That Young Black Magic

I was in my second year of teaching college English, fresh from grad school at age 24. Three of my classes were freshman English. It was a "university" branch specializing in vocational education, halfway between a liberal arts college and a vocational school. We in the School of Liberal Studies sought to provide a basic general education so that students learned some social studies, appreciation of literature, and general science so that they had some knowledge on which to think critically and not simply become cogs in a corporate machine.

I grew up in a small town in the north, where the only person of color was an oriental, my biology teacher in the community college. I graduated from a four-year university, again with no blacks in my classes. It wasn't until grad school that I became acquainted with a black person, but he wasn't representative, being highly strung and flighty, probably a homosexual.

One of my freshman classes contained two black girls. They sat together. One was taller and slender. The other was about 5' 4" had a pretty, heart-shaped face and a curvaceous figure. She had beautiful skin the color of black coffee with a dash of cream in it, probably from a slave-owning ancestor. Her eyes were a warm dark brown. Her name was Tasha, but, being a chocoholic, I came to think of her as Dark Chocolate.

I taught literature and writing in freshman English. My first writing assignment was a personal narrative to be written in class, as an unadulterated sample of their writing skill, because some of the darlings might otherwise plagiarize. When I returned their papers corrected, and they saw how much they had to learn, I offered them the chance to re-write, revise, and receive the grade their revision earned. I welcomed them to seek help during my office hours.

Tasha and her friend came to my office for help with their papers. Both seemed shy. In the presence of an English teacher, many people are self-conscious about their diction. They had another reason to be self-conscious, however, being in such a minority of African Americans on campus. I worked with her friend first.

Lorena wore slacks and a loose blouse. She did not seem enthusiastic about improvement. She then left, and I worked with Tasha, who wore a blouse that could not conceal that she had large breasts, and tight jeans. I had her move her chair to the side of my desk so that we could both see the new draft of her paper.

"Tasha, you might say something about your life before college: what your interests are, your favorite subject in school, and perhaps a teacher who influenced you. What is your goal in college?"

"I like Home EC and art. I like to make clothes and to draw them. My high school coach encouraged me a lot. She said I had talent--strong arms and legs for jumping and hitting the ball. She helped me get a scholarship to play volleyball here."

Tasha returned to my office a day or two later. She wore a miniskirt that rode to mid-thigh when she sat down and displayed beautifully shaped legs. Nervously crossing and uncrossing her legs, she made it difficult for me to concentrate.

"Uh, you won't let anyone else read this, will you?"

"I sometimes read good papers to the class to show them what their peers can do, but I wouldn't share a personal essay with anyone, if the student wanted privacy."

Tasha had written that she grew up in the Projects in Chicago, apartments for people with low income. Hers was a family of six with two bedrooms. She and her younger sister had to share a bedroom with their two brothers, one older than they and one younger. At puberty, girls especially want privacy. Her mother and father tried to maintain discipline.

One hot summer day, when she was 18, Tasha was playing tennis in the park nearby. There wasn't much to amuse a teenager in the Projects, except sports and sex. She was wearing short shorts under a brief white tennis skirt and a loose sleeveless blouse. A boy her age was playing with her, teasing her and flirting.

They got into the back seat of a car and wrestled, laughing. She noticed a bulge in the boy's pants that hadn't been there earlier. He began caressing her thighs. She squirmed about. He grasped and squeezed her precociously developing breasts. She slapped him.

"Tasha, you ever hear your folks makin' love in the next room while you lie in your bed? They havin' a lot of fun! We can have fun, too!"

Tasha was a sensual girl, and his caresses and kisses excited her. One day, she finally let him try to have intercourse with her in the basement of their building. It hurt like hell, so she fought. Her older brother caught them and "whupped the boy's ass."

"What I didn't write down was how scared I was! I lay there on an old mattress, and froze, still undressed, watching my brother beat the shit out of the boy. Then, my big brother came over and asked if I was okay. I said yes and tried to cover up. He looked up my legs, reached and pulled my dress away from my breasts and threw it aside. He dropped his pants, and I saw that his penis was big and hard for me!

"He said it was about time I had sex anyway. He finished the rape that the boy had started! He made me receive his sperm! He didn't need to warn me not to tell anyone! I knew I had to leave, before he raped me again and again!"

As Tasha rose, I did also and reached out to comfort her with a hug. At first, she balked. I put my arms down and stepped back. A tear fell onto each of her cheeks.

"I'm very sorry! I hope telling me about it gives you some relief!"

