THE TONGUES OF THE BLACK TEEN MALE LEGION

Just the thought of some of these guys tasting my legs makes my mouth water!



     One night, I had a dream so strange that, when I awoke the following morning, I just couldn't help but call my father in South Florida and relate it to him...as well as some of my friends from college and the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.

     In the dream, one of the young black men (which was a young man I knew from college) had initiated a large group of black teenage boys between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, telling them of a night of "honky leg licking". Little did I realize that the "honky" whose legs he was inviting them to lick was me!

     It occurred one late spring morning during spring break when I was attending the University of Central Florida. The young black man I knew from college...whose name was Cliff...saw me one time when I was walking with some of my friends down Colonial Drive in Orlando. I was dressed in my trademarked brown short-sleeved shirt, mid-thigh denim shorts and, not white knee socks, but white below-the-calf socks. Immediately, Cliff's eyes went to the back of my legs, my kneebacks in particular. I couldn't see it...but something in my mind told me that Cliff was eying my legs and licking his lips. He went back to the campus and contacted all of his friends of color, telling them to get male teenage family members together for some "lip-smackin', honky leg-lickin' fun".

     One day, when I was walking down Colonial Drive by myself...I had the day free and Jen (who was my roommate at the time) was out of town for the weekend...Cliff saw me wearing my trademarked outfit. He began following me and, as soon as we turned down the alleyway which was a shortcut to the apartment building where I lived, Cliff hit me on the back of my head with what I assumed was a lead blackjack. I fell face down on the ground, unconscious...or barely, because in the darkness I was able to hear a multitude of voices. From the way they said their "I"s, I was able to tell that these voices belonged to other young black men.

     When I regained consciousness, I found myself sitting on a stool. My hands were securely tied behind my back. A noose was placed snugly about my neck. At the other end of the rope was Cliff. I looked all around him to see at least fifteen black teenage boys, staring at me with wide eyes and licking their thick lips. With every muscle in his brawny arms tensing, Cliff pulled the rope, lifting me roughly three feet off the ground. Immediately, I began to choke, my windpipe being squeezed and the precious air unable to enter my lungs. As he anchored the rope down and I began to choke on bitter bile, Cliff eyed the other boys wildly.

     "Go get him, homies!" he yelled, pointing at me.

     Immediately, the boys ran towards my hanging, choking form, their mouths agape and their tongues licking wildly against both the front and back of my legs. As I began to lose all consciousness of everything about me (including the boys tasting my meat), Cliff unfastened the rope and lowered me to the ground, allowing me to suck in the sweet, delicious air.

     "What's the matter, bro?" Cliff asked me as I dropped to my knees. "Don't you know that a hanging body tastes sweeter when it struggles? I invited my little friends here to get a taste of some sweet honky-meat. Now...some of them made faces. I think it was because you weren't kicking them nice-looking legs of yours. So, when I pull you up again, I want to hear some gagging and see some honest-to-goodness twitchin' and kickin' of them meats...or else I'm a-gonna leave you here to die and then bite me a big, juicy chunk of ham. You dig me, bro?"

     Now, right away I knew from reading a book on human anatomy that another word for the thigh and kneeback was "ham". So, I figured that if I didn't want to die this day, I'd better start twitching and kicking my meats while his friends were getting their licks in.

     "Yeah...I dig, bro", I muttered as my lungs filled with air.

     He kicked the stool away as he helped me to my feet. Then, as I stood there, a wee bit wobbly, Cliff took out a meat brush and a bottle of barbecue sauce. He opened the bottle and began to brush the tangy sauce all over my naked legs.

     Lifting the rope, Cliff pulled me up off the ground once more. Immediately, the noose tightened about my neck and, once again, the precious air supply to my lungs was being cut off. As I hanged there, I began to gag as I gasped for air (or at least tried to keep the rope from closing up my epiglottis), my body began to jerk vigorously and my legs began to twitch spasmodically as the little niggers began to lick the tangy barbecue sauce...and the meat that it coated.

The meat that the little niggers licked and dug their teeth into!

     One of the little niggers got a bit too excited by all the action...and bit my right kneeback. When I tried to cry out in pain, my epiglottis collapsed...and the rope tightened about my neck even more. This time, there was no chance of either sucking in air or keeping my throat from closing up.

     I felt the blood in my head pounding in my ears, a sure sign that I was definitely dying.

     My eyes began to bulge as I looked down at Cliff, who held up a mirror to allow me the privilege of seeing my own face turning blue. As I opened my mouth, I saw in the reflection that my tongue had swollen and completely filled my mouth. I saw the whites of my eyes beginning to turn red as miniscule blood vessels burst. Then, my eyes began to cross as I became aware of my heart beating faster and faster...and then stop completely.

     I was still aware of my surroundings as the little nigger who bit into my kneeback climbed up to the limb of the tree where the rope was hanging over, scurried down the rope and, placing one foot on either side of my head, pounced up and down upon my shoulders...until my neck snapped. As I hanged there, dying, the last thing I felt was the rope biting deeper and deeper into my neck...and my head plopped grotesquely down until my chin touched my clavicle. Unaware that I was dead, the little motherfucker continued to jump up and down on my shoulders...until Cliff called him down.

     "He's dead, homey", Cliff replied, a little saddened to the fact. "The fun is over".

     The little nigger jumped down from my shoulders as the others glanced up at my dead body, hanging lifeless at the end of the rope. Then...Cliff smiled.

     "Now, let's eat!" he cried out, as the rest of his black legion lit a fire in the barbecue pit.

     I was taken down and, with the rope still about my neck and dressed in my clothes, placed face down upon the racks of the barbecue pit. The flames roared all about my dead, prone body. I remained upon the rack until my muscles had reached a temperature of 175 degrees...a sign that my body had been cooked to perfection.

     By the end of the night, all of Cliff's little nigger friends had filled their bellies and either fell asleep on blankets which they brought with them...or left to go home to sleep off their meal, leaving Cliff to dispose of the bones which were all that remained of my once vibrant and handsomely perfect body.

Ah, me! This 'twas but a dream...not reality!