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Gridiron Guy & Tranny Law Professor free porn video
“I give you, Malak Jones,” the ceremoniously hooded college president said.
The crowd cheered.
“Good morning,” the newly famous man greeted the Barton College graduating class. “I count it a pleasure to be here amongst you.”
In the audience, a rising senior who played wide receiver on the football team watched with two of his teammates.
The trio had branded themselves as ‘The Three Bandoleros’. It consisted of Zander Ward, Omari Willis, and Brycen Crawford.
Zander held the Alpha position in the group. He was a sports management major with a minor in journalism. The Alabama native won the race a few weeks ago. Now, he was the Vice President-elect of the student government association. Originally, the wide receiver had planned on studying biology and becoming a doctor, but his head was just not in it.
Omari hailed from the middle of nowhere North Carolina. He played defensive back and studied criminology.
Brycen owned his role as tight end. He aspired to teach special education and coach high school football. He came from some other backwater town in the Piedmont region.
The commencement speaker delivered a rousing rhetorical speech encouraging the grads to go out into the world and make their mark.
Zander paid close attention. He needed one or two things to point out when meeting Prof. Jones at the reception later.
Brycen jived, “For a man, she look pretty good. Right y’all?”
“If you say so,” chuckled Omari.
“Shhhhhh,” Zander hissed.
“Zan would fuck her,” joked Brycen.
“You would too,” Omari claimed.
“So would you, nigga,” Brycen shot back.
“Y’all shut the fuck up,” Zander bucked up.
Malak ignited a fuse in the audience. She had never imagined achieving such notoriety in her career. Her career trajectory took her on a path she had not expected. She concluded her speech.
The college president stood and walked to the podium. The attractive white woman clad in her doctoral robe announced, “On behalf of the Board of Trustees and the Barton College family, I’m honored to present the honorary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters to Professor Jones.”
The large assembly erupted with applause. Malak accepted the award and waved at the people.
After the ceremony, graduates and parents clamored to get a photo with Malak. She smiled until her face ached. Thankfully, she was rescued by an entry-level employee from the president’s office.
“Come with me, Dr. Jones,” the gorgeous deep brown-skinned woman said in a definitive southern accent.
Malak followed the buxom broad to the student activities center where a private reception was being held. She was introduced to the outgoing and incoming student government administrations.
“I’m from Alabama too,” the 5’11”, 180-pound, mocha complexioned Zander said. “I liked what you said about fighting through the doubt too.” He smiled revealing his well-maintained pearly whites.
“What part,” inquired Malak.
“Mobile.”
“Nice. I grew up in Bullock County,” the chocolate-toned alluring woman replied. “I went to Spring Hill.”
“I know,” the athlete replied with a smile. “You’re famous.”
“You think so,” Malak asked and gestured towards a couple of empty chairs.
“Absolutely!”
“What makes me so famous?”
“You prosecuted the hell out of Trump.”
Malak laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“It’s totally a compliment,” Zander reassured the lady who was close in age to his mother.
“What’s your major?”
“Sports management. I’m minoring in journalism.”
“Excellent. How do you like it here at Barton.”
“It’s great. My mom didn’t want me to be this far from home, but the coaches are like family. It’s kept me focused on my academics.”
“What sport do you play?”
“Football,” he answered proudly.
“I like football,” Malak gently touched her dense, platinum-dyed natural hair.
“Who’s your favorite team,” Zander asked.
“Pro or college?”
“College,” he smirked.
“Barton,” she winked.
“Good answer.”
They chuckled in unison.
Zander nodded his head. “For real what pro team?”
“Cowboys. How about you?”
“Same.”
“Stop playing!”
“I’m serious! Always liked them Boys!”
Malak threw up her hand. Zander gave her a high five.
“Can I ask when you knew you wanted to be a lawyer?”
“Certainly. I guess it was when I was young. But I worked in the D.A.’s office during high school and I saw the injustice poor and Black defendants got firsthand. It cemented my desire.”
“That’s what’s up.”
“Are you considering law school?”
“Maybe. I think it’s an option.”
“Well, let me know. I might have some connections.”
“I bet you do,” Zander smiled. “Ms. Yale Law alum.”
“You really Googled me.”
“Yep!”
“Should I be impressed or concerned,” she giggled.
“Impressed,” he said firmly. “Can I get you some more punch?”
“That’d be great!” She handed him her high quality plastic cup with a handle.
