tagInterracial LoveJeff Tait Ch. 01

Jeff Tait Ch. 01


*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.


Jeff Tait graduated from high school. Barely. Jeff did the barest minimum possible to get by. Coming from a family of Over-Achievers, Jeff had tried for a time to compete, but always fell far short. His parents never failed to let him know that they were severely disappointed in him, so he just quit trying.

The six foot three inch blond haired youth was an intelligent, athletic boy, but couldn't compete with his older sister who was taking college level classes in her junior year of High school. He couldn't surpass his younger brother who was the Varsity quarterback for the football team and starting Point Guard on the high School basketball team. And second best was unacceptable in their household. So the handsome young man simply didn't compete at all.

He played bass guitar in a punk rock band, 'The Stained Class,' and played the local nightclubs in Lafayette, Louisiana. A producer from Atlanta, Georgia happened to hear them one night and offered them a recording deal. Their one and only hit, 'The Death of Disco,' hit number one hundred at sixty four on the Billboard charts and the band toured extensively.

The thing that Jeff loved the most about being a musician was the non-stop stream of pussy. Even with a minor hit that saw very little air play, the women would swarm the shows, swarm the tour bus, and swarm the five musicians. He also liked the seemingly endless line of drugs and alcohol available to them.


On New Years Day, 'The Stained Class' fell apart. Drugs and money problems tore the five musicians away from the music and each other. Broke and hungry, Jeff took a variety of jobs, never staying in one place for very long.

He met Velvet at a strip club (her real name was Greta Offelstien) and several days of drugs and sex convinced him that they were in love and were meant to be together forever.

She was five foot ten, bone thin, with silicone implants. Her long hair was dyed blonde; the carpet did not match the drapes.

Velvet did not adapt to monogamy very well; dancing brought in around two to three hundred a night, but turning tricks brought in seven hundred to a thousand a night. Her heroin habit was escalating to five to six hundred a day, so fucking some old guy for a few bucks suited her just fine.

Fucking Jeff did not. In a drugged stupor, she would try to push him off, then would just lie there and let him pump into her nearly comatose body. Finally, he quit trying to have sex with her at all.


He'd not seen Velvet, or Atlanta for three years, rarely even thought of them. Last time they'd seen each other, Velvet had thrown his few clothes into a cheap suitcase and tossed them out onto the streets.

He took a Greyhound bus north, leaving Atlanta behind.


"Is this Mr. Jeffery Tait?" a voice asked.

"Yeah, this is Jeff Tait," he said and shut his eyes against the harsh sunlight.

The sunlight streamed into the dingy one room flat he was sharing with a girl that told her parents she was attending college. She'd never seen a college classroom, but they wouldn't have sent her money every week if they knew that she was just lying around, doing drugs and 'writing the great American novel.' Right now, she was out, trying to coax her last girlfriend back to the apartment for more drugs and sex.

"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Tait. Greta passed away last night," the voice said in a not very sympathetic tone.

"Who?" Jeff asked, the hangover pounding in his veins.

A Ms Greta Tait, married to Jeffery Tait," the voice said in an exasperated tone.

"Oh, oh yeah, Velvet," Jeff said. "You said she passed...she's dead?"

"Complications due to AIDS," the voice said. "Would you like to make the arrangements in person, or...?"

"Arrangements?" Jeff asked.

"For burial, sir," the voice coldly said.

"Do whatever you have to," Jeff said, finally managing to sit up. "I haven't seen the bit... her for at least three years, and you want me to pay for her funeral? I don't think so."

The click told him that the caller had hung up.

He staggered to the cardboard box he used as a table and poured him a stiff gin and vermouth, and cursed Lilia for not replacing the ice trays in the small refrigerator.

"Here's to you, Velvet," he said aloud and toasted her.

He did not harbor any resentment toward the girl, even though she'd stolen his bass guitar and amplifier shortly after their marriage and sold them for drug money. For a few months, they'd been in love; he toasted her again.


Jeff was washing dishes at a diner, making just enough money to drink every night. Most of the time he just slept in the alley behind the restaurant.

It was a typical Thursday in the diner; most of the patrons wouldn't get paid until Friday, so few had money to come in for a bite.

He looked up when Daisy screamed excitedly and watched a man enter the diner. The man had on a highly starched uniform, chest adorned with medals. Daisy babbled nonsense and hugged the man and hung all over him. The man smiled happily and hugged her back.

