My face flushed, my pulse raced as I gasped for air. I’d never felt like this before. No one had ever made me feel this way, and I doubted anyone ever would.
I careened around the corner and burst into the classroom, panting to catch my breath. I was supposed to be here an hour ago for my presentation, and yet here I was. My professor was just wrapping up his lecture on John Stuart Mill when he and the rest of the class all turned to face me.
“Risha,” he said, with that casual smirk that I always pictured him with when I thought about him.
Not that I thought about him a lot.
Okay, maybe I thought about him a lot, but that was beside the point.
“So nice of you to join us,” he said, with only a little bit of teasing in his voice. “Why don’t you go take a seat? I was just wrapping up.”
I did the walk of shame over to my chair, still wheezing from my sprint from the bus stop, and plopped down miserably.
“Alright class,” he said, addressing the room. “Go ahead and finish the reading by Monday. Next time we’re going to cover a few virtue ethicists, so it’s really good for us to make sure we have a firm grasp on utilitarianism. You guys can head out. Risha, why don’t you stay back a minute?”
My friends in the philosophy class began to trickle out, a few of them stopping to pat me consolingly on the shoulder. I groaned into my hands as I pressed them against my face, unable to believe that I had flunked the one presentation I had actually been looking forward to giving the whole semester.
Professor O wandered over to his desk. He was wearing slacks and a white button-down under an adorable waistcoat that would have come across as try-hard and pretentious if he wasn’t a literal philosophy professor. Plus, those slacks made his ass look fantastic, and his rolled-up sleeves revealed strong, well-muscled forearms.
He was everything you think of when you hear that you’re going to have a handsome young philosophy professor teach an intro ethics course. I’d been putting it off since it was the most boring part of the major, but this was the last little bit of motivation I needed. Professor O’s affable charm (and nice jawline) was a huge part of the appeal.
For at least the first couple of weeks, our only topic of conversation before he walked into the room was how cute he was. He had curly black hair that tumbled around his face, and he frequently had to toss it out of his eyes when he was lecturing. A strong jaw and a short stubble gave him an easy, classic handsomeness that was complemented by what was clearly a tall, athletic body under all of that tweed and slacks.
There was no way he didn’t know he was hot—men like that always knew they were hot—but somehow, this sense of arrogance was countered by the fact that he was (and I don’t say this lightly) a massive dork. Oh sure, he’d start the semester with a cool, collected speech about classroom policies and syllabus structure, but as soon as we began covering some of the thinkers we were looking at, he devolved into a bright-eyed, eager undergrad version of himself. He was just a boy excited to talk about the thing he loved to talk about most.
As you can imagine, this made him an incredible lecturer. Even my friends just taking this class for a distribution requirement ended up paying attention; his enthusiasm was infectious. It also had the unfortunate effect of making him irresistible to me. Instead of a schooled, professional calm to his demeanor, he was all sweet chuckles and warm smiles.
He had this way of looking at you that I found equal parts disquieting and breathtaking. The first time I had gone in to get feedback on a paper, I found myself squirming even more than I expected in an office alone with him. It wasn’t because he was intimidating, but because he looked you dead in the eye when you spoke to him. I know you think most people look you in the eye, but most of us end up needing to look down or glance at other objects, breaks from eye contact. Not him. He stared at you like he was trying to find something he had lost in your eyes, like he was studying you through them. It had the effect of making you feel like you were the only person in the world in that moment… the only person in his world at least.
He loved his job and he loved his students. He was a great professor, a good person, and an ideal target for idle fantasies when I was horny and trying to go to sleep.
“Well,” he said, taking a seat behind his desk and leaning over on his elbows. “Why don’t you tell me how your morning has been so far?”
I found myself unable to recall the speech I had rehearsed about missing my bus, winter weather road obstructions, malfunctioning alarm clocks, and the fact that I had stayed up all night making sure I nailed this presentation. All of that disappeared as I, to my horror, felt tears prickle in my eyes. I was just so tired, I wanted to do well in this class, and I had worked so hard on this presentation. It just wasn’t fair.
What the hell are you doing? I shook my head, blinked the tears away, and channeled that frustration into a fiery, impassioned anger.
“Listen,” I said, looking him dead in the eye and meeting his unwavering gaze. “I worked my ass off on this presentation, and factors outside of my control meant that I couldn’t present it. That doesn’t mean I didn’t do the work, and that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve the credit.”
