"Are you June?" I looked down into the green eyes of a bald white man, and it took me a second to realize what he had asked.
"Yes, I am. Are you the technician?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Charlie," he said, climbing into the truck beside me. As I admired his wide, muscular arms, I was bathed in the fresh scent of his body wash. Irish Spring, maybe. Better than coffee, I thought. He was dressed in auto shop blues, faded but clean this early in the morning. His hands were also neat but darkened with oil and hard work. He asked, "What's the problem?"
"I have a check engine light on."
"Is that all?" he asked, grinning cheerfully. I smiled back, wondering if he liked black women. Blue collar boys were just my type. "Let's hook in and see what we got. Excuse me." He reached down beside my leg to attach his code reader under the dash. I didn't make any effort to move away, hoping he would brush over my thighs. I have a slim body but with wide hips and thighs. My ass would fit perfectly in his palms.
Sadly, he completed his work with only a brush by my knee. I looked over his shoulder to see what codes came up. I work in marketing, so I'm not a grease monkey by any means, but I knew how to change the oil in my Ram pickup. "Looks like a transmission switch," he said, reading the screen. "Has it had any problems driving?"
"Just some difficulty with the steering." I looked underneath the reader to his lap. I imagined myself reaching down and unzipping his pants, pulling out a big white cock and wrapping my mouth around it. This truck had seen such indiscretions with my past boyfriend.
"It's probably an easy fix. Maybe a few hours." Charlie met my eyes again, still cheerful. "Can you drive it in the shop, or should I?"
"I can do it," I said, starting up the truck. He opened the passenger door and jumped out. Already I missed his warm body. I watched him walk around to open the bay door, and then I drove in. Once I turned off the truck, he opened the door for me.
"Such a gentleman," I said as I hopped down.
"No problem, ma'am," he said, giving a slight bow. "The waiting room is over here. There's coffee, doughnuts, a newspaper."
"Thank you," I said, not sure I wanted to leave him. He was already getting to work, though. I took a moment to watch him from behind. He had a tight ass and tree trunks for legs. I could imagine him lifting me in his arms and carrying me into the waiting room. Sighing, I walked there by myself.
The coffee was bitter, the doughnuts stale, and the newspaper was old news compared to the beauty that was fixing my truck. I was a country girl, used to riding in the back of a pickup with coarse, sweaty boys. My parents' farm was next to white and black neighbors, so my early experimentation had been with all types of guys. I remembered one white boy in particular.
"My parents don't want me coming here," Johnny told me a little after my 18th birthday. "They say you're like the fruit in the garden of Eden. Once I eat of the tree, I'm going to Hell."
"That's not very nice," I said. We were sitting in my parent's barn, eating apples from the co-op. I liked watching the juice run down his chin. I wanted to follow that drop all the way down his neck. He usually shaved, but with the cooler weather starting, he was growing a beard.
"I like it!" he said. "You're forbidden fruit. You're in possession of the knowledge of good and evil." He grinned at me.
"I don't know about all that. I don't have that much knowledge." By then I'd tried a few things but never gone all the way.
"You don't? What about you and Nate?" he asked, referring to my black neighbor. Nate was like an ox, the stereotype you saw when someone made a movie about slavery. Johnny was thinner but still well developed. He would star as the rough overseer, not the clean cut master. More bites of the apple, more juice. He was a messy guy.
I scoffed. "Nate is a scaredy cat. He doesn't want to hurt me, he said."
"I guess he's afraid of crushing you!" he said. I laughed. "Well I don't have that problem. And I want to take a bite." He leaned in to kiss me. He tasted like apple.
A voice startled me away from my memory. "June? Ma'am?" I looked up to see my technician. Charlie. Sounded close to Johnny, though Charlie looked more like a yeoman, a small farmer, in my imaginary movie. "Looks like you might have another problem. You got a power steering leak."
"What?" I asked, surprised but a little pleased I might get to spend more time with him. "I haven't seen any fluid."
"It's not too bad right now, but it will probably get worse." He held open the door for me to return to my truck, now up on a lift. We went under the truck, and I looked to where he pointed.
"Shit," I said, when I saw the power steering box wet with fluid. This was going to send my repair bill sky high. On the other hand, I'd have more hours with Charlie. I glanced back at him. His eyebrows were lowered and he was almost frowning in concentration. He'd already got some oil on the side of his face. I wondered if he would mind if I wiped it away.
"It's a pretty common problem. We're going to have to replace the power steering box most likely. They have rebuild kits out there if you got any friends who can do the work. Honestly, if you get it done here, with parts and labor, you're paying at least $500." I nodded. That meant a trip back home. "I mean, I would appreciate the work, but..."
"I understand," I said. "What about the switch?"
