black studs. This really shook him up because he had been always told not to even look at a white female the wrong way or he'd had his balls cut of by the K.K.K. He was sure nervous when he came to the farmhouse with me. He was afraid that it was all some trick to lure him just so some white men could caster-ate him.
"Once the boy saw that I lived alone he began to breath easier. I told William to shower up first and I'd make us a meal. The black boy comes into the kitchen wearing nothing but a tight pair of jeans. He has a beautiful body and there isn't an ounce of fat on him. I get all heated up just looking at this stud. The last sex I had had was over twenty years ago when my damned husband gave me one last screw before he took off for parts unknown.
"I can see that William wants me as much as I want him. He keeps glancing at me and rubbing his crotch. 'You like black boys?' he asked me.
"I told him I've never had one and explained why I could only bring a black boy into the house. He grinned showing me his white, shiny teeth. 'I'll give you enough love to make you forget about having white men,' he said.
""And do you like white women?' I asked him.
"'Yeah,' he answered. 'I sure do love that white meat. I'd like to do it to you now right here on the kitchen floor."
"'We'll be more comfortable upstairs in my bedroom,' I told him.
"As we go upstairs William slips his hand around my waist. In all my forty five years in the South I had never allowed a black to become this intimate. His touch thrills me. Having sex with a sixteen year old stud after so long was exciting enough but having it with a black was even more so. I was just dying to get his meat in my hands ... and in every other part of me.
"Once we get inside the bedroom William strips off his jeans. His penis is standing straight up like a black ear of corn and it's just as big and as round. I take off my clothes and I can hear the boy breathing hard as he watched me get naked. When I'm as naked as he is I face him, the
"irst time I had been like this with a male for close to half a lifetime. William comes over to me and takes my breasts in his hands. My red nipples are hard and pointy. 'Man, oh, man, oh, man, oh, man!" he sighs. Suddenly he slips his hands over my butts and pushes me down on the bed with him on top of me. He shoves his big, black pecker into me at once and starts to fuck real good. I'm so anxious that I push up against him as he pushes down. Oh, how good it all felt after so long!
"William keeps banging away until he shoots. I wrap my arms and legs around him as he drains himself into my body. Now we're both breathing so hard with excitement that we sound like an old cow giving birth.
"The black boy presses his thick lips against mine. He holds my face between his hands and shoves his tongue into my mouth. I push my tongue up against his and we wet-kiss for awhile. The boy then whispers into my ear: 'Want to do it the other way, baby?'
"I tell him, of course, I don't draw the line at anything.
"'Do you want to do it together!' he asks.
"I tell him to cart that wonderful dark meat up to my face. The boy turns around on the bed and kneels just above my head. It is soft and hanging long. I reach up and grab his behind. William brings his stuff down to my mouth. I used to do this with my husband all the time even though my church says it's some kind of terrible sin. How can anything so good be so bad?
"While I'm doing it with my mouth the black boy is doing the same to me with his mouth. He's real hot. He hurts me with his teeth but I don't complain. For twenty years my thing went without any kind of feeling and now I wanted to make up for that.
"The boy is a great stud. His thing swells up quickly again until it's an ear of black corn once again. I can't take him entirely but I sure as hell try. The boy shoots again and I drain him dry. William keeps hanging on to me and making me with his mouth long after his meat has shrunk. He just loves my body. I keep working on the boy until he finally lifts his body off me. His face is damp and shiny. His teeth look very white when he smiles. 'Baby,' he says, 'I'd be willing to pay you!"
"We sleep together that night both too worn out to make any more love. In the morning I'm awakened by something pushing into my rear. I have some wild dream about a snake and I scream. William is beside me with his flesh in my rear end. 'I didn't mean to hurt you,' he said. 'When I saw that beautiful big, white behind of yours staring me in the face this morning I couldn't resist doing this. Some women don't take it this way, do you?'
"I lean back into him. 'I take it any way they come,' I answer.
"The sixteen year old black boy takes his time pushing into me and it ain't no picnic but I want him to hurt, I want to feel again. We're both on our sides with him behind me. As he pushes in he plays with my breasts and thing. The boy is so built that I have to tell him to stop before he is half inside. William grabs my hip and slams me in the rear until he shoots.
"I sure as hell don't feel like going to work but I have to. William doesn't put on his clothes and walks around the house with his long, black whip swinging back and forth. I tell him to be sure to stay away from the windows if he hears a car coming. All we needed was to have someone see a naked black buck walking around my house.
"As soon as work is over I pile into the bed with William and we love away. This boy just doesn't seem to stay dry for long. He shoots and shoots and shoots every time we get together. He takes me in all three openings every day for a week. By the time he is ready to go back to California he still seems primed for more love. I drive him to the bus stop from where he's to head for the airport. When the bus comes I want to kiss him but I know enough to control myself. William, an old Southern boy, also knows enough not to show me any kind of affection. We act like he had been just out to clean the house. 'Goodbye, ma'am',' he says in that humble, Uncle Tom way. 'Bye, boy,' I say. 'Take care of yourself hear?'