“Risha, listen,” he said, raising a hand.
“No, you listen,” I said firmly. “I worked so hard on this presentation and you are going to hear it right here, right now. And then? You’re going to give me a goddamn A in this class.”
“Risha,” he started again. “You don’t have to…”
I cut him off by standing up and grabbing my notes. I was about to launch into my lecture when he looked up with that goddamn infuriating sense of kind concern in his soft eyes and said, “Risha, it’s okay. I get it. Why don’t you come by office hours and…”
But at this point, I had made up my mind. I was tired and not entirely all there from the lack of sleep I had gotten, and I was going to follow my stupid plan by any means necessary.
I noticed I had somehow dropped my notes in my frazzled state. As I bent to pick them up, I noticed his eyes linger for just a moment, tracing their way from the floor up the curves of my body before meeting my eyes. Huh…
Okay, fine, I thought to myself. If being angry doesn’t work, maybe I can flirt my way through this? I said this to myself with all the confidence of someone who routinely flirts their way through problems with a cool, casual, sexy air.
This was not the case.
Don’t get me wrong; I was hot. I was petite and had curves in all the right places, what’s not to love? That day, I was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a top that really wasn’t meant to be slutty, but with tits like mine, all tops looked a little slutty. I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked up at him with my big, beautiful doll eyes. I was wearing blush (somehow I had remembered to put makeup on before sprinting out of the house) but the cold and the blood flow from having run here meant that I looked even more rosy-cheeked than usual.
No, it’s not that I wasn’t hot, it’s just that I had too much of a goddamn ego to ever bother trying to appeal to some man. I was in college because I worked hard and I was smart and I was going to do big things in my life, and being juicy had nothing to do with my accomplishments. That being said… it didn’t hurt. I wasn’t blind to the fact that police officers changed their tone of voice at traffic stops when they leaned in to get a look at me, and I had gotten very good at spotting the leering gaze that boys my age (and men twice my age) shot in my direction when they thought I wasn’t looking. I was a sexy 21-year-old college girl. If anyone had a chance, it was me.
I brought my elbows together in front of me while looking at the paper in my hand, making sure to squeeze my cleavage a little bit so it poked out of the front of my shirt. “Please Professor,” I said, putting on a stupid, saccharine voice that sounded corny even to me. “Why don’t you give me a chance to… show you just how good I’ve been?”
I looked at him, expecting an eye roll or that goddamned, delightful musical chuckle he gave when he made a dumb pun during his lecture. He did raise an eyebrow, but the mask of composure on his face didn’t manage to hide the very slight tightening I saw in the corner of his jaw (his perfect, sharp, sculpted, stupid little jaw).
No fucking way, is this actually going to work?
Well… in for a penny…
I began to walk towards him, making sure to sashay and sway my hips and emphasize just how good they looked in these tight jeans. “You see, Professor,” I started, maintaining a bit of that sultry voice.
“Look, Risha, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but…”
I didn’t let him finish.
“Pleasure,” I said, glancing down at my notes. “That is the crux of Mill’s philosophy. If we are to, in fact, maximize pleasure and minimize pain, then pleasure and its definition become core to how we run society. But I argue that a Millian framework is limited, too simplistic to account for agency and volition.”
I let the paper fall out from my fingers again as I walked right up to him. I could tell I had him, both with what I was saying, and what I was doing.
“Instead, Harry Frankfurt proposes a framework that sublimates pleasure into something easier to track. What best indexes pleasure within the life and actions of an individual? Desire. What a person desires and how they pursue it determines their relationship to pleasure and, therefore, value under a utilitarian system.”
Despite the little show I was putting on, I was also kind of getting into the philosophy part of it. I had volunteered to cover this topic since I found this particular framework fascinating and was excited to do more research on it. (Fuck, am I a dork too? Ugh, whatever.)
“But there’s a problem,” I said, stopping in front of his desk and leaning over it, making sure he had a great view straight down my shirt.
He didn’t take the bait, of course; he was too much of a gentleman for that. He looked at me the way he always looked at me: with an intense but not unkind directedness that all of a sudden seemed to have a little tinge of something more. He didn’t interrupt me, so I continued.
