Melissa had never deep-throated a guy before. She was aware such a thing existed, of course, but had presumed only the most experienced girls (sluts) would ever be able to do such a thing. Certainly she had always previously limited herself to the first few inches of a guy's … thing.

But so wrapped in that cloud of pulsing heat had she been that when DeShawn had pushed his enormous thing down her throat all she could do was stare in shock! She'd hardly even gagged! He had pushed himself up and down in her throat effortlessly, ignoring her gurgles and gasps and occasional gags as he had used her like... his bitch!

She was quite indignant about that, but also, now that it was done, rather proud of herself, feeling a heady sense of accomplishment. She had certainly had no previous beliefs in the cliché about Black man having large... things, but in DeShawn's case, that had certainly been so! His was the largest she'd ever seen or felt in person!

And yet it had slid right down her throat to the base! And he'd pumped it in and out and in and out, so that the memory of his slick flesh stroking across the inside of her throat still lived within her mind, making her feel a sense of dark wonder every time she thought of it.

And now that she had done it, now that she knew she had done it, she knew she could do it again. That didn't mean she was exactly eager to do it again, for it had been kind of scary not being able to breathe.

The sight and feel of his thick black cock pushing into her mouth and down her throat had been incredible, though. And even now, the memory made her mind and body squirm!

She cringed, remembering how he had made her use the N-word! Of course, that was to remind her of what an entitled person she was, and then he'd made her call him master! That had been to put her in her place, and she agreed with it entirely.

He was showing her what it meant to be under the control of another person, and be forced to bow to their will, even to say the demeaning things they ordered her to say! No doubt he knew that his own family had been ordered to do the same in the past.

She didn't at all mind that part of it, for making amends, in her small way, for the injustices and mistreatment he had probably met all his life, was her... her duty, her responsibility. And Melissa Andersson was a responsible young woman.

She hesitated in an agony of indecision, and then finally worked up the courage and resolution to call DeShawn at the number he had given her.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Uhm... D-DeShawn?” she gulped.

“Yeah. Who's this?”

“It's... it's Melissa,” she gulped.

“Huh, little white girl. You missing my cock, baby?”

She flushed even alone in her room.

“Uhm, I thought, well, that we might get together again.”

“Sure, baby. You was a good ride. I want to feel that pussy of your squeezing around my cock again.”

Melissa cringed a little, and then licked her lips nervously.

“I uhm, well, thought we might uhm, go to dinner.”

“I pick you up in an hour.”

She started, looking at the clock. It was barely three.

“I uh thought...”

“Be downstairs at four.”

He hung up, and she bit her lower lip anxiously. Well, four wasn't so very early. They could talk for a little while, and besides, by the time they got to a restaurant and then ordered and the food was brought to them it would be close to five.

She rushed to her closet and spent most of the next hour trying to decide what to wear. Should it be demure and sweet, or hot and sexy? Or perhaps, something more restrained, something to demonstrate that she was an intelligent and capable person, and equal?

Yes, that seemed like a good idea!

An hour later she was out front clad in gray dress slacks and a green, button-down shirt which accentuated her soft, chestnut hair.

Melissa had always been proud of her hair. It framed her face nicely, and spilled down her shoulders in a tumbling wave. It was longer than was perhaps fashionable, but she was blessed with strong, thick hair which was, despite that, silky soft.

And DeShawn had certainly loved her hair! He had barely kept his hands off it the whole... time.

Thinking of that reminded her he had also used it to yank on as he had ridden her from behind, and that made her nipples tingle and swell within the cups of her lacy white half bra. She looked down anxiously. Her nipples got very long and pointy when they were hard, and the last thing she wanted was for DeShawn to see them and get the wrong idea.

Or rather, the right idea.

They needed to negotiate a satisfactory agreement on the boundaries of their relationship, after all, to ensure it was one of mutual respect and appreciation. Of course, he was considerably older than her, probably by ten years or so, and that left her feeling rather... junior, so to speak, in terms of their equality.

Besides which she had been told what to do all her life, by her parents, who were ever present in her life up until this month, and her uncles and aunts, and her teachers, and coaches, and babysitters. She was used to having adults tell her what to do, and used to obeying them.

The fact she was now an adult was an intellectual concept that her emotions had not quite caught up to.

DeShawn was almost on time today, as his battered Ford Escort pulled up to the curb in front of her dorm.

“Hi!” she gulped.

“Get in, gorgeous.”

She pulled open the door and hopped inside, and then gasped as his hand immediately went to her neck, jerking her over to kiss her in a long, powerful, and deliciously passionate way that had her heart pounding as their lips and tongues slid together!

“I'm just getting off work,” he said, as he released her and pulled away from the curb. “Not like you college people who come and go as you please.”

She flushed guiltily, feeling the strange urge to apologize.

“Nice shirt,” he said with a grin, looking at her chest. “It covers too much up, though.”

She flushed a little, her pulse starting to race as her chest tightened.

Her breasts were always something of a mixed blessing, as far as Melissa was concerned. They weren't huge or anything, but they were larger than normal, and were quite... noticeable. Since it was entirely inappropriate for anyone to notice her for her body parts, much less for her to take pride in such notice, she usually greeted anyone commenting on them with a steely look of disdain.

Of course, that didn't include DeShawn, for they were, well, dating, and she had already allowed him (admittedly after the fact) to see and touch them all he wanted.

“Miss me?” he asked.

She flushed. “Uhm, kind of,” she said in a coquettish fashion.

“Miss my dick?”

She flushed even more.

“Well... kind of,” she gulped.

“Only kind of? Maybe I need to do a better job of making you familiar with it.”