White Boys Can Fuck! Chapter 1

My name is Tawnisha Johnson and I want to tell you a story about my first interracial sexual experience. Before I get into that though, a little background is needed.I was born on November 14th, 1972 to Desiree Johnson, a single mother who worked as a cashier at the neighborhood Walmart. We lived on the third floor of a four-story brick tenement building in Detroit. It was not a very luxurious place?it was run down, and half the time something was broken. The landlord (read slumlord) never fixed anything unless he was forced to by the city or by legal action. The place was cold in winter and hot in summer. On top of that, the building was a stone's throw from the elevated commuter rail lines, and every thirty minutes all day long a train would roar past the building and, depending on which track it was on, would sometimes vibrate the whole apartment!But a single mother working a cashier's job doesn't make a lot of money, and so this is what I called home growing up. I had it better than some... at least we didn't sleep in the homeless shelters like some people did. I would see them sleeping on park benches, in doorways, and in the alley backed up against the walls or a dumpster. I was thankful that wasn't me.My neighborhood was one of the poorest in Detroit and, in my high school, there was nothing but black kids. Some of the kids there actually studied and tried to get an education so they could have a chance to get out of that life. But others had already resigned themselves to living there and were only concerned with getting what they could while they still could draw a breath. It was a tough place to grow up, and only Chicago had a higher rate of gun violence and crime. I fit into that first category. I had seen way more than a girl my age should see growing up, and I wanted out of that environment. I saw what that life had done to my mother, and she had aged way beyond her years. Raising a child on her own was tough enough, let alone under those conditions. My father (or the guy my mother claims is my father) was doing twenty years for armed robbery in which a police officer was shot and wounded. He didn't shoot him, but he was in on the job. The "trigger guy" was killed by other officers, leaving my father to do the time.I did catch a break, though, in my junior year of high school. I had an amazing guidance counselor, a woman from the bad part of town as well so she knew what I had to live like. She saw something in me, though, and wanted to help me find my way out almanbahis of the slums. She discovered a little-known grant that would pay for at least some of a college education. I would have to find a job nearby to help with the other costs, but it was a shot. She helped me apply and, to both me and my mother's amazement, I was accepted!My senior year of high school was primarily geared toward getting me ready for college. I had to take some pretty tough college prep classes and there were many times I was afraid I had wasted everyone's time. I pulled through it by knuckling down and denying myself most of the highlights that being a senior in high school brings. There were no proms, no football games to attend, no extra-curricular activities at all. It was study, study, study. But that's what it took to get me into college and out of the life I had known.Finally, all the hard work and sacrifice that Mom and I had made paid off, and I was packing to go to college. It wasn't one of the Ivy League colleges by any means, just a community college in Ohio. However, it would give me what I needed to get a decent job doing something more than scanning and bagging groceries.My guidance counselor had done some research on the school and the area it was in. She had located an organization that places college students with families willing to give them room and board so they can afford to attend the college. Tuition and books are hard enough for many families to come up with much less a place to stay and food. So these families agree to house a student and in return, their kids receive the same wherever they go to college. Kind of like a foreign-exchange program but for college instead.The day Mom put me on the Greyhound bus was a tough one. I had never been outside of our little neighborhood and never very far away from my mother. I was going into a great unknown and I didn't have a clue what to expect. I didn't know when the next time I would see home, I mean I wouldn't have the money to come home for Christmas vacation and summer vacation would probably have to be spent working to afford the following year's expenses. I would have to rely on the college's counselors to even keep the grant going so I could do the full four years of school! I was trying for a Bachelor's degree in Business Administration so I would have a wide assortment of good jobs I could apply it to instead of specializing in something and hoping I could find a job in that specific field.And so, with a couple almanbahis yeni giriş of suitcases packed with the essentials, I