Sherry and the Redneck

Editor's Note: this submission contains raceplay, slurs, and racial kink content.

*

As Sherry sat on her porch swirling the wine in her glass, she was wondering what to do about her old barn that was leaning. It was a small two-story 20X32' barn, but it held all of her lawn equipment and Christmas decorations. But it was in a bad way, and she had no idea what to do about it.

And then she remembered old Mrs. Powel who lived across the street until she went into the nursing home last year. She had a young man who cut her grass and trimmed her hedges the last three or four years. And she thought she recalled seeing him fix shingles on her roof and repair the bannister on her porch. Damn, if she could just remember that kid's name. Maybe it was time to visit Mrs. Powel and see if she remembers his name.

She finished her wine and went inside, and as she passed the mirror, she stopped. As she looked in the mirror, she thought, "I guess I don't look too bad for a 34-year-old real estate broker. I'm not built too badly and never seem to be lacking for men asking me out." As she continued to look at her thin 5'5" body, she thought, maybe it's because there aren't a lot of unattached childless black women in our community, but whatever the reason, I'm happy about it.

A few days later, Sherry stopped to see Mrs. Powel and took her some home-made cookies. During the visit, Mrs. Powel told her that the young boy's name was Scott Thornton, and he started working for her when he was 16, and had just graduated from high school right before she came to live in the nursing home. She said he was a hard worker, but he hung out with some bad players and, she thought, he also might use drugs. Sherry thought, "As long as he doesn't use them while he's working, I can live with that."

She called his number on the way home and a woman answered. "Yeah?"

"Is this Scott Thornton's house?"

"Nope, he don't live here nomore."

"Do you know how to reach him?"

"Yep."

"Well, can you give me his phone number?" The woman told Sherry that she was his mother and gave her Scott's phone number. When Sherry called, Scott answered right away. "Is this the Scott who used to do work for Mrs. Powel over on Edgeworth Lane?"

"Yep. Who's this?"

"My name is Sherry Johnson and I live across the street from Mrs. Powel's house. I have an old barn that needs repaired and I was wondering if you still did that kind of work."

"You're that n . . . I mean you're that black chick that lives across the street?"

Sherry was fuming and ready to hang up, when he continued, "Yep. I remember that barn. Surprised it's still standing. I ain't seen it for a while, but if I remember, it was built good. I can probably fix it."

Sherry calmed down and they made arrangements for him to stop and look at the barn the next day at 3:00. When 3:00 had come and gone, Sherry tried to call Scott, but didn't get an answer. As she sat in her house getting madder by the minute, she thought, "First, I find out this ass hole is racist and now I find out he isn't punctual." Finally, at 3:45, he rode up on his motorcycle. When he walked up the sidewalk, she met him at the porch. "You're late," she said.

"I don't need this shit," he said and turned to leave.

Sherry stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds before shouting, "Wait!" Scott stopped and tuned as she walked to him. "I'm sorry. I know things come up sometimes. Can you look at my barn?" He nodded once and walked past her towards the back of the house. She quickly turned and followed him.

She thought, "He doesn't look anything like that kid that used to cut Mrs. Powel's grass. She thought he must be about 6'1" or 6'2" tall. His left arm was covered with tats and he had a damn chain hanging out of his back pocket connected to something. His pupils looked a little off so she assumed he was on something. She wasn't really sure she wanted this character around her house."

Before she could say anything, he said, "Looks in pretty bad shape. I think if I can anchor it to that tree so it don't collapse while I'm working on it, I can pull it back in line and fix it." He explained that if he could do that, then it would only cost about one fourth as much as it would to build a new one and probably last just as long.

She was thrilled with the price. She said, "It's a deal. When can you start?" He told her he could start the next week. She said, "No drinking and drugs while you're working."

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He turned and said, "Who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that?" She was taken aback and was speechless. "Listen lady, I didn't call you. You called me. I don't need this job. Maybe you should just find someone else to do it."

Sherry apologized again and explained that she was just concerned with him getting hurt on the job, and he explained that he never drinks or uses anything while working for that same reason.

After he left, Sherry sat on her porch wondering if she had made a mistake. Hiring a young white tattooed motorcycle-riding racist drug-using thug probably wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done.

As Scott was riding home, he was wondering if he had made a mistake. Working for a nigger? He had to admit that she was a decent looking nigger with a good body for an old lady, but she was still a nigger.

