He was my poetry professor, one twenty eight year old Nathan Kennick. He was honestly the reason I decided to take a poetry class. As much as I longed...to take a fiction workshop, I couldn't pass up four hours a week staring at him in his flannel shirts. It was an added bonus that his class would help me in getting my creative writing major. We eventually became good friends, maybe a bit more flirty than most teacher student relationships. When I'd walk by him he'd always give my arm a squeeze. Growing up here it was a big no no for white girls to date and definitely not have sex with black men. As I got older I decided I wanted to fuck black men and it would be my secret.One day I got off work and I was very horny, not sure why, but I was. I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and saw a black guy in long shorts, tank top shirt, holding his crotch. There was something about him. The thought of him fucking me seemed really nasty and slutty, but I really felt the urge to do this.I. More

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