"The bus comes in and William gets on it. When it pulls away I feel like crying but I don't want any of those old men who hang around the bus stop know that I miss a black boy. If only they knew what we had been doing up at the farm...."
CASE HISTORY: Trudy, age 34.
The subject is one of the few mature colored women who belong to the Youth Exchange. Trudy is a rather dumpy, very dark Negro woman who is a head nurse in a big city hospital. She has never been married and lives alone in an apartment building close to her work.
Trudy was born in the Northern city where she now lives and works and has left it only on vacations. She makes a good salary although, compared to the majority of the women in the Youth Exchange, she is quite poor. Still, since young white boys is her only vice, she manages to live well and yet indulge herself.
Of all the women I've interviewed Trudy seemed to be the most anxious to talk. I had the feeling that she was unloading her long repressed feelings for the first time. Unlike Nancy who picked black boys simply because it was more convenient for her Trudy selected white boys out of a neurotic drive. Here are her own words:
"I know I could have the Exchange send black boys, too, but I don't want them. I have nothing against my own race. I'm proud of being black. I've made something of myself by becoming a head nurse in the hospital. Most of the girls under me are white and they don't resent taking orders from me. I've come a long way from a poor, ugly little black girl in the ghetto.
"I was one of eight children. My father worked himself to death trying to support us and my mother lasted a few years longer. By that time I was old enough to work and contribute to my family. I worked after school which didn't give me any social life. Even if I had the time I'd be too shy to date. Then, no boy asked me out, anyhow. I wasn't much on looks then, not that I've blossomed into a beauty now.
"The school I went to was intergrated long before all this Civil Rights business. I was one of the few colored kids going to school and I really stood out. The colored boys didn't last long in high school because they had to become the bread winners early or else they felt that it was no use getting an education if so many jobs would be closed to them because of their color. As a white man I don't think you can ever understand that fully. You just don't know about the defeat black boys feel the day they know they had been born with the wrong color.
"In my race women have more opportunities than men and that is why more colored girls are interested in getting an education than black boys. By time I was in my teens there was hardly a black boy at high school. Since I have all the natural feelings any other girl had I began to have crushes on the only boys available to me ... the whites.
"The white boys at school looked so beautiful to me with their pale skin, their blue eyes, their fine features, their light hair. Some of them liked colored girls but these chicks were very pretty. Me, I was as black as coal and had the shape of a sack of potatoes. How I ached to have a white boy put his arm around me and kiss me. I got a giant-sized crush on a blond boy who was the prettiest thing I ever saw. If he asked me to carry his books home I would have. It wasn't long before the boys and girls at school knew how I felt towards this boy and they used to draw big hearts on the blackboard with our names in the middle.
"When this blond boy found out about my crush on him he was the last to know. I didn't even exist as far as he was concerned. But, one day he stopped me in the hall and said: 'Trudy, would you want to go to the movies with me Saturday?'
"My heart jumped up in my throat. 'Yes,' I managed to answer with a very weak voice. This was the first time that a boy, white or black, had ever shown any interest in me.
"'Well,' the boy said, 'meet me in front of the movie house because I'm afraid to go into your neighborhood."
"I felt insulted by his remark but I couldn't turn down my first date for a little thing like my hurt feelings. That Saturday I waited outside the movie house at the time he told me to. Ten minutes went by. Fifteen. A half an hour.
An hour. Then, an hour and a half later I stood there in the broiling sun a car drove by and a bunch of white boys and girls looked at me and laughed. One of the boys was the blond who had 'dated' me. The whole thing had been a joke.
"I hated going back to school on Monday because I knew the teasing I was in for. I had been dumb enough to wait for a white boy who had no intention of showing up. On Monday, as I feared, the blackboards in school were filled with hearts with notations stating how much I was in love with this blond boy.
"I wanted to drop out of school in sheer shame but I hung on until I got my diploma. From there I went to nursing school. I wanted to get away from the slums as much as possible. Now I have. I live in a middle-class white neighborhood and people call me 'Miss' instead of just 'Trudy' or 'girl'.
"Yet my station in life was not achieved without price. To get to where I am I had to give up love. When other girls at the nursing home had dates I was putting in extra hours at the hospital. That was how I became head nurse while still pretty young. If I stick to it I can go still further. But, at the age of thirty-four, I've decided to grab what passion I could.
"When I heard about the Youth Exchange I immediately thought about that blond boy who had stood me up as a joke so long ago. I could have a blond boy just his age just by spending some money. I could make him do what I wanted.
