1. Ty & Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love


    Date: 11/23/2014, Categories: Fiction, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Oral Sex, Romance, Teen Male/Teen Female, Author: senorlongo, Rating: 85, Source: sexstories.com

    school. Look at me; I’m dressed for church, not school. I want to go to public school.” “No grandson of mine is going to school with those niggers.” I shook my head. “No wonder you have a reputation as the parish’s biggest racist, Grandpa. Fine, I’ll leave and find someplace else to live. I’m eighteen now.” “You don’t mean that, Ty.” Mom was practically in tears. “Why, Mom don’t I have any say in this? Isn’t it bad enough that you and Dad couldn’t make a go of it? Isn’t it bad enough that I lost all my friends and my AAU and school teams? Now you want me to go to a school that doesn’t even have any. I bet all those kids are just snobs.” I’d had enough; I walked away, slamming the door to my room. My mom knocked about five minutes later. “Can I come in, Ty?” I opened the door and sat on the bed, my head down to hide the tears in my eyes. “Ty, you know that your grandfather just wants what’s best for you.” “No, Mom…what he wants is to create another person like himself—another bigoted snob, or is it snobby bigot?” “That’s not fair, Ty.” “Fair, Mom? Is it fair that I’m even here? I didn’t have a choice in that, did I? Truthfully, Mom he hasn’t shown me anything I could respect or love. He didn’t take me in, Mom. He took you. I have a hard time believing you are even related to him. I don’t want to be like him. I want to be like my father—a decent, honest, hard-working man. I’m sorry if that hurts you, Mom.” “That doesn’t hurt me, Ty. I know your father is all of those things. ...
    Unfortunately, we didn’t get along. You are right, though—you shouldn’t have to pay for that. I have to make dinner now. Can we talk again after we’ve cleaned up?” I agreed; Mom hugged me and kissed me then closed the door. Dinner was like being in a morgue. We ate in total silence although Grandpa did comment once about eating “nigger food” when Mom put a big platter of fried chicken on the table. She knew it was my favorite. I gave my grandfather a look that would cut through steel at that remark, but said nothing. What would I say in response to that? What could I say? He may have been my mother’s father, but I had no love or respect for him. If he weren’t kin I’d cross the street to avoid him. I helped Mom clear the table and put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. After wiping down the table I took the trash out to the street. Then I retreated again to my room. I had my own computer and printer, my own TV and stereo. I had a smart phone and everything else a rich kid could have. What I didn’t have was a feeling of being wanted or loved. I knew my mom loved me, but my grandparents would have been happier if I had stayed in Indiana. Mom knocked on the door frame a few minutes later. She sat next to me after closing the door, putting her arm around my shoulders. “What will happen if I take you back to the school tomorrow?” “The same thing, Mom—I do not want to go there…period. Mom, I met a lot of kids at the park. I like them. I met a girl, too. She spoke up for me when I ...
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