Scott started to work the following Monday. It took him two days to attach cables to the barn walls and to the two big trees nearby. He then began ratcheting the barn back towards the trees. He moved back-and-forth between the cables and slowly worked the barn back to where it was actually vertical again.

Most of the time Sherry worked from home that week so she noticed as he worked without his shirt. She had to admit that the son-of-a-bitch had a decent body and was a hard worker, even if he was a redneck racist shit head. Any time she tried to talk with him, his answers were short and business-like.

As Scott worked, he noticed Sherry working around the house and yard. She wore mid-thigh shorts and tee shirt most days, unless she had to leave to show a property. Then she would change into a pant suit or a professional length dress, but as soon as she returned home, she would be back in her comfortable clothes. He had to admit to himself, that if he was ever going to fuck a nigger, he could do a lot worse than this one.

"Hey Scott!" He looked down from the barn loft to see Sherry calling him from the ground.

"Yeah."

"Come on down. I have some lemonade and some lunch."

"I ain't hungry and I don't like lemonade."

"Well, what do you like to drink?"

"I like beer and I like Coke."

"OK, just a minute." Sherry went back inside and came back out with a couple of cans of Coke. "OK Scott. I have some Coke. And if you come down, I'll give you a beer when you're done for the day."

Grudgingly, Scott climbed down and sat in one of the old chairs across from Sherry. He noticed that her shorts had ridden up well above mid-thigh, but she didn't seem to notice as she was pulling food from a small cooler. As she was looking into the cooler, he also noticed that her breasts were straining her tee shirt and he could see that her nipples must be hard.

He stood and said, "I should put my shirt back on."

"No. No," Sherry said as she looked at his muscular chest. "It's OK. I know you're hot so don't worry about it." She wondered what in the hell she was thinking by telling this young white racist to leave his shirt off so she could enjoy the view.

They had a pleasant lunch together and she told him about her real estate business. He seemed interested. He told her that he stops to see Mrs. Powel once a month because she was always nice to him and gave him a chance to earn money when he was growing up.

Sherry thought, "I can't believe that this roughneck actually stops to see an old lady in a nursing home. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought. But he's still a racist prick. An idea floated across her mind and she asked, "Scott, I want to ask you a favor. And I'll pay you for it. OK?" He looked at her and then nodded his head. "I have to show a property tomorrow morning, but I'm a little concerned about going there to meet the clients by myself. I was wondering if you would come with me."

"What would I have to do?"

"Nothing. I just would feel more comfortable if there was a man with me. I'll pay you to take time off from this to come with me."

"Sure. Why not," he said.

The next morning, Scott brought his work clothes in his saddlebag, and he wore a nice pair of jeans and golf shirt to accompany Sherry. She wore a mid-thigh length pencil skirt and button up blouse with three-inch heels. Both of them did a double take when they saw the other one. And both were pleased with what they saw.

The viewing went well, and Sherry sold the property, but she was grateful that Scott had accompanied her. She just had a bad feeling about the three male clients buying the auto body shop. Afterward, Sherry took Scott to lunch before returning to her house.

At first, Scott was a little concerned that one of his friends might see him sitting there with an older black chick, but eventually he got over it. He actually thought she was pretty hot. Over lunch, she thanked him for being with her and without thinking, told him how nice he looked. Scott smiled at her compliment and said, "How old are you anyway?"

She knew it was hopeless to tell him that he shouldn't ask a woman her age, so she said, "I'm 34. How old are you?"

"I'm 19. You look pretty hot today."

Sherry was stunned and blurted out, "You mean for a nigger?" Scott's jaw opened wide but nothing came out. Then Sherry stuttered and said, "I'm so sorry Scott. I didn't mean . . . "

He had already gotten up and walked away from the table. She quickly threw money on the table and chased him outside and watched as he started walking down the street. "Wait Scott. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that." She finally caught him and grabbed him by the arm.

When Scott stopped and turned towards her, his glare was almost frightening. "Then what did you mean?" He asked.

"I . . . I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything, Scott." She whimpered. Then she thought for a moment and almost whined, "But when we first talked on the phone, you started to call me a nigger, didn't you?"

He looked down at the sidewalk and paused for a minute and then nodded his head. "You're right. I did almost call you a nigger. I ain't never spent no time with nig . . . I mean black people. So, they call me a cracker or whatever you people call whites, and I call them niggers. You don't care if your names piss me off and I don't care if I piss you off. Just the way it is. And then I started working for you, and you're OK. And then I tell you that you look hot; not hot for a black chick. Just hot. And you come at me like that."

