Naked in School Homer
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Returning Home free porn video
Jeffrey Powell could not believe he caught the football. His teammates urged him to move. “Run,” they shouted. “The other way, dummy,” they corrected his misguided footsteps. He did as he was told he ran as fast as he could towards the trash can that marked the goal line. He was only a few inches away, at least in his mind, when Corbin Stewart lunged at him from behind. Jeffrey went down hard as the guy who was three-and-a-half years older fell on top of him.
“Mane, come on! This ‘posed to be touch and you tacklin’ folks,” complained one of Jeffrey’s teammates.
“Yeah, nigga,” another sneered.
Corbin stood up slowly and apologized, “My bad.”
Jeffrey dusted himself off.
Geraldine Abrams was watching the game from her back porch when she saw Jeffrey hit the ground. She ran as fast as her maturing legs would take her to the make-shift football field. Her light purple floral housedress flowed as she moved. She yelled for Jeffrey to join her side. So, he did. She fussed at the others on the field telling them they should not be so rough with her precious baby. This caused jeering from both teams. They called him ‘sissy’, ‘mama’s boy’, and ‘faggot’.
Geraldine dragged her ten year-old grandson by his arm and scolded him, “I tole you. I ain’t want you playin’ no ball wit’ them oldah boys. Now you see why.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jeffrey said defeated.
He looked back at the game in progress once more and began to weep internally.
“I don’t want you playin’ no moe with none of them boys. You hear me,” she wagged a finger at Jeffrey.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered.
“Now go get cleaned up and get back out here for dinner.”
That was twenty-five years ago. Jeffrey had since graduated from high school, enlisted in the Air force, gone to college, and embarked on a successful career as a management information systems professional. During that time span, his grandmother had passed away and he had very few ties to his old neighborhood and city. But, when he heard from a former Sunday School classmate that Miss Cora had died, he decided it was only right to attend the funeral. She had always been a kind presence in his life. On days when he was hungry, she always produced an extra tomato from her garden or seemed to have some leftover meatloaf.
Apparently, Miss Cora had been the same way with most of the k**s in the neighborhood for all her life. Her home going celebration was packed with people of all ages. It was a beautiful service for a deserving woman. Most of the mourners were moved to tears more than once.
At the repast a handsome man made an approach extending his hand, “Jeffrey Powell?”
“Excuse me,” was the reply.
“Jeffrey. Miss Geraldine’s grandson, right?”
“Uhhhh…”
“It’s cool. I know the deal.”
“Yeah, but no one has called me that in years,” revealed the long-haired person.
“My bad. I didn’t know what else to call you. Nobody never told me your new name.”
“It’s okay…”
“Corbin. Corbin Stewart.”
“Oh yeah! You are Corbin,” beamed the slightly befuddled returnee.
“In the flesh. Look I just drove up for the funeral and when I saw you I thought that might be him.”
“Her,” she corrected him meekly.
“Yeah. I’d heard. But I’m old enough now not to trust rumors.”
“Smart.”
“So what do I call you now?”
“Lana.”
“Okay, Lana! I just wanted to say hello. A few of the fellas gon’ get together at Hambone’s and have a drink to Miss Cora. Wanna join,” the five-foot-nine-inch, one-hundred-seventy-pound, man inquired.
“Are you sure you all want me to come,” Lana asked.
“We all know Miss Cee. She was like a guardian angel to us all, ya know?!?”
“True!”
“Then come.”
“Sure. What time?”
“We’re headin’ out now. You know most of these niggas don’t hafta do none but smoke and drink for the rest of they lives.”
Lana smirked. She said, “I don’t want to drive my rental car to the bar. I can head back to my hotel and take a cab over.”
“Shit! That crazy,” Corbin declared. “Tell me what hotel you staying at and the room number.”
“I’m at the Dutch Royal on 23rd.”
“I can come pick you up and then you just get a taxi back.”
“Seriously?”
“Hell yeah. What’s ya room number?”
“Two twenty-seven.”
“I’ll be there thirty minutes after you leave.”
Lana arrived at her hotel room and slid out of her black Kasper knee-length, scoop neckline, sleeveless crepe sheath dress. She kicked off her sensible black heels and turned on the sink. Lana removed her underwear. She grabbed one of the fluffy white washcloths and a bar of her Dove soap. She lathered up and washed her body. As she lathered up with vanilla fragranced body lotion, she looked at the clock. She estimated Corbin would arrive in a few minutes. She selected a halter-neck navy straight-line dress. As soon as she finished slipping it on, her door sounded.