"I looked over the list the Exchange sent me and I picked a boy who resembled that blond boy as close as possible. A fifteen year old boy named Mark with blond hair showed up at my place and I had to get my breath because he looked so much like that boy in high school. And, perhaps, it was just my mind playing tricks. Yet I could not help but think that this was my movie 'date' coming to pick me up at last ... after two decades of waiting.
"'Are you surprised that I'm black?' I asked Mark.
"'No,' he answered, 'the Exchange told me."
""And, you don't mind?'
"The blond boy shrugged. 'Why should I mind? Black or white, it's all the same to me."
"I didn't like his attitude. I wanted him to be shocked by my color. I wanted to rub his nose into it. But, what could I expect from a boy whore?
"Mark aroused conflicting passions inside me. I loved him for his youth and looks and yet hated him for the same reasons. As a young, beautiful blond boy he could have his choice of people. Men and women no doubt had found him attractive and had gone out of their way to please me, a homely black girl from the slums.
"The idea that this boy was now mine to do with as I pleased brought out the bitch in me. I sat myself down in a chair and became overbearing. I snapped my fingers. 'Take off your clothes, white boy, and let me see what I've bought."
"He didn't bat an eyelash when I said this and it made me angry. I just had to hurt him somehow. Mark took of his clothes and showed me his pale, white body. He had a very good figure and he was hairless except for a patch of golden curls over his penis. He was not sexually aroused and I wondered if it was my looks and color that had made him unexcited. 'Turn around, boy,' I said like a slave buyer to a slave.
"Mark turned around and showed me his rear. His buttocks were girlishly attractive with deep dimples over each butt. Why, his body looked more feminine than mine. I told him to help me out of my clothes and Mark seemed to be an expert at undressing females. He was only fifteen but I could see that he had been around. When he takes my bra off my big, black breasts are exposed and his milk-white penis reacts. It begins to swell and lengthen and then curve upward against his body. He isn't especially well-endowed but he has enough to give me satisfaction. I wasn't a virgin when I had him. When I say I had given up love for a career I meant any lasting and meaningful relationship. I met a colored boy at the hospital who moved in with me for a few months several years ago. I dropped him when he wanted me to get him some drugs. He was the kind of a man who leaned on women and expected them to support him. I suppose he thought he had done me a great favor in allowing him into my apartment and my bed. And, the sad part of it all is, it was true. He wasn't much but he was better than nothing.
"Anyhow, this white boy wasn't going to be my first. He was only going to be my first white. Mark took off all my clothes carefully and I stretched out on the bed. He lay next to me and licked my breasts. Men usually found them attractive. They are really my only good feature. I have a bust measurement of thirty-eight which looks even larger since I'm not tall. My breasts are hard and perfectly shaped with dark brown nipples the size of silver dollars. The white boy can't keep his hands and mouth off of them and I look at how pale his naked body is against my blackness. I suppose if I had these breasts when I was a kid that white boy would not have been so quick to turn me down.
"Mark rubs his erected part against my leg as he nurses on one of my big nipples. Somehow I just can't resist calling him a baby. 'Come on,' I told him, 'knock off that infant stuff and show me that you're a man."
"For the first time I can see I've hurt him. 'I just thought you'd enjoy a little fore-play first,' he said. 'All the other women had."
"I'm not like any other woman,' I said. 'I want a man to be a man."
"'Then why did you send for me? I'm only fiteen?' Mark says getting angry.
"It pleases me to see this pretty blond boy smarting. 'Be nice to me, white boy,' I told him, 'or I'll send you back to L.A. with a bad report."
"The Youth Exchange wanted to know all the complaints women had against the boys. They did not want their business ruined by a lousy stud. My threat brings Mark up quick. He knows he'll have to put out to please me.
"The young boy gets on top of me and rams into my body. He thrusts rapidly and well. I don't have much experience in sex but I know that this boy is good. He holds back and keeps thrusting until, despite myself, I'm aroused. I lift my knees up and clamp the boy's pale, moving hips between my black thighs. My nipples are so stiff with excitement that I can hear them scraping against his skin as he moves. Then Mark releases himself and I find that I am at a peak of sexuality, too.
"The young boy slips of me and on to the bed. He seems pleased with himself. He has a right to be because he did turn in one fine performance. But I just don't want to give him the idea that he had been so good. 'Kind of pooped out, aren't you?' I ask.
"The kid is shocked. 'Pooped out? I've had four days rest before I came here. I'm in good shape,'
"I kneel on the bed and grab his penis which is now limp. 'A black boy your age would still be going now,' I said. It was a lie, of course, but I just had to bug him.
"'No woman has ever complained about me before,' he said. 'Maybe you're just over-sexed."