“I’ll be right back,” he said taking the glass.
Malak watched the lean, handsome dude walk away. She liked that his slim fit slacks hugged his muscular legs and glutes. She examined his coarse twists that sat high on his head and tapered to a smooth point in the back. The razored parts on either side were neat. And, the fade was tight.
“Missed me,” Zander quizzed upon his return.
“Immensely!”
“I knew it!”
“You’re confident. Law school would be easy for you.”
“Thanks! I’m really thinking about it. How did you pick Howard?”
“No one has asked me that in ages,” Malak revealed. “I always heard of it growing up. And I did want an HBCU experience.”
“Gotcha. That’s where I wanna go if I do.”
“It’s a good school for sure,” she smiled.
Malak Jones held a phenomenal resume. High school valedictorian. Phi Beta Kappa and summa cum laude college graduate. Top 10% and editor of the law review at Howard. Clerked for a U.S. district court judge and then for a federal circuit court judge. LL.M. from Yale Law School. Visiting professor at UC-Davis. Special Assistant to the President & Deputy White House Counsel in the Obama administration. Tenure-track faculty member at Georgetown. Most recently known as the lead attorney in the Senate impeachment trial of Donald Trump.
Not bad for chick from the Alabama Black Belt.
Malak achieved all of these accolades is spite of her gender transition. She took the journey from male to female on the job while clerking for the Honorable Judge Anne Jefferson-Doss of the D.C. Circuit Court.
“Are you staying the night here,” Zander asked.
“Yes. I head out in the morning.”
“Did they out you up in a nice place.”
“Of course,” she exaggerated. “I’m at the Fairfield Inn & Suites by the Interstate.”
“Did you drive here?”
“Nope. I took the Amtrak from D.C.”
“Into Wilson,” he checked.
“Yep,” nodded Malak. “I like riding the train.”
“That’s what’s up! How did you get here today?”
“A nice lady who works for the president picked me up.”
“I can drive you back if you want,” the young man offered.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Trust me it’s cool. My mom and nan would kick me in the forehead if I didn’t offer.”
“Well, okay!”
“Can we get a selfie?”
“Sure!”
Zander moved behind Malak. He stretched out his long arms and snapped the photo. He sent it to his mother and grandma along with message that read, ‘She’s the lady that prosecuted 45’.
The women replied almost instantaneously with likes and smiling emojis.
“See,” Zander held up his phone. “Black women love you!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” the professor blushed.
“Just let me know when you’re ready to head out.”
“You’re very kind. You don’t have to give me a ride.”
“I want to. Anyone would.”
“I should probably socialize a bit. I’ll meet you back here in 30 minutes.”
“Sounds good,” Zander beamed. “I’ll get my car and be back here waiting.”
Malak kept her word. She spotted Zander and made her way towards him. “I’m ready to get out of these heels,” she remarked.
“Let’s go then,” Zander said.
“I need to get my robe real quick. Give me two minutes.”
“Bet!”
Malak returned carrying a garment bag.
“I’ll take that,” Zander reached towards the flexible container.
“Thanks!”
The student-athlete led the esteemed legal scholar to the parking lot. He unlocked the vehicle with his key fob and opened the front passenger door for his rider.
Malak smiled as she got into the royal blue 2011 Honda Civic coupe.
“You’re an Alpha I see,” she noted after seeing the front license plate and the miniature paddle hanging from the rearview mirror.
“Damn right! 1-9-0-6,” Zander bellowed.
“I’m not mad at you,” she snickered.
Zander pulled up to the hotel.
“Thanks for the ride!”
“No problem.”
Zander gripped the steering wheel, cleared his throat, and puffed out his defined chest. “Want me to come up?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Let me come up and chill.”
“If you want.”
“I do. Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” Malak smiled. “Yes I do!”
“Let me park then. They got something to drink in there?”
“Beer and wine I think.”
“Can you get some beer?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your room number?”
“4-1-0.”
“I’ll be up in five minutes.”
Zander adjusted his rock hard dick before he drove to a parking spot.
In the room, Malak had already undressed. She was now wearing a short red sateen robe on top of her black lace bra & panty set. Her feet were bare with her pink painted toenails showing. “Have a beer,” she pointed.
“Thanks,” Zander replied taking a bottle. “You want one?”
“Sure.”
“Here,” he handed it to her.
“What made you want to hang out with me,” she asked.