Then, Tasha reached out for a hug. Her Afro brushed my cheek and sent a shiver of delight through me. Her voluptuous body provoked lust. I struggled to keep my stirring cock at bay.

I was able to give Tasha a B- on her final version. She returned for help with her next writing assignment, wearing her volleyball uniform. I liked girls' volleyball uniforms: the brief shorts displayed all of their toned legs and were snug enough to outline their asses.

"Sorry for the way I'm dressed, Mr. Blane, but I have volleyball practice right after this!"

"That's alright! Your uniform is very becoming!"

"Really?" She smiled shyly.

"Those shorts show that volleyball is good for the legs."

She smiled and looked at her feet.

"Do you ever go to our games?"

"I haven't, but I'd like to see you play. Tell me when your next home game is."

"Okay!"

"Do you model the clothes you design? You have an excellent figure!"

"Yes, I do, but models are usually a lot thinner."

"One of my professors once told us that most designers of women's clothes are homosexuals and hate women. They pick skinny ones to use as clothes racks. They want to show only their clothes, not the women. Let me know if you wear to class a dress you designed."

"Okay, I will!" Tasha grinned, flashing teeth so white in contrast to her dark skin.

I attended the next home game. Tasha was very good. I marveled at the sports bra that could keep her large breasts from unduly bouncing. Her arms and legs, sensual at rest, revealed strong muscles in action. During a timeout, she saw me in the stands, smiled and waved.

That evening, I chanced to visit a local bar overlooking the lake that was popular with students. As I took a stool at the bar, I heard coeds at two tables singing "Roll me over, in the clover! Then turn me over and do it again!" I first heard coeds singing this song in a bar on the edge of the campus where I was a graduate student. I was shocked at their hypocrisy, for I believed that the girls were all talk and no action.

I saw Tasha among them. I had a drink sent to her. When she received it, she looked at me and smiled broadly. I returned her smile and raised my glass to salute her. There was a vacant stool beside me, and she came over to sit in it. She walked carefully, as if she had had a few drinks. Perching on the stool raised her tight, green miniskirt halfway up her chocolate thighs. Through her white blouse, I could see dark shadows of her large, firm breasts braless!

"Thanks for coming to see us play!"

"I rarely attend any of the school's games, but I was interested because you're one of my students. I could see why you won a scholarship! You are one of their best players!"

"Thank you!"

The noise in the bar increased to a low roar, requiring us to lean close to hear each other. Her scent, mostly young woman, intoxicated me. The history of racial taboos and my lack of experience with African Americans added an exotic appeal to her pretty face and beautiful body. After a few more drinks, Tasha was tipsy on her barstool. She spun around on it, losing her balance, and I had to grab her arm, a strong arm.

"Would you like a ride home? Do you live in a dorm?"

"Yes and yes!"

I grasped her arm as she got off the stool. She went to the rest room. As we came out, the fresh, cooler air hit us. I took her arm again to steady her. It was a beautiful evening.

"Have you seen much of the area?"

"Just the campus and a few bars."

"The moon is just rising behind the lake. Would you like to go look at it and the lake?"

"Sure!"

Like a gentleman, I opened the passenger door of my Mustang for her, and like a lecher, I watched her skirt ride up as she got into the seat. I could hardly keep my eyes on the road with about 18" of "black is beautiful" thighs on display! Tasha seemed too intoxicated to be self-conscious that I was glancing at her legs. I drove down into a park by the lake and parked where no other cars were near, not daring to formulate mentally my intentions.

"It's beautiful here! It looks almost like the moon is rising out of the lake! Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Blane! Are we having a date?"

"I've never dated one of my students. I didn't make a date and call on you, so it isn't formally a date."

"Is it a pickup, then?"

"Oh, that's sounds even worse than dating one of my students!"

She laughed.

"It's a romantic view in a romantic spot, though!"

"Yes, and I'm with a lovely young woman!"

"Thank you! I bet you never dated a black girl before!"

"I never even met one until you! I grew up so far north that there were no black people."

"It's probably time you did get to know a black person!"

"I'm far overdue! I see very few black students here. It makes me all the more concerned to see you succeed!"

"I'd like to get my grade point up, at least to a B-! Is there any chance for me in your course?"

"I think so, if you work hard. You're intelligent. I'll take as much time to help you as you want."

"Could I do anything for extra credit?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Maybe you could suggest something."

I was near treading into a sexual minefield! I tried to sense from her look and tone of voice what she was implying. Maybe, she was doing the same with me.

"You might do some research on a topic that interests you within the field in which you may major."

My eyes strayed from her face over her luscious young body.

