Tammy Ouilette groaned as she opened the mailbox, seeing the late notice bills, and then she didn't feel any better looking back at the used trailer she lived in. The propane tank was almost empty, she had no credit and running out of income.
Even for a white cracker girl in Montclair County, Alabama, she was below standards. Coming back into the trailer, noticing the door was coming off the hinges, she patted her two year old ******** on the head, and tossed the envelopes on the formica table. Shaking her blonde head she looked at her reflection in a cracked mirror. She was almost pretty, she thought, still, at 24 years old and one baby. She was slender and big breasted, blonde and blue eyed. But she was getting lines around her eyes, and her hands were rough. She and her boyfriend Willard had worked at a textile mill that closed the previous year; the only employment 75 miles from the interstate. Actually, there was a burger franchise in Selma she could work at; except they were hiring all illegals from Mexico. She didn't even know Spanish well enough to work with the crew they had there now.
She sat in a vinyl chair she found in a garage sale, and opened the local paper. No jobs, no prospects! Well, that is, she considered, looking at the employment section. Except for Jackson! Her cousin Oachia told her about work there and she blushed and then looked at the unpaid bills, and again at her reflection in a window. Slowly, she took a felt pen and circled the phone number.
Her live in boyfriend and father of little Debbie, Willard, came out of their bedroom, scratching himself on one skinny arm, and opened the small refrigerator, almost empty, except for a six pack, and popped one open.
He looked at her paper, and laughed. "Forget about Jackson, honey, ain't no white boys workin there. Thas a black-only place. Everyone knows that!"
Tammy shook her pretty head. "Oachia got a part time up there, she done tole me last week!"
Willard snorted as he reached for his jacket and keys to his pickup truck.
"Yeah, well Oachia was a coalburner to begin with!" 'Coalburner' as a hill expression for girls who had black lovers. Tammy protested.
"She might have dated a few black boys but..." Willard rolled his eyes and snorted at that.
"Now she gets paid to suck them off at a prison farm? No way, honey, I got a lead on a job at a apartment construction site over in Melby. We'll make out."
Tammy was still defensive "You don't know what she does there, and we got to get some money in quick. Debbie needs doctor visits. How we gonna fill the propane tank for the winter?"
"Not by you spreadin for a buncha nigga convicts, ah tell you that."
"What do you know about it?" she asked, showing him the article. "It says 'prison conjugal surrogates wanted, by the Jackson Prison Farm. Don't say nothin about nothin else. And it pay seven fifty an hour, too."
"Hell, honey, my buddy Cletis' wife went there for a job. They tole her she was too fat, not right out, but for sure that was it. Hell, Clara is too fat! But she's a good worker, so what else is it? Hellfire, Clara look and work like a damn mule an cheaper at that. Only reason for not hirin her is she too ugly to fuck." Tammy felt she should defend her position but wasn't sure what it was, so decided to be resolute to getting a job.
"Ah don't know what it is, but ah'm gonna send my name in! Jackson is the only employment around here, Willard, we got to adjust to that."
"Well, you just make make my name a laughingstock around here and maybe I'll just pull my name offa that mailbox!"
"Nothin comes to that name ceptin bills anyway!" Tammy snapped back. Willard slammed the door on his way out, not before taking the rest of the six pack out of the fridge.
Tammy watched him leave, and tossed the bills off the table in anger. She knew he was going to the Sideroom Taphouse in Selby to drink the day away. Part of it was true, there wasn't no work since the mill closed but at least she wasn't giving up.
She decided to use the phone while it still worked, and called the Jackson Farm Employment Office.
A couple days later she got a call from Oachia telling her about the interview, which she didn't even know she had.
"What interview?"
"The one today at three o'clock. Hell, honey, aint you heerd? The prison bus leaves the station at 2pm. Wear a nice dress you know, kind of sexy!"
"But, I don't know, Willard and I had us a fight over it, and then sort of made up. He don't want me to."
She laughed, "sounds like my Max. I tell you that he likes the money, and tell you something else, hon. Whiteboys don't like admittin it, but lots of em like the idea. My Max is gettin into it in a big way."