“People’s desires are unpredictable and don’t always lead us to the best impulses. Sometimes,” I said, batting my eyelids a little bit and feeling kind of stupid doing it, “sometimes we desire things that aren’t good for us. Our base instincts aren’t necessarily good indicators of societal wholeness, and so we must reckon with the fact that pleasure is our metric of success, but desire is a faulty hermeneutic.”
Despite the quiet intensity that he had been looking at me with, he did quirk the corner of his lip up in a smile at my use of the word hermeneutic. I stared at that smile, tracing his lips with my eyes.
Fuck, I thought to myself, I’m genuinely, actually horny.
Something about doing this little sexy routine and being so close in a room alone with a man I found objectively attractive meant my body was responding the way bodies tend to: with desire. I didn’t let myself think about it too much; I just went with it. I was already in too deep and figured, fuck it, I might as well see what happens. Worst case, this is just an awkward memory for the rest of my life I’ll never live down and I’ll just not look him in the eyes the whole rest of the semester.
I looked at those eyes now, and something told me that a part of him wanted me to keep going. It wasn’t just his regular look of attentiveness. This time, there was a quiet heat in his gaze that was driving me absolutely wild.
“And it is for this reason,” I continued, “that Frankfurt proposes his notion of second-order desires. While desires are that which we want, second-order desires are the ways in which we choose to shape those desires—the things we want to want. It is by these means that we attempt to format our conscience.”
I was on a roll now and slipped around the side of the desk, now barely a foot away from him. He turned his chair so he was facing me, his legs apart and his posture relaxed despite the tautness in his gaze.
“Sometimes,” I said, almost purring the word, “sometimes we want things that we know aren’t good for us. Those are our desires.”
He swallowed and went through several expressions before exhaling and leaning forward slightly.
I stepped forward and placed both my hands on the arms of his chair. I leaned in so our faces were close to one another. “And sometimes,” I said, lowering my hips until I was seated on his knee, “we tell ourselves that we shouldn’t want those things.”
I began to slide further down his leg, dragging my crotch along his thigh. My pussy had been getting wetter and wetter as I spoke, and the sensation of the fabric seam against my clit was electric. He didn’t say anything or move a muscle, just continued staring. “Those are our second-order desires. For instance,” I said, continuing to grind up and down, my whole body tingling with heat at the sensation. “There might be something you want—something you want very, very badly.”
I reached forward and put a hand on his chest, the heat of his body radiating against me. I unbuttoned a button or two and pulled his shirt down to unveil a well-muscled pectoral and a delicious-looking chest that I was dying to see more of. “But even though we desire it,” I said, tracing my fingers against the bare skin of his chest as he twitched and shuddered slightly, “we know that we shouldn’t want it. We want to want something else,” I said, looking up at him at last.
“Why don’t you help me illustrate, Professor? What’s something that you desire right now?”
I was elated at the feeling of control I had. The idea of pushing this man to strain against his better impulses and work him up just did something for me. I had always been dominant in the bedroom with my boyfriends, but this was the first time I had ever even done anything like this with someone older, someone in a position of power, someone I didn’t know, but so deeply wanted to.
He still didn’t answer, so I decided to help him along a little bit.
“Let’s say that the thing you desire right now is… me.”
On saying the word “me,” I brought my hands up and pushed my hair back before pulling my shirt down so that my tits were spilling out of my collar and right into his face. “That would be your desire.
“But do you want to want me?” I said, asking my question with as sultry a voice as I could conjure. “You know it’s wrong. You know I’m your student. You know you shouldn’t want this.”
“No…” he said quietly, his voice a hushed murmur I had to lean forward to hear.
“That’s your second-order desire.”
Our faces were inches apart at this point, and I could feel the heat of his breath. I couldn’t stop looking at his lips; they looked so close, so tempting. I forced myself to look up at his eyes, which seemed to have transformed entirely.
He looked at me with a scorching heat that made me freeze. I jumped as big hands gripped my waist before I smiled and resumed grinding even harder as he held me.
“Frankfurt argues that second-order desires and volitions are what endow a being with personhood,” I said, picking up the pace. “Without the capacity to shape our desire…” I reached up with one hand and traced his jaw, never breaking my rhythm, “we’re no better than animals,” I said with a thick, lustful sigh.
I was worked up at this point, and the sensation of grinding against him while he gripped me with those gorgeous hands made me let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. The sound seemed to snap him out of a reverie, and he leaned forward a little farther and tightened his grip.
“Risha…” he said.
