Dark Ride
By
Laurel Landon
Copyright © 2017
Introduction
I sure hope you all enjoy this pussy pulsing hot erotica story of lust that knows no boundaries. Not race, not creed, not nationality will sway this horny chick from what she wants. And what she wants? Well in 1977, in the Deep South, it was still silently forbidden.
Yeah, Prudence Baker wanted black man Nathan Crawl from the moment she laid eyes on him. But her daddy, being the racist, white sheet wearing Grand Dragon he was, certainly was determined to keep those two apart.
But, like all true lust stories, their chemistry was not about to be denied!
And wait until you read the twist in this story!
Contents
Introduction
Legal Disclaimer
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Other Titles
Legal Disclaimer
Laurel Landon Publisher
Copyright © 2017
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except as permitted, under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the authors.
Violation of copyright, by domestic or foreign entities, is punishable by law, which may include imprisonment, a fine, or both.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
Prologue
My entire life I’ve always done what’s been expected of me. Let me tell you that growing up in the South, in the heart of the Bible belt as a matter of fact, and the daughter of the town’s bank president and acting mayor, you can well imagine that the expectations are quite extensive.
There’s some hypocrisy at play here as well. It doesn’t matter that our society is supposed to be all about equality, be it gender equality, or racial equality, or ethnic—it doesn’t matter because for some reason, Branchville, Mississippi didn’t get the memo on civil rights even after all the years that have gone by since Title VII of the Civil Rights Act was passed.
Oh, people here pretend that there is no bigotry in Branchville—that this small little town is as liberated and politically correct as any northern Yankee city, but that’s all window dressing. Things are calm and peaceful as long as the African American population here knows their place.
Yeah, I told you hypocrisy rules didn’t I?
You might be surprised to know that many of the public figures, including city council members, ministers, bankers (my daddy, remember?) and lawyers here in Branchville have their white sheet garb ready in a moment’s notice for whenever someone of the black race needs to be reminded of their place.
Yeah, it totally sucks.
And this is a white girl saying this, but for fuck’s sake—what does it take for bigots to get a clue?
My best friend Velma and I have a bet going. I contend that Branchville will accept queers (the town’s word, not mine) before they’ll accept interracial relationships. Velma says it will be the other way around, but I don’t think so. I mean my own father, a business and civic leader, remember? Well, all I can say is that he’s one of the worst, and trust me, it pains me to admit that to anyone.
So, that is why I had to beg like hell and work my ass off to help with tuition, so that I could at least attend college somewhere other than around here. I attend Eastern Kentucky University, majoring in Economics. I will be going into my senior year next semester.
But at this minute?
Well, I’m currently home for the summer which means I work at the local pharmacy to help out with next semester’s tuition. It’s not a bad job. I cashier at the local Rexall that makes up one of the ten local businesses in the downtown area.
Little did I know that this summer would be one that I would never forget—or one that my father would never let me forget, after he discovered me in a compromising position at the annual Fourth of July Ice Cream Social at the local park.
And when I say compromising let me tell you that is an understatement.
Being discovered, partially naked, in the deserted boathouse at the dock at Clearly Lake with my beautiful black lover, Nathan Crawl, licking melted chocolate ice cream out of my pussy would be more exact.
Oh, and by the way? I was engaged at the time to the preacher’s son.
Here’s how it all happened.
Chapter 1
June 5, 1977
I heard the little bell over the front door of the Rexall tinkle as I was putting a new roll of paper into my register. Seemed to me that Wally, the manager, ought to be thinking about getting one of those electronic registers that self-fed the roll of paper I grumbled to myself silently.
"Be with you in a second," I called out as whomever had entered the store was standing just on the other side of the checkout line, where all the candy and gum resided.
"Take your time," a deep, male voice said, "I ain't in no particular hurry."
I looked up and over the register quickly, and felt my heartbeat ramp up at the sight of what was surely one of the most gorgeous black men I'd ever set my eyes on.
Lordy sakes. He was tall, with broad shoulders that surely came from hard labor rather than some membership at a gym. His triceps bulged with corded muscles that seemed to ripple at the slightest movement as he tossed a couple of candy bars, a pack of gum, and a box of red hots onto the counter.
His dark skin was perfection in every way. He wore a white tee shirt that had the sleeves cut off, and clung to his torso like a second skin. His belly was firm and flat, and no doubt sported a six-pack. His work jeans were ripped in places, allowing me a peek at different spots of his well-muscled thighs.
My visual inventory of this gorgeous and virile black specimen was cut short when I heard him clear his throat. "That's all I need, Miss," he said, his deep voice now had an even huskier tone to it. He'd caught me gawking at him!
God! What he must think of me!
"Oh," I said with a blush, "I'm sorry, got a little distracted, I reckon," I blubbered like the idiot I apparently was. I rang him up quickly.