"But, I don't know, it don't sound..."
Oachia teased, "you knew what it was when you made the call hon. Or you gone say now you dint know that? C'mon hon," she lowered her voice in a chuckle, "it's lots of fun, I promise."
Tammy sighed and agreed to meet her at the bus station, mainly because she couldn't admit to her that she didn't know what a conjugal surrogate was until she looked it up in the library dictionary. Schools in Alabama weren't the greatest, and white or black, she was part of the rural class that could barely read and write. And, something else. She was looking through her closet for something to wear and blushed at the thought of being with a black male, because when she was a preteen she had an experience with a black fieldhand from Jackson that she had to suppress or incur the wrath of her farm ******. Her daddy who never produced nothin but hard times, girl babies, and lots of undone chores. When Willard come around she had been only too willin to go with him, if only to escape that back-holler, rock-strewn farm.
Riding the hard bus bench in her short skirt besides Oachia and three other local girls, she tried to read the brocure about Jackson, but gave up, the words being too big.
"What we gonna do, hon," Oachia said, "when we get there is to separate, cuz Lizanne and me, we got to pull our shift. You and these other girls get a briefing and medical exam. You'll like it."
"But, an exam, I didn't know that."
"It's in the brocure honey. Gotta be safe both ways you know. All the boys they send to you are tested so its only right the girls be. Why, yall ain't hidin anythang are ye?" Tammy frowned and said no with emphasis, and Oachia smiled and patted her bare thigh. "Then you got no problem, honey."
Tammy groaned, frowning, and finally spoke up, "I have to know, Oachia. What exactly do I have to do for 7.50 an hour here?"
"Ha, ha, oh cousin, your'e so sweet. Well, you do what you want. I know a couple girls that just do lip service. You know they got ovah fifteen hundred prime young black bucks in Jackson needin relief. Oooh, does that make me wet, hahaha! Anyway, that's how I started, but I kind of like doing everything, and I make 10.95 an hour now. Imagine that!" Tammy's eyes widened at the first thing she said about lip service, and then widened further at that huge pay rate. Nobody she knew even remotely ever earned that much an hour in Montclair County.
An hour later, and she felt like she was in a negroe-run world, because she was. All black staff and convicts, and except for white female office workers and probably other volunteers like herself, it was the first time in her southern cracker life she was in an institution run by the coloreds. It made her feel uneasy, vulnerable, and also made her cunt wet. She was escorted by a big muscular Black buck to a small auditorium for their orientation and interview, and she followed the other two cute white girls in their short skirts, blushing at the frank stares from admiring Black men. What was she getting into?
The muscular guard grinned at them, making the other two girls giggle, as he opened a door, and they walked into a room marked 'Orientation'. Another black man wearing the khakis normally associated with a farm manager with the added twist of a police baton and handcuffs on a belt was standing by a movie screen.
"Greetings ladies, please take a seat. This is where we do all orientation, prisoners, staff and volunteers like yourself, so there's plenty of seats." Tammy went to sit a couple of rows back, and the other two girls sat together, crossing shapely bare legs.
"Anyway, I appreciate your answering the ad, wer'e trying to get a good response and we need the help. So, lots of rumours about Jackson Farms, but let me tell you the facts. It's a pilot project, minimum security facility for young black males, 18-29, with no real heavy felony convictions. These are young men we think can be saved. We have 1500 men at the moment. Good food, fresh air, exercise, state of the art medical and physical facilities. And it is minimum security, so the community who gets the tax revenue from Jackson, has to do its part. We got to make it attractive enough for the men to not want to try too hard to escape, and the experience beneficial. So we allowed for married inmates conjugal visitation with their wives when the facility first opened a year ago. Problem is most men aren't married. And with all these young healthy bucks under one roof we needed to do something," The girls softly giggled. "The problem was we ran out of budget about that time." He smiled and continued.
"Fortunately the BlackRule Party agreed to fund a test program if we agreed to some of their policies, so we have a budget now for paid volunteers. I think it's been a big success, so let's see the film now, and I'll take questions later. And if after this you are still inclined to try the job, we'll have a medical screening and interview. Thank you, lights out please!"
