Training Day

The following story is set in Northeast Louisiana in 1832. The protagonists are slaves. They speak in the language of time-period slaves. Some of the language is offputting to contemporary ears, but it is authentic. The story details the de-flowering of a young girl under the tutelage of an older, more experienced sister. All of the characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older.

Training Day

The following Saturday afternoon found Zelma Leone leading her younger sister Phoebe down the rocky, overgrown path to the backwoods spring a half-mile west of the farm. The two women had spent countless hours splashing about in this spring as children. As adults neither woman found much time to sneak off for a swim. They were slaves.

Zelma was a voluptuous woman in her mid twenties. She was fair-skinned and wide-bottomed, with Mediterranean eyes, a dimpled chin and swinging breasts. Phoebe was her younger reflection. Both women had course, reddish hair and freckles. They were mixed race, but spoke in the argot of West African slaves, having grown up as such. Today was to be Phoebe's introduction to the ways of men.

Zelma and Phoebe talked as they picked their way down the trail.

Zelma: "I don't want you to be nervous about dis. Dere ain't nothin' to be nervous about."

Phoebe: "I coulda come by myself. You ain't had to be here."

Zelma: "Nah, don' git your fur stirred up. We talked about dis. I wanna make sho' you don' has no troubles. Once I see that you got a han'le on it, I'll leave you 'lone."

Phoebe: "Yeah, but..."

Zelma: "Dere ain't no 'Yeah buts' about it. I'm gon' watch for a li'l while an' den I'm gon' on back to de house. You've watched me often enough."

Phoebe: "I ain't watched you on yo' first time!!"

Zelma: "It don' make no diffunce whether it's de fust time or de thousand hundredth time. It's always de same thing. Nah, I've worked dis out wid him and dis is de way its gon' be. You hear me?"

Phoebe: "Yes'm."

Presently the trail widened into a luxuriant tropical paradise with crystalline waters whose glassy reflection was only marred by the odd dragonfly and, occasionally, a leaping largemouth bass. The hot afternoon was drenched with the high-pitched buzzing of cicadas and the mating calls of frogs. Huge butterflies flitted amidst riots of colorful wildflowers and water lilies.

Zelma and Phoebe inhaled a glorious whiff of freedom. This wild kingdom was the closest they would ever come to self-determination.

Spontaneously, both women stripped naked and bolted for the water. Their tits flopped ridiculously as they fought each other for the privilege of being first to the spring. When Phoebe surged ahead, Zelma would grab her wrist from behind to pull her back. Phoebe returned the favor when Zelma managed to get a step ahead. They laughed and wrestled and tumbled about like children.

Phoebe finally yanked free of Zelma's grasp and tumbled backward into the water. She bounced up immediately from the shock of the cold spring, whooping and laughing. Zelma stood on the bank with folded arms.

"I ain't wanna git in first anyway," she said. "I knowed it was gwine be cold."

Phoebe ignored her. She turned and took a full header into the deeper waters, undulating her body like a dolphin until she emerged again on the surface, whereupon she struck out across the spring using a strong freestyle stroke. The spring deepened to fourteen feet at points. Phoebe could still see clear to the bottom. Felled trees littered the watery bottom; she could see turtles and fishes beneath her, dashing about in a frenzy to be elsewhere as she approached.

"I wish'd I could do dis ever' day," she thought as she sliced her way thru the water.

Behind her, Zelma was dipping her feet daintily into the spring. She wasn't about to go crashing head first into this frozen pool like a drunken polar bear and come up shivering from frostbite. No, she was going to get acclimated to the cold like a woman with some sense.

By the time Phoebe crossed the spring and returned, Zelma was just getting into knee-deep water. Phoebe didn't wait for her. She turned and swam another lap. When she returned a second time, the crystal clear waters were lapping against Zelma's hips. It wasn't until Phoebe's fifth lap that she passed Zelma heading the other way.

Zelma pulled herself up on the far shore and quit. She squatted on her haunches, air-drying, as she waited for Phoebe to catch up.

"Come on here, girl," she called out.

Phoebe didn't reply. She touched the far shore then turned to swim another lap.

Zelma didn't complain about this disobedience. She wasn't sure that she was doing the right thing by being here. Caleb was somewhere out in these woods. He was either hiding out or on his way.

In her concern over Phoebe's late-bloomer status, she'd arranged for Caleb to take Phoebe's virginity. It was her plan to micro-manage the event, even to the point of demonstrating proper technique to her younger sister. Caleb was a friend; he liked Phoebe. This was fortuitous, she thought, because she didn't think Phoebe could (or should) endure some of the better-endowed bucks on the farm. Not for her first time, anyway.

