My name is Jeffrey Jackson Stewart. I'm a tall, good-looking young black man living in the great state of Maine. I have some news for you. Are you ready? The world is mine. End of story. Why? Well, maybe you should ask yourself why not. All my life, I knew that I was destined for greatness. I know. Every brat in foster care tells himself or herself that. It...
A Creekside Park Story Author's Note: This short story takes place in a fictional setting and contains elements of racism, including words that could potentially be offensive. Readers that are sensitive to this sort of material are advised to look elsewhere. Otherwise, please enjoy. * In the depths of Louisiana, in a place called Jefferson Parish, the Cre...
I was worried, my wife Carol had told me after her lesbian encounter with the two bi girls she may never go back to heterosexual lovemaking. But I needn’t have, by the next morning she’d got all her other urges back. She told me she only wanted sex with females occasionally as it gave her more sexual scope. She said she was still in love with me as much as...
It was a beautiful spring day and I decided to take advantage of the exhilarating weather by working in my yard. I love flowers and wish I could have my hands in dirt for a living, but alas my time devoted to it is usually relegated to weekends. All of the yard work was now left to me and my oldest son. My husband Bob left me and moved in with another woman....
It was before the war spread south to Georgia. It was a time when Atlanta was still beautiful and the home of many of the Confederacy’s finest gentlemen. It was then that Leasa Edwards, daughter of Colonel Everett Clyborn Edwards, was the most sought after beauty south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Heiress to one of the largest plantations in Georgia—‘Tara’—Leas...
One day over a year later, Christy calls me. I asked her why she had not called me until now. She explained after having sex with all those black men she was pissed at me. I remarked that I did pay her well though. She agreed. She said another reason she did not call was that she had became pregnant after sex with all those black men. But, how could she...
When I arrived home from visiting my father, Andy had a million questions for me: “So, did you and your Dad have a good time?” “Yes. I think it was good for both of us,” I answered, slyly. But very quickly our conversation went sour. Andy had found some pornographic magazines that—I’m ashamed to say—I bought at a porn shop, depicting older black men mastu...
Somehow he knew the phone was about to ring. He wasn't certain how he developed the sense, if it could even be called that. Sometimes he chalked it up to being a creature of habit or being predictable himself, but despite that he couldn't deny the peculiar sense he felt, one of a heightened awareness or keen acuity when he knew the phone was about to ring....
The statue stood still, as statues have done since man first learned to carve his likeness into rock, eons ago. It watched the beautiful City of Ruston, Louisiana, from the rocky hill which was its domain. Had been its domain for centuries, really. From there it could see the City lights shining through the vanishing afternoon. The men and women walking, dri...
The man in black was standing alone on a dark street corner. In front of him was an old church. He stood there looking up at the church in awe. It was an enormous and impressive thing, looming overhead in the semi-darkness. It was misting rain that night. The streetlights tried feebly to penetrate the gloom. Standing in front of the church wearing a leather...