Tammy felt she was in a movie theater, as the lights dimmed and the 8 mm projector started, first with interview of studly black prisoners, really buffed, black and eager. One said he owed the fact of his finishing his sentence and not getting in trouble to the surrogate program. Several men grinned, naked to the waist, and Tammy sucked in her breath as she saw the huge bulges in their sheer cotton striped work pants. Then they interviewed a white female.
She was very pretty, red haired, around 30, wearing a low cut blouse and trying not to be embarassed by the camera. A mostly unseen black moderator asked her questions, and she realized it was the manager who just spoke.
"Hi, Miss Phelps, the audience wants to know what it's like working at the Farm in this program."
"Um, well, (giggle), I um, don't know really what to say."
"Well, do you like the work?"
"Oh yes! I find it very, um, satisfying."
"Did you have any reservations at first?"
"Oh, well, um, yes. I never had much exposure, you know, to well, negroe, black men, growin up. And the first few times, well, I was a little nervous. But," she beamed, "I have no problems now."
"And are you married?" She smiled and nodded. The unseen questioneer chuckled and continued.
"Did your ******, your husband have a problem with this work?"
She rolled her eyes, "did he? Earl and me almost got divorced, but we needed the money, which is real good. He still has a few adustment issues, like the BlackRule society says. But I have to say it's been real good for us. I'm much happier now, we are making out payments on time. I even got my younger cousin to work here, and she loves it too."
"I'm very pleased it's working out for you. You know that it doesn't for all workers."
"Oh sure, I know a girl who got divorced, but you know, she had to do what she thought best. If your hubby or boyfriend objects at first, it's not to say he won't accept it later. I know a girl whose hubby was totally against it at first, and now he really supports her, drives her to work and picks her up, and baby sits her kids."
"And speaking of kids, I see you have a medallion around your neck."
The young woman held up the silver medallion from her deep cleavage with a proud smile.
"BlackOwned!" was its simple inscription.
Tammy felt a stirring in her loins, and then the movie changed to more graphic scenes. Showing the social life, the encounter between a lovely white girl in a comfortable apartment studio which she knew must be one of the surrogate rooms, as a big young black stud, naked to the waist and barefoot entered, and they smiled and talked, because it was obviously not the first time. Tammy licked her lips as she saw him move the big meat inside his sheer cotton pants even as the girl stood up, kissed him, with lots of tongue, and finally, the man, panting, slipped down his pants, and the girls sighed at the sight of the enormous black boner. The big black knob already had a dollop of white presperm drooling out, and he sat back on the couch, even as the woman knelt between his legs. Then the camera faded out. The girls and Tammy knew she was also very disappointed. The lights came back on, the girls sighed, and he nodded, saying he was sorry but regulations prohibited showing any more.
"Sorry ladies, can't show any more. But what goes on in the surrogate rooms is private. It's up to the people there. Any questions please?"
A brunette raised her bare arm, "um, what, um, are these different pay rates?"
He smiled. "Read the BlackRule pamphlet we distributed. It's their program. It starts at almost 8$ but goes to 11 if a girl decides to join the BlackRule party. And there's bonuses too." A girl asked what kind of bonuses. He kind of smiled and added, saying these were BlackRule conditions since they were funding it.
"Well, for having a black baby is a thousand dollars, plus an extra dollar an hour. Having your husband BlackRuled is another bonus, things like that. If a girl gets into this like most do, they can make a pretty good living."
Tammy was still reeling from the image of that huge black hardon, and now from these words, and she realized her pussy was sopping.
After a bit more about insurance and testing, she was led along with the other newcomers to the clinic. A very attractive white girl in a nurse's uniform was waiting that surprised her because it showed a lot of cleavage, along with another male nurse, big and black with a big friendly grin.
Blushing as she was examined, after changing to a skimpy hospital gown, especially as the man remained as the woman took a lot of tests she hadn't ever heard of. Like inserting several fingers in her openings, testing her size it seemed to her while the black man just grinned, and absently moved his huge hand over a big bulge on his groin that she tried not to stare at, because she had imagined at first he had a hardon, but it was only halfway, because it continued to swell!
