Holy Godfather Of My School
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O Holy Night free porn video
Mike Dyer knew full well that his employer was one of the most transgender friendly college campuses around - especially in the South. The hardy, rangy, shiny-headed facilities supervisor had attended more than one training regarding LGBTQ+ issues. He knew not to assume pronouns when meeting people. The thirty-seven year old native Carolinian had no issue with people based on what they chose to do. He wasn’t sure if people were born that way or not, but ultimately it didn’t matter to him. He believed everyone should be free to do what they wanted as long as they were not causing actual harm to others.
He went to inspect the work of his team in one of the school’s many gender-neutral bathrooms in the dormitories. The soon-to-be divorced dad walked past the room belonging to a sophomore vocal performance major - Khloe Weeks. His loins heated up. His cock stiffened. ‘Down boy,’ he mentally ordered his rod. ‘She’s not here right now.’
Mike felt satisfied with what he saw. The faucets were all working. The toilet flushed without issue. He noted this and went across campus to see how things were progressing with the holiday decorations in the recital hall.
There were facilities employees and work-study students busy erecting trees, stringing lights, and hanging garland. He wasn’t big on decorating himself, but the semi pro placekicker knew it was all a part of the job. Being in the same building as Khloe sent him into overdrive. He could just imagine her tight little ass and her soft lips.
“Uh, hello, Dr. Morris,” he snapped out of his daydream.
“Hi, Mr. Dyer. How art thou,” the deep-brown woman with a cool, silver undertone asked.
“Good. And you?”
“I’m well,” she replied with perfect diction. “You all have it looking lovely in here.”
“Thanks! We try!”
“Well, we appreciate it!”
“Great sweater by the way,” he chuckled.
“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Ugly sweater day is my favorite day of the year.”
Dr. Kenya Morris switched away. She thought of how incredibly handsome the blue-collar motherfucker was. She was on her way to grab lunch with one of the school’s athletic trainers. As an openly member of the LGBTQ+ identified faculty and staff, she was quite open about her transition from male to female. She was less so about her sex life. She got into her late model red Honda Accord and drove off campus to their designated meeting place.
The music professor arrived at Takarsh’s apartment complex.
The graduate student and trainer shared the swanky place with a friend who was at work. He opened the door in nothing but his boxer briefs.
Kenya’s light-brown eyes lusted after the performance-underwear-clad, beigish-brown, sinewy brotha. “Nice hat, Santa,” she smiled.
“Merry Christmas,” grinned the guy who had played point guard for the university’s basketball team during undergrad.
“Merry Christmas to you too, handsome,” she winked at the considerably younger fellow.
“Have you been naughty or nice?”
Takarsh shut the door behind them.
“Very naughty,” Kenya pursed her lips. “Bathroom,” she asked holding up an oversized green faux leather tote bag.
“Yeah! You know the way, baby!”
Tarkarsh studied her lusciously round hips. The dude who majored in sports management and minored in percussion was so happy he’d met her. It took him a while to reconcile his attraction because of his fundamentalist Christian upbringing in the COGIC denomination. But, now the midtwenties guy was good to go. He couldn’t wait to see what Kenya had in store for him today. He stroked his throbbing dick.
Takarsh saw Kenya came out of the bathroom wearing a bright green velvet teddy that had red trimming all around it. He loved how it cupped her B-cup tatas that fuller at the bottom than the top. Then his dark eyes followed the garment as it thinned to a straight line down her belly to where it covered her private area.
“Do you like, Santa,” quizzed the professor.
“Yes! Santa loves his little elf,” he licked his lips.
She twirled around.
“Ah hell! It’s crotchless in the back too! I can fuck you in that,” he beamed.
“Yes, sir!”
Takarsh and Dr. Morris went to his bedroom. She fell to her knees and pulled down the undies. His 8¼-inch-by-5¾-inch cock popped out.
“Oh my,” Kenya salivated.
“You like that, baby,” he asked the fortysomething vixen.
“You know Mama loves it!”
Kenya began sucking it. She licked the head with care and took it down her throat with affection.
“Damn! I hate we gotta do quickies,” Takarsh bemoaned.
“Mmhmm,” she kept sucking.