Lana peered through the peephole. It was Corbin. She opened wide and invited him inside. He was carrying a brown paper bag. The caramel-skinned, man was still dressed in the same dapper dark green Zoot suit and shiny black Stacy Adams penny loafers.
“Come in,” offered the barefoot Lana.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Corbin responded with gratitude.
“I just need to slip on my shoes and I’ll be ready.”
“It’s cool. The bruhs flaked out. When I said it was Dutch treat, they s**ttered like roaches.”
“Oh wow,” the five-foot-eleven inch male-to-female transsexual shook her head. “Well, we can still go.”
“Yeah! That’s what I thought. But, then I thought we could just have a quick drink at your spot.”
“That’ll work,” she mused. “What do you have?”
Corbin pulled out a one-liter bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin.
“The good stuff,” Lana remarked.
Corbin offered, “Yeah. My drink of choice. All the rest of that shit is just gasoline.”
Lana laughed.
“Do you mind if I grab some clothes to change in to from my car,” Corbin asked.
Lana replied, “Not at all.”
“You can go ahead and pour us up a drink.”
“I don’t have any mixers.”
“Here you go,” Corbin said pulling out eight one-dollar bills and placing it on the desk. “I saw a vending machine sign down the hall.”
“Sounds good.”
Corbin disappeared. Lana put slid on a pair of Old Navy flip flops and rushed towards the snack machines. She purchased two bottles of Sprite and went back to her room.
Corbin knocked several minutes later. When Lana let him in, he was carrying a grey and white Nike duffel bag.
“Do you mind if I wash off real quick and get changed for the drive back,” Corbin quizzed.
“It’s fine,” Lana relented. “There are towels in the bathroom.”
“Thank you!”
Lana grabbed the ice bucket when she heard the water begin running. She opened the room door quietly once she realized the shower head was streaming. She rushed down the hallway and filled the container with ice. When she returned, Corbin was just then shutting off the water. She closed the door behind her and engaged the security latch.
Lana prepared the beverages by first pouring the gin, then adding the Sprite, and finally placing in a few cubes of ice.
Corbin exited the bathroom area wearing a white tank top, blue basketball shorts, and a pair of black-on-silver one-piece Under Armour slides. He smelled like the ocean with a hint of mint and citrus.
“Did you fix our drinks,” he asked.
“Yes, I did,” Lana gleamed handing a glass to him.
“So what you been up to all these years,” Corbin inquired taking a seat on the chair at the desk.
“I went in the Air force. Went to college, Started working as…”
“So when did you become a woman?”
“That was like ten years ago.”
“Cool.”
“What have you been up to?”
“I been married and divorced twice,” he chuckled. “I’m a HVAC technician.”
“Important job.”
“So say you.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“I got three k**s too.”
“Awesome!”
The two of them drank more liquor over the next hour.
Corbin started, “I always wanted to apologize.”
“Why,” Lana inquired.
“Because of the day I tackled you playin’ flag football.”
“You remember that,” her eyes widened.
“Hell yeah!”
“That was a dirty move,” Lana laughed.
“I know,” Corbin said standing. “I was dry humpin’ your booty.”
“I thought so.”
“Yeah. I knew you knew. But I couldn’t say shit. Why else did you think we always asked you to play football?”
“I thought y’all were being nice.”
“You couldn’t play for shit. We just wanted to hump yo’ ass,” Corbin admitted.
“That’s terrible.”
“What you gon’ do ‘bout it now?”
Lana tensed.
“It’s all good,” Corbin confessed. “All us niggas in the hood liked yo’ booty and wanted to get on it.”
“No way,” laughed Lana.
“I swear.”
“Well what stopped y’all?”
“Miss Geraldine. She knew what was up,” Corbin admitted.
They drank some more.
“I wanna make you my woman. I been I love with you since we was k**s.”
“What,” Lana puzzled aloud.
“You heard me. Get out that dress and let me see that body.”
Lana got naked. Her B-cup breasts were exposed.
Corbin admired her. He pulled her close into a sensuous embrace.
They kissed.
He picked her up and placed her gently on the bed.
“Oh, Corbin,” Lana whined.
“Yes, baby,” he checked.
“Take me. Take my pussy.”
“Ooh wee,” he exclaimed as he spat on his ten-inch dick and worked it in her asshole.
Corbin was inside her. She was flat on her stomach. His hands cupped her firm tits. In his mind, nothing had ever felt better.
“Fuck me,” Lana wailed.
“Take this dick, sexy,” Corbin groaned.
