Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... around and saw a tall black man and a boy my age. It was Kyle and his father! The man held reached out and offered his hand to my father. "Good to see you man. Remember us? Our boys played ball against each other a few weeks ago - I'm Ken." As if we could forget. My father was as stunned as I was. What were they doing here? Dad switched the grocery bags to free a hand to return the other man's handshake. "Hi," he grunted, looking up at Kyle's Dad as he did so. "I'm Bill." I was looking at the two of them, feeling anxiety rise with me at the exchange. I avoided looking at Kyle, but I was focused on him nevertheless. He was wearing a white cotton tank top, dark purple nylon shorts that ended below his knee. He had a baseball cap turned backwards on his forehead, and I knew he was looking at me steadily. We stepped into the elevator. I pushed our floor, and Ken said. "You guys live on 5? So do we, we just moved in on Thursday." A weird feeling was rising in me, a mixture of panic and something else that was unfamiliar. As the elevator made it's slow climb I tried to tune out what was happening. Ken was acting real friendly, smiling at my father while he told him how happy he was to be in such a nice building. Something about the sound of Ken's voice made me feel uneasy. He was standing closer than he had to my father, leaning into him and smiling. It was too friendly, it felt like he was running some kind of game. I could tell my father was uneasy too, but he was forced to ...

... respond with politeness. When the elevator stopped, Ken and Kyle got off first. I was still in the elevator, following my father out when Ken spoke to him again. Pointing to Dad's Gold's Gym T-shirt, he said: "You a fight fan, Bill?" "Yeah, very much so." That was the first time he responded to Ken with more than a word. "Should be a good one tonight, eh?" He glanced for just a brief moment at Kyle when he said this. Almost like he was saying: "Watch this." Jees, Dad . . . no! I was saying no to something I couldn't even think about. C'mon Dad! I was screaming at him inside my head. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it." Dad was stiffening a bit, there was the slightest edge of sharpness in his voice. "Yeah. Quarry-Norton should be a good one." I knew Ken didn't mention Ali-Wepner, the top of the card, on purpose to try to draw an opinion from my father. It was obvious to me, even as a thirteen year old, that ABC was using race to promote the fights. Wepner was the latest in a series of quick cash-in's that Ali had used in the year since regaining the heavyweight crown from George Foreman. Every three months or so he'd offer some white unknown a "title shot" so Ali could pocket another three million or so from ABC. Wepner was typical; a thirty-three year old liquor salesman, a big man slow man that could hit hard enough to gain a few knockouts over opponents that were even slower than they were. Each one of these fights had the effect of fanning the flickering hopes of millions of ...