“This shit feels good, Mama!”
“Mmmmm!”
“I need to fuck that pretty booty!”
“Mmhmm!”
“Get up on the bed,” he ordered. “Santa wants you on your back.”
Kenya lay back with her large coily-curly Afro hitting the pillow.
Takarsh grabbed a fistful of her hair and launched into a deep kiss. He then licked down her body. He gave her clitty a bit of oral attention before raising her legs and eating her out.
“Oh my god,” whined the contratenor.
Yes, Kenya’s singing voice was tenor at core, but she had the range of a woman through certain rare physiological circumstances. She performed nearly always at contralto or mezzo-soprano. As a matter of fact, while she studied at the CUNY Graduate Center for her Doctor of Musical Arts degree in voice performance, she never once performed using the lower ranges of most men. On occasion, she would bring it out when coaching a male student.
“You ready for this dick,” Takarsh sat up.
“Yes, Santa,” she whined.
“So you been a naughty girl,” he checked as he angled his dick at her hole.
“Yes, sir!”
“Santa’s gonna punish his elf. But you’ll like it,” he winked.
“Yes, sir,” she traced the outline of his chiseled chest.
He kissed her again as he entered her wanting inner sanctum. “So tight,” he groaned. The young stud rammed his meat inside of her. He heard her wail, but paid it no mind. Her melodic pleas for gentle treatment were not his concern at the moment. He was singularly focused. He could be tender next time. He needed to ravish her.
Takarsh slammed his big cock in and out.
Kenya purred, “Oh my god!”
“Yeah baby! Take this big Black dick,” demanded the humping partner.
“Pound that tranny ass!”
“Yeah, gurl! I love your tranny pussy!”
Takarsh gave Kenya full, deep, forceful strokes. His thrust game was at its best right now.
Kenya begged. “Fuck me!”
“Yeah, baby,” Takarsh’s eyes glazed over. He tossed the transsexual on her stomach. He tugged at her ginormous tresses. He pulled her up to her knees and back into him. His pelvis met her well-padded derriere with incredible might. He hammered her as she purred.
“Oh my god! Fuck meeeee!”
“Yeah, bitch,” he grunted.
Takarsh fucked his former instructor with every bit of his being until he released a fat load of baby batter in her rectum. “Damn,” he huffed.
Later that day, after Kenya had freshened up and returned to campus, she readied herself for the evening student recitative, or vocal music performance. It was a requirement for all voice majors and minors. One of her star pupils, Khloe Weeks, was performing. Kenya pulled off the royal blue high-low semi formal jacquard sleeveless dress with and open back. She had on strappy black stilettos to round out her look.
Across campus, Khloe closed her eyes and opened them repeatedly. The white girl with a rosy complexion exercised her lips by moving them in the shapes that would appear when she sang later. She approved of her flowing, spaghetti strap floor-length dress that was made of tulle and had alternating swatches of sky blue and light pink. The beaded midsection revealed her tiny 22-inch waist. She was proud of her look as she fluffed her lengthy, bouncy dirty-blonde hair. This had been a gift from her dad and stepmom. Tonight, they would be in attendance.
Dr. Morris ascended the stage once more. She smiled and said, “Thank you for that, Mr. Poole. Now, you will delight yourselves with one of our most incredible voices. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ms. Khloe Weeks.”
Khloe stepped up. The concert pianist began.
A classical guitarist, mixed with Vietnamese and Black, strummed. He was a senior and was getting credit for this plus the fifty bucks Khloe’s mom kicked in even though she couldn’t be there from North Dakota. He gave her the lead in they’d practiced many times.
Then the rapsy, contralto voice started softly. “O Holy night. The stars are brightly shining.” She stood still like a doll as she continued delivering her notes. Her arms became fluid as she reached a later stanze. “A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices.” Her hand opened and began to rise. “For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” Her arms were now above her head as she looked upward then she pointed her right forefinger towards the floor. “Fall on your knees!” Khloe lowered her dainty body down to the stage. “O hear the angel voices,” she sang commandingly while touching her ears and then moving her hands towards her audience.
Khloe rose carefully. “O night divine!” She began to stiffen as she belted the remainder of the song. By the time she sang the final line, she was a porcelain doll once more. The audience erupted.