“You know exactly why I wanted to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on! You’re smart. You know you’re a fine ass woman. I’m a young stud. I like what I see.”
Malak straightened her spine. “I guess I’m a little taken aback, but flattered nonetheless.”
“Why are you shocked? I know dudes hit on you.”
“Yes, I get hit on. But I guess I didn’t expect someone so young.”
“Age ain’t nothing but a number. You’re a woman. I’m a man. It’s natural.”
“You know I’m trans, right?”
“Yep. What about it,” he shrugged his shoulders.
“Just making sure.”
“Can I kiss you, beautiful?”
“Yes,” Malak called him over with her finger.
They locked lips.
Malak had to stretch upward a bit to reach the taller man. His buff chest pressed against her soft bosom.
Zander ran his hands along the geography of her body. He removed her robe and massaged her shapely C-cup breasts. He unhooked the bra then put his lips on one of the areolas.
Malak cooed.
Zander carried her to the bed. He slid off her panties. He admired her little onion booty. He smacked it for good measure. He dove in licking and munching the pussy hole.
“Oh my god,” she whined.
“You’re gorgeous, baby!”
“Thank you!”
Zander got up on the bed.
Malak grabbed his firm cock. She put her lips on the mushroom head and slid her mouth along the 8-inch shaft.
“Damn,” he howled. “That shit feels good!”
Malak tickled his balls while she sucked.
“Dammit! You got some good head. You ready for me to fuck you.”
Malak nodded demurely.
He straddled her. He pushed his thick dick inside of the tight brown hole.
“Owwwwww,” she screamed.
“Oh yeah,” he groaned. “Let me in that pussy!”
“Oh my god!”
“Yeah, sexy! Open that pussy up for a nigga!”
“Fuck me!”
“Naw, baby! I gotta savor you.”
Zander gave her measured, strong strokes with his manhood. “You like this dick, woman?”
“Yes, sir,” she purred. “Fuck me!”
“You like this young dick in your ass?”
“Yes, baby! I do!”
“I like this tight pussy!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, gurl! Gimme that ass!”
Malak dug her nails into his magnificent, sweaty back.
“Yeah, baby! Hold on to Daddy! Let me fuck you right!”
Zander made love to her with every fiber of his being. When finally came, they passed out for an hour and did it all over again.
The crowd cheered.
“Good morning,” the newly famous man greeted the Barton College graduating class. “I count it a pleasure to be here amongst you.”
In the audience, a rising senior who played wide receiver on the football team watched with two of his teammates.
The trio had branded themselves as ‘The Three Bandoleros’. It consisted of Zander Ward, Omari Willis, and Brycen Crawford.
Zander held the Alpha position in the group. He was a sports management major with a minor in journalism. The Alabama native won the race a few weeks ago. Now, he was the Vice President-elect of the student government association. Originally, the wide receiver had planned on studying biology and becoming a doctor, but his head was just not in it.
Omari hailed from the middle of nowhere North Carolina. He played defensive back and studied criminology.
Brycen owned his role as tight end. He aspired to teach special education and coach high school football. He came from some other backwater town in the Piedmont region.
The commencement speaker delivered a rousing rhetorical speech encouraging the grads to go out into the world and make their mark.
Zander paid close attention. He needed one or two things to point out when meeting Prof. Jones at the reception later.
Brycen jived, “For a man, she look pretty good. Right y’all?”
“If you say so,” chuckled Omari.
“Shhhhhh,” Zander hissed.
“Zan would fuck her,” joked Brycen.
“You would too,” Omari claimed.
“So would you, nigga,” Brycen shot back.
“Y’all shut the fuck up,” Zander bucked up.
Malak ignited a fuse in the audience. She had never imagined achieving such notoriety in her career. Her career trajectory took her on a path she had not expected. She concluded her speech.
The college president stood and walked to the podium. The attractive white woman clad in her doctoral robe announced, “On behalf of the Board of Trustees and the Barton College family, I’m honored to present the honorary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters to Professor Jones.”
The large assembly erupted with applause. Malak accepted the award and waved at the people.
After the ceremony, graduates and parents clamored to get a photo with Malak. She smiled until her face ached. Thankfully, she was rescued by an entry-level employee from the president’s office.
“Come with me, Dr. Jones,” the gorgeous deep brown-skinned woman said in a definitive southern accent.
Malak followed the buxom broad to the student activities center where a private reception was being held. She was introduced to the outgoing and incoming student government administrations.