He handed me a ten, and when our hands touched, the rough feel of his dark skin actually sent an electric shock through my body, and I felt my dirty girl clench in response.
It was as if this man could read my body language and my mind. I heard him give me a soft chuckle and I handed him his change. "You're new around here, aren't you?" I asked, as I pulled a small paper bag out and tossed his candy into it. "I haven't seen you around these parts before."
"Yes, m'am," he drawled, his eyes now doing their damndest of taking physical inventory of me. "I'm with the crew that's in town laying the new pipe for the gas company. Gonna be here for a couple of months. The name's Nathan. Nathan Crawl."
I gave him a big Southern smile. Probably wasn't used to that being he was here in Branchville, south of the Mason-Dixon Line for sure. "Well Nathan Crawl," I cooed, "It's gonna be a pleasure seeing to your needs----I mean here at the Rexall," I finished, feeling my cheeks color with embarrassment.
What the ever loving fuck had gotten into me? I wasn't a flirt by nature, I
swear! I had a fiancé for Chrissake! A nice white boy. The preacher's son as a matter of fact. And I could say without a moment's hesitation that Jeremy Wayne Gallendar would not appreciate it one little bit if he'd witnessed the way I was acting around Nathan Crawl.
"I look forward to stopping in again, Miss----?"
I blushed again, realizing I hadn't properly introduced myself. Where had my manners gone? "I'm sorry, I'm Prudence Baker. My friends call me 'Pru'." I held out my hand for him to take, and my breath hitched just a little when he did.
"It's very nice meeting you, Ms. Baker. I hope to see you again, soon. I'm off to the pond. Hear the fishing's good there."
I nodded and watched him as he turned and left the store. I picked up one of the tabloids stacked near the register, and fanned my face and neck with it.
"What you looking at there, Pru?" Molly Jensen asked, coming up behind me. Molly was the late shift cashier. I hadn't realized my shift was nearly over so distracted I'd become.
"Oh, one of the guys in town laying pipe for the gas company," I replied, still watching as he disappeared down the street.
"Hmm," she replied, putting her work smock on over her sun dress, "Looks to me like you're looking for trouble, Missy. Don't think you need anybody like him laying pipe around you."
I whirled around to face her. She had an ornery grin going on.
"Oh for Pete's sake, Molly," I snapped, moving out of the way so that she could take over. "Get your mind outta the gutter. I'm engaged. You know that."
She shrugged. "Well, sure I know that. You know that. Jeremy Wayne knows that. But does your dirty girl know that?"
Her last comment didn't even deserve a response, so I didn't give her one as I counted my register.
"You best be getting that black man out of your mind, girl. I'm all for a girl having her sexual freedom and sewing her own wild oats as long as she's still single, but don't go crossing racial lines. Not here. Not in this town that's for sure!"
I got my money counted, wrote it down on the daily sheet and gave Molly an eye roll. "Have a great shift, Molly. See you tomorrow," I said, grabbing my purse from behind the counter, and taking off into the June heat and humidity.
As I strolled down Main Street, towards out house at the edge of town, I decided to take the long way home. I wanted to walk down Pike Street where I knew they were laying the new gas lines. As I turned the corner, I saw the line of construction equipment sitting idle. It was after five o'clock. The crew was off for the day.
There was a trailer parked under one of the maple trees. That must be the construction office, but it appeared as deserted as everything else.
I continued walking, and took an even longer route when I turned on Pond Street and walked the three blocks to it.
The pond was at the edge of town, in the other direction from my house. It was more like a lagoon surrounded by a wooded area where it blessedly shielded the hot sun from penetrating the cool lapping water of the lagoon.
My daddy used to take me here after Mama died to feed the ducks and squirrels. It was quiet and peaceful. And at five-thirty on a weekday in June, it was mostly deserted. The kids in town went to the water park when it got this hot.
I walked down the dirt trail, and just around the bend I saw him.
Nathan Crawl.
His pole was bobbing in the dark water of the lagoon as he rested back against a log.
He didn't seem startled when I walked to where he was fishing, and plopped down next to him, tucking my bare legs up under me.
"Ms. Baker," he said, his voice had a deep, rich tenor that drove me wild. "What brings you out in the heat of the late afternoon? Don't have a nice air-conditioned home waiting for you?"
I wasn't sure what it was about Nathan Crawl that mesmerized me the way he did, but I knew I wanted to find out. There was this . . . this chemistry between us that was almost palpable.
My thighs squeezed together tightly, as I graced him with a smile. "Just thought maybe you being new around here, you might want some company. I know there's not a lot to do here in Branchville. It's a snoozer town."
"Among other things," he replied. "No bars, no clubs---that allow blacks in anyway. That's where the rest of the crew went after our shift was over. Some private club that Buck belongs to that don't particularly cater to the darker skinned as he put it. Since I'm the only black dude on the crew, well, let's just say I had to make alternate plans."
