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

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

... you, too…Cinda.” We walked the rest of the way in silence until Cinda turned up a dirt path toward her home. I waved her goodbye, hopping onto my bike once she was out of sight. I was back home in a couple of minutes. I had the bike up to thirty on some of the paved areas. “How was the park, Ty? Did you get to play?” “Yeah, Mom,” I had a great game. I met….” “You were down at the park with those niggers?” My grandfather had interrupted rudely. I could understand Cinda’s feelings. “I was there with a bunch of black kids, yes,” I replied. “They were okay once they got to know me.” “You’re not to go there again. You hear me, boy? I forbid it!” “How could I not hear you, Grandpa? I’m right here and you’re yelling in my ear. Frankly, I was treated better by the black kids. I’ll go back there if I feel like it. I didn’t ask to come here. I was forced, but I’ll gladly go back to Indiana if you’d prefer.” I couldn’t believe I had spoken to my grandfather that way. My mother was appalled. “You don’t mean that, Ty.” “You know I do, Mom. It was bad enough that I had to leave my home where I had lots of friends to come here where I have none. Now I’m told I can’t play ball just because my grandfather is a racist. Send me home…please.” “You already know you can’t go back there. Your father has no way to take care of you. You belong here with me.” “Mom, I’m sixteen. I’m old enough to make a lot of decisions for myself. Isn’t that what you’ve told me God knows how many times? I think I’m ...

... capable of deciding who can be my friends and who can’t.” I stood there my face red from the anger I felt. “Doesn’t make a bit of difference; there isn’t a single nigger kid in your school.” “What do you mean?” “Your grandpa has made arrangements for you to go to a prestigious private school. There won’t be any black kids there.” “How am I going to play ball?” “They don’t have any teams there. The school’s too small. There are only sixty four students, all from affluent white families—the kind you should be seen with instead of them niggers.” “Forget it! I won’t go! I refuse! I want to go to public school.” Of course, they refused to listen. Two weeks later, after I’d made friends with all the kids at the playground I was taken into town to buy my uniform. “You don’t get it, Mom. I don’t want to go to this school. I won’t do it.” “Don’t be juvenile, Ty. You’ll make new friends.” “What you mean, Mom is that I’ll make new ‘white’ friends. You’re getting to be as bad as Grandpa. Did you know that people around here think he’s the biggest racist in the parish?” “He’s not, Ty. You’ll understand that once you know him better.” “Mom, I don’t want to know him better. You need to open your eyes and ears. He uses the N-word all the time—the same word you absolute forbade me to use…ever. I’ve never used that word and I never will.” I stopped my arguing as we entered the store, but I did tell my mother that buying these uniforms was a waste of money. I was all dressed up in my blue blazer ...