“Please,” I whispered, continuing to grind and placing my hands back on his chest.
Several emotions flitted across his face before he finally managed to ask, “Risha, what do you want?”
I smiled; this I knew how to answer. “You,” I said with a throaty whisper, dragging the end of it out as my breath hitched from the pressure of his hands on my sides.
He paused before speaking again. “And what about your second-order desire?” he asked, his voice so quiet that I would not have been able to hear him were I not so close.
“Do you want… to want me?” he asked, a slight tremble to his voice as if he was straining to hold something back.
I leaned my way all the way in, my lips brushing past his cheek before pressing up against his ear, my breath warm as I whispered for him and no one else: “Yes.”
That was all it took. He pulled my head back by my hair and his mouth crashed into mine. He kissed me with such a sudden, passionate heat that I almost didn’t know how to respond.
I let myself melt into the kiss, my body continuing to grind against him as our tongues battled for dominance. Without pausing, he reached down and hooked one strong hand around my knee, pulling my leg up and over him so that I was straddling his hips instead of just one leg. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed the bulge growing in his slacks, and I was now positioned such that I was grinding right against it. The feeling of his erection against my needy pussy sent me into new heights of frenzy. I began grinding harder against him, the intensity building rapidly. His hand snaked up my side and wrapped around my breasts, his skilled fingers squeezing and kneading. I wished he’d touch my nipples; they had been rock hard and straining against the fabric of my bra this whole time.
The feeling of his hands on my breasts made me moan into his mouth as we made out. He was using both hands now, working both sides at once. As if detecting my thoughts, he tugged the collar of my low-cut top, my breasts finally springing out. I gasped at the feeling of the cool air against them, and then again at his hands on my bare skin. I was grinding at a frantic pace, my hips moving of their own accord as I felt myself approaching a climax.
No fucking way, I thought to myself somewhere in the back of my mind. I’m going to cum like this? I still have all my clothes on. He still has all his clothes on. Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m going to…
He reached down and pinched my nipples, rolling and squeezing them between his thumb and index finger as his tongue pushed into my mouth. The combined stimulation was too much for me, and I began to convulse and moan as my climax crashed over me. I dropped my head forward onto his shoulder as I rode out the waves of my orgasm, biting into his neck out of sheer, subconscious, primal desire.
It took me a moment to realize I was moaning. Loudly. Very loudly. I clamped my hand over my mouth but couldn’t stop my desperate mewls as the last of my climax abated. I stayed like that for a moment, my body pressed against him, my head in the crook of his shoulder, panting as he held me while I came back down to earth from wherever he had just sent me. I took a few deep breaths before pulling myself together and leaning back to look at him.
I was ready to make a snarky quip about my “presentation,” but the look in his eyes stopped me. I suddenly found myself looking into dark, lust-filled pools that seemed to harbor no trace of his trademark softness. He wasn’t looking at me like I was his student. He wasn’t even looking at me like a man looks at a woman he wants. He was looking at me like a fox looks at a rabbit.
I was paralyzed under the heat of that gaze, his usual intensity dialed up to an unbearable degree. He stood and lifted me with alarming ease before setting me down and running a finger under my chin. I tried to speak, but he ran a slow thumb across my bottom lip.
I was still giddy from my orgasm, and the sensation felt incredible. He pressed his thumb against my lips and, without thinking twice, I opened my mouth and took him in. I sucked his thumb and ran my tongue along it, looking up at him to see whether I could get a rise out of him. I watched his breath hitch and smiled inwardly before he withdrew his hand and placed it on my head.
“Get on your knees,” he said calmly.
The ice in his voice contrasted with the fire in his eyes. I sank to my knees as he guided me down, excited by the prospect of getting to return the favor. I was eye level with his bulge, the throbbing heat of it palpable from this distance. I nuzzled it with my face and looked up at him expectantly, eager to put my mouth to better use. He removed his belt with one hand and popped the button on his pants before looking down at me expectantly.
“Take them off,” he said with a steady authority. I was happy to comply and reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped me.
“With your mouth,” he said.
What? Fuck you, who does he think he is telling me to—
I leaned forward and caught his zipper between my teeth, guiding it down all the way, and then reached up to bite the waistband of his trousers. As I did so, my teeth lightly brushed against the skin of his lower abs.
