EQUAL RIGHTS BY: MOORE
CHAPTER ONE
Steven Crane hadn't cried in 20 years. Not since his sophomore year in high school when he had been discovered on his knees in the locker room with a friend's cock in his mouth. He was crying now though as his bare knees made contact with the rough concrete floor and the cell door clanged shut behind him. It had all happened so fast, he could still taste the boy's semen in the back of his mouth, so fast that the harsh reality of his predicament was only just settling in.
One moment he'd been happily sucking the naked boy's surprisingly large and meaty cock, enjoying the rich flowing sperm as the virile teenager forcefully ejaculated into his receptive mouth. One moment later he'd been hauled off his knees, hand cuffed and tossed into the back seat of a police car wearing nothing but a ribbon of sticky semen on his face and a string bikini to cover his nakedness. Now, a frightened and humiliated Steven Crane was locked away, alone in a jail cell. He shuddered at the thought that he wouldn't be alone for long.
"Throw the goddamn cocksucker in with the coloreds," Sheriff Reardon had said to his deputy. "The queer'll keep the niggers happy for the next thirty days and after they fuck him over with their big fat nigger dicks, he can warn his faggot friends to stay the hell away from Tinitus."
Much to Sheriff Reardon's disgust, Tinitus, Mississippi was the nearest town to an integrated commune of free thinking, free loving men and women and their offspring of indeterminate paternity. "Fuckin' queers," the sheriff reported to the town council after paying a surprise visit to the newly opened commune. "Whites and niggers, balls naked I tell ya, livin' together. Ain't nothing we can do 'bout it, but it ain't right."
The members of the commune lived quietly in a state of nature and sexual freedom on fifty private acres, copulating frequently and openly throughout the day and night without regard to the race, creed, color, gender or age of their various partners. The children, naked as jays and pure as the driven snow, needed no encouragement to explore their own sexuality.
The men came to town periodically to buy what they couldn't grow or make. The sheriff despised them, "goddamn hippie faggots," he'd mutter as the men walked down Main Street in their tie dyed T-shirts, shorts and sandals. There was nothing he could do to stop them from coming to town, nor could he arrest them. Holding hands and kissing was not against the sodomy laws the sheriff was sworn to enforce.
Steven Crane was gay, as were his few close friends from New York and one male colleague at Essex School, the private boys prep school in Riverdale where he taught American history. They were a quiet and sophisticated group of homosexual men in their 30's, none of whom had any interest in visiting the deep south or being exposed as queers.
Crane was an excellent teacher and too, passionately fond of teenage boys. He was respected by his peers who had no inkling of his sexual orientation, and adored by his students who he secretly worshipped in return. He lusted after them all in his heart, but limited his careful overtures to the homosexual boys in the school.
Ten years at Essex School and every year there had been at least one homosexual boy in every incoming class. Crane never failed to find him, patiently watching and waiting at the beginning of each school year until the gay boy or boys in the freshman class revealed himself to his experienced eye.
This past years' boy, Allan Young, had been an athlete like Tony Wentworth, Crane's 12th grade boy who had been accepted to Princeton. Two sweaty boys in jock straps, smelly, salty and totally delicious sperm machines made his foreign born 11th grader, Pierre LePetit, taste like fine wine. Allan loved to suck cock, Tony could fuck for an hour before cumming in Crane's ass and Pierre's five inch uncut dick, hairless balls and sweet creamy cum was a cocksucker's dream.
Crane never forced a boy to have sex with him, never lured a boy into his bed with false promises. Allan, Tony and Pierre, like their predecessors, were gay on arrival. Crane merely furthered their education in the classroom and bedroom, opening their young minds and lush bodies to the wonderful world of homosexual love.
CHAPTER TWO
Luke Reardon, the clerk in the country store had been about to close for lunch and Crane, who had been driving the dusty back roads in search of civil war memorabilia, was ready to take a break from the summer's oppressive heat. Slavery and the black experience in the deep south before the civil war was of particular interest to Crane.
"Y'all can join me for a swim," Luke offered. "S'longs y'all don't mind my swimmin' nekkid."
The idea of a swim in a cool lake was appealing on its own; with a naked teenage boy...irresistible.
Luke shed his few clothes, he wore no shoes or underwear. His body was tanned and smooth, hairless except for the patch of curly brown pubes above an unusually large penis and brown tufts under his arms. He was proud of his body, especially his cock which when it got hard was a good inch longer than any of his friends.
They no longer compared dick size, Luke and his friends, no longer measured their boners against the 12" length of pipe they had used from the beginning. One day when they were all in the 9th grade, they held a masturbation contest to see who could shoot the farthest. Shortly thereafter, to make the contest more interesting, it was agreed that the loser had to hold the winner's prick. Holding quickly lead to stroking and stroking, well, after swearing each other to secrecy, the friends agreed that the loser would take the winner's prick into his mouth.
"Suck it too," Luke suggested, something he had dreamed about doing for as long as he could remember. "Suck it and make it cum. C'mon y'all, it'll be fun to suck each others cocks."
Luke Reardon, older by almost two years because he had been left back twice in school, was the first boy to win under the exciting new rules. He got hard again in Petey Wilson's mouth and climaxed again a few minutes later when Petey, after Luke promised not to cum in his mouth, reluctantly began to suck.