"I'm glad that I've caused the young boy to doubt his virility and he was angry. The more annoyed he is the better I feel. I straddle his body with my knees on either side of his waist. My hairy vagina is only inches from his pretty pale face. I rub it and say, 'Let me see how good you are at Frenching."
"Although the boy is obviously crazy about my breasts he doesn't seem to care for my sex part. With my chunky figure I can't blame him. Still, a job is a job and he slips down the bed between my parted legs until he reaches my vagina He puts his hands on my hips and presses his mouth against me. As he performs cunnilingus I bring my legs together to capture his face and then press down on him with my body. The young white boy struggles for breath and he pushes me away. 'Are you trying to smother me?' he snaps.
"'If you can't take adult love then quit the business' I tell him.
"'Look,' he yells, 'you've been knocking me ever since I came. I'm doing my best and, if it isn't good enough, I'm sorry!'
"I can see where I've pushed him a bit too far so I pull back and act sweet. This time I take him orally and fellate him until he releases. We sleep in each other's arms that night and I keep having the idea that I'm with that other blond boy of so long ago. When I fall asleep I even dream about him. I dream that I am waiting next to that movie house in the hot sun only, this time, he comes to me stark naked with his penis in a full state of erection. I reach out for it and grab tightly. When I wake up I find that I have my hand on the boy's organ and it is stiff with passion. He is still asleep so I lay on him and wake him up by fucking him.
"Mark embraces me and I kept pumping down on him until his climax comes. He is really a very cute boy and I wish I didn't have the urge to hurt him. Sure, I know I was taking out that pain I had felt so many years ago on him. And, perhaps it was better that I did. It was an improvement over going to a psychiatrist and much more fun.
"I tell the white boy that I want to spank him because I got my kicks that way. He doesn't say a word and lays over my lap with his white behind up. I slap his butts hard with my open palm and he complains. 'Take it easy,' he tells me.
"'When I spank I spank for good,' I answer and really let him have it. He squirms under me while his fanny gets redder and redder. I know that men pay women to let them do this same thing so I don't think I'm being all that weird. When my arm is tired I let the boy up and he walks away quickly into the bathroom with his rear showing brightly against the rest of his body. He locks the bathroom door just to keep me out. I know that he is in there debating with himself whether or not to stick it out with me. I am sure that when a boy leaves a woman he is out of the Youth Exchange.
"Mark decided to stay on with me. He accepted me as a sadist which, to some extent at least, I am. I hurt him in other ways. I have him wait for me for hours even though he could be at the apartment watching television or something. I couldn't resist arranging for him to wait for me in front of a movie just so I could show up two hours late. Unfortunately it isn't the same movie house I had been stood up in front of because that had been torn down years ago to put up an apartment house.
"The white boy knows I'm torturing him and is smart enough not to fight back. He intends to take all I can dish out and then leave as soon as his time is up. Now I don't want him to have too bad an opinion of me because the Youth Exchange drops women who seem just too disturbed. With the kind of business they run they can't expect the women to be examples of mental health.
"On the last couple of days the boy is with me I go easy on him. I bathe him, massage him, and love his entire body from head to toe. Mark is overcome with this sudden surge of passion towards him. I allow him to have my breasts to love and he nurses on me for a half hour before we both fall asleep.
"By the time Mark is ready to leave I can see that his opinion of me has been softened although he still thinks of me as a psycho. I see him off on his jet and return back to my apartment. Obviously the Youth Exchange doesn't mind my petty sadisms since they keep sending me pictures of more and more young white boys.
"I've had three more white boys after Mark. All of them were the same age, fifteen. I just can't get over this mad passion I have for young blond white boys of fifteen. That was the age of the boy in school who had played that joke on me. One of these days, I guess, the hate will have burnt out of my system and I will be able to enjoy boys without having to hurt them."
Not all women are as honest as Trudy is in her reasons for wanting boys of another color. The most neurotic females I've interview were white women who had sexual interests in black boys. There was a self-destructive element in them as if they were daring society to destroy them for their desires. It was also common amongst these women to mention the fact that they knew that their families would "die" if they heard that they were having sex relations with Negro males. The word "die" is very revealing. It shows a desire to kill their families. Today it is hardly a rare sight to see a white girl walking down the street with a black boy. These girls usually come from middle-class families where inter-racial affairs were frowned upon. This was their way of flaunting their rebellion, of establishing their independence by trying to kill the old life and the old morality. But, these girls grow up eventually, and come to realize that their inter-racial affairs and only been youthful acts of rebelion.
The white women I interviewed were mature and far beyond their youthful rebellion days yet they were acting in the same fashion as were their much younger counterparts. Each one of them as if they were all now enjoying the youthful rebellion they had missed. Nancy, the woman in the first case, is the only exception I've found to this rule. She was the only one I've found who was stable and truely mature. Although her case is not typical of the white women who desire young black boys I've included her story in this study because it was the most warmly human.