And oh my god, what abs! He had done me the great service of unbuttoning his shirt while I fumbled with his pants. He left it open in the front, the crisp white fabric framing either side of his sculpted torso.
He’s so fucking lucky he’s hot, I thought to myself. There’s no way I would let him talk to me if he wasn’t this attractive.
I tugged and pulled at his trousers and then his underwear, a little embarrassed by how eager I was to get his cock out. Through the thin fabric of his boxers, I could both see and feel how big and throbbing his bulge had gotten. It was no surprise then, when I finally got his boxers down, that out sprung an enormous, thick cock. It flopped out and landed on my face with a heavy thwack, the heat and weight of it shocking me for a second.
I groaned and pulled back to look at the heavy dick swinging between his thighs. Of course he has a big cock. It’s always the tall, lanky, nerdy ones with a surprising amount of self-confidence. Well, I see where he gets it from, I thought as I beheld the weapon he was pointing at me.
“Open your mouth,” he said, looking down at me with complete and utter confidence that I would do what he said. I did what he said. I parted my lips as he pressed the tip of his dick against my lips. The head itself was so thick that my jaw had to open wider and wider as he pushed himself in, not bothering to ask for an invitation.
“Suck me off,” he said without changing his tone. I found myself rushing to comply, bobbing my head up and down as I tried to take more and more of him in my mouth. He put one hand on my head as I worked, guiding me farther down his shaft.
“Relax your throat,” he commanded, his voice smooth and monotone in contrast with his hips, which had begun to move as he thrust himself deeper into my mouth.
Why is this so fucking sexy? I found myself thinking, trying to hold on to his thighs as he claimed my throat. My body flushed with heat and I tried to reach a hand down to my already wet crotch.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said without breaking his rhythm, “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.”
I withdrew my hand instantly, and to my horror, let out a needy whine while looking up at him pleadingly. I caught sight of him looming over me, his huge cock sliding in and out of my mouth as he looked on at me with eyes filled with dark hunger. This is bad, I thought to myself, unable to turn away from those damn eyes of his.
Finally, he began pumping faster as his own climax began to well up within. Eager to please, I shook my head free of his hands and devoured his cock, pushing myself as far down as I could go each time.
“Good girl,” he said possessively, looking down at me with approval as he neared his release.
Those two words struck me like lightning and a tingle ran through my whole body. Something fundamental in me changed in that moment; I would never be the same again. I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he began to unleash a torrent of thick cum. He let out a deep rambling groan of satisfaction as he continued to thrust into my mouth, the sound of it making me almost dizzy with lust. I flushed in satisfaction, proud at having made him feel this good.
I tried to swallow as much as I could but I soon had to pull back and gasp for air. He, however, just kept cumming, using both hands now to stroke himself as he unloaded all over my face and tits. I found myself giggling with satisfaction as I felt momentarily like a canvas that he had decided to paint, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done. Eventually, he slowed and paused, breathing heavily in the aftermath of his orgasm.
Immediately he was down on his knees next to me with tissues, gentle and concerned again as he wiped my face and brushed the hair out of my eyes. He kept murmuring in a gentle whisper, “Oh gosh, are you all right? Sorry, I sort of lost myself for a moment there. Here, take some of these…”
God, he’s adorable. Fuck, I thought to myself as I sucked in air and tried to steady myself against his strong arms. Well, he’s adorable right now, I corrected myself; a minute ago he was very not adorable… he was ravenous, he was dominant, he was… he was so fucking hot I have got to get him to do that to me again. I need it, I need it right now.
Looking up into his soft doe eyes, I found myself amazed. It was uncanny how different he looked despite nothing in his appearance shifting from how he had been just moments before.
“Professor O,” I said, really putting on a show for him by lowering my head and running a nervous thumb down across my lip. “Can I ask you a question?” I said sweetly.
“Of course, Risha, what is it?”
I watched his broad chest rise and fall as he breathed steadily, his body still so proximate to mine.
“Can I…” I paused, letting my words hang in the air.
“Yes,” he prompted, “what is it?”
“Can I call you Daddy now?” I said, my tone of voice staying the same as I looked up at him and smiled.
He blinked and stared for a moment, processing the whiplash of going from what we had just been doing to how we were talking to what I had just said to him. To my surprise, he raised an eyebrow and smiled that sexy, dorky little smile of his.
“Isn’t that a little on the nose? Sleeping with an authority figure and having daddy stuff? It’s just a little cliché.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I said huffily. “You’re one to talk. I bet you love fucking a college girl.”