“Oh, Daddy!”
After a long night of lovemaking and impassioned lip locking, they awakened.
“I really want you to be my lady,” Corbin announced.
“Always,” Lana replied.
“Mane, come on! This ‘posed to be touch and you tacklin’ folks,” complained one of Jeffrey’s teammates.
“Yeah, nigga,” another sneered.
Corbin stood up slowly and apologized, “My bad.”
Jeffrey dusted himself off.
Geraldine Abrams was watching the game from her back porch when she saw Jeffrey hit the ground. She ran as fast as her maturing legs would take her to the make-shift football field. Her light purple floral housedress flowed as she moved. She yelled for Jeffrey to join her side. So, he did. She fussed at the others on the field telling them they should not be so rough with her precious baby. This caused jeering from both teams. They called him ‘sissy’, ‘mama’s boy’, and ‘faggot’.
Geraldine dragged her ten year-old grandson by his arm and scolded him, “I tole you. I ain’t want you playin’ no ball wit’ them oldah boys. Now you see why.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jeffrey said defeated.
He looked back at the game in progress once more and began to weep internally.
“I don’t want you playin’ no moe with none of them boys. You hear me,” she wagged a finger at Jeffrey.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered.
“Now go get cleaned up and get back out here for dinner.”
That was twenty-five years ago. Jeffrey had since graduated from high school, enlisted in the Air force, gone to college, and embarked on a successful career as a management information systems professional. During that time span, his grandmother had passed away and he had very few ties to his old neighborhood and city. But, when he heard from a former Sunday School classmate that Miss Cora had died, he decided it was only right to attend the funeral. She had always been a kind presence in his life. On days when he was hungry, she always produced an extra tomato from her garden or seemed to have some leftover meatloaf.
Apparently, Miss Cora had been the same way with most of the k**s in the neighborhood for all her life. Her home going celebration was packed with people of all ages. It was a beautiful service for a deserving woman. Most of the mourners were moved to tears more than once.
At the repast a handsome man made an approach extending his hand, “Jeffrey Powell?”
“Excuse me,” was the reply.
“Jeffrey. Miss Geraldine’s grandson, right?”
“Uhhhh…”
“It’s cool. I know the deal.”
“Yeah, but no one has called me that in years,” revealed the long-haired person.
“My bad. I didn’t know what else to call you. Nobody never told me your new name.”
“It’s okay…”
“Corbin. Corbin Stewart.”
“Oh yeah! You are Corbin,” beamed the slightly befuddled returnee.
“In the flesh. Look I just drove up for the funeral and when I saw you I thought that might be him.”
“Her,” she corrected him meekly.
“Yeah. I’d heard. But I’m old enough now not to trust rumors.”
“Smart.”
“So what do I call you now?”
“Lana.”
“Okay, Lana! I just wanted to say hello. A few of the fellas gon’ get together at Hambone’s and have a drink to Miss Cora. Wanna join,” the five-foot-nine-inch, one-hundred-seventy-pound, man inquired.
“Are you sure you all want me to come,” Lana asked.
“We all know Miss Cee. She was like a guardian angel to us all, ya know?!?”
“True!”
“Then come.”
“Sure. What time?”
“We’re headin’ out now. You know most of these niggas don’t hafta do none but smoke and drink for the rest of they lives.”
Lana smirked. She said, “I don’t want to drive my rental car to the bar. I can head back to my hotel and take a cab over.”
“Shit! That crazy,” Corbin declared. “Tell me what hotel you staying at and the room number.”
“I’m at the Dutch Royal on 23rd.”
“I can come pick you up and then you just get a taxi back.”
“Seriously?”
“Hell yeah. What’s ya room number?”
“Two twenty-seven.”
“I’ll be there thirty minutes after you leave.”
Lana arrived at her hotel room and slid out of her black Kasper knee-length, scoop neckline, sleeveless crepe sheath dress. She kicked off her sensible black heels and turned on the sink. Lana removed her underwear. She grabbed one of the fluffy white washcloths and a bar of her Dove soap. She lathered up and washed her body. As she lathered up with vanilla fragranced body lotion, she looked at the clock. She estimated Corbin would arrive in a few minutes. She selected a halter-neck navy straight-line dress. As soon as she finished slipping it on, her door sounded.
Lana peered through the peephole. It was Corbin. She opened wide and invited him inside. He was carrying a brown paper bag. The caramel-skinned, man was still dressed in the same dapper dark green Zoot suit and shiny black Stacy Adams penny loafers.