Mike Dyer had come back to campus just to see her. His cock jumped all over the place waiting to congratulate her. He wanted to bring her flowers, but as an employee that would not have been appropriate. Instead, he left the bouquet in his gray Toyota Tacoma pickup truck.
Dr. Morris spotted Mike at the end.
“I had no idea you were a fan of Christmas music,” she smiled.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he grinned.
“I bet you are,” Kenya mused. “How did you like it?”
“It was great! We’ve had to work on that last girl’s bathroom a few times. Kinda just thought she was diva. Now I know for sure she is a diva,” he tried to downplay knowing her.
“Yeah! That chick is a diva. And I’m here for it,” Kenya grinned. “I gotta mingle, Mr. Dyer. See you later I hope.”
“Sure,” he replied unaware that he could easily fuck Kenya. He was only a white guy. Why would a Black goddess want him.
“Dad, Lisa, this is Mike Dyer,” Khloe beamed all of a sudden.
“Hey,” Mike said a bit shocked.
“He’s in charge of maintenance. He makes sure my horrible bathroom stays working.”
“Nice to meet you, Mike,” Lisa Weeks offered a hand. “I’m Lisa,” the bottle blonde, leggy woman shared. “This is my husband, Khloe’s father, Jerry.”
Jerry, a graying athletic looking dude, gave Mike a handshake. “Thanks for taking care of our angel!”
“I don’t do much, sir. Just my job,” Mike explained nervously.
“Nonsense,” retorted Jerry. “Khloe’s happiness keeps me happy.”
“Is that so,” laughed Mike.
“Heck yeah, son,” the middle aged man stated. “If Khloe is mad then my wife and EX-WIFE never let me hear the end of it.
Khloe’s face reddened. “Dad,” she admonished him.
“What, sweetie? You know it’s true,” the father revealed.
“It was great meeting you, Mike,” Lisa Weeks wrapped up the interaction.
Mike watched Khloe escort her parents towards the door. They all hugged and the older people left. The diva went back to socializing. He went to his vehicle and texted his tart.
Khloe read it and hustled to his location. Her ready bag was already with him.
Mike sped off to a cheap motel. He took Khloe into the room and handed her the backpack.
She changed in the bathroom and emerged in a candy cane striped bra and panty set. “This is gorgeous,” she hugged the man.
“I thought you might like it,” he replied, still in his dress jeans and button-down, eggshell-colored shirt.
“I do,” she modeled it for him.
“I like you in it to,” he crowded her and grabbed her ass cheeks with his massive hands.
“Oh, Daddy,” she cooed.
“Yes, baby,” he bent down to kiss her slender, five-foot-seven frame.
Mike lifted her and carried her to the bed. He threw her petite body onto it. The mattress creaked. She giggled. He laughed. “Miss me,” he inquired.
“Of course!”
“Show me,” he ordered undressing quickly.
Khloe took out her already hard 4½-inch fag stick. “See,” she cried.
“Good girl,” Mike salivated.
The still married man jumped on the bed. It almost broke with his sudden added weight. He put the thin, wiry cocklet in his mouth and suck it ferociously.
“Oh my god,” the trap shrieked.
“Mmmmm,” Mike kept sucking.
FInally, Khloe pushed him off. She moved around and opened wide. Her teensy hands gripped Mike’s yummy 7¾-inches-by-5-inches tool and stuffed it down her mouth.
Somehow, they ended up in the 69 position with Khloe blowing and Mike eating the sissy’s asspussy.
Then, Mike pulled away. He loomed over her. “I want that hole!”
Khloe lay back and lifted her legs.
Mike slid in between them. His cock stretched her like crazy.
“Oh my god,” she wailed.
“You can take it,” he promised.
He fucked her nice and hard.
Now, Khloe’s legs were spread far apart.
Mike had one foot on the bed and the other on the floor.
He thundered in and out of his babe.
Khloe stroked her clitty-cock and purred, “Fuck my little pussy!”
“You like this cock?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Fuck me, Mike! You liked meeting my parents.”
“I was scared as shit.”
“I bet they know you’re fucking me.”