No one had performed this service for Zelma when she came of age. She always regretted that her mother had not lived to instruct her in the ways of men. So she was going to perform this service for Phoebe and perhaps give her something to remember and pass on to her own daughter, when and if that time came.

"Hey, Zelly," came a voice from behind her. It was Caleb. He'd been waiting for them for an hour. Zelma was not surprised to hear his voice. She turned to greet him.

"Hey Caleb," she replied nonchalantly.

"You sho' you wanna do dis?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Is YOU ready?"

"I been thinkin' about dis all day and yesterday. I'se ready."

"OK. Here she come. Don' say nuttin' til I axe you, OK?"

"OK."

Phoebe stepped from the crystalline waters like a golden goddess. She wrapped her hair into her small fists and wringed it out like a mop. Her brown nipples stood out prominently; the line of her cleft split the curly reddish-black pubes of her cunt. Water beaded and ran off her skin as if she were made of butter.

More importantly, there was neither fear nor shame in her eyes. She stood naked before Caleb, a man that would soon part her cleft and leave his seed inside her, if all went according to plan. She had no problems with that end of the equation. She only wished that her sister would understand her desire for privacy during the process. Why couldn't Zelma just go home? Or, at least go and stand guard along the trail against the intrusion of unwanted visitors? Zelma being Zelma, she knew that neither of these things were probable. Not in a million years.

"Hi, Caleb," she offered, still wringing out her hair.

"Hi, Phoebe," he replied.

Seeing both women standing unabashedly naked before him, Caleb's nature began to rise. His hardening penis made a distinctive poke against the fabric of his raggedy cotton shorts. Zelma noticed immediately.

"See dis?" she said to Phoebe, pointing to his bulge. "Dis de fust thing that'll happen to a man when he see a nekkid woman an' he like what he see. You ain't gotta touch it. Dis happen by itself."

"I seen it befo', Zelma," said Phoebe.

"You seen it happen without me touchin' it or suckin' it?"

"Oh. Well, um, no. I don't think so."

"Den shet it up and lemme do de 'splainin'."

Phoebe pursed her lips and fell silent.

"Nah, Caleb here likes you. If he didn't his dick wouldn't rise up like dis just by seeing yo' cooch. By and by dis go away, Phoebe, an' you gotta tug on it or suck on it to make it git hard. It gotta git hard like this befo' he can put it up in you. An' Caleb, dis was de fust test fo' you. If you wouldn't-a got hard by seein' Phoebe buck nekkid, I woulda knowed you'd seen her buck nekkid befo'. And me and her woulda got up and left. An' I woulda had to whup yo' ass fo' lyin'. You hears me? Come over here nah."

Caleb stepped over to Zelma obediently. She unbuttoned his trousers to let them fall around his ankles. His erect penis sprang free. It was almost eight inches long. Serviceable, but nowhere near Zelma's preferred length. A small electric current ran thru Phoebe's loins at the sight.

Caleb stepped out of his trousers to stand naked before the sisters. He was slim and trim, about three inches shy of six feet tall. Caleb was high yaller. He was a poontang baby. Many suspected Massuh Edward Leone of being his father. Indeed, the Leone men sired most of the high yaller children on the farm. Caleb was not descended from the Leone's and he knew it. His father was a passing slave trader who'd raped his mother. That woman made a point of telling Caleb that Massuh Ed was not his father.

Zelma gripped Caleb's erect penis and stroked it. Both Caleb and Phoebe were shocked.

"Don't ack shocked. I'm jist tryna show you somethin'."

She knelt before him and pressed his penis against her cheek.

"Phoebe, I'm fixin' to tell you somethin' I ain't told you before. When we was younger Caleb, here, done it to me. Well, he TRIED to do it to me. But we was too young an' it ain't worked out. But we got to be frens. Good frens. Good enough frens where, when I found out you liked him, I said I was gwine try an' git you two together. I wouldn't do dis fo' nobody else. Nah, I'm gon' show you a few things. I don' want you thinkin' I'm tryna take yo' man or nothin'. I'm not. I just wanna make sho' you does de right thangs by each other. OK?"

"Is dass why you got his 'thang' up 'gainst yo' cheek?" Phoebe smirked sarcastically.

"I got his 'thang' up against my cheek, yeh. And I'm fixin' to put it in my mouf, too. And den you gon' do it de same way I does it, you hear me? So watch close."

Zelma looked up at Caleb.

"I'm jist gwine show her a few things, OK? Don't cum in my mouf'. If you cums in my mouf', I'm whuppin' yo' ass, OK?"

Caleb chuckled.

"What you laughin' 'bout? Ain't a damn thing funny. I know dis much: if you cums in my mouf' we gon' fight. An' don't feel bad when you lose, neither," Zelma warned ominously.

"Why you worryin' 'bout when I cum or not?" he retorted.