"I heard of some girls who get extra credit just by being nice to their teachers."

She looked down at her legs and arched her back, jutting her breasts out.

"Lovely young women like you have a lot of power over men, which doesn't seem fair to us men, but a teacher has a position of power over his student, which he shouldn't abuse. Besides, unless a girl is majoring in sex education, that kind of extra credit will get her only a meaningless grade."

Tasha seemed to blush.

"I didn't mean... "

"I'm sorry! Men think about sex a lot and even more near such a desirable young woman! My offer to help you as much as you want still stands. For the rest, I'll confine myself to fantasizing!"

I tried to conceal that my cock was standing, too.

"Will I be a teacher's pet?"

"Yes, teacher's pet, but not like a Playboy's pet!"

"But you'll fantasize what it's like to have a black woman."

"It's the old taboo that adds an exotic appeal."

"Is that why white masters liked black slave girls?"

"I suspect that was part of it, but mostly the slave's job was to please her master. White ladies were expected to be too refined to enjoy sex, but black women were assumed to be more primitive and sensual. A slave mistress was torn between relief that she didn't have to submit to sex, except to make babies, and jealousy of the slave her husband favored."

"Slave women were raped by their owners. And if you offered me an A in exchange for sex, we'd be like master and slave."

"No, we'd be in a capitalist enterprise. There were some masters who became enamored of their favorite slave girl; her desirability gave her a certain amount of power. She would be a house slave with light duties"

"If I were your slave, would you be enamored of me?"

"Of course!"

"But you'd still being using me for sex whenever you wanted."

"Yes, but I'd try to excite you to enjoy it."

"That sounds almost romantic! After you take me home, will you fantasize about me tonight?"

"That would be a relatively harmless pleasure."

After returning her to campus, I reminded myself that alcohol had reduced her inhibitions such that, sobering up, she might be shocked at our talk, if she remembered much of it.

I added an office hour from 4-5 p. m. 3 times a week, especially for Tasha. At one class the next week, she wore a vividly colorful dress in the African style. It had short, puffy sleeves and an elastic neckline scooped low enough to show just a bit of cleavage. The hem was several inches above her knees. It wasn't tight enough to cling to her generous curves. When she came to my office, I asked,

"Did you make that? It's beautiful!"

"Yes, I did! Thank you!"

I had placed the chair so that I could see her legs when she sat on it. She smiled with a knowing look, as if to say, 'You like my dress but you'd like me to take it off!' The low, loose neckline was an exciting compensation. When I showed her my comments on her latest paper and she leaned forward to see, about half of her luscious breasts were displayed.

"You've improved. As you see, I gave this paper a "B."

I pointed out some corrections and gave her some suggestions, one of which was

"In that dress, you should go to a party or out to dinner!"

"Not to the parties in my dorm or in bars! I haven't the money to dine out, either."

"I'd like to invite you to dine at my apartment. I'm a pretty good cook. Professors sometimes do socialize with their students and even become friends. To be discreet, I probably should invite another student as a chaperone."

"I don't need no... any chaperone! I sure don't want Lorena elbowing and teasing me!"

"You ARE athletic enough to handle yourself in the clinches."

"I guess you'd find out, if you tried to clinch me! I'd like to be friends with my teacher; I'm grateful for your extra help; and I'd enjoy a good, home-cooked meal!"

I decided to continue her liberal education, with her fill of good wine and some classical music from the romantic period. I invited Tasha to supper on the following Saturday. It was early fall, which meant temperatures fluctuating from summery to chilly. Tasha was to wait by a side street, just off campus by some tall shrubbery. I arrived a few minutes early and parked. My cock was already half erect!

She emerged, clad in a brown jacket that left her lower legs exposed. When she sat in the passenger seat, the jacket parted, revealing most of her bare legs. I could smell her: eighteen-year-old woman, plus some perfume. My hands trembled at the wheel as I drove us to my home, my lair.

Inside, when I helped her off with her jacket, I saw another of her creations: a minidress with a low neckline in a print of medium-sized abstract shapes in rich colors, red, green and yellow.

"I'll bet you made this beautiful dress, too!"

"Yes!"

She watched me in the kitchen with potatoes baking in the oven, broccoli steaming on the stovetop, and two top sirloin steaks ready for the broiler. I offered her a glass of chilled Chardonnay, a new drink for her. We sat at the kitchen table.

"Do you like it?"

"Hey, this beats beer, not bitter!" she laughed.