boarded the bus (after a lot of tears and kisses) and I was soon on my way to my future. I told Mom I would write as soon as I got settled someplace and let her know where to send the rest of my things.One of the first things I noticed upon boarding the bus is the white people already on board. Funny as it sounds, these were the first white people I had ever seen in person. Oh, I had seen them on TV and in magazines, of course, but these were the first real-life white people I had ever seen. I tried hard not to stare, but I'm afraid I got caught sneaking a peek a few times. A very kind older lady smiled and winked at me once and I had to quickly look down at my feet, embarrassed at being so curious.About five hours later, the bus pulled into the Columbus, Ohio bus station. Columbus would be my home for the next four years, and as I looked around it looked very strange. It wasn't nearly as dirty and run down as the part of Detroit I knew. This is probably the uptown version, the nicer part of town! I thought as I looked around. Let's wait and see what the school looks like and where I will be living!I walked timidly, suitcases in tow, into the bus terminal. The building was good-sized with a very tall ceiling and a lot of people all bustling around. I followed the signs directing me to the main part of the building. I had been told before I left that the family I would be living with would be at the bus terminal to pick me up and take me to their house, so I began looking around. I don't know what I was looking for?I had never seen them or a picture of them, so I had no idea what they looked like. But it turns out I had little to worry about because right there at the front of the lineup was a woman and young man holding a sign with my name on it."I'm Tawnisha Johnson," I said, walking up to the woman."Hello, Tawnisha, it's so nice to meet you. My name is Denise Williams and this fine young man here is my oldest son, Brian. I hope your trip was okay?" she said. Denise Williams was a few years older than my mother; in her early forties, I guessed. She was about five foot six, and a little thick in build. She had a bubbly, happy personality?the kind of person you couldn't help but feel good being around, and a smile that made her eyes sparkle. She made me feel comfortable right off.Brian was another matter, though. He made me feel terribly uncomfortable. almanbahis giriş Not in a bad, scared of him way, no, he was gorgeous! I was uncomfortable because he made my pussy drip with just a smile or a look! I was afraid I would do something stupid and come on to him, then Denise would find out and make me move out!"Hi Tawnisha," he said and shook my hand. Feeling my small hand wrapped so securely in his made my pussy gush. "Here let me take those bags," he said and took my suitcases. He slung the smaller one over his shoulder effortlessly and used the handle and rollers on the larger one to wheel it through the terminal like it was practically empty.The three of us walked through the terminal building, me alongside Denise, with Brian following behind. I have never been so self-conscious in all my life as I was walking through the terminal that day! I tried to focus on what Denise was telling me, but I'm afraid I only caught bits and pieces?my attention was primarily on staying on my feet as I walked wobbly-kneed with him behind me!Thankfully, we made it to the car without any mishaps. When we got there, I started to get in the back seat as I thought was appropriate, but Brian stopped me. "Oh no, you girls sit up front so you can talk. I'll take the back seat. Just let me put these in the trunk," he said with a smile that made me wet all over again. He opened my door and seated me (which I found very gallant and made my heart skip a beat!), then when I was in and seated, he shut my door and went to put my suitcases in the trunk. Then he got in the back and we all started for what would become my new home for a while.The Williams lived in an area of Columbus known and Grandview Heights?apparently one of the nicer neighborhoods in the area. It took about fifteen minutes to get to their house from the bus station and on the way she told me more about her family. I learned that Brian was the oldest of two boys. He was twenty-four years old and had already graduated from college and was working as a diesel mechanic working on big semi-trucks, commonly called 18-wheelers.Denise's other son, Mark, was in college himself in Los Angeles and living with another family in the same exchange student program that I was in, which was why I got picked the stay with them. I also learned that Denise was a single mother herself and that there was no Mr. Williams. She didn't talk much about that and I didn't want to pry. I figured if she wanted to talk about it sometime she would, so I let that go.Denise herself used to work as a school teacher but had quit teaching a few years ago. And now, with Mark in college, Brian lived at home to help out both financially and with the chores and running of the house.