"'CAUSE YOU DID IT FAS' DE LAS' TIME!!!" she shouted.

"I 'uz fo'teen years old!!!" he noted with exasperation.

"Hush. Don't make 'scuses. You did it 'n left me all hot an' bothered. I remember it good. 'N dass why I ain't give you no mo' pussy since den. I don't want you messin' up my sister's first time, you hears me?"

Caleb shuffled his feet and looked away. His erection began to wane.

"See? Dis here is what I'm talkin' 'bout," she said. "A minute ago you 'uz pokin' straight out. Now you saggin' like a droopy dog."

She turned to Phoebe.

"Dis happen sometime. You say sump'n an' it cause 'em to lose consecration." (She'd meant to say 'concentration'. She often confused English words when using slave jargon) "...'N den dey dicks go down, like dis one is. OK, so watch me now."

Zelma hefted Caleb's dick up in her palm and eased her lips around it. Instantly, Caleb firmed up. Just as quickly, Zelma released him from her mouth.

"Nah see, again, dis whut I'm talkin' 'bout. If he had some stayin' power it woulda took him a minute to git hard again. But, see here, he all the way hard soon's I put it in. In another minute he'll be shootin' out baby juice."

Caleb reddened.

"OK, Phoebe, now watch." Zelma continued. If you grip him real tight down here at the bottom...(Here, she circled the base of his penis with her forefinger and thumb and squeezed)...you can keep him from shootin' jizz into yo' throat. Try it."

She nudged aside to allow Phoebe access. Without hesitation, Phoebe knelt and took Caleb's cock into her mouth. It was her very first experience with fellatio. Despite the normal trepidations of any first-timer, she didn't want to show any reticence before her more experienced sister. Zelma tightened her grip on Caleb's cock while Phoebe bobbed slowly up and down on it.

"Das's it, baby. Start slow. Let him feel yo' tongue on de bottom part of his 'thang'," Zelma cautioned.

Phoebe curled her tongue up. She began to flicker the tip of her tongue along the underside of Caleb's pudenda. Caleb groaned deliciously. He began to hump her mouth.

"Not yet, Phoebe. Not yet. Don't give him de tip just yit. Just use de flat part. You'a make him cum too fas'."

Phoebe slowed a bit. Instead of using her tongue, she dragged her bottom lip along his shaft and quivered it ever so subtly against the underside of his pud. She noted that this action increased his length and girth in her mouth. His penis expanded and pulsed like a living heart as blood rushed into its tissues.

Now Phoebe noticed an unusual aroma wafting up into her nostrils from close range. In large part the smell consisted of she and Zelma's saliva. Yet, there was another intangible odor, a scent that she recognized but couldn't categorize. It was tart and earthy, almost trout-like for lack of a better description. It seemed to exude from Caleb's very tissues without being truly Caleb. Nothing else on his body smelled like this.

Zelma noticed Phoebe's quizzical look.

"Dass Martha's coochie-cat you smellin'. (Martha was Caleb's ex). Martha, an' maybe a couple-a others. De smell don't wash out. You git his dick wet and you-a smell all de coochies he been up in. Just keep goin' baby. You doin' good."

Phoebe had been inch-blowing Caleb, concentrating on his pud. Now she probed further and further down his shaft, leaving slobber on the dry portion and cutting off her windpipe when he was fully inserted.

"Good, baby, good," said Zelma. "Breive thru yo' nose. Take a big breff when you pull back."

Zelma put her hand on the back of Zelma's head to dictate pace. Caleb's toes began to curl.

"Phoebe, look. See how his toes is curlin' up? He gon' cum in a minute, so pull back. PULL BACK, NAH!! I ain't say speed up!! Mattuh fact, pull off. PULL OFF! When his toes start to curl and you ain't want him to cum yit, you pull off completely, den you start lickin' him 'long de shaf', not de haid. Like dis. Watch."

Zelma scooped up under Caleb and began to lick his shaft just above its juncture with his nuts. Phoebe looked on.

"You see how I'se doin' dis? He likes dis. But he cain't cum wif'out puttin' his whole dick in my mouf. So if you do dis, you-a keep him hard wif'out reskin' jizzin' him out. When his toes stop curlin' you can go back to suckin'. Like dis. You see whut I mean?"

It was true. Caleb's toe quiver slackened.

Zelma handed Caleb's dick back to Phoebe, expecting her to emulate what she'd seen. Phoebe licked him for a few strokes then delved further down to his nuts. She inhaled one of his nuts, coating it with saliva. Caleb was delighted with her forwardness. His toes began to flutter again.