Continued at: http://www.midnightx.com/ Blackowned Sluts and Sissies!
Even for a white cracker girl in Montclair County, Alabama, she was below standards. Coming back into the trailer, noticing the door was coming off the hinges, she patted her two year old ******** on the head, and tossed the envelopes on the formica table. Shaking her blonde head she looked at her reflection in a cracked mirror. She was almost pretty, she thought, still, at 24 years old and one baby. She was slender and big breasted, blonde and blue eyed. But she was getting lines around her eyes, and her hands were rough. She and her boyfriend Willard had worked at a textile mill that closed the previous year; the only employment 75 miles from the interstate. Actually, there was a burger franchise in Selma she could work at; except they were hiring all illegals from Mexico. She didn't even know Spanish well enough to work with the crew they had there now.
She sat in a vinyl chair she found in a garage sale, and opened the local paper. No jobs, no prospects! Well, that is, she considered, looking at the employment section. Except for Jackson! Her cousin Oachia told her about work there and she blushed and then looked at the unpaid bills, and again at her reflection in a window. Slowly, she took a felt pen and circled the phone number.
Her live in boyfriend and father of little Debbie, Willard, came out of their bedroom, scratching himself on one skinny arm, and opened the small refrigerator, almost empty, except for a six pack, and popped one open.
He looked at her paper, and laughed. "Forget about Jackson, honey, ain't no white boys workin there. Thas a black-only place. Everyone knows that!"
Tammy shook her pretty head. "Oachia got a part time up there, she done tole me last week!"
Willard snorted as he reached for his jacket and keys to his pickup truck.
"Yeah, well Oachia was a coalburner to begin with!" 'Coalburner' as a hill expression for girls who had black lovers. Tammy protested.
"She might have dated a few black boys but..." Willard rolled his eyes and snorted at that.
"Now she gets paid to suck them off at a prison farm? No way, honey, I got a lead on a job at a apartment construction site over in Melby. We'll make out."
Tammy was still defensive "You don't know what she does there, and we got to get some money in quick. Debbie needs doctor visits. How we gonna fill the propane tank for the winter?"
"Not by you spreadin for a buncha nigga convicts, ah tell you that."
"What do you know about it?" she asked, showing him the article. "It says 'prison conjugal surrogates wanted, by the Jackson Prison Farm. Don't say nothin about nothin else. And it pay seven fifty an hour, too."
"Hell, honey, my buddy Cletis' wife went there for a job. They tole her she was too fat, not right out, but for sure that was it. Hell, Clara is too fat! But she's a good worker, so what else is it? Hellfire, Clara look and work like a damn mule an cheaper at that. Only reason for not hirin her is she too ugly to fuck." Tammy felt she should defend her position but wasn't sure what it was, so decided to be resolute to getting a job.
"Ah don't know what it is, but ah'm gonna send my name in! Jackson is the only employment around here, Willard, we got to adjust to that."
"Well, you just make make my name a laughingstock around here and maybe I'll just pull my name offa that mailbox!"
"Nothin comes to that name ceptin bills anyway!" Tammy snapped back. Willard slammed the door on his way out, not before taking the rest of the six pack out of the fridge.
Tammy watched him leave, and tossed the bills off the table in anger. She knew he was going to the Sideroom Taphouse in Selby to drink the day away. Part of it was true, there wasn't no work since the mill closed but at least she wasn't giving up.
She decided to use the phone while it still worked, and called the Jackson Farm Employment Office.
A couple days later she got a call from Oachia telling her about the interview, which she didn't even know she had.
"What interview?"
"The one today at three o'clock. Hell, honey, aint you heerd? The prison bus leaves the station at 2pm. Wear a nice dress you know, kind of sexy!"
"But, I don't know, Willard and I had us a fight over it, and then sort of made up. He don't want me to."
She laughed, "sounds like my Max. I tell you that he likes the money, and tell you something else, hon. Whiteboys don't like admittin it, but lots of em like the idea. My Max is gettin into it in a big way."
"But, I don't know, it don't sound..."
