Date: Sat, 14 Feb 2004 02:48:51 -0800
From: bawdy pen <bawdypen@hotmail.com>
Subject: POOR GRANDPA (scat, racial)

               POOR GRANDPA by bawdypen

   Bobby Femby always enjoyed sitting on the porch,
listening to his Grandpa telling stories of his youth.
Occasionally the 11-year-old would giggle when the old man
clicked his false teeth.
   "Waahl, lesse. I ever tell ya 'bout the time I ate a
nigger's turd?"
   "GOSH! Really, Grandpa?" His family didn't talk like
that anymore. Even Grandpa didn't before his sickness. But
Bobby understood that his stroke often caused him to say
outrageous things.
   "You didn't really, didja, Grandpa?"
   "Sure as shittin' boy!" he laughed heartily. "Some
fellas down by the tracks was gonna string 'im up right
there. Think he stole some peaches or somethin' silly like
that. Them were dark days, what with the Klan running
around and all. I tried to talk 'em out of it...even
offered to pay fur the danged things myself."
   "Did they take the money?"
   "Nope. The leader said if I was such a 'nigger-lover'
then he guessed I shouldn't mind eatin' the boy's turd ta
save him!"
   "Boy?"
   "Yep. Musta been 'bout 17 or so. Hell, I was only 25 or
6 myself. They had him buck nekked, sittin' up on this
horse with a rope 'round his neck. One feller laughed and
said 'twouldn't be a problem cause the nigger kid was
practically scared shitless already! I tried talking some
more, but they all got real excited 'bout the dirty
suggestion. They didn't care much for me and the family as
it was. We were always fightin' their kind of stupid
violence. Did I ever tell ya 'bout the time we all went
down to Little Rock and..."
   "Grandpa, I wanna hear about the ni...ni...the boy's
t-turd!"
   "Goodness, Bobby, what a subject for a young-un!"
   "Y-you started it. You were telling me about..."
   "You gonna yabber all day, boy? Been trying to tell you
this story. Now listen. They was ready to whack the horse,
then decided to really put it to me. Would I do it? Other-
wise they was gonna kill him."
   "And you said yes, hunh? Boy, that musta been awful!"
   "Had to. Nasty business, but I sure couldn't let 'em do
the boy in if they was somethin' I could do ta stop it,
now, could I?"
   "I...I guess not. But..."
   "But nothing, boy. I'd do it again if I had to." He
started to cackle loudly. "Probly easier now, too, since I
could take out muh teeth! Took me a week ta clean 'em that
time! Ha ha. Ever had shit 'tween yur teeth, Bobby?"
   "NO! Uh, no, of course not, Grandpa. Don't be silly!"
   "Anyways, they got the boy turned sideways on that
horse, an' pushed muh face right up ta his butthole. Made
me lick it!"
   "Yeeck!" Bobby cried. "Did it taste awful?"
   "Well, not as you'd think. Not yet, anyways. They was
laughin' and pushin' muh face inta his smelly crack,
watchin' me lick him there. They was havin' a great old
time watchin' this white boy lickin' all over a niggerboy's
asshole. Rotten cuss bastards probly wanted ta do it
themselves, the way they wuz hootin' and hollerin'!"
   "But...how'd he taste, Grandpa?" Bobby asked,
inquisitively.
   "Boy, you sure are interested in the taste, ain't ya?"
   "Well, it's just so dirty doin' that!"
   "Ah, weren't dirty at all, really. Boy was good an'
clean, just had him scared and perspirin' a lot. His
butthole smelled strong mostly from that hot, musky nigger-
sweat. Course that stuff never bothered me much. Always
rather liked gettin' up close to the boys in the field when
they got kinda pungent and that black skin got to
glistenin'. And you could watch..." the old man stared off,
remembering..."those little beads o' sweat run down their
sides from their spicy armpits. Sometimes I'd manage ta rub
up against 'em and collect some in muh hand and rub it
under my nose. And sometimes even..."
   "Grandpa? Uh, Grandpa? The t-turd..."
   "Ah, yes! Magnificent thing it was, too! Uh, that
is..." he cleared his throat, "turds bein' what they are.
Leader went around and tol' the boy he'd best shit if he
wanted ta save his black neck. Poor fella gasped at the
idea. Them whites o' his musta been big as moons! Said he
didn't think he could do it...cause he was all bunched up
inside. That only made the man shrug, and say that was just
a shame, guess he'd hafta die. I could tell from lickin'
him that he sure was tight."
   "Cripes, guess I couldn't poop either, with a rope
'round my neck!"
   "I told 'em, just give me a little time...I'd get him
ta do it."
