He grinned, put down the jug, and came over. “What you starin’ at, white boy?” He ran his callused hand through my hair. “You a cute little yellow-headed bastard. You see the way that little bitch over there goes after black meat? I could sure enjoy somebody goin’ after mine like that.” He squeezed the back of my neck and grinned even broader. There was a scar at the corner of his mouth that went a quarter-inch up and half an inch down. It gave the left side of his expression a crazy look. He shook me a little, so that I had to grab his hip with one hand. He had on a pair of workman’s blues, torn at one knee. The cuffs and the edges of the pockets were frayed. I say they’d been blue once; but there wasn’t much color at all in them now. “Gonna feel real good working it down in your face, cocksucker. Go on, take it out.”

Over the edge of the steps a piece of sunlight dropped across his foot. He pulled in his toes on the cracked concrete. The troughs between the ligaments were almost purple. He spread his toes wide.

I heard his fly sing.

“Go on, boy.”

I put my hand inside. His groin was sweaty. He moved one leg aside so I could get it. His legs were awfully hard.

He pushed down on my shoulder.

Half stiff, it was longer than a flashlight. The foreskin made a loose hood over the plum-sized head. He got his balls out. They were wrinkled and heavy, the skin pulled into a gray-black ridge, like his sack had been sewed up along it.

He smelled like something burning in front of a vegetable stand on a hot day.

“Suck it.”

I took it in my mouth. When it went all the way in—“Yeah …!”—he gasped. I hugged his legs. He put a hand on each side of my head and began to swing his hips. After a while I got dizzy: I was kneeling flat on the ground, and he put his bare foot on my thigh, working his toes, each time he went in. “Suck on my balls!” which was like licking black rock-salt, with his cock flapping by my ear. I looked up once, when it raised, to see his fist fall at me, beating the black shaft. “Eat it, white boy!” He pushed his balls all the way in my mouth with his thumb and jerked harder. I held his ankle with one hand and his belt with the other. “Here it …!”

I kneeled up. He crouched down and jammed my throat full, clutching my sides with his knees, my head with his hands. Three thrusts and he swelled and spilled. I drank and sucked deep as I could.

He panted, thrusting out gout and gout.

He breathed hard and held my face against him awhile. When I finally came off him, he caught his breath. “Yeah, boy!”