Melli Blac

When it comes to Amelia “Melli” Black, I still am not convinced whether I was predator or prey.

We met on one of my busiest mornings. I, the pending mentor, had agreed to meet this aspiring journalist who came highly recommended because of superior intelligence demonstrated by a near peerless grade point average, and an acumen for the newspaper business that pointed to a promising career.

When a professor from my alma mater recommended this student to shadow me, following me around on my beat as a reporter for the largest paper in this East Coast city, my response was automatic.

“Sure,” I said. “I’m covering a City Council meeting Monday morning. Have – what’s his name? Melli Black? Have him meet me outside council chambers around 10.”

Weekend activities washed away any memory of the meeting I’d arranged. At about 10:20 on Monday I was among the pack of journalists that burst from the council room, trailing the mayor down the corridor and fawning like bees to honey. His budget just got passed and we wanted to know if he would gloat.

I wouldn’t have noticed Melli if I had not had to squeeze past those fabulous breasts. First, the back of my right hand grazed the outside of her left tit. Passive-aggressive horn dog that I am, I immediately took advantage of the situation as she pressed herself against the wall to avoid the media pack on a feeding frenzy.

My interest turned from the mayor to surreptitiously copping a feel. My backhand, my wrist, and then most of my forearm raked across the front of her chest. Her posture against the wall made her stand straighter and taller than her 5-foot5-inch height. Her breasts did not, could not give.

In that brief, intimate instant, I was imagining her nipples awakening like little flowers when she tugged my arm.

Time stopped. My first thought was of a salacious headline, like: “Black Reporter Molests White Coed at City Hall!” I came out of my lapse when I faintly heard my name.

“Mr. O’Neal?”

I blinked toward the mayor leading the pack away, then back at Melli.

“Mr. O’Neal, I’m Melli, um, Amelia Black.”

I was struck first by her beauty. Her face is round, her smile perfectly imperfect, and dark blonde hair flowing to her shoulder blades.

The name suddenly connected.

“Melli? Melli, I’m sorry. I forgot,” I said, truly sympathetic, and still a little embarrassed. Maybe she hadn’t noticed that some older, tall black man had just mauled her boobs in public, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I let my instinct take over.

With a quick glance at the plentiful cleavage revealed by her snug V-neck T-shirt, I gave her a hug. It was quick. We probably looked awkward, me being nearly a foot taller. For a moment, though, those enormous mounds were pressed against my … well, against my stomach. To me, I was an alumnus just making a protégé feel welcome.

“So, you’re Melli,” I said, stepping back at arm’s length. She nodded and hit me with a sly grin. I must not have been the first person to make that mistake.

“You’ll have to forgive me for sounding like a bigot, but I thought Ellen was sending a black guy,” I said. I think I winced at my own prejudice.

“Where did a pretty girl, I mean beautiful young woman …” I stopped before I suffocated on my foot. Melli just smiled more coyly.

Melli was full figured, top to bottom. I sensed I was at least twice her age. She looked irresistible in those tight-fitting jeans. There seemed to be no fat in her thickness.

Her waist was proportionally smaller than her tits and hips. I wondered whether her pussy was shaved or furry. I dreamed, for a millisecond, that she would moan as I slurped her juices. Damn! Look at that. Her nipples are hard.

Guiltily I thought that she couldn’t be any older than my children.

When I came to my senses, I was busted for the second time in the past 60 seconds. I’m sure I would have blushed had my skin been lighter.

“I thought you’d stood me up, Mr. O’Neal,” she said. I felt more at ease. Her flirtatious tone meant I already was forgiven for the insults.

“Am I in your way? You seem kinda busy,” she asked. She seemed so innocent.

I glanced at the mayor down the hall, hovering at his office door like a diva bee as he waved off the hungry reporters surrounding him. I had all I needed. My attention returned to Melli. My mind turned to my desire to wrap those tender thighs around my ears.

Melli wouldn’t be the first woman I’d ever ogled and fucked in my mind. She wasn’t even the first that day. It was a favorite pastime of mine, a harmlessly placebo-like treatment for my boring sex life at home.

I admit that my wife and I have had a few great years of marriage. That’s not bad for a couple that wed a quarter-century ago. It’s my own fault that I fell for a woman who transforms into a refrigerator in bed.

I looked past Melli’s her modesty. She probably didn’t really care that she’d interrupted my work. I hustled her off toward the elevator. A deadline was bearing down on me.

On the ride down, Melli and I made small talk. We came to an understanding that, since she planned to be in the business, if we would one day possibly be colleagues, she should use my first name, Jay. I already called her, Melli. It was a nickname she said was coined by her toddler nephew who could not pronounce her given name, Amelia.

I pretended not to notice as she checked me out on the elevator. My wine colored silk big shirt draped over the pleats in my black gabardine slacks just where the impression of my flaccid but partially engorged member dangled along my leg.

Melli had to break her gaze to exit the elevator before me, giving me a chance to check out that plump butt sashaying in front of me.

Her ring caught my eye. This delicious college girl was married, I was thinking. I was committed to find out how happy she was in her relationship.

Back at my office, we fit in some conversation as I worked. Yes, she had a husband, but he wasn’t actually hers. Melli would tell me later that he had promised her, swore over a period of years that he was going to leave his wife for her.