“No way!”
“At least my stepmom does. She knows I’m a hot in the ass little fag for big White cock!”
“Oh yeah, gurl!”
Mike collapsed onto Khloe. She now had copious amounts of his DNA packed inside her pink booty hole.
He went to inspect the work of his team in one of the school’s many gender-neutral bathrooms in the dormitories. The soon-to-be divorced dad walked past the room belonging to a sophomore vocal performance major - Khloe Weeks. His loins heated up. His cock stiffened. ‘Down boy,’ he mentally ordered his rod. ‘She’s not here right now.’
Mike felt satisfied with what he saw. The faucets were all working. The toilet flushed without issue. He noted this and went across campus to see how things were progressing with the holiday decorations in the recital hall.
There were facilities employees and work-study students busy erecting trees, stringing lights, and hanging garland. He wasn’t big on decorating himself, but the semi pro placekicker knew it was all a part of the job. Being in the same building as Khloe sent him into overdrive. He could just imagine her tight little ass and her soft lips.
“Uh, hello, Dr. Morris,” he snapped out of his daydream.
“Hi, Mr. Dyer. How art thou,” the deep-brown woman with a cool, silver undertone asked.
“Good. And you?”
“I’m well,” she replied with perfect diction. “You all have it looking lovely in here.”
“Thanks! We try!”
“Well, we appreciate it!”
“Great sweater by the way,” he chuckled.
“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Ugly sweater day is my favorite day of the year.”
Dr. Kenya Morris switched away. She thought of how incredibly handsome the blue-collar motherfucker was. She was on her way to grab lunch with one of the school’s athletic trainers. As an openly member of the LGBTQ+ identified faculty and staff, she was quite open about her transition from male to female. She was less so about her sex life. She got into her late model red Honda Accord and drove off campus to their designated meeting place.
The music professor arrived at Takarsh’s apartment complex.
The graduate student and trainer shared the swanky place with a friend who was at work. He opened the door in nothing but his boxer briefs.
Kenya’s light-brown eyes lusted after the performance-underwear-clad, beigish-brown, sinewy brotha. “Nice hat, Santa,” she smiled.
“Merry Christmas,” grinned the guy who had played point guard for the university’s basketball team during undergrad.
“Merry Christmas to you too, handsome,” she winked at the considerably younger fellow.
“Have you been naughty or nice?”
Takarsh shut the door behind them.
“Very naughty,” Kenya pursed her lips. “Bathroom,” she asked holding up an oversized green faux leather tote bag.
“Yeah! You know the way, baby!”
Tarkarsh studied her lusciously round hips. The dude who majored in sports management and minored in percussion was so happy he’d met her. It took him a while to reconcile his attraction because of his fundamentalist Christian upbringing in the COGIC denomination. But, now the midtwenties guy was good to go. He couldn’t wait to see what Kenya had in store for him today. He stroked his throbbing dick.
Takarsh saw Kenya came out of the bathroom wearing a bright green velvet teddy that had red trimming all around it. He loved how it cupped her B-cup tatas that fuller at the bottom than the top. Then his dark eyes followed the garment as it thinned to a straight line down her belly to where it covered her private area.
“Do you like, Santa,” quizzed the professor.
“Yes! Santa loves his little elf,” he licked his lips.
She twirled around.
“Ah hell! It’s crotchless in the back too! I can fuck you in that,” he beamed.
“Yes, sir!”
Takarsh and Dr. Morris went to his bedroom. She fell to her knees and pulled down the undies. His 8¼-inch-by-5¾-inch cock popped out.
“Oh my,” Kenya salivated.
“You like that, baby,” he asked the fortysomething vixen.
“You know Mama loves it!”
Kenya began sucking it. She licked the head with care and took it down her throat with affection.
“Damn! I hate we gotta do quickies,” Takarsh bemoaned.
“Mmhmm,” she kept sucking.
“This shit feels good, Mama!”
“Mmmmm!”
“I need to fuck that pretty booty!”
“Mmhmm!”
“Get up on the bed,” he ordered. “Santa wants you on your back.”
Kenya lay back with her large coily-curly Afro hitting the pillow.
