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I remember the day he entered the plantation. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with a muscular physique. As he entered the gate chained with the other slaves, he looked at me. I observed his thick, athletic legs as they almost seemed to burst from the overalls he wore.
Years old: I am 20
Ethnicity: I'm cambodian
What is my hair: Gray
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I moved in very close. Fat from his butt had been replaced by muscular buns.
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My friend had his young slave with him. I was seeing s of fuzz in my crotch. I gripped the back of his head and pulled it forward breaking what resistance was left. Came upon a white friend of mine. Atwood followed me as I ran down the path to the log cabin fort my Daddy had built for me.
The slave swallowed, waited till his master was done pump- ing, then licked off the white stuff that remained on his dick. I had him turn around and looked at his butt. I was born in the big house, a mid-wife helped pop me out. Atwood was down on his knees fondling me. One regret, his peter was bigger than mine. After the party, I hurried to find Atwood who would now stay with the servants.
My dick started to grow. I want to show you my fort. Atwood was led away unceremoniously. I looked at Atwood.
He was led in just after I had blown out the cake candles. My Daddy tells me if you get real uppity I can whip you all I want. I spread his cheeks and looked at his asshole. Another gift I received was a small whip so I could control my slave. The slave licked his palm and all his fingers. It was small, but made from real logs and really looked like a fort.
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My dick seemed to be uncomfortably hard much of the time and every so often in my sleep something would be happen and my bed would be wet. My Daddy owned a large cotton plantation.
The feelings were so intense I could not stop. I did the same to him. Atwood looked apprehensively at my whip. Lots of times the slaves would grow up serving their master all of their lives. Atwood pulled back my fore- skin. I dropped to my knees and put my head to about six inches to where the action was. This was before the war, of course. Atwood was given to me at my sixth birthday party.
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He was a fine looking buck. I really wanted to but shook my head. My friend started to moan, he pulled his dick out of the niggers mouth and started to furiously pull it. In a sense of frenzy, I pushed his head farther against me, my cock slipping to the back of his mouth and down his throat. He was six years old too. He then took it out and licked it, like it was an ice cream cone, his tongue moving around over and under the head. Atwood gagged but did not push me away.
Testing, his tongue came out and gave my tip a quick lick. I stared at his hard little black peter then touched it. My friend had his pants down. Contours of muscle development showed.
Now, when Atwood and I fondled each other, our touching seemed intensely stronger. Both of our bodies had now developed into those of young men. It seemed like everything was spontaneous. We were outgrowing the small fort, but it was still useful for our purpose. Atwood stayed as my servant until the war. I had to have a real close view. The Yanks had burned the mansion down. It had a room below with a ladder to the roof where we could look for imaginary Indians through the wall portholes. Lived in that house till I went to war.
Dug up a bunch of worms and headed to the creek. Our sex play had started. At six years old I had my own slave. I was hard as a rock but too shy to drop my pants and be touched by just any nigger. His next lick was longer. There was nothing to return to. I could feel the warmness of his saliva lubricant. I watched as the slave opened his mouth and slid his masters cock inside.
I could hardly wait to find Atwood.
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He was pushing his slaves head into his crotch. With automatic reflexes my hips started pushing back and forth as I held his head in a firm grip. I took Atwood up the next day for more jackoff and peter play. I would try it with him. I dropped my pants. Cum shot from the white boys dick into his slaves mouth. He was called Atwood.
I giggled as I watched Atwood take off his clothes. The roughness of his tongue pro- ceeded to cause intense, pleasurable, new strange feelings. My friend held out his hand which was also wet with cum. I would shoot at them with two imaginary rifles. I moved my cock closer to his face. Really lapping. We learned how to jack each other off. This was fascinating. The nigger stayed in front of him with his mouth open.
He paused before trying it a second time. Other than the housekeepers, a nigger was allowed to stay only momentarily in the main house living quarters. Then the Goddam Yankees came and screwed everything up really good. Black hair surrounded his dick and balls.
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Atwood and I played this game alot but one day our imagination sagged and we climbed from the roof into the main room wondering how we would kill time. He had flashing eyes and a sense of awareness. Atwood was going through the same experience. After firing I would hand each rifle back to Atwood for reloading.
Neither heard my approach. Atwood reluctantly moved towards my cock. Between the ages of thirteen and fourteen things started to happen to my body. We spent a lot of time in the fort looking, examining and playing with each other in our childish ways. A thought came to me. He had been bathed till he shined and was wearing clean hand-me-downs my brother had cast away.
Our new persons
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Early in the new year, a Black woman student at my university invited me to guest lecture for a special Black History Month event that would highlight the history of Black women.