“Hey, that’s not—” he started.
“I bet you like it even more because I’m your student, don’t you?”
There it was again, that slight flexing of his jaw muscle, that slight shift in his eyes as I began to push his buttons. Gotcha, I thought gleefully.
“Is that all you’re going to do, huh? You’re just going to make me suck you off and call it a day? You’re not going to take my clothes off? You’re not going to touch me some more? You’re not going to show me what that big cock can do?”
He stayed silent but his breathing began to quicken as he tensed up next to me. I looked at him with satisfaction. Too easy.
I reached out and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up so he had to look me in the eye. His gaze was intense but still restrained as our eyes locked.
I leaned in as I brought my face an inch away from his, his body still warm and glistening from the exertion. I made sure to moisten my lips a little before saying, “You’re not going to fuck my brains out right here on this table, Daddy?”
And there it was again, the snap. One moment we were down on the floor together, the next I was lying back on his desk, my body laid out flat against him as he stripped my clothes off with methodical efficiency.
I wriggled as he peeled my jeans and top off, rolling me over so he could unhook my bra and pull that off as well. I felt the table cold against my back and my nipples hardened at all the sensations. He ran a hand over me as he took my bra off, his fingers barely brushing my nipples as he worked. That touch was enough to make me gasp, my hips squirming as my thighs clenched against each other. As if in response, he reached down with his other hand and placed his hand on my clamped legs, sliding it down till he was at the meaty base of my thigh.
“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, the warmth absent from his voice. I tried to think about resisting, about holding out just a little bit longer, but he slipped his long fingers between my legs and they opened right up to let him at my dripping pussy. I looked down, disappointed at my traitorous thighs, but bit my bottom lip when he ran a hand along the damp fabric of my panties.
I wished they were sexy panties; I was always in sexy panties when I fantasized about this scenario, but I’d never shown up to class in sexy panties so I guess there wasn’t a way for that to have happened. For what it’s worth, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference because right now they just seemed to be in the way. He ran his thumb along my panty line before peeling my soaking underwear down, lifting my legs as he slid them up and over my ankles.
And it hit me that I was now all naked, my whole body spread out on this table like a patient before a doctor. It was with surgical precision that he looked at me, leaning forward and brushing a finger from my bottom lip down my neck, between my breasts, down my stomach, but stopping maddeningly close to my aching clit.
He spread two fingers then and traced down the outside of my lips. His hand ran over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, the flesh soaked with juices from my last climax (and near-constant state of arousal since). He ran his fingers up and down my slit, just flicking the clit at the very top before going back down. I groaned, raising my hips to try and get him to touch me some more. I looked up at his face in a frankly pathetic show of desperation. I was not above whining at this point and so I did, pouting at not having been given what I asked for.
And then he gave me what I asked for.
In one smooth motion, he plunged two fingers into my pussy, curving them up towards my stomach as he pressed against that sensitive spot that made me gasp. He curled his fingers then, dragging them down my inner wall with a firm even pressure. I writhed and he did it again. Fuck. Over and over he fingered me as I let myself feel things I didn’t think I’d ever felt before.
How the fuck is he so good at this, I thought as I moaned again, unable to stop the heat that was spreading up my body from my crotch. As if following the wave, his other hand reached up and wrapped around my bare breast, his thumb circling my nipple in teasing slow strokes. And how does he know I’m so sensitive there? Oh my God, his fingers are so big.
He began groping me like this, relentless as he attacked me from both ends. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths, willing my body to not unravel at the sensation. He continued at an even, steady pace, not in any rush to get me where I was clearly headed. His other hand moved from my breast to my face, stroking my cheek and tracing my jaw in a gesture so shockingly tender that it startled me. Then he moved that hand down to my throat and wrapped gentle fingers around it.
Oh fuck.
He applied a very slight even pressure, not enough to hurt or restrict airflow, but just enough for me to feel how strong his fingers could be. He began to increase the pace with his other hand, ramping up as he built layers upon layers of pleasure within me. He squeezed my throat just a little tighter and all of a sudden every other sensation in my body was amplified. I couldn’t believe just how good it felt. Am I into this? I had never even considered that I would be the kind of person who enjoyed being choked. I knew without question he would never hurt me, but the implication of danger set something on fire inside of me.
