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Melania Trump prefer The Black House

Melania Trump prefer The Black House

The White House has 132 rooms but Melania Trump prefer 18 inches The Black Cock, and 35 bathrooms in total, and President Donald Trump might have them all to himself.

Melania Trump prefer The Black House love Huge Black Cocks
Melania Trump prefer The Black House love Huge Black Cocks

According to US Weekly, Melania Trump might not ever move to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

A family insider said,

They will reevaluate toward the end of the school year if they will keep this arrangement or if Melania and Barron will move to Washington.

They could go either way right now. They will ultimately do what’s best for Barron.

Back in November, the Trumps announced Melania would be staying in New York City to allow their son, Barron, to continue his education there and finish the school year.

This might not be so popular with New Yorkers, whose tax dollars are going to the extra security needed to protect members of the first family in a huge city like New York.

US Weekly

First Lady Melania Trump Love Huge Black NY and May Stay in NYC Permanently and Never Move Into the White House

My Wife’s Black Cock Initiation

by Donald TrumpCuclod

“Oh my God! Give it to me, hard!” Amy pushed her buttocks back into my thrusting penis. She loved it doggy style. I pumped into her as hard as I could. I felt her shaking as she climaxed.

“Ohhhhhh! Oh, Mark, I loooove it just like that!” It had been a big orgasm. Something must have really set her off. My wife cums easily, but this had been a whopper.

I withdrew and turned Amy on her side. She was still breathing hard. I got between her legs and slid my penis back into her juicy cunt.

“Honey, that was lovely! How do you want to cum?” she asked.

“Just like this, I think. Sweetie, what turned you on so much? One of your fantasies?”

“Yes.” She blushed.

“Which one?”

“It was the one about you watching me with a big black man. I told you about it once.”

“I remember. I liked it a lot. Tell me again all about it.” I slowly pushed my cock in and out.

“You know. A black man with a big cock takes me from behind with you watching him do it.”

“Tell me more, honey, and make me cum.”

“Well, he’s very tall and has a huge cock, all thick and long and he makes me kneel in front of him and pushes my legs apart. Then he slides his cock into me and fucks me hard.”

“Is that all?” I felt myself about to lose control.

“He fucks me until I cum and cum and calls me his little white slut.” She giggled.

“Oh baby, I’d love to watch that!” I grunted as I spurted into her love nest. She smiled as she felt the warm semen flood inside her. We kissed.

“It’s only a fantasy, Mark. You know that.”

Indeed, I did. I’d never really thought she would do anything like that. Nor did I think I’d have the gumption to go through with it if she did.

Over the next few days I couldn’t get Amy’s fantasy out of my mind. Somehow it seemed to fit her. She’d always been a bit submissive during sex. She loved to have me take control and do her hard, sometimes with a little light spanking to spice it up. She liked to get on her knees and take it from behind. The main thing that got me thinking, though, was that it was her fantasy in the first place. Something about it really turned her on.

I also knew that Amy was very conservative in other respects. She dressed like a Talbot’s catalogue—very properly. She had a great figure for her thirty-five years: five feet five, 120 pounds, and beautiful firm B cup tits, sensitive to the touch. While she loved sex, she wouldn’t do anything really nasty or daring. Only in her fantasies did she let go of her inhibitions.

Our ten years of married life had been happy. The only thing missing was the racing heartbeat and sizzle we’d had our first years together. So it wasn’t strange now that her fantasy about a black man quickened my pulse.

In the following days I thought a lot about trying to find a black lover for her. I looked on the internet and was turned off by what I found. The men advertising sounded fake, or rude, or unsuitable for one reason or other, not to mention the health risks. I decided to forget about that avenue.

A couple of weeks later I was working out in our local health club when I noticed a tall black man shooting baskets on the court inside the running track. I’d not seen him before; he caught my attention by the graceful skill with which he made his shots, nearly all of which swished the basket. I wondered if he’d ever played pro.

I found out soon enough when he walked over to the machines I was working on.

“Hi, I’m Jerome and new here. Are these machines any good?”

“Hi, I’m Mark. Yeah, I think they’re OK. At least they have never given me any trouble.”

“I’ll give them a try. How long have you lived here?”

“Almost ten years. I moved here with my wife after we got married and we both found work in the city.”

“I’ve just moved here from LA. My business has expanded and I decided to relocate. I run a sporting goods business.”

“You look like you once played pro basketball.”

“Thanks.” He smiled. “As a matter of fact I did play for the Lakers a couple of years. Then I quit to go to business school and ended up making more money on my own. Basketball got me though college and for that I’m grateful.”

“Are you married?”

“Not at the moment. I like my freedom too much.”

We continued to chat about the community. He was very confident, yet friendly and easy to talk to. A few days later I saw him again at the gym and we renewed our acquaintance. After my workout, I encountered him in the locker room exiting the shower.

The first thing I noticed, aside from his well-muscled 6’6” body, was his cock. It hung down between his legs like a thick hose. Though not erect at all, it wasn’t shrunken like most men’s tools when they’re down. It hung in a gentle curve from his body, seemingly half way to his knees, with a very large pinkish head.

“Hi Mark.” He smiled nonchalantly. “Did you have a good workout?”

He must have noticed that I had been staring at him. I regained what composure I could and answered as best I could about my workout. When we both had dressed and about to leave he approached me.

“Hey Mark, care for a drink somewhere?”

“Sure. I know a place just around the corner.”

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