Daisy dragged the man around the diner and introduced him to everyone there.

"And this is Jeff, he's the dishwasher," she happily said. "Jeff, this is my big brother, Jack."

Jack's eyes took in the scrawny figure, the hollow eyes, and smiled sympathetically.

"Jeff, it is a pleasure meeting you," Jack's rich voice boomed out.

"Uh, um, thank you, sir," Jeff managed to say and winced at the strong handshake of the man.

"Jeff, have you ever considered the Armed Services?" Jack asked, even though Daisy was trying to drag him over to meet Gil, the fry cook.

"Um, uh, no, no I haven't," Jeff, said.

"They can give you a way out," Jack said in a low voice.


Jeff enrolled at Tulane University in New Orleans, Louisiana. The four years he'd put in as an Army grunt was paying for his tuition. Loans were paying for the rest of his living expenses. He did a weekend every month and two weeks every year as an officer in the Army Reserves, a second lieutenant.

Then the Iraqi Army invaded Kuwait. Diplomatic and UN Resolutions fell apart and the atrocities and inhumanities foisted upon the Kuwait citizenry escalated. President Bush called upon the Army Reserves for Desert Shield. Shortly after Jeff Tait and his platoon reached the Persian Gulf region, Desert Storm was enacted.

Victory wasn't long in coming, but it was nearly a year before Jeff would return to Tulane University.

"I'm proud of you, son," Jeff heard his father say for the first time in his life when he returned home from Kuwait.


Jeff entered the Law School of Loyola University and agreed to rent a two-bedroom apartment with a fellow law student, Brian Peterson.

Brian was a twenty three year old, still very immature youth, but Jeff was used to being around immature teenagers, and turning them into responsible young men.

Brian stayed up late at nights, drinking and partying, while Jeff stayed up late, hitting the books. Jeff rarely came out of his room, rarely looked up from the constant studying he did.

"This is my girlfriend, Dianne," Brian happily told Jeff.

The six foot three inch looked down at the Five foot one inch Asian American and smiled politely. The twenty two year old returned the polite smile.

Then she and Brian disappeared into his bedroom and Jeff endured nearly three hours of sexual sounds coming through the thin plasterboard walls. If the sounds and grunts could be believed, Dianne was quite voracious in her sexual hunger and Brian was quite a good lover.


Jeff rubbed his eyes tiredly. It had been a bitterly cold day, the lectures long and boring, and Brian and Dianne were at it again.

"Oh, yeah, that's it, take it, bitch," he heard the grunt and walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

He turned on the television in the living room; studying in his room would be fruitless as long as Brian and Dianne were having sex.

"Oh, yeah, you're such a good little pussy," he heard, then there was silence.

Long moments dragged on with no more sex sounds coming from behind the closed door, so Jeff finished his beer and got to his feet.

As he was walking down the hallway to his bedroom, Brian's door opened and Andrew and Brian walked out. The blush on Brian's face told Jeff all he needed to know.


Two months later, Jeff opened the door to a smiling Dianne.

"Hello, Jeff, Brian here?" she asked and entered the apartment before he could answer.

"Uh, yeah, but I think he's kind of busy," Jeff stammered.

"Oh my God!" Jeff heard Dianne's horrified Shrieks, then thumps and bellows.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders; Dianne was bound to find out sooner or later that Brian was bisexual. Better she see it with her own two eyes then hear it from someone else.

He fixed himself a stiff drink while listening to the spirited argument, and then took the drink to his room.

"Come in," he called out when there was a light knock at his door.

A tearful Dianne entered and sat on his bed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then she quietly and tearfully told him of her love for the carefree, easy going Brian.

"But to walk in and find him with some guy's dick up his ass?" Dianne bitterly said. "I mean, he liked it when I'd put my Strap-on on and fuck him, but I never imagined he'd go for the real deal!"

"Well, thank God you two weren't married," was all Jeff could think to say.

"Look! Look!"" Dianne screamed and waved her left hand at Jeff.

For the first time, Jeff noticed she wore an engagement ring on her tiny hand. It was not a small, cheap ring either.

"Well, you're a lawyer," she said and laughed bitterly. "Do I have to give this back?"