"Oh yeah. Got that changed out, so you're done. We'll go the front, and I can ring you up." He led me back through the waiting room to the retail store. I started at his back as we walked, admiring the way his pants wrinkled over his smooth ass. His shirt was neatly tucked in under a belt--no indiscreet peeks if he happened to bend over. I almost bumped into him when he stopped and turned around.
"I'll write down the gearbox part number for you so can get it at the parts store."
"The what? Oh, right. I appreciate that." He smiled at me, and I smiled back. "You're very helpful."
"Thank you, ma'am." He turned back around, and I got my fill before he rounded the counter.
"Why do you call me ma'am? We have to be about the same age." I leaned over the counter as he typed on the computer.
"Just being polite. That's what my mom taught me."
"Are you from around here?" I asked. We were in what I called the city, but it was really a large town.
"Yeah, I grew up here. Actually, my school was mostly black."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah, but it was bad. The races were all separated. I got beat up once for talking to a black girl."
"You? But you're so...big..." I stuttered.
He smiled wryly. "I was a lot smaller then. And I didn't understand all the hatred. I thought--well, I still think--black women were beautiful."
I felt my skin flush. "So have you ever dated anyone that was black?"
He grinned. "It's on my bucket list."
I sat up. "So why don't we get that crossed off? Are you busy tonight?"
His eyes widened. "Oh, I--no, I mean...Do you like white guys?"
"All kinds! Especially attractive ones."
"Really?" He grinned sheepishly.
"Yes," I said. I loved making him smile. "So how about tonight?"
He nodded. "I can pick you up at 8. Do you like Chinese?"
"Love it," I said. He checked me out and I gave him my number. I was grinning from ear to ear by the time I got my truck back.
He dressed in nice slacks and a button down shirt for dinner. I wore a little red dress with matching pumps. The contrast with my dark brown skin usually got a lot of attention. We went to a nice Chinese restaurant and talked for hours.
We had typical city/country differences--I liked cows, he preferred steak, he liked big buildings and I liked fields--but we also had a mutual love for the local football team and action movies.
Overall he was a very sweet man, if a little timid around me. I was the stereotypical loud black woman mixed with do-it-myself country stubbornness. We got a few looks in the restaurant, but I stared them down until they got embarrassed and looked away. He had never met someone like me, he said.
He walked me to my door after dinner, and I was excited about what could happen next. He seemed nervous, so I tried to keep my voice light. "I had a great time," I said.
"Yeah," he said with a shy smile. "It'd be great to see you again."
"Do you want to come in for a drink?"
He shook his head. "No, ma'am, I've had enough for the night."
"Oh," I said, trying to hide my disappointment. This boy was too proper for his own good.
"Is it ok if I call you?" he asked.
"Of course," I said. And kiss me, and fuck me...I stifled a sigh. Patience, June. He looked at me for a second and apparently made a decision. He leaned in and firmly kissed me on the lips. I stopped myself from grabbing him and pulling him against the door. He pulled away, cheerful again.
"Have a good night," he said. I squeezed my hands together to give them something to do. His chasteness made me feel like a schoolgirl.
"Good night," I said. I watched him walk down to his truck. I was a little disappointed but excited about the future.
He called me the next day. We talked about random nonsense, but before I could ask him over, he said, "You know, I could fix that steering box for you. I can get a pretty good deal on the parts, and I'd do the labor no charge."
"You would do that?" I asked, thinking of the many ways I could repay him.
"Sure. I'm off on Sunday if you have time. I can come over before the game."
"That'd be great."
Sunday came, and I dressed in tight jeans and a thin polo. I made an apple pie with a store bought crust, but was hoping that wouldn't be the only dessert. He came over early afternoon dressed in a T-shirt and pants, clean but worn. Once he got started, I couldn't persuade him in the house even for pie.
"I don't want to get your place dirty," he said. I lived in a one-bedroom condo, but it wasn't like it hadn't seen muddy boots before. I stayed in the garage with him, admiring his sexy body as we talked.
"I think that's cool that you have dated all kinds of men," he told me. He was on his back underneath the truck, and I was starting at the bulge in his pants. "I've always felt like black women were forbidden fruit."
"Why do you say that?" I asked, thinking of Johnny.
"Well, they always seemed untouchable. I couldn't get any but one to even acknowledge me in school, and at work, I'm just another grease head. None has ever hit on me, until you. I never asked my parents, but I always thought they would want me to end up with a nice white girl."
"Nothing wrong with that," I said. "But haven't you always wanted to be a little rebellious?"
"Well I can't say I haven't ever done something my parents disapproved of. You're a nice girl, too. Just a little...unexpected."
I laughed. He rolled from underneath the truck. "I'm about done. I'll go wash up outside if you have a hose."
"Why don't you come inside for that?" I asked, standing up. "And you can have a slice of pie." He hesitated, looking down at his grease-covered hands and pants. He even had some on his bald head again. "It's all right," I said. "I'm not afraid of a little dirt."