Takarsh grabbed a fistful of her hair and launched into a deep kiss. He then licked down her body. He gave her clitty a bit of oral attention before raising her legs and eating her out.
“Oh my god,” whined the contratenor.
Yes, Kenya’s singing voice was tenor at core, but she had the range of a woman through certain rare physiological circumstances. She performed nearly always at contralto or mezzo-soprano. As a matter of fact, while she studied at the CUNY Graduate Center for her Doctor of Musical Arts degree in voice performance, she never once performed using the lower ranges of most men. On occasion, she would bring it out when coaching a male student.
“You ready for this dick,” Takarsh sat up.
“Yes, Santa,” she whined.
“So you been a naughty girl,” he checked as he angled his dick at her hole.
“Yes, sir!”
“Santa’s gonna punish his elf. But you’ll like it,” he winked.
“Yes, sir,” she traced the outline of his chiseled chest.
He kissed her again as he entered her wanting inner sanctum. “So tight,” he groaned. The young stud rammed his meat inside of her. He heard her wail, but paid it no mind. Her melodic pleas for gentle treatment were not his concern at the moment. He was singularly focused. He could be tender next time. He needed to ravish her.
Takarsh slammed his big cock in and out.
Kenya purred, “Oh my god!”
“Yeah baby! Take this big Black dick,” demanded the humping partner.
“Pound that tranny ass!”
“Yeah, gurl! I love your tranny pussy!”
Takarsh gave Kenya full, deep, forceful strokes. His thrust game was at its best right now.
Kenya begged. “Fuck me!”
“Yeah, baby,” Takarsh’s eyes glazed over. He tossed the transsexual on her stomach. He tugged at her ginormous tresses. He pulled her up to her knees and back into him. His pelvis met her well-padded derriere with incredible might. He hammered her as she purred.
“Oh my god! Fuck meeeee!”
“Yeah, bitch,” he grunted.
Takarsh fucked his former instructor with every bit of his being until he released a fat load of baby batter in her rectum. “Damn,” he huffed.
Later that day, after Kenya had freshened up and returned to campus, she readied herself for the evening student recitative, or vocal music performance. It was a requirement for all voice majors and minors. One of her star pupils, Khloe Weeks, was performing. Kenya pulled off the royal blue high-low semi formal jacquard sleeveless dress with and open back. She had on strappy black stilettos to round out her look.
Across campus, Khloe closed her eyes and opened them repeatedly. The white girl with a rosy complexion exercised her lips by moving them in the shapes that would appear when she sang later. She approved of her flowing, spaghetti strap floor-length dress that was made of tulle and had alternating swatches of sky blue and light pink. The beaded midsection revealed her tiny 22-inch waist. She was proud of her look as she fluffed her lengthy, bouncy dirty-blonde hair. This had been a gift from her dad and stepmom. Tonight, they would be in attendance.
Dr. Morris ascended the stage once more. She smiled and said, “Thank you for that, Mr. Poole. Now, you will delight yourselves with one of our most incredible voices. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ms. Khloe Weeks.”
Khloe stepped up. The concert pianist began.
A classical guitarist, mixed with Vietnamese and Black, strummed. He was a senior and was getting credit for this plus the fifty bucks Khloe’s mom kicked in even though she couldn’t be there from North Dakota. He gave her the lead in they’d practiced many times.
Then the rapsy, contralto voice started softly. “O Holy night. The stars are brightly shining.” She stood still like a doll as she continued delivering her notes. Her arms became fluid as she reached a later stanze. “A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices.” Her hand opened and began to rise. “For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” Her arms were now above her head as she looked upward then she pointed her right forefinger towards the floor. “Fall on your knees!” Khloe lowered her dainty body down to the stage. “O hear the angel voices,” she sang commandingly while touching her ears and then moving her hands towards her audience.
Khloe rose carefully. “O night divine!” She began to stiffen as she belted the remainder of the song. By the time she sang the final line, she was a porcelain doll once more. The audience erupted.
Mike Dyer had come back to campus just to see her. His cock jumped all over the place waiting to congratulate her. He wanted to bring her flowers, but as an employee that would not have been appropriate. Instead, he left the bouquet in his gray Toyota Tacoma pickup truck.
