Growing up in the deep south of the 60's income more then race separated people and growing up in a family on the lower economic scale many of my play mates were black. My best friend was black and she had an older brother that I absolutely adored. He was muscular, athletic, funny, confident; having all of the traits girls loved, and being handsome with a dark chocolate complexion made him irresistible. When I reached puberty I began exploring my body, rubbing myself as I lay in bed at night, fantasizing about him. It was the summer between middle school and high school that I began my flirtation, I was already developing and noticed boys looking at me. I found the attention exciting. The southern summer heat was oppressive and with no air conditioning shorts for girls were natural and practical. Most wore tank tops but I preferred a blouse, not buttoned but tales tied together as it accentuated my breasts, a natural attention grabber. I would persuade my girl friend to go to the play ground where I'd watch her brother and his friends play basketball. I loved watching his moves, the sweat glistening off his dark muscles. Truth be told though I loved watching all the boys, their slender, athletic black bodies in motion. It made my nipples hard, my pussy wet. I must have sounded like his own personal cheering section every time he had the ball. When exhaustion over took them they would take a break and come sit in the bleachers with us, all profiling their best swagger, complimenting and flattering. In turn we would flirt mercilessly. I loved the ritual. I wanted him, I wanted them all. It would be that summer when I gave him my virginity and tasted the forbidden and taboo craving I had for Blacks.