Should I play Rachmaninoff, his Piano Concerto 2, as Tom Ewell did to seduce Marilyn Monroe in "The Seven-Year Itch"? That hadn't turned out so well in the film, although it had turned out much better in the play. I decided on the sounds of a solo piano, my CD of Debussy's Etudes.

When the potatoes were nearly done, I turned on the broiler and slid the steaks under it. We chatted and drank the Chardonnay. I turned the steaks over. We carried our plates filled with the food into the dining room. Then I introduced Tasha to dry red wine, a Cabernet. I lit two tall candles in the center of the table and offered a toast,

"To the success of your college career!"

"This is so different from where I grew up!"

"College is a good place for you to learn, not only from your courses, but also from the culture: art, music, films, guest lecturers, fellow students, food and drink."

"What's that music! I never heard anything like it. It's what you call classical, isn't it?"

"Yes, by a great French composer, Claude Debussy."

For dessert, I served ice cream, chocolate, of course.

"I got this from the little store on Main Street. All of their ice cream is made here in Wisconsin."

"Mmmm! I'll have to check it out!"

"I'm a chocoholic."

"Hmmm, do I look like chocolate to you?"

"Yes, without the calories!"

She laughed.

"I'm eye candy!"

We moved to the living room to sit on my couch. I brought us two liqueur glasses, filled with Irish Cream. I almost spilled it at the sight of her beautiful thighs bared almost to her hips.

"What's this called?"

"Irish Cream liqueur."

"It's good, too! Dinner with you is more of my education!"

I raised my glass in another toast,

"To your beauty and the pleasure of your company!"

"Thank you for having me! Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Tasha kissed my cheek. I put a hand behind her head and kissed her lips lightly.

Looking at her, I began to sing,

"'That old black magic has me in its spell! / That old black magic which you weave so well./ Icy fingers running down my spine./ That same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine!/ I should flee, but what can I do?/ You say my name and I'm aflame!/ Aflame with such a burning desire/ That only your kiss can put out the fire!'"

"Wow!"

I kissed her open mouth, more and more passionately, until our tongues met.

"I don't know how my kiss can put out the fire, because your fire is spreading to me!"

I thought that only an orgasm, preferably while fucking her, would put out my fire, but only to be rekindled soon.

"So you really like my dress?"

"Indeed, I do, but not as much as the woman inside it! It's very pretty, but I suspect that what's under it is beautiful!"

"You mean my underwear?" She laughed.

"I mean what's under your underwear."

"Maybe I'm not wearing any. You'd like to check, I bet!"

With her mouth open to laugh, I kissed her and thrust my tongue inside. I began feeling her up all over her naked thighs, hoping to spread the fire to her loins.

"I guess this is how I pay for my supper!"

"I'm sorry! I'm being extremely unprofessional!"

"You act like you haven't had sex lately. Neither have I. If we both want it, that's not unprofessional."

"It's consensual."

"I'm back in English class, with another new word! It may interest you that there's a zipper on the back of my dress."

I unzipped it and eagerly pulled the dress off her shoulders and down to her waist. She wore a hot pink bra that left some inviting cleavage. I fumbled to find the clasp.

"Next time, do you want me naked under my dress?"

Tasha had magnificent ebony shoulders and tits!

"I dearly hope that there WILL be a next time! God, what beautiful, big breasts!"

She was high-breasted. I estimated them to be "Ds," firm and slightly upturned. Her nipples and aureoles were darker than the rest. I filled my hands with them, kissed them. Her nipples were erect, obviously waiting to be sucked, so I did. She groped for my cock.

"You've had this waiting for me ever since we sat here! It wants to be released. Look at that: it just sprung out at me!"

"It's spring-loaded! Let's not wrinkle your pretty dress!"

She stood and shucked it down to her ankles. I picked it up and laid it on a chair.

"While I'm standing, I suppose you want my panties off, too."

She peeled the hot pink bikinis off and handed them to me. I sniffed the crotch. She was wet!

"Oh, professor, if that's what you do with my panties, what are you going to do to me?"

I led her to the bedroom. I undressed. We stepped together for a naked embrace and passionate kiss while I squeezed her jutting ass. She lay supine on my bed, her knees up. I spread her legs and kissed through her curly black bush to her cunt. The edges of her outer labia were charcoal; inside was pink. Charcoal broiled pussy, done rare inside! I licked my way inside her sex.

"Oh, wow, I never dreamed my professor would be at my feet, much less eating my pussy! I bet you never tasted black pussy before. I never had a white cock in my mouth."

"I profess that the smell and taste of your black pussy are intoxicating!"

