Stacks

Harper wasn't keen to work with Hashim at her dorm room. She felt awkward about how poor she was. She didn't feel Hashim was any better -- he was a migrant refugee, from what she'd learned, but she still felt bad that even though her family had been here for centuries, she was still at the same place as the Sudanese migrant.

They were at the library, cramming on their paper before it was due. Amy had already finished, she knew that. And here she was, valedictorian, pulling up the rear. Amy had also been driving her a little mad with her stories of Hassan's fat Black cock.

It was of little surprise to Hashim that Harper had finally given in to her lust. She'd been clearly wrestling with the inevitability of it all during the semester. But she'd finally kicked the booze and buckled down and had joined him for tea and meals on campus. But she'd always kept him at just enough distance.

But here, in the stacks, late at night, that distance was gone. And the hug turned into a kiss. A kiss turned out a French kiss. And a French kiss turned into stripping his clothes off in the darkest recesses of the stacks, pulling out that enormous fat Black cock, and being reborn, not as a rebellious college girl, not as a nerdy high school grad ... but as the servant of an African king, and one whose loyalty was to his faith.