"STOP IT!! Stop it now!!" Zelma chastened shrilly. "Is I done tole you to suck his nuts yit? You gotta know a whole lot more'n you know if'n you want to suck a good nut. First of all, if you don't do it right, you can hurt de nigga. Second, some niggas'll cum is you suck dey nuts. Caleb prolly one o' 'em. Dey don't need to have dey dicks in yo' mouf. You don't want dat. You only sucks nuts when you gots another girl helpin' you. You suck de nuts an' de udder girl suck de dick. An' you switch back 'n forth an' yo' nigga will cum all day an' all night. You can make him faint, if'n you want to, an' take his money an' go home an' he won't know. He cain't lose his 'rection, even after he done fainted. Dat ain't de way to git started right off. It ain't fo' fust-timers. You do like I axed you--lick de pole. De nut suckin'll come soon enough."

Obediently, Phoebe started licking Caleb's shaft up and down, as if it were an ice cream cone.

"Dass it. Good. Good." coached Zelma.

While Phoebe continued to lick Caleb's shaft, Zelma leaned over and wrapped her lips around his cockhead. She bobbed up and down lavishly until his toes began to wiggle, taking note of the time differential like a mad sexual scientist measuring cause and effect. She noted the time between insertion and the first toe flutter. She continued sucking until the flutter became frantic. Then she stopped. She waited until he calmed before repeating the experiment.

Zelma was getting Caleb acclimated to being coated in fresh esophagus. Neither she nor Phoebe had ever blown Caleb. By taking him to the verge of orgasm and pulling back, Zelma was honing his ability at restraint. Too, she knew that when he did cum, it would be the ejaculation of a lifetime. Such orgasms are the bedrock of strong, enduring relationships. She planned to have Caleb's dick lavished in one of Phoebe's sexual holes when that moment came.

A new element now became evident, an element not entirely unexpected. Phoebe's toes began to tremble. Also, Zelma could smell the exotic odor that exudes from a slippery cunt. Phoebe was aroused. Her unsullied curly triangle was coated with small, sticky droplets of feminine lubricant. These resonated with spring water and pussy sweat. This ethereal combo produces an unmistakable aroma that acts as an aphrodisiac to both men and women alike. The man that first bottles that scent is destined to become a billionaire.

Caleb detected it, too. His already erect penis leaped and surged. Even his cock could smell the silky odor emanating from Phoebe's virginal snatch. Zelma knew that fairly soon, neither of their esophagi would satisfy Caleb's rampant lust. He needed to FUCK. This instinctive imperative was imprinted in his genetic code as the only appropriate response to Phoebe's vaginal aroma.

It was time.

"Phoebe, hurry. Come up an' suck his dick now. He ready." Zelma ordered.

Phoebe inched her way up Caleb's shaft until she reached its crown. Then she engulfed his penis in her mouth, plunging up and down on his dick with relish. She deep throated him once, twice and yet a third time. Caleb swooned and swayed. On her third foray down his pole he erupted so massively that Phoebe gagged and pulled away. Caleb wasted his second spurt against her cheek.

"Git back on it, girl!!" Zelma shrieked joyfully. "Swallow it!!! Git it, git it girl!!"

Phoebe drew a deep breath and went back in. She slurped Caleb's third spurt, eager to swallow it down. To her surprise, it tasted bland, like salted paste. She took his fourth and fifth spurts, too, experiencing the same puzzling result.

"What's so special about swallowing man jizz?" Phoebe wondered.

If someone served it to her in a glass, she'd have to mix it with cane sugar or honey to get it down. It just didn't seem all that appetizing. It certainly didn't taste as zesty as Zelma made it out to be.

Caleb's spurting slowed. His knees buckled. He spread his arms wide and lolled his head back like a religious zealot seeking absolution, shrieking out his joy to the heavens. Zelma had been right--his first sexual experience with Phoebe had been uniquely memorable. Life changing. Heavenly. The two had never kissed.

Phoebe gulped his residual semen without tasting, as when a child is forced to take castor oil or some other unsavory medicine. She lingered her gaze over to Zelma who was kneeling right next to her, on her knees, cheering Phoebe on. Phoebe's gaze dripped of disappointment. It said, "You lied to me. Jizz don't taste like sweet potato pie and fried chicken. It tastes like lard."

Zelma grinned widely. She knew exactly what Phoebe was thinking. All women are disappointed at the first gulp of jism. It's an acquired taste.

"We'll talk about it later," Zelma confided. "Right now, just finish suckin' it down. Suck it ALL. You'a see why in a li'l bit."

Phoebe continued to nurture at Caleb's penis until he slumped to the ground, spent, lacking the strength to support his own weight. He faced Phoebe from his knees. Caleb lacked the energy to even hold his eyelids open. He weaved and swayed drunkenly. Though his penis was now limp, his body still wracked with orgasmic tremors.