"Law student, not a lawyer yet, but... That depends," he smiled. "Do you consider finding a man fucking your fiancé' up the ass to be a breach of contract?"

"Yes, I do!" she screeched. "Fucking queen!"

"Well, then, since he's the one that broke the contractual obligations, then, no, you are not obligated to return the proceeds of the contract, actual or implied," Jeff shrugged and took a sip of his gin and tonic.

Dianne grabbed the drink out of his hand and took a large gulp.

"Mother of God!" she sputtered. "What the hell is that?"

"Gin and tonic," Jeff said. "Would you like one?"

In answer, she drained his glass and held it out to him. He smiled and left the room.

A tearful Brian was hugging a very sullen Andrew, both ignoring Jeff. Jeff fixed another drink for Dianne and a fresh one for himself.

She was lying on his bed, nude. She smiled up at him and dragged a finger through her puffy, wet pussy lips and seductively sucked her finger clean. Her other hand was pinching her dark nipples.

He put the two glasses down on the small bedside table and methodically undressed himself.

She drained one of the glasses and reached for the second one. He grabbed her wrist and she smiled impishly at him.

"Suck this," he demanded and pressed his nearly flaccid cock to her lips.

She was very good at cock sucking and had him hard and ready in seconds. He pressed her back into the pillows and attacked her hairless slit with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried out with her first orgasm.

She whooped when he roughly flipped her over onto her stomach and speared her tightly clenched anus with his tongue.

"You going to fuck me there?" she loudly demanded and reached back to spread her bony ass cheeks wide for him.

"When I'm good and ready," he said and roughly slapped her ass cheeks.

She laughed and wiggled her ass. He got to his knees behind her and slid into her very tight pussy.

"Uh!" she cried out and he felt her tighten in orgasm.

A few more thrusts, and she tightened in orgasm again. She keened very loudly when he jammed a finger into her spasming rectum.

"Fuck me!" she cried out. "Fuck me up the ass!"

He pulled his slimy cock from her pussy and rammed himself into her rectum as roughly as she could.


Jeff smiled at the photograph that hung on his office wall.

Dianne looked beautiful in the white gown and he looked quite handsome in his tuxedo. They smiled happily for the camera, the love evident on their faces.

Bonham and Prescott law offices on Magazine street gave him a few of their 'dog' cases, the cases they wouldn't give to their dogs, as they were either low paying, or sure losses.

Jeff attacked them with the same ferocious tenacity he attacked everything. Mr. Bonham was impressed with the Desert Storm veteran; often called him their 'Desert Dog.'

Within a year, Jeff was a junior partner in the firm.

Dianne was an engineer with a major oil company and also earned a substantial income. They bought a house in Kenner, Louisiana, a suburb outside of New Orleans. Barbeques and swimming parties were held at the Taints' home nearly every weekend.

Rosita was hired to help with the cooking and cleaning; the house was really too large for Dianne to clean by herself.

Rosita had a room on the ground floor, but rarely slept in her own bed. Dianne was delighted to discover Rosita's bisexuality and surprised Jeff with a threesome on his thirty eighth birthdays.


Jeff proudly paraded Dianne around for his twentieth High School reunion. He was saddened to hear that he and Vincent were the last two members of 'The Stained Class' still living.

At the time of the twentieth reunion, Dianne was three months pregnant, not showing yet. Her thirty-inch A Cup breasts had swelled slightly to a Thirty B Cup, but her twenty-four inch waist and twenty-seven inch hips had not begun to spread yet.

Katherine Dianne Tait was a beautiful baby and Jeff was smitten with her the moment he laid eyes on her. He'd loved her while she grew in her mother's womb, but the round face with her dark almond eyes and the little tuft of hair on her head absolutely captivated the thirty nine year old man.

A month after Katherine's birth, Rosita turned in her resignation. She was a jealous woman and would not tolerate an infant taking the love and affection she craved.

Consuela was a heavy-set, no-nonsense woman that did her duties and nothing more. She rebuffed any attempts to include her in the family activities, did not divulge much about herself, and only ventured upstairs to clean.


The world had lost its mind. Islamic radicals had hijacked four airliners and slammed them and their passengers into the Twin Towers in New York City, the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., and a cow pasture in Pennsylvania.