Oachia teased, "you knew what it was when you made the call hon. Or you gone say now you dint know that? C'mon hon," she lowered her voice in a chuckle, "it's lots of fun, I promise."
Tammy sighed and agreed to meet her at the bus station, mainly because she couldn't admit to her that she didn't know what a conjugal surrogate was until she looked it up in the library dictionary. Schools in Alabama weren't the greatest, and white or black, she was part of the rural class that could barely read and write. And, something else. She was looking through her closet for something to wear and blushed at the thought of being with a black male, because when she was a preteen she had an experience with a black fieldhand from Jackson that she had to suppress or incur the wrath of her farm ******. Her daddy who never produced nothin but hard times, girl babies, and lots of undone chores. When Willard come around she had been only too willin to go with him, if only to escape that back-holler, rock-strewn farm.
Riding the hard bus bench in her short skirt besides Oachia and three other local girls, she tried to read the brocure about Jackson, but gave up, the words being too big.
"What we gonna do, hon," Oachia said, "when we get there is to separate, cuz Lizanne and me, we got to pull our shift. You and these other girls get a briefing and medical exam. You'll like it."
"But, an exam, I didn't know that."
"It's in the brocure honey. Gotta be safe both ways you know. All the boys they send to you are tested so its only right the girls be. Why, yall ain't hidin anythang are ye?" Tammy frowned and said no with emphasis, and Oachia smiled and patted her bare thigh. "Then you got no problem, honey."
Tammy groaned, frowning, and finally spoke up, "I have to know, Oachia. What exactly do I have to do for 7.50 an hour here?"
"Ha, ha, oh cousin, your'e so sweet. Well, you do what you want. I know a couple girls that just do lip service. You know they got ovah fifteen hundred prime young black bucks in Jackson needin relief. Oooh, does that make me wet, hahaha! Anyway, that's how I started, but I kind of like doing everything, and I make 10.95 an hour now. Imagine that!" Tammy's eyes widened at the first thing she said about lip service, and then widened further at that huge pay rate. Nobody she knew even remotely ever earned that much an hour in Montclair County.
An hour later, and she felt like she was in a negroe-run world, because she was. All black staff and convicts, and except for white female office workers and probably other volunteers like herself, it was the first time in her southern cracker life she was in an institution run by the coloreds. It made her feel uneasy, vulnerable, and also made her cunt wet. She was escorted by a big muscular Black buck to a small auditorium for their orientation and interview, and she followed the other two cute white girls in their short skirts, blushing at the frank stares from admiring Black men. What was she getting into?
The muscular guard grinned at them, making the other two girls giggle, as he opened a door, and they walked into a room marked 'Orientation'. Another black man wearing the khakis normally associated with a farm manager with the added twist of a police baton and handcuffs on a belt was standing by a movie screen.
"Greetings ladies, please take a seat. This is where we do all orientation, prisoners, staff and volunteers like yourself, so there's plenty of seats." Tammy went to sit a couple of rows back, and the other two girls sat together, crossing shapely bare legs.
"Anyway, I appreciate your answering the ad, wer'e trying to get a good response and we need the help. So, lots of rumours about Jackson Farms, but let me tell you the facts. It's a pilot project, minimum security facility for young black males, 18-29, with no real heavy felony convictions. These are young men we think can be saved. We have 1500 men at the moment. Good food, fresh air, exercise, state of the art medical and physical facilities. And it is minimum security, so the community who gets the tax revenue from Jackson, has to do its part. We got to make it attractive enough for the men to not want to try too hard to escape, and the experience beneficial. So we allowed for married inmates conjugal visitation with their wives when the facility first opened a year ago. Problem is most men aren't married. And with all these young healthy bucks under one roof we needed to do something," The girls softly giggled. "The problem was we ran out of budget about that time." He smiled and continued.
"Fortunately the BlackRule Party agreed to fund a test program if we agreed to some of their policies, so we have a budget now for paid volunteers. I think it's been a big success, so let's see the film now, and I'll take questions later. And if after this you are still inclined to try the job, we'll have a medical screening and interview. Thank you, lights out please!"