“I’m from Alabama too,” the 5’11”, 180-pound, mocha complexioned Zander said. “I liked what you said about fighting through the doubt too.” He smiled revealing his well-maintained pearly whites.
“What part,” inquired Malak.
“Mobile.”
“Nice. I grew up in Bullock County,” the chocolate-toned alluring woman replied. “I went to Spring Hill.”
“I know,” the athlete replied with a smile. “You’re famous.”
“You think so,” Malak asked and gestured towards a couple of empty chairs.
“Absolutely!”
“What makes me so famous?”
“You prosecuted the hell out of Trump.”
Malak laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“It’s totally a compliment,” Zander reassured the lady who was close in age to his mother.
“What’s your major?”
“Sports management. I’m minoring in journalism.”
“Excellent. How do you like it here at Barton.”
“It’s great. My mom didn’t want me to be this far from home, but the coaches are like family. It’s kept me focused on my academics.”
“What sport do you play?”
“Football,” he answered proudly.
“I like football,” Malak gently touched her dense, platinum-dyed natural hair.
“Who’s your favorite team,” Zander asked.
“Pro or college?”
“College,” he smirked.
“Barton,” she winked.
“Good answer.”
They chuckled in unison.
Zander nodded his head. “For real what pro team?”
“Cowboys. How about you?”
“Same.”
“Stop playing!”
“I’m serious! Always liked them Boys!”
Malak threw up her hand. Zander gave her a high five.
“Can I ask when you knew you wanted to be a lawyer?”
“Certainly. I guess it was when I was young. But I worked in the D.A.’s office during high school and I saw the injustice poor and Black defendants got firsthand. It cemented my desire.”
“That’s what’s up.”
“Are you considering law school?”
“Maybe. I think it’s an option.”
“Well, let me know. I might have some connections.”
“I bet you do,” Zander smiled. “Ms. Yale Law alum.”
“You really Googled me.”
“Yep!”
“Should I be impressed or concerned,” she giggled.
“Impressed,” he said firmly. “Can I get you some more punch?”
“That’d be great!” She handed him her high quality plastic cup with a handle.
“I’ll be right back,” he said taking the glass.
Malak watched the lean, handsome dude walk away. She liked that his slim fit slacks hugged his muscular legs and glutes. She examined his coarse twists that sat high on his head and tapered to a smooth point in the back. The razored parts on either side were neat. And, the fade was tight.
“Missed me,” Zander quizzed upon his return.
“Immensely!”
“I knew it!”
“You’re confident. Law school would be easy for you.”
“Thanks! I’m really thinking about it. How did you pick Howard?”
“No one has asked me that in ages,” Malak revealed. “I always heard of it growing up. And I did want an HBCU experience.”
“Gotcha. That’s where I wanna go if I do.”
“It’s a good school for sure,” she smiled.
Malak Jones held a phenomenal resume. High school valedictorian. Phi Beta Kappa and summa cum laude college graduate. Top 10% and editor of the law review at Howard. Clerked for a U.S. district court judge and then for a federal circuit court judge. LL.M. from Yale Law School. Visiting professor at UC-Davis. Special Assistant to the President & Deputy White House Counsel in the Obama administration. Tenure-track faculty member at Georgetown. Most recently known as the lead attorney in the Senate impeachment trial of Donald Trump.
Not bad for chick from the Alabama Black Belt.
Malak achieved all of these accolades is spite of her gender transition. She took the journey from male to female on the job while clerking for the Honorable Judge Anne Jefferson-Doss of the D.C. Circuit Court.
“Are you staying the night here,” Zander asked.
“Yes. I head out in the morning.”
“Did they out you up in a nice place.”
“Of course,” she exaggerated. “I’m at the Fairfield Inn & Suites by the Interstate.”
“Did you drive here?”
“Nope. I took the Amtrak from D.C.”
“Into Wilson,” he checked.
“Yep,” nodded Malak. “I like riding the train.”
“That’s what’s up! How did you get here today?”
“A nice lady who works for the president picked me up.”
“I can drive you back if you want,” the young man offered.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Trust me it’s cool. My mom and nan would kick me in the forehead if I didn’t offer.”
“Well, okay!”
“Can we get a selfie?”
“Sure!”
Zander moved behind Malak. He stretched out his long arms and snapped the photo. He sent it to his mother and grandma along with message that read, ‘She’s the lady that prosecuted 45’.