Jeff had lost his mind a few months earlier. His personal assistant had died in a drunk driving accident. He lost three major civil suits in a row, and had taken to drinking to excess. Finally, a pinched faced Mr. Bonham let Jeff know that he was no longer needed at Bonham and Prescott.

Dianne was now the sole breadwinner for the Tait household; Jeff was finding it quite difficult to get employment anywhere. The news of his losses in the three civil suits was well known and no one wanted a liability like Jeff Tait in their office.

Dianne resented having to be the sole breadwinner, resented having to be frugal in any way, resented not being able to indulge herself as she saw it her right to do. The arguments they had were much like they're lovemaking; loud and brutal.

Consuela would look at Mister Jeff with obvious loathing and quite often bordered on insolence when speaking to him.

"Well, I was wondering when this was coming," she sneered when he finally had to tell her that her services were no longer needed.

Jeff wasn't very surprised when the dour faced young man served him with his papers. Dianne wouldn't look at him when she came home. He finally cornered her in their bedroom and she burst into tears when he showed her the papers.

That night, they made slow, tender love, both knowing that it would be their last time.

Katherine cried bitterly that Daddy was going bye-bye and wasn't taking her with him. Jeff cried bitterly that he had to leave the one true love of his life, but Dianne and her lawyer had promised very liberal visitation and Dianne was not asking for any child support.

The fact that the lawyer that Dianne had hired had been an intern under Jeff's tutelage and had moved into the home with Dianne really stung.


Jeff drove his restored 1965 Ford Mustang the one hundred and twenty miles west to Lafayette and located an apartment in a fairly well kept complex. The local Goodwill supplied him with cheap furniture until he could afford better.

His mother and father did not say it, but Jeff knew that he had disappointed them once again. He plunged into a three-week alcoholic haze.


His head hurt and his body ached. Sunlight streamed in through a crack in the curtains. He reached for the glass of water he kept on his bedside table and his hand shook so badly he spilled most of the water on himself.

"This has got to stop," he told himself and dragged himself out of the filthy bed. He did not bother to shave or shower, simply pulled on a pair of swim trunks and staggered out to the apartments' communal pool.

There were four children sitting out at the pool; three girls and one boy. He smiled blearily at them and dove into the icy water. He did as many laps of the small, kidney shaped pool as he could, then pulled him out and lay on a chaise lounge. When he got his breath back, he dove in again and swam some more, but at a more leisurely pace.

When he got out of the pool the second time, he looked at the four kids. They war of African-American heritage, all four had skin the color of peanut butter. The oldest girl looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, with very long, straight black hair. The next girl looked about twelve or thirteen, with very long black hair as well, but her hair had a bit of curl to it. The third girl looked to be about eight or nine, with long black hair that also had a bit of curl to it. The boy looked about ten or eleven, with his black hair cut very short to the scalp. The four of then did not get into the pool; just dangle their legs in the icy water. The three girls sat on one side, all dressed in one piece, and extremely conservative swimsuits. The boy sat directly across from them in a ridiculously long pair of swim trunks. Again, he dove in, did some very brisk laps, then got out and nodded to the four kids and left the enclosed area.

His apartment received the 'military' treatment. He even moved the refrigerator and cleaned behind it.

Each time he made a trip to the laundry room or the large dumpster, he saw the four kids. They just sat, quietly dangling their legs in the cold water. They did not talk, or if they did, it was very quietly amongst them.

His stomach growled and he realized he had not eaten yet. He carried the now clean bed linens back to the apartment just as a door opened and a burly white man with a very short haircut stepped outside.

"You kids ready to eat?" he called out and the four kids rapidly got to their feet and scampered inside of the apartment.

Over the next few days, Jeff got to know the man and his four children. Jimmy Simon was an overzealous religious fanatic that often quoted Biblical scripture and kept an iron grip on his three daughters. His son, Daniel, could do no wrong in his eyes, though.

Jeff quickly came to the conclusion that Jimmy was a prick, and Daniel was a miniature version of his father.

Eve, the oldest girl, was a very sweet young lady of seventeen. Sarah, the next in line was fifteen, and Mary was the baby of the family at nine. Daniel was thirteen.

Their mother had primary custody of them, which was quite a thorn in Jimmy's side.

"The courts decided that a harlot, a whore, a black woman had more rights to our children than I, a God-fearing, moral Christian!" he thundered. "No, I get stuck with the bills, though! That, I have a right to!"

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