Tammy felt she was in a movie theater, as the lights dimmed and the 8 mm projector started, first with interview of studly black prisoners, really buffed, black and eager. One said he owed the fact of his finishing his sentence and not getting in trouble to the surrogate program. Several men grinned, naked to the waist, and Tammy sucked in her breath as she saw the huge bulges in their sheer cotton striped work pants. Then they interviewed a white female.
She was very pretty, red haired, around 30, wearing a low cut blouse and trying not to be embarassed by the camera. A mostly unseen black moderator asked her questions, and she realized it was the manager who just spoke.
"Hi, Miss Phelps, the audience wants to know what it's like working at the Farm in this program."
"Um, well, (giggle), I um, don't know really what to say."
"Well, do you like the work?"
"Oh yes! I find it very, um, satisfying."
"Did you have any reservations at first?"
"Oh, well, um, yes. I never had much exposure, you know, to well, negroe, black men, growin up. And the first few times, well, I was a little nervous. But," she beamed, "I have no problems now."
"And are you married?" She smiled and nodded. The unseen questioneer chuckled and continued.
"Did your ******, your husband have a problem with this work?"
She rolled her eyes, "did he? Earl and me almost got divorced, but we needed the money, which is real good. He still has a few adustment issues, like the BlackRule society says. But I have to say it's been real good for us. I'm much happier now, we are making out payments on time. I even got my younger cousin to work here, and she loves it too."
"I'm very pleased it's working out for you. You know that it doesn't for all workers."
"Oh sure, I know a girl who got divorced, but you know, she had to do what she thought best. If your hubby or boyfriend objects at first, it's not to say he won't accept it later. I know a girl whose hubby was totally against it at first, and now he really supports her, drives her to work and picks her up, and baby sits her kids."
"And speaking of kids, I see you have a medallion around your neck."
The young woman held up the silver medallion from her deep cleavage with a proud smile.
"BlackOwned!" was its simple inscription.
Tammy felt a stirring in her loins, and then the movie changed to more graphic scenes. Showing the social life, the encounter between a lovely white girl in a comfortable apartment studio which she knew must be one of the surrogate rooms, as a big young black stud, naked to the waist and barefoot entered, and they smiled and talked, because it was obviously not the first time. Tammy licked her lips as she saw him move the big meat inside his sheer cotton pants even as the girl stood up, kissed him, with lots of tongue, and finally, the man, panting, slipped down his pants, and the girls sighed at the sight of the enormous black boner. The big black knob already had a dollop of white presperm drooling out, and he sat back on the couch, even as the woman knelt between his legs. Then the camera faded out. The girls and Tammy knew she was also very disappointed. The lights came back on, the girls sighed, and he nodded, saying he was sorry but regulations prohibited showing any more.
"Sorry ladies, can't show any more. But what goes on in the surrogate rooms is private. It's up to the people there. Any questions please?"
A brunette raised her bare arm, "um, what, um, are these different pay rates?"
He smiled. "Read the BlackRule pamphlet we distributed. It's their program. It starts at almost 8$ but goes to 11 if a girl decides to join the BlackRule party. And there's bonuses too." A girl asked what kind of bonuses. He kind of smiled and added, saying these were BlackRule conditions since they were funding it.
"Well, for having a black baby is a thousand dollars, plus an extra dollar an hour. Having your husband BlackRuled is another bonus, things like that. If a girl gets into this like most do, they can make a pretty good living."
Tammy was still reeling from the image of that huge black hardon, and now from these words, and she realized her pussy was sopping.
After a bit more about insurance and testing, she was led along with the other newcomers to the clinic. A very attractive white girl in a nurse's uniform was waiting that surprised her because it showed a lot of cleavage, along with another male nurse, big and black with a big friendly grin.
Blushing as she was examined, after changing to a skimpy hospital gown, especially as the man remained as the woman took a lot of tests she hadn't ever heard of. Like inserting several fingers in her openings, testing her size it seemed to her while the black man just grinned, and absently moved his huge hand over a big bulge on his groin that she tried not to stare at, because she had imagined at first he had a hardon, but it was only halfway, because it continued to swell!
Continued at: http://www.midnightx.com/ Blackowned Sluts and Sissies!