The women replied almost instantaneously with likes and smiling emojis.
“See,” Zander held up his phone. “Black women love you!”
“I’ll take your word for it,” the professor blushed.
“Just let me know when you’re ready to head out.”
“You’re very kind. You don’t have to give me a ride.”
“I want to. Anyone would.”
“I should probably socialize a bit. I’ll meet you back here in 30 minutes.”
“Sounds good,” Zander beamed. “I’ll get my car and be back here waiting.”
Malak kept her word. She spotted Zander and made her way towards him. “I’m ready to get out of these heels,” she remarked.
“Let’s go then,” Zander said.
“I need to get my robe real quick. Give me two minutes.”
“Bet!”
Malak returned carrying a garment bag.
“I’ll take that,” Zander reached towards the flexible container.
“Thanks!”
The student-athlete led the esteemed legal scholar to the parking lot. He unlocked the vehicle with his key fob and opened the front passenger door for his rider.
Malak smiled as she got into the royal blue 2011 Honda Civic coupe.
“You’re an Alpha I see,” she noted after seeing the front license plate and the miniature paddle hanging from the rearview mirror.
“Damn right! 1-9-0-6,” Zander bellowed.
“I’m not mad at you,” she snickered.
Zander pulled up to the hotel.
“Thanks for the ride!”
“No problem.”
Zander gripped the steering wheel, cleared his throat, and puffed out his defined chest. “Want me to come up?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Let me come up and chill.”
“If you want.”
“I do. Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” Malak smiled. “Yes I do!”
“Let me park then. They got something to drink in there?”
“Beer and wine I think.”
“Can you get some beer?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your room number?”
“4-1-0.”
“I’ll be up in five minutes.”
Zander adjusted his rock hard dick before he drove to a parking spot.
In the room, Malak had already undressed. She was now wearing a short red sateen robe on top of her black lace bra & panty set. Her feet were bare with her pink painted toenails showing. “Have a beer,” she pointed.
“Thanks,” Zander replied taking a bottle. “You want one?”
“Sure.”
“Here,” he handed it to her.
“What made you want to hang out with me,” she asked.
“You know exactly why I wanted to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on! You’re smart. You know you’re a fine ass woman. I’m a young stud. I like what I see.”
Malak straightened her spine. “I guess I’m a little taken aback, but flattered nonetheless.”
“Why are you shocked? I know dudes hit on you.”
“Yes, I get hit on. But I guess I didn’t expect someone so young.”
“Age ain’t nothing but a number. You’re a woman. I’m a man. It’s natural.”
“You know I’m trans, right?”
“Yep. What about it,” he shrugged his shoulders.
“Just making sure.”
“Can I kiss you, beautiful?”
“Yes,” Malak called him over with her finger.
They locked lips.
Malak had to stretch upward a bit to reach the taller man. His buff chest pressed against her soft bosom.
Zander ran his hands along the geography of her body. He removed her robe and massaged her shapely C-cup breasts. He unhooked the bra then put his lips on one of the areolas.
Malak cooed.
Zander carried her to the bed. He slid off her panties. He admired her little onion booty. He smacked it for good measure. He dove in licking and munching the pussy hole.
“Oh my god,” she whined.
“You’re gorgeous, baby!”
“Thank you!”
Zander got up on the bed.
Malak grabbed his firm cock. She put her lips on the mushroom head and slid her mouth along the 8-inch shaft.
“Damn,” he howled. “That shit feels good!”
Malak tickled his balls while she sucked.
“Dammit! You got some good head. You ready for me to fuck you.”
Malak nodded demurely.
He straddled her. He pushed his thick dick inside of the tight brown hole.
“Owwwwww,” she screamed.
“Oh yeah,” he groaned. “Let me in that pussy!”
“Oh my god!”
“Yeah, sexy! Open that pussy up for a nigga!”
“Fuck me!”
“Naw, baby! I gotta savor you.”
Zander gave her measured, strong strokes with his manhood. “You like this dick, woman?”
“Yes, sir,” she purred. “Fuck me!”
“You like this young dick in your ass?”
“Yes, baby! I do!”
“I like this tight pussy!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, gurl! Gimme that ass!”
Malak dug her nails into his magnificent, sweaty back.
“Yeah, baby! Hold on to Daddy! Let me fuck you right!”
Zander made love to her with every fiber of his being. When finally came, they passed out for an hour and did it all over again.
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