Chapter 1

 

"Good morning Mrs. Jackson," said the leering white man at the front door. "We're just here to do the monthly inspection of the property ma'am. You know how it is."

She did indeed. Cynthia Jackson lived in dread and loathing of the monthly "inspections of the property," conducted by the landlord's agent. Loathing because of the greasy middle age white man who always came. Dread of what her husband would do if he found out what the man was doing to his wife.

"I'll just have a look inside ma'am," he breathed. "Just to make sure all the fixtures and appliances are working. Yor' husband and boy? They 'round."

"Lyndon," she called back into the house.

"Mom?" her son answered.

"I... I need some things in town... There's a list on the refrigerator."

"Now? But mom, I'm trying to finish my school work..."

"Right now, Lyndon," said his mother firmly. "Take the walk into town."

"All right, all right." He eyed the white man suspiciously.

At eighteen Lyndon knew enough about the facts of life to wonder about why his mother always sent him into town when the inspector arrived. The problem was that he just couldn't imagine his beautiful mother in any kind of liaison with a man other than his father. They were a close knit family and he knew his mother and father were totally devoted to one another. It was unthinkable that she'd betray him. Especially with such a revolting white man.

Lyndon took the list and left, starting down the road. But he was nagged with doubt about what was going on at the house. His mother seemed upset, as she always did when the property was inspected.

His father had worked at the plant down on the river since the disastrous collapse of the dry rice market. That had followed the Biowar, fifteen years ago. The family had never recovered financially and had been forced to sell the once profitable farm, which had been theirs for generations. But his father was a proud man. He had elected to stay on the land and work it for the new white owner. He also took a job at the pallet plant, working long hours for low, exploitative wages. Someday, he told Lyndon, they would buy their land back. His father always had faith. If they worked hard and saved... someday they would win.

The elder Jackson was never around during the day and Lyndon was in charge of doing the routine maintenance on farm equipment, so his father could work the fields after hours. That job and his schoolwork kept him busy- when he wasn't being sent into town on some foolish errand.

Lyndon looked back up the road. He was becoming a man and he knew his duty was to protect his mother. He wondered if she was in trouble. The idea of leaving her alone with so unsavory a man made him uneasy, but in truth it was his curiosity that convinced him to go back.

He hesitated at the front door, knowing deep inside that he shouldn't be there and that his mother had told him to go into town. But at that instant, he heard what sounded like a slap and a gasp. He went into the house as quietly as he could. The sound had come from his parent's bedroom and was followed up with what sounded like frightened pleading. He almost went barging in, demanding an explanation, but the door to the room was ajar. He peered through the crack and nearly heaved with disgust and shock.

There was his lovely dark skinned mother kneeling on all fours on the bed while the ugly, pasty fleshed white man humped her obscenely from behind. He was slapping her rear cheeks with his open palm.

"Come on bitch, push that black pussy meat back to me... oh yeah baby."

"Uuuggggghhh," she groaned with pain from his blows and his violent lunges.

"Please... You're hurting me!"

"Too big for ya baby?" he laughed. "Am I better than that nigga husband of yours?"

"No... You're hitting me."

He slapped hear again and the woman gasped from the sting. She pushed herself back to give him more contact and tried her best to grasp his cock with vaginal muscles.

"Please don't mark me... If my husband finds out he'll... he'll."

"He'll do nothing," said the white man. "Or I'll tell the owner you're abusing the property and he'll have you thrown out. You wanna see your son and husband on a work gang? That's where they put homeless niggers now!"

"Please... oh please. My husband is a hard worker and a good man, but... I'm afraid of what he'd do... you don't know. You don't know..."

Lyndon seethed with rage at the treatment of his mother. He started toward the kitchen. He was sure he could kill the white man with one of his mother's butcher knives, but an instant later, something held him back.

He was afraid. Not for himself, he was no coward. But he loved and trusted his mother. She obviously knew what she was doing. If he broke in on them now he knew it would cause a hell of a row. The white man might hurt her, or worse, his father might find out. He wasn't sure why he feared that possibility so much except that he knew somehow that it would be catastrophic to his family. And Lyndon wanted more than anything to spare his mother the awful shame. He decided to follow his mother's judgment, but stay and make sure she was all right. The rough handling she was receiving from the man however made it hard to control his emotions.

The floor suddenly creaked beneath him and the white man turned nervously, looking toward the door.

"That boy of yours going into town like his mama said?" he panted.

"He went into town, don't worry," she breathed.

"And your husband?"

"He won't be home from the plant for another three hours. Please, let's just do this and get it over with!"

The white man chuckled, "not so fast Mrs. Jackson. We have to savor our time together, baby."

Lyndon hear his mother grunt and was actually thankful for the anguish in her voice. It told him for sure that this act was not a betrayal of his father. It was coercion and his mother, right or wrong was doing what she thought she had to do to protect her family. She had absolutely no positive feeling for the disgusting man who was battering her from behind.

Another pop resounded in the room. "Ahhhhhh," his mother cried, as the man yet again slapped her hard on the rear cheek.

"Get that brown ass moving now, baby," said the white man. "Wave that hot little nigger butt for me."

The hapless woman complied, her face a mask of shame as she looked back at him as he resumed his coital thrusts. He was pawing her, running his hands along her flanks between slaps. His breathing thickened and Lyndon knew he was fast approaching an orgasm. The boy nearly retched with the thought of the white man's slime being injected into his young mother, but he managed to control himself, even watching now with morbid fascination.

The white man was pounding into the woman now, causing the bed to creak and his mother to gasp with unwanted sensation. Lyndon could see the small, putrid white penis disappear into his mother as the man's paunchy belly bounced against her lower back like a bloated bag of jelly. The black boy was astonished, and could hardly suppress a laugh at the size of the man's organ. He couldn't be giving her much pleasure with his four inches, but he did reach down to fondle the woman's clit gently, causing her to shut her eyes tightly and hump back to him. Lyndon could tell that his mother was feeling a kind of illicit pleasure, in spite of herself.

"Uggghhh," she grunted, as he pulled back violently on her hair.