"If you don't mind," he said carefully.
"Not at all," I drawled, opening the door to my kitchen. My mind and pussy were on fire with dirty thoughts. I set out a slice of pie on the kitchen table while he came in and took off his boots. He washed his hands and arms at the kitchen sink as I stood beside him.
"You know," I said suggestively, "the game will be on soon. I could throw your clothes in the wash while we watch."
He flushed red. "I don't have an extra change of clothes, ma'am."
"You don't have to worry about that." I let the words hang in the air while he dried his hands with a towel. Finally, he looked at me. His neck all the way up to his head were a deep red, but I could see the arousal in his eyes. And his pants.
I smiled at him. "Why don't you take those clothes off, and I'll throw them in the laundry?"
"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded, leaning over to rub his chest. I liked the firm muscles I felt under there. I slid my hand to his waistband and unbuttoned his jeans. The bulge there looked like it was getting firmer. I could hear him breathing fast, and it matched the pace of my heartbeat.
"I've got a load to do anyway," I continued, unzipping his pants and pushing them off his hips. His cock stood out proud underneath his boxers. With a flick of my finger, those fell off as well, and his thick white cock was all mine. I gave it a caress, and it twitched happily. I helped him pull his pants off, along with his shirt, and balled them up in my arms.
"I'll be right back! Have some pie." I turned away from his pained expression and sauntered to the laundry room. Humming, I threw his clothes in the washer and started it. I took mine off too, though the only thing that needed cleaning were my wet panties.
When I came back to the kitchen, the poor man was staring at the pie, a fork in his hand and still hard as a rock. I leaned against the door and cleared my throat.
"Maybe you'd like to have something other than pie?" He glanced up and his eyes widened. I smiled as he looked my body over. I beckoned to him and walked into the bedroom. I hoped he was taking time to enjoy the view. I tweaked one of my nipples as I walked. I was certainly enjoying teasing him.
In my bedroom, I pulled some condoms from my dresser and laid them on the night stand. Charlie was standing in my doorway, still a little shy. I grabbed his hands and pulled him close to me. "Why don't you try some of this?" I asked, reaching up to kiss him. He grasped my back and kissed me urgently. His cock was a firm rod in between our bodies, and I couldn't wait to have it inside me.
With my urging, he lay on his back on the bed. I rubbed my breasts against him, starting at his chest and working my way down to his crotch. His body hair was a light brown color, short and neatly groomed. The smell of him was a mixture of body wash, engine oil, and natural musk. I took his cock and squeezed it between my breasts. I loved seeing the reddened head peeking through my brown mounds. I rubbed him slowly, finally eliciting a small moan from him.
"Do you like that?" I asked.
"Yeah. You're beautiful," he breathed.
"Are you going to call me ma'am like you usually do?"
"Yes. Ma'am." He swallowed. I leaned down and licked the head of his cock. His hips pushed up a little.
"Have you thought about being inside a black woman?" I asked, sitting up and massaging him with my hand.
"Yes ma'am," he said, his eyes closed. "A lot."
"Even though we were forbidden?" I grabbed a condom and rolled it on. His cock was red and bulging. "You wanted a taste, didn't you?"
"Yes ma'am." I crawled back over him, watching his face twitching with anticipation. I slid a finger inside myself and moaned as I brushed my clit. I took his cock and pushed it between my legs. He gently grabbed my hips as I slid down onto him. His cock felt so good, but I forced myself to ride him slowly.
"How does that black pussy feel, Charlie?"
His response was more sounds than words. He stared at me with drunken lust. His hands ran up my back and back down to squeeze my ass. They felt like the perfect size. I leaned forward and gave him a long, deep kiss.
"You're going to make me come," I told him breathlessly. "Can I come all over your cock?"
"Yes ma'am," he said.
"Are you going to shoot your cum deep inside my pussy?"
"Oh God, yes. Yes, ma'am." He was already increasing his pace. I grabbed his hands and bore down against him. My orgasm exploded, and I moaned as I felt him swelling and bursting inside me.
Sighing, I gave him a kiss, rolled off, and curled up beside him. I flipped on the TV and we watched the football game in bed. By halftime his clothes were ready for the dryer. I gave him some oral stimulation while the analysts talked about the game. We missed most of the third quarter. Finally his clothes were done, and I reluctantly let him go.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said after he'd showered and dressed. He gave me a big hug and I inhaled his scent. I would have to buy some Irish Spring to keep in the shower.
"Do you want some pie to take home?" I asked. "You can have a snack at work tomorrow.."
"No, thank you," he said, smiling shyly. "I got a taste for something else now."
I giggled. "You can have some for dinner."
"Yes, ma'am," he said. I saw him to the door and returned to the kitchen. His abandoned slice was still on the table, and I ate it with a smile. Forbidden fruit had never tasted so sweet.