I sighed. "I know. It sucks, doesn't it? This place is Jerksville for sure. That's why I can hardly wait to finish college and get the hell outta this place. I go to college up north."
He cocked an eyebrow at me; his eyes were so damn dark they looked black. Like midnight. "Where's that?" he asked.
"Where's what?"
He laughed for the first time, and it was a deep, rich, throaty laugh that was so damn sexy and contagious, that I joined in.
"You must think I'm a real ditz, I swear. I'm really not, I promise. I go to Eastern Kentucky."
"And you call that, north?" he asked, his eyes danced with humor.
"Well," I replied with a drawl, "It's way north of here. And to be honest, it's like another planet there, Nathan. I hate the thought of being stuck here forever."
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Why do you feel you'll be stuck here, girl? You're in college, you've got choices, right?"
I shook my head. "Not really. I'm engaged to the preacher's son. He's tied to the community---that's the way he puts it. He doesn't want to leave."
Nathan pulled his pole from the water and placed it on the grass beside him. He turned his body to face me; his large hands rested on his jean clad knees. "Now that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, Ms. Baker. Sounds to me like you may want to re-think that whole engagement thing."
"Please, call me Pru? And you're right. I've got no business staying engaged to Jeremy Wayne. But it's kind of expected."
"Expected? As in arranged?"
"Well, in a way, I suppose."
I wasn't prepared for the low, guttural growl that escaped his full lips. "Only white folks," he said, shaking his head, and grunting out a sarcastic laugh. "When will people down here get with the program? Girl, you're too young and beautiful to promise your life to someone who obviously won't make you happy."
"I know," I sighed, "But for now? Well, for now I'm still single. I still can make my own choices and decisions. And in case you haven't noticed, I chose to be here, Nathan."
The silence was almost palpable between us. He raised a hand to brush the perspiration from his forehead and glanced around. "What is it you want from me, Pru?" he asked hoarsely. "I'm not looking to get lynched, you know?"
"Are you married, Nathan?" I asked succinctly.
"No, m'am."
"Good. I'm looking to see how black cock feels if you want to know the truth. You fascinated me from the first second I laid eyes on you. I hope---well, I hope I haven't offended you."
He took a moment before responding to me, and I held a breath, hoping like hell he wasn't going to tell me to get lost. But it was the truth I'd given him, no matter how weird or crazy it sounded, there was something that pulsed within me that wanted to see how it felt to have his big black cock filling the walls of my pussy.
I'd grown wet for him in those few brief seconds before he responded.
"Where?" he asked. "Where can we go so nobody sees this black dude fucking your pearly white pussy?"
And I smiled, knowing that shit was about to get real.
Chapter 2
The deserted boat house on the other side of the lagoon was hidden by a thick cluster of overgrown evergreen and oleander bushes.
If Nathan was skeptical of my motives, he hadn't shown it on the short trek over here. I pushed open the splintered wooden door, and stepped inside, waiting for him to follow.
Once inside, I closed the door behind us, and flipped the iron latch to keep it locked from potential intruders, although there'd been nobody around at all.
/> The wooden structure was old and rickety; cracked boards here and there allowed for streams of sunlight to filter through, casting enough light to show the layers of dust on the stained wooden benches that were built into the structure, and the cobwebs dangling from the overhead beams.
It smelled musty, and the heat of the day had blessedly been kept somewhat at bay because of the boarded up windows.
Nathan's gaze was on me now, his eyes perusing my bare legs, my cotton sundress didn't do much to hide my own curves, and my hard nipples now strained against the cloth with his nearness to me.
There was something exquisite about the manly scent of this man. He smelled of soap and his skin sported a thin film of perspiration that was heady to me.
"Is this what you want, little girl? A big black cock inside that pretty pussy of yours?" Nathan asked, his voice so low it was almost a growl. I reckoned the sound of his manly voice talking vulgar to me was the reason I started to cream down my thighs, my dirty girl clenching in anticipation for the filling I was about to get.
"Yes, sir. I wanna know what all the fuss is about. See if you can fuck better than a white, country boy." Not that I had much experience with that, but he didn't need to know my whole sexual history. Our time was going to be better spent I could tell.
"Sit up on that table over there and show me your cunt, Miss Baker. You won't getting my dick until I've licked every drop of what I'm guessing is a very wet pussy."
I did as he asked, hopping on the table, spreading my thighs and lifting up my sundress so I was completely bare to this man I knew next to nothing about.
All I knew was that for some inexplicable reason he fascinated me. I'd never had a black man inside of me, but I'd always been curious.
Back in high school, Lilly Mantel had gone out with a black guy from Siler City, the next town over. Her parents had had a royal fit about it, but she hadn't cared one bit. She said he had the biggest cock she'd ever seen, and Lilly Mantel was pure slut. That was a fact. If anyone had felt their share of cocks, it would have been that girl.
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