Sitting next to my desk, Melli frequently stepped close to my side, bending at the waist nearly baring her bosom to my hungry eyes as she witnessed my words flowing onto the computer screen.

“Melli, you’re killing me with that rack,” I said, my full frontal attack a direct response to hers. She blushed, but she didn’t change her pose.

“What would your ‘husband’ think?” I said. I already knew, by her behavior, that she didn’t care what that sucker thought.

“He’s not here to think anything,” she said, returning to her seat.

“You’d better be careful, girl. Sights like that, and that kind of talk is the stuff that can push a dirty, old man like me right over the edge,” I said. “You should be flashing those treats at somebody much younger than me anyway.”

I was glad that the two co-workers that shared my satellite office were somewhere else on assignment. Melli and I were alone. I couldn’t be sure how much time I had.

As I finished up my story, Melli again was breathing over my shoulder. One of her boobs was pressed against my bicep. We both knew it and understood what it meant.

“I prefer older guys anyway,” Melli cooed in my ear. Her hot breath smelled like fresh milk even if her body screamed poison to me. I was conquered. I was the second person in the room to realize it.

This was moving out of the realm of flirting and mind fucking. I thought I surely would come to my senses before doing something I’d never actually done, that is, cheat on my wife. My next move could be critical.

In one motion, I swiveled my chair and gently stroked my hand up the back of Melli’s thigh. I wedged my fingers in the junction where her jeans rubbed together. I looked into her eyes. Her face was inches from mine. She was expressionless.

I closed the distance between our lips for our first kiss. I was well on my way to becoming Melli’s second “husband.” Melli Black was going to get it, and it would be her first time in brown.

I turned my chair to face her. My hands cupped her surprisingly firm ass, kneading it as I slowly brushed her breasts with my cheeks.

My legs were spread and I could feel the soft material on the inside of my trousers massaging the head of my tool, erect beyond the end of my boxer shorts.

I pulled her to me and planted moist kisses on her bosom and neck. She smelled like a fresh garden. As I nibbled on her ear, I whispered, “Do you know how to suck dick, Melli?”

“Uh huh, a little bit,” she panted.

My hands already were loosening my buckle. If she could suck a little, I would see if she could suck a lot. By the time she was on her knees, my pants and shorts were around my ankles. My hard-on slapped my belly as I raised my ass to pull off my bottoms. When I sat, my bowed rail was aimed at her chin.

Melli seemed to be taken for a moment before she grasped it in both fists, one atop the other. She licked her pouty lips as she stroked my member, staring at the portion that her hands did not cover. That’s the part she put in her mouth first.

I heard her low moan, as she must have tasted my precum. I gasped when she began to work. She held my crown rested on her wet tongue and locked her lips around the top of the shaft. Her hands continued their slow, methodical masturbation while her head remained still. Inside her mouth, a tango was going on.

My left leg suddenly trembled involuntarily, like a dog’s leg when you tickle its tummy. I looked down to see the top of her head with her luxurious hair draped around her face.

I found a partition in her locks and carefully cupped the sides of her head. Her hair parted like a curtain. It exposed her face just as she looked up with those large, blue eyes.

Melli removed her top hand gobbled farther down on the goose until her lips connected with her bottom hand. She held her ground and let out a long, low moan. It sounded like a smile. I couldn’t be sure. I was gasping again and trying to control my grip on her head.

She could, indeed, suck a little. She already had swallowed a lot. Her tongue still was dancing against the under side of my dick when she removed her other hand and comfortably mashed her nose against my pubic hair. My head had eased part way down her throat.

I felt my balls tighten, signaling that I was all but done. Melli knew it, too. She contracted her throat around me and started to slurp her way to the top, covering and squeezing my meat with her hands as it became exposed.

“Cum on,” she said when she could breathe again. She breathed hot, moist breath on my glens and let a drool of spittle drip onto my dickhead. She opened her mouth just as I gripped her head and began fucking Melli’s face. After about a dozen steady strokes, saliva was gushing from the corners of her mouth. My shaft spasmed, and she felt it.

Melli circled two fingers and her thumb as far as she could around the base and gripped it tight. She came up for air. While jacking me off with her other hand, keeping my agonizingly on the edge, she smiled sexily up at me.

“Cum on,” she urged. But she would let me. “I want you to cum on my face,” she said. She seemed proud of herself.

She simultaneously released both hands and deep-throated me again, doing that tongue-diddling thing while I squirmed and ground into her face.

It was then that the first two spurts flew up my shaft and went down her throat. The next squirt hit the roof of her mouth, followed in rapid succession by a glob on the side of her nose and two more, splattered on her forehead and across one of her thick, sculpted eyebrows.

Melli still was jerking me as the remaining dribbles landed on her extended tongue.

I was speechless. My breathing was shallow and raspy as Melli milked my dick. She languidly nibbled and sucked on my as I began to soften. My head lolled from one side to the other where I incidentally noticed a friend on the office across the alley.

He was standing at his window, applauding and raising two balled fists.

I shot a look at Melli. I was about to tell her about our audience, but I was stopped by her actions. She was sitting with her knees folded under her. Her pants were open and unzipped. One hand was furiously flitting inside her panties, and the other was under her T-shirt and bra.

It struck me then that this was going to be a great mentorship.