“Come in,” offered the barefoot Lana.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Corbin responded with gratitude.
“I just need to slip on my shoes and I’ll be ready.”
“It’s cool. The bruhs flaked out. When I said it was Dutch treat, they s**ttered like roaches.”
“Oh wow,” the five-foot-eleven inch male-to-female transsexual shook her head. “Well, we can still go.”
“Yeah! That’s what I thought. But, then I thought we could just have a quick drink at your spot.”
“That’ll work,” she mused. “What do you have?”
Corbin pulled out a one-liter bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin.
“The good stuff,” Lana remarked.
Corbin offered, “Yeah. My drink of choice. All the rest of that shit is just gasoline.”
Lana laughed.
“Do you mind if I grab some clothes to change in to from my car,” Corbin asked.
Lana replied, “Not at all.”
“You can go ahead and pour us up a drink.”
“I don’t have any mixers.”
“Here you go,” Corbin said pulling out eight one-dollar bills and placing it on the desk. “I saw a vending machine sign down the hall.”
“Sounds good.”
Corbin disappeared. Lana put slid on a pair of Old Navy flip flops and rushed towards the snack machines. She purchased two bottles of Sprite and went back to her room.
Corbin knocked several minutes later. When Lana let him in, he was carrying a grey and white Nike duffel bag.
“Do you mind if I wash off real quick and get changed for the drive back,” Corbin quizzed.
“It’s fine,” Lana relented. “There are towels in the bathroom.”
“Thank you!”
Lana grabbed the ice bucket when she heard the water begin running. She opened the room door quietly once she realized the shower head was streaming. She rushed down the hallway and filled the container with ice. When she returned, Corbin was just then shutting off the water. She closed the door behind her and engaged the security latch.
Lana prepared the beverages by first pouring the gin, then adding the Sprite, and finally placing in a few cubes of ice.
Corbin exited the bathroom area wearing a white tank top, blue basketball shorts, and a pair of black-on-silver one-piece Under Armour slides. He smelled like the ocean with a hint of mint and citrus.
“Did you fix our drinks,” he asked.
“Yes, I did,” Lana gleamed handing a glass to him.
“So what you been up to all these years,” Corbin inquired taking a seat on the chair at the desk.
“I went in the Air force. Went to college, Started working as…”
“So when did you become a woman?”
“That was like ten years ago.”
“Cool.”
“What have you been up to?”
“I been married and divorced twice,” he chuckled. “I’m a HVAC technician.”
“Important job.”
“So say you.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“I got three k**s too.”
“Awesome!”
The two of them drank more liquor over the next hour.
Corbin started, “I always wanted to apologize.”
“Why,” Lana inquired.
“Because of the day I tackled you playin’ flag football.”
“You remember that,” her eyes widened.
“Hell yeah!”
“That was a dirty move,” Lana laughed.
“I know,” Corbin said standing. “I was dry humpin’ your booty.”
“I thought so.”
“Yeah. I knew you knew. But I couldn’t say shit. Why else did you think we always asked you to play football?”
“I thought y’all were being nice.”
“You couldn’t play for shit. We just wanted to hump yo’ ass,” Corbin admitted.
“That’s terrible.”
“What you gon’ do ‘bout it now?”
Lana tensed.
“It’s all good,” Corbin confessed. “All us niggas in the hood liked yo’ booty and wanted to get on it.”
“No way,” laughed Lana.
“I swear.”
“Well what stopped y’all?”
“Miss Geraldine. She knew what was up,” Corbin admitted.
They drank some more.
“I wanna make you my woman. I been I love with you since we was k**s.”
“What,” Lana puzzled aloud.
“You heard me. Get out that dress and let me see that body.”
Lana got naked. Her B-cup breasts were exposed.
Corbin admired her. He pulled her close into a sensuous embrace.
They kissed.
He picked her up and placed her gently on the bed.
“Oh, Corbin,” Lana whined.
“Yes, baby,” he checked.
“Take me. Take my pussy.”
“Ooh wee,” he exclaimed as he spat on his ten-inch dick and worked it in her asshole.
Corbin was inside her. She was flat on her stomach. His hands cupped her firm tits. In his mind, nothing had ever felt better.
“Fuck me,” Lana wailed.
“Take this dick, sexy,” Corbin groaned.
“Oh, Daddy!”
After a long night of lovemaking and impassioned lip locking, they awakened.
“I really want you to be my lady,” Corbin announced.
“Always,” Lana replied.
Sherry
- 29.11.2022
- 5
- 0
