Ty and Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love - Part 1 - Sex Stories

Ty and Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love - Part 1

... both hands.” “Knowing your dad I assume you play defense, too.” “I can testify to that, Coach. You should have seen Ty shut down Marquis at the playground our first time playing together. Nobody wants to be guarded by Ty.” Monroe, who had been silent through the entire interview, couldn’t help but brag about my experiences at the park. He continued until I had to tell him to be quiet—he was embarrassing me. Coach Beamon stood and walked around the desk. A huge smile shone on his coal black face. He was about the same height as I was—six feet two inches—and he was slender and muscular as though he was still playing daily. He gave me several sheets of exercises and told me to prepare for official practices to begin in mid-October. A handshake later I was en route to my homeroom. I soon settled into a routine—up early for school, spend a few minutes with Cinda after school, dig into my homework before and after dinner then run through the exercises in the back yard until showering and bed. My first round of exams went very well. Unfortunately, Cinda was having trouble in math. I solved that problem by staying with her until dinner to work together on our math—studying and homework. We studied together all weekend for our second test. I received another 100; Cinda had an 89. I was shocked when the teacher accused her of cheating. “Mr. Piersall,” I interrupted, “I know for certain that Cinda knew the work. We studied together every day and all weekend, and I do mean ALL weekend. ...

... I quizzed her myself.” He let the matter drop; Cinda squeezed my hand briefly before we continued the lesson. Spending an hour or more with Cinda very day worked out in several ways—we got to know each other extremely well and I got to stay away from my grandfather who was becoming more and more belligerent and abusive toward me. I couldn’t count the number of times he’d told me to stay away from “that nigger bitch.”I was convinced that he was involved somehow in my parents’ divorce. I ignored virtually everything he said. We had just finished up a difficult theorem one afternoon when Cinda told me she’d be alone all weekend. “Momma is taking Monroe to Lafayette and Baton Rouge to look at the colleges there. They’re leaving early Friday afternoon. I’m kind of afraid to be all alone.” “You won’t be alone, Cinda. I’ll come and stay with you if that’s okay with your mother.” It was okay--in fact Cinda’s mom was thrilled. We planned to study hard for another math test during the day and Cinda confided in me that she hoped we would make love every night. That’s what I was praying for, too. “I wish we had some kind of gun, Ty. It can be dangerous here sometimes. We get drunks on the lane pissing and worse. Momma has a pistol, but she always takes it with her.” “I don’t have a gun, Cinda, but I have something just as good. I’ll bring them when I come Friday afternoon. I’ll show you then, okay? Just don’t touch—they’re razor sharp. I’ll explain everything on Friday.” Cinda nodded and ...