Dr. Morris spotted Mike at the end.
“I had no idea you were a fan of Christmas music,” she smiled.
“I’m a man of many talents,” he grinned.
“I bet you are,” Kenya mused. “How did you like it?”
“It was great! We’ve had to work on that last girl’s bathroom a few times. Kinda just thought she was diva. Now I know for sure she is a diva,” he tried to downplay knowing her.
“Yeah! That chick is a diva. And I’m here for it,” Kenya grinned. “I gotta mingle, Mr. Dyer. See you later I hope.”
“Sure,” he replied unaware that he could easily fuck Kenya. He was only a white guy. Why would a Black goddess want him.
“Dad, Lisa, this is Mike Dyer,” Khloe beamed all of a sudden.
“Hey,” Mike said a bit shocked.
“He’s in charge of maintenance. He makes sure my horrible bathroom stays working.”
“Nice to meet you, Mike,” Lisa Weeks offered a hand. “I’m Lisa,” the bottle blonde, leggy woman shared. “This is my husband, Khloe’s father, Jerry.”
Jerry, a graying athletic looking dude, gave Mike a handshake. “Thanks for taking care of our angel!”
“I don’t do much, sir. Just my job,” Mike explained nervously.
“Nonsense,” retorted Jerry. “Khloe’s happiness keeps me happy.”
“Is that so,” laughed Mike.
“Heck yeah, son,” the middle aged man stated. “If Khloe is mad then my wife and EX-WIFE never let me hear the end of it.
Khloe’s face reddened. “Dad,” she admonished him.
“What, sweetie? You know it’s true,” the father revealed.
“It was great meeting you, Mike,” Lisa Weeks wrapped up the interaction.
Mike watched Khloe escort her parents towards the door. They all hugged and the older people left. The diva went back to socializing. He went to his vehicle and texted his tart.
Khloe read it and hustled to his location. Her ready bag was already with him.
Mike sped off to a cheap motel. He took Khloe into the room and handed her the backpack.
She changed in the bathroom and emerged in a candy cane striped bra and panty set. “This is gorgeous,” she hugged the man.
“I thought you might like it,” he replied, still in his dress jeans and button-down, eggshell-colored shirt.
“I do,” she modeled it for him.
“I like you in it to,” he crowded her and grabbed her ass cheeks with his massive hands.
“Oh, Daddy,” she cooed.
“Yes, baby,” he bent down to kiss her slender, five-foot-seven frame.
Mike lifted her and carried her to the bed. He threw her petite body onto it. The mattress creaked. She giggled. He laughed. “Miss me,” he inquired.
“Of course!”
“Show me,” he ordered undressing quickly.
Khloe took out her already hard 4½-inch fag stick. “See,” she cried.
“Good girl,” Mike salivated.
The still married man jumped on the bed. It almost broke with his sudden added weight. He put the thin, wiry cocklet in his mouth and suck it ferociously.
“Oh my god,” the trap shrieked.
“Mmmmm,” Mike kept sucking.
FInally, Khloe pushed him off. She moved around and opened wide. Her teensy hands gripped Mike’s yummy 7¾-inches-by-5-inches tool and stuffed it down her mouth.
Somehow, they ended up in the 69 position with Khloe blowing and Mike eating the sissy’s asspussy.
Then, Mike pulled away. He loomed over her. “I want that hole!”
Khloe lay back and lifted her legs.
Mike slid in between them. His cock stretched her like crazy.
“Oh my god,” she wailed.
“You can take it,” he promised.
He fucked her nice and hard.
Now, Khloe’s legs were spread far apart.
Mike had one foot on the bed and the other on the floor.
He thundered in and out of his babe.
Khloe stroked her clitty-cock and purred, “Fuck my little pussy!”
“You like this cock?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Fuck me, Mike! You liked meeting my parents.”
“I was scared as shit.”
“I bet they know you’re fucking me.”
“No way!”
“At least my stepmom does. She knows I’m a hot in the ass little fag for big White cock!”
“Oh yeah, gurl!”
Mike collapsed onto Khloe. She now had copious amounts of his DNA packed inside her pink booty hole.
Libbie
- 29.12.2020
- 3
- 0