Sherry looked down at the ground and then back up at him. She said, "I'm sorry Scott. You're right." She didn't know what made her do it, but she pulled him down and kissed his cheek. "Friends? I really am sorry." He nodded and they got in her car and returned to her house.

When they were back at her house, Scott grabbed his bag and went to the barn to change into his work clothes, and as Sherry started into the house, she remembered that the lumber company was delivering some materials at 3:30. "I better go tell him before I forget," she thought.

She walked out to her barn and went inside. As she turned, she saw Scott standing there completely naked, except for the underwear that were halfway up his legs. Scott looked up at her at that same time and froze when he saw her staring at his cock. "I . . . I . . . I'm s-s-sor . . . I'm sorry Sco . . . Oh! I'm sorry. I . . . I . . . ," she stuttered as he smiled at her and let his underwear fall to the ground. She was still trying to speak as she couldn't stop looking at his huge white cock between his legs. She didn't even notice him walking towards her.

When Scott reached her, he reached out and moved one of her hands down to hold his cock as it continued to get hard. Sherry was almost in a trance. When Scott leaned down and put his lips on hers, she almost came as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse. He heard her moan as her body melted into his. He quickly removed her blouse and bra and put his hands on her beautiful firm breasts. He squeezed them and tweaked her hard nipples. "Mmmm," she moaned. "ohhh! Mmm." He felt her hand moving on his fully hard cock, and as he unfastened her skirt, he felt her other hand grasp his cock.

They were both standing naked in the old barn as they continued to kiss. She didn't know when, if ever, a man had kissed her like that. She knew that her pussy must be gushing by now as she continued to move her hands on his cock.

As they broke the kiss, she looked up into his eyes and pleaded, "Please fuck me Scott."

He leaned slightly and lifted her in his arms and carried her over to a pile of burlap bags, where he gently laid her down and then moved between her legs. He kissed and nibbled her dark nipples, which made her climax almost immediately. "Please baby. Fuck me," she begged. Scott slid the tip of his cock into her wet pussy. "Unnngggh!" She moaned. "Yes baby. Yes." He slowly slid his hard cock until it was half way into her hole, which gave her another climax. She was almost out of her mind as his white cock filled her black pussy.

Scott kissed her again as she tried to pull his ass forward so his cock would fully penetrate her waiting cunt. Scott held back and slowly pumped just half his cock in and out driving her wild. She begged him, "Fuck me baby. Fuck your nigger girl."

Scott wrinkled his brow and wasn't sure he heard her right. As he slowly moved more and more of his cock into her, she screamed and came again. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck me baby. Arrrrrgggh! Make me your nigger baby. Ahhhh!" By now, Scott's cock was fully inside of her and he began pounding her pussy hard. Sherry was completely out of control. She had never been fucked like this in her life. Scott's cock continued to piston in and out of her pussy and she was screaming like a banshee.

Finally, he blew his cum deep into her pussy and collapsed on top of her. He lifted his head and kissed her shoving his tongue deep into her mouth. As she caught her breath, she reciprocated with her own tongue.

When Scott finally got up, he looked down at the thin sweaty body of his lover. He said, "What were you saying to me? Did I hear you call yourself a nigger?"

"Yeah baby, you did." She admitted. "I was so turned on that I just wanted you inside me. I wanted your cock to beat my pussy into submission. And you sure didn't let me down. I've never cum like that before."

"But you called yourself a nigger. What was that about?" He asked.

She paused for a second and then said, "Baby, you owned my pussy today. You owned my whole body today. You were the white master and I was the nigger slave. You could have done anything you wanted to me today, baby."

Scott wasn't sure he understood, but he nodded and walked over to his clothes and started to dress. Sherry slowly got to her feet and noticed Scott looking at her naked body. She smiled at him and slowly walked over to him as he fastened his belt. When she put her arms around him and pulled him to a kiss, she felt her bare breasts against his naked chest and her naked pussy and legs against his work jeans. She moved her pussy on his pants and quietly moaned while they kissed. Finally, Scott looked at her and said, "If we stay like this, I'll never get this barn finished."

She grinned up at him and winked, "That's OK with me, if it means you'll be here every day, . . . master."