   "Golly, Grandpa. If a guy can't poop, ain't much you
can do to make him, is there?"
   "Well, you'd think that'd be the case, but I hadda
learn fast. Much as they was enjoyin' it, they was gettin'
restless. I had his hole all slicked up and figgered in
that postion he was in, only thing keepin' his turds from
fallin' right to the ground was his big, wrinkled asshole!
I licked it some more, then made those fellers promise
they'd keep to their word. They swore they would."
   "Golly, Grandpa, guys like that don't keep their word.
Didn't you think you might...go through with it and they'd
still hang him?"
   "Sure, I thought about that, Bobby. But weren't much
choice, were there? I hadda hope. Leastways, I figgered
worst would happen to me was I'd get a mouthful o'
niggershit. Worth the try, right?"
   "I guess. You liked nig..." Bobby choked on that
forbidden word, then realized it didn't much matter with
Grandpa. "You liked n-niggers, didn't you, Grandpa?"
   "Aw, hell boy. Some of 'em was fine fellers. Used ta go
down to the swimmin' hole where they was all swimmin'
nekked an' get right in with 'em and..."
   "What'd you do, Grandpa?"
   "Well, sometimes I'd grab 'em under the water an'..."
   "No. I mean about getting that turd to come out!"
   "Oh...yeah. Well, I got my mouth up to his hole an'
started pushin' muh spit up in there best I could. Then I
got muh two fuck-you fingers wet an' forced 'em in. Boy
cried out, but there weren't no two ways about it...I hadda
get him opened up. I lollied muh fingers 'round up there,
tryin ta make him loosen up natural, but since I din' have
much time, I finally yanked 'em apart...pryin' him open. He
was fightin' all the way...natural, I suppose...then I got
'em spread so's his muscles gave way an' just waited."
   "Didja...think you'd be able to d-do it? I mean, when
it came out?"
   "Shucks, boy. Already had my mind set by then. Just a
matter of gettin' it over with."
   "Yeah, but...jeez, Grandpa...A DIRTY TURD!"
   "Heh, heh, heh! It's all jus' old food somebody already
et!"
   "Sure...with a lotta stink on it!"
   "Oh, stunk alright. Fellas had lanterns right up there
so they could see. Started pokin' out, all chunky an' oily.
I took a lick on it, tastin' the juice that was all over
it..."
   "Oh, Grandpa!"
   "Kinda bitter, but not in a real bad way. I let some
come out, then took a deep breath an' started ta chew it!
Weren't a big one, an' had it down in a snap. They made me
lick the hole clean, too. Fellas stuck ta their word, and
let the boy down. They was laughin' an' insultin' us, but
they let us go. Shoulda seen us run! We made off to the
woods 'fore they changed their minds!"
   "Gosh, I bet he was sure grateful to ya."
   "Oh, certainly was. Mighty grateful. Offered ta eat my
turd, too!"
   "Oooo," the kid turned up his nose, "I smelled some of
yours!"
   "Heh, heh. Gotta remember boy, I was only 25 an' quite
handsome."
   "Did he do it?"
   "Naw, weren't gonna make 'im do that. Let 'im blow me,
though! Even got to be he'd do it ever' Saturday night.
Said he still had ta make it up to me. Took years til he
felt right about it."
   "Gee, didja ever suck on his nigger dick?"
   "Oh, usually licked it some, but it were too big to do
justice to. I were jus' doin' it cause he was makin' me
feel so good, but he thought I wuz really disappointed at
not being able to take it down. So, one night he brung
along his little brother, so's I could suck his prick."
   "Wow, good thing they's folks didn't find out."
   "Oh, whole family knew what I'd done fur the kid, so's
they didn't mind. Had another little brother they told 'im
he could take along."
   "Grandpa? What's it like suckin' a pecker?"
   "Why boy! At yur age ya hafta ask that? Ain'tcha tried
it by now?"
   "Nope. Didn't think you was supposed to."
   "Guess ya ain't, but that never stopped me. Ya oughta
try that little friend o' yours...uh, Clem. Boy's gotta
nice pecker."
   "H-how do ya know that, Grandpa?!"
   "Oh, I sucked the boy silly lotsa times."
   "YOU DID?!! He never told me!"
   "Course not. I told him not to tell anybody. Folks get
nervous 'bout that fur some reason. Don't make no sense ta
me."
   "Well...maybe I'll try it sometime, then."
   "Hell, boy, let's wander round back. I'll letcha try it
out on yur old Grandpa."
   "Uh, no thanks, Grandpa. I think I'd rather try Clem."
   "Okay, but Clem sure don't mind it. Get 'im ta suck ya,
boy's good!"


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