I penetrated her with middle finger. Licking and finger-fucking her, I was determined to make her cum.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! You're the first to do that to me! Now, you'll be the first white man to fuck me! Wait, I want to suck your white cock!"

I'd never had a woman suck my cock before!

"Am I doing okay? I never had a cock in my mouth before."

"Oh, my god!"

Tasha's thick lips enhanced her cock-sucking. She licked and sucked with increasing enthusiasm, even gusto. I pushed her back and rubbed my cock up and down her slit.

"Teacher, say some sexy words!"

"Interracial sex!" I shouted and penetrated her.

"Miscegenation!" I shouted and shoved my cock halfway home.

She squealed and kicked up her heels.

"Cunt!" I cried as I got all of my cock up hers, tight and wet.

She screamed. I paused while we gazed into each other's eyes. Then I slowly withdrew to the tip, grasped her big tits, and slid slowly back.

"Fucking!" I said, as I began the old in and out.

"You sure seem to like black pussy, eating and fucking it!"

"Black pussy is exotic and tabu, which makes it all the more exciting. Besides, you appeal to me as a person."

"Your cock feels great and more exciting because it's white! This makes me teacher's pet, right?"

"Indubitably! I pet you and fuck you!"

"Oh, yeah, teach me another word!"

Tasha began to lift her hips to meet my thrusts.

"White people say we have natural rhythm."

"I heard that, on average, black women are earthier and more sensual than white women."

"I'll try my best!"

I fucked her harder and faster. She wrapped her legs around me. Our coupling became even more urgent. Tasha wrapped her arms around my back. She seemed close to another orgasm. She clawed my back, which electrified me and jolted the sperm from my balls. I fucked even harder and faster. She screamed as I pumped my load into her belly. We lay coupled in our afterglow, kissing and caressing. I knew I had to fuck her again.

"I guess you're not done with me."

"You'll get extra, extra credit!"

"I thought that this wasn't working my way through college."

"I'm sorry! It isn't! Besides, I'm doing most of the work!"

My cock was hard again. I rose and began to work her pussy.

"Have you ever fucked a student before?"

"No, this is only my second year of teaching, and you're the most tempting student in any of my classes!

I squeezed her tits, brushed her nipples and fucked her in a leisurely manner to enjoy my cock in her for as long as possible. She began to lift her hips to urge me on.

"My roommate, Lorena, who's also in your class, said she thought you'd like to screw me. I hope she's out or in bed when I get back! If she saw me looking fucked, well-fucked, you would be her first suspect."

I fucked her harder, crazy with lust for beautiful, young black pussy!

"This could get me fired, Tasha! Even if I had tenure, that's one of the few excuses they have to fire a teacher, moral turpitude! I've never heard that phrase anywhere else but in a teaching contract! Even if you weren't my student and the sex were consensual, I doubt that would save my job."

"Don't worry so much! Just fuck me and make me cum again!"

"I wish I could fuck my troubles away!"

Tasha wrapped her arms and legs around me again. We kissed passionately and fucked relentlessly. She brought me to another ecstatic orgasm. I wished I could have taken a picture of my white sperm issuing from her black-rimmed cunt and leaking down the insides of her black thighs!

From then on, I had a sexual fever for her, making it difficult for me to concentrate on my work. Just remembering how her luscious body felt under my hands and her wet cunt around my cock gave me a hardon, sometimes at potentially embarrassing times. Seeing Tasha in my class, before cold weather made her cover up, aroused me so that, more than once, I had to sit behind my desk to calm down.

"'She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.' That's from Byron."

Tasha was back for a night course in poetry. We sat naked together in my rocker

ecliner. Impaled on my cock, she faced me so that we could kiss while I played with her big tits. We rocked gently while we fucked.

"'In Xanadu did Kublai Khan a stately pleasure dome decree Where Alph, the sacred river ran, through caverns measureless to Man Down to a sunless sea.' That's from Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Notice the beautiful sound of the words by these great poets. Today's poets have tin ears."

"That sounds magical!"

Tasha squirmed on my cock. We rocked faster.

"This is the first time I actually made love, with your sexy voice singing love songs and reciting beautiful poetry to me!"

We humped faster and harder.

"'I sing the body electric!' That's from Walt Whitman!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm electrified! I'm cumming!"

She creamed my cock.

"So am I!"

I fired my load up her. What a sweet fuck she was! We continued a weekly tryst to recreate ourselves from the press and stress of college. However, Tasha's future was to graduate with a college degree in her field and move away. My future was to achieve tenure and find a mate.