When did it start

He wasn't my first boyfriend, but he was my first white man.

I was 20, and he was around mid 40, I think. I never asked. Nor did he ask mine too.

I remembered his bright blue eyes and curly short hair. He was like a giant to me, like 3 heads taller than me, and his hands were so big and warm, and he always worn those beautiful expensive suits without ties.

I never knew his full name. I didn't know where he lived. I only knew he was married to a beautiful South East Asian lady around 40 years old. He has a family of 4, and his son and daughter were around 2 to 3 years younger than me.

He often talked about them when we were alone and he showed me her picture. Yes, she was prettier than me. Elegant and graceful she was. I felt I was lucky he liked me too.

We met, had some meals, chatted, kissed and had sex all behind closed doors. Every time, he booked a place. I met him downstairs or just went up directly. There he was, looking at me, smiling, told me I was his "good girl", "pretty girl".

He showed me how much the difference was when I could be with a white man. He taught me how I could cum again and again with him. He never pampered me like a princess. He was different from most of my ex boyfriends, or my current husband.

I couldn't breathe when he was inside me. I liked that feeling. I liked the way he choked me. I loved the way he used me. I liked the way he made me belong to him.

I missed you, Professor.