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One day at the end of Friday’s class, Professor Louis Lambert handed me a note. I read it to myself. “Tonight, go to 67 Jefferson Street, apt 3A.”

I’d been looking forward to a weekend servicing Louis’ gorgeous, uncut black cock. Just this past Tuesday night his tongue and his cock made my goodies sing. I was looking forward to reciprocating. Not that I needed to reciprocate. By now you know I’d become the white Mississippi girl who felt obligated to service Louis’ black cock.

To my surprise when I knocked on the door of 67 Jefferson Street, appt. 3A, it was answered by a grey haired black man who looked vaguely familiar. He was wearing a robe. It looked like he might be wearing only a robe. “Come in, you must be Cindy Lou Cosgrove. I’m Andrew Hoffman. You may have seen me around. I teach history at the college.”

I walked in. The apartment was tastefully decorated. “Is Professor Lambert coming?”

“He’s away at a conference this weekend. He told me that you were looking forward to servicing his black cock.”

I blushed. “I-I-I . . .”

“If you open my robe, I think you’ll find something that might interest you.”

I stuttered again. “I-I-I. . .” My mouth had been salivating all week in anticipation of a weekend on my knees.

“Here let me.” Professor Hoffman opened his robe. I just stared. My mouth was agape. I was staring at the longest, fattest cock. “Louis said that you’d be impressed, but I’d be pleased if you were more than just impressed.”

I was mesmerized. His cock wasn’t just longer and fatter, I thought it was beautiful. It flashed through my mind that the myth about colored boys’ cock might not be a myth at all. This was the third one I’d seen: Mitchell, Louis and now Andrew Hoffman’s. The sample size was growing.

As I stared, I was drawn to it like a magnet or a moth to a flame. We’d been standing in his living room. Now, I was on my knees. It was a position I’d planned on being with Louis Lambert, but he wasn’t here and Andrew Hoffman and his big, beautiful, black cock was.

My eyes had been examining it, now I was using my hands; both of them. One on his shaft, which I could barely wrap my hand around and the other on his ball sack, which barely fit in my hand. I was certain it would never fit inside my goodies.

Andrew Hoffman may have been in his mid to late fifties, but in less than a minute that cock was standing tall. I’d just turned twenty. “I know, you want to do more than play with it.”

I did. I kissed it all over with my lips and with my tongue. When I slid my lips over that now exposed cockhead, I was surprised that I could. Get my lips around it, that is.

Slowly my lips took a little more; then a little more.

“That’s a good girl. I’d be more comfortable sitting down.” He slowly stepped back toward his couch. If there was an observer, which there wasn’t, they might have laughed watching me scoot on my knees forward, never taking Andrew’s cock out of my mouth.

When he sat down, I was between his legs sucking as much as I could into my mouth; stretching my lips a half inch, then another. “That’s a good little white girl. You know you want to service my big black cock, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“If you take it all, Andrw will reward you with his tongue. I’ll bet your little white girl pussy is nice and juicy just from suck it.” I nodded again as I took a little more. He wasn’t wrong; I could feel my

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