He was also the last to lose a jerk-off contest. The last of the four friends to suck a cock...the first to go all the way and swallow. "Cum's good," he declared, smacking his lips after Dan Lassiter had unloaded in his mouth. "Kinda like salty buttermilk."
The loss was intentional because after a month Luke felt left out. He wanted to experience what Petey, Dan and his third friend Hank Watters had experienced. He desperately wanted to suck a cock, all of their cocks, but was embarrassed to come right out and ask. The intentional losses mounted and Luke became an ardent and skillful cocksucker, a veritable slave to cock.
The "Four Fags", as Luke alone secretly called their little sex club, disbanded when three of the four started having sex with the local colored girls who spread their legs for any white boy that wanted to fuck them. Coloreds submitting to whites...little had changed in Tinitus since the Civil War.
Luke tried but girls, white or black, left him cold and the black girls laughed at him when they fondled his limp dick and he couldn't get it up. Boys on the other hand, white and black, sent a charge through his body that frequent masturbation did little to relieve. Luke, a slave to cock, was unable to contain his desire to suck and he finally approached Petey, Dan and Hank out of sheer frustration.
"Lemme do y'alls dicks," he said to his surprised friends as they walked home from school. "I promise not to tell a soul."
"You're kiddin', right," Hank said. "Suckin' dick is fer nigger cunts and faggots. You ain't no nigger, Luke, and we all seen your dick. Hey, Luke, you turnin' into one a them ho--mo--sexuals?"
"Yeah, well maybe. I dunno." Luke shuffled his bare feet in the dusty rural road as he struggled with Hank's question. "Shucks, yeah," he finally admitted what the voices inside his head had been telling him for a long time. "Shucks, yeah, I'm a fag. So, can I suck y'alls cocks?"
Concealed from view by the dense bushes, two young men, black men heading home from a nearby community college watched with interest as Luke Reardon, the sheriff's nephew, went down on his three friends. Sheriff Reardon was a racist, despised and feared by every black in the county. His views about the homosexuals that lived in the commune were also well known.
"We can embarrass the shit out of Reardon," one black said to the other. "Think about it, George, his nephew a fag. The sheriff will be a laughingstock, he won't be able to show his face in town."
"He might even pack up and leave if..."
"If what?"
"You still have your box camera, Thomas? And film?"
"Yeah, at home. Why?"
"I'm thinking that the sheriff might like a picture of his nephew with a dick in his mouth. Maybe one of the kid on his knees, naked, with a big black cock in his pretty white mouth."
George and Thomas were well prepared the following day. Luke simply laughed when they told him what they had witnessed and what they wanted in return for their silence. Luke's enthusiastic response both surprised and angered the college boys.
"Yeah, sure, I always wanted to suck nigger dick," he said with a big stupid grin on his face. "You colored boys got big ones, I hear tell. Big nigger nuts too."
Luke was unaware that nigger, a word that he had heard all of his life, was a derogatory derivation of negro. Coloreds were niggers, he'd been taught at home and at his segregated school and church. An inferior race of people, animals really, saved from the flood by Noah to serve as slaves for the superior white people. He was unaware that the word was particularly offensive to a generation of educated young black men who demanded equal rights.
"Which one a you nigger boys wants to go first?"
"Not so fast," George said, smirking, as Luke went down to his knees. "You want my black dick in your fag mouth, white boy? You wanna suck my cock, you better ask me nice and show me some respect."
Respect was another word that Luke had heard all his life. Yes sir, no sir, please and thank you. His daddy demanded it, respect, and Luke, who knew little else, knew how to give it.
"Please, sir."
"Call me Master George, white boy."
"Please, Master George," Luke said easily. The irony of his quick submission into a master/slave relationship was lost in his simple, one track mind.
"Please what, slave boy?"
"Suck, Master George. Suck my master's cock."
CHAPTER THREE
Steven Crane heard them before he saw them. Smelled them too before the six black men were unshackled from their chains and crowded into his jail cell.
"Have fun with the faggot, boys," Sheriff Reardon said as he locked the cell door. "Mr. Crane's been waitin' real anxious like for y'alls to come and play."
"It's not a jock strap," Crane explained as the sweaty black men gathered around to inspect his all but naked body. "It's a string bikini....hey, what are you doing?" He said when one of the men grabbed his ass.
"Fixin' to have some fun like the sheriff said, white boy. Been workin' all day, slavin' in the hot sun. Now y'alls gonna suck nigger dick...make us niggers feel mighty good."
Steven Crane, boy lover, had never seen cocks as large as the six black cocks that were arrayed before his eyes. The smell alone was enough to make his head spin. These were men, not teenage boys. Sweaty, unwashed men whose musky aroma made the locker room at Essex School smell like a garden. Big black men with huge dicks and low hanging balls that Crane was finding hard to resist.
Steven Crane ripped off his string bikini, exposing his erect and drippy cock. He sank to his knees, suddenly trembling with excitement at the thought of servicing these powerful black men, descendants of slaves, with his mouth and ass. So this is how it feels to be a slave, he thought, leaning forward to capture a dick with his lips.
Crane's new masters used his mouth and ass equally, taking turns and switching between the two until the cell reeked of semen and sweat. Equal rights for six African Americans had made a great leap forward in Tinitus, Mississippi.