As if to capitalize, he reached the thumb of his right hand down, placing an even pressure on my clit as his index and middle fingers continued to move inside me. He traced lazy circles over my clit with his thumb, a slight pressure causing fireworks to go off inside my brain. He had me; I could barely form a thought, my whole body overcome with relentless stimulation. He played me like a musical instrument, his hands moving to different parts of my body and eliciting a different symphony of moans each time. I began to take shorter breaths as something welled up inside me.
Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Fuck this feels so good. It feels so fucking good, oh my God he could do whatever he wanted to me right now. Fuck, I want him to do whatever he wants to me. I couldn’t say no if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. I want him to use me like a toy. I want to be nothing but a set of holes for him. I want him to tell me what to do, I want him to touch me like this all the time. Fuck I’m going to.. I’m going to…
Just as my orgasm was about to crest within me, he withdrew both hands and stepped back. I’m not proud to admit it, but I screamed, the absence of him almost unbearable. I made pathetic mewling noises at having been denied my climax. I thought about reaching down and finishing myself off but I remembered his instructions to me.
“I didn’t tell you you could touch yourself.”
Jerk.
He stepped towards me again and I reached for him, wanting so badly to have what I had been denied. He turned me so my legs were spread and wrapped around him, his hands running down the sides of my body and along my thighs. I bit my knuckle in an attempt to restrain myself from debasing myself further.
“Beg,” he said.
No. Absolutely not. I’m not that desperate, okay? You can tell me what to do, but there is no way in hell I’m going to—
He cut my train of thought short by grabbing the shaft of his now rock-hard cock and pressing the tip down against my needy clit. I bit back another scream, my desire to get off mingling with my fear of what a cock that size was about to do to me.
“You heard me,” he said without mercy. “Beg.”
I looked up at his profane gaze and gave in to what I’d been trying to convince myself I didn’t want.
“Daddy, please fuck me. I want you to fuck me so badly. I need your big dick inside me Daddy, please. Daddy—”
Satisfied with my performance, he pressed the enormous tip of his cock against my slit and pushed himself in. If he hadn’t just turned me into a veritable waterfall by edging me like that, I don’t think there’s any way he would have made it in at all, but as it was he managed to slide a few inches into me, pausing to let me get used to his girth. Not that I thought I could ever get used to this girth. Could I?
I gasped as he stretched me out, the sensation of being speared by a huge cock almost too much for my mind to handle. I hadn’t had anything even close to this big inside me before, and I wasn’t sure at that moment whether I could handle it.
He held my waist with one hand while the other reached down to touch my clit. By mixing the intensity of his cock in me with the pleasure of my clit being rubbed, I was able to relax and enjoy the feeling of being split in two. I controlled my breathing as he slid back and forth, pushing just a little farther in each time. I looked up to see his face a mask of concentration, jaw tense from trying not to accidentally hurt me.
Even like this, he’s such a gentleman. I appreciated it, but that wasn’t what I was here for anymore.
“What’s the matter, Daddy?” I said, my voice more steady than I felt in that moment. “Is that all you got?”
I looked down, realizing too late that he was in fact not even halfway in, an imposing amount of shaft still yet to reach inside me. Well, shit.
He snarled and thrust the entire length of himself deep inside me without mercy. His tip reached so damn far inside of me, pushing up against my cervix, a sensation I didn’t think I’d ever felt before. With everything that I had left in me I tried not to cum the moment he put his dick inside me, but my body was long past listening to what I had to say. I convulsed as my pussy spasmed around his shaft, an earth-shattering orgasm rippling through me as I babbled a meaningless string of “Daddys” and “oh fucks” and “Yeses” while he held me down. The constant presence of his cock inside me drew my orgasm out longer than usual. I couldn’t get over the feeling of being so full. I don’t think I had ever felt empty before, but I knew that I had been until now.
I took deep gasping breaths as I came down from my climax, my eyes focusing enough to look at him. He stood there still and unmoving, as if I had been railed by some Greek statue. He certainly has the body of one. He certainly does not have the cock of one. Man, those Greeks were really missing out on how good a big cock feels.
I groaned in relief as he slid out of me, the tip pulling out with a satisfying “pop.” His cock now looked somehow almost bigger, throbbing and angry at not having had its release yet.
I can’t believe I had that thing inside of me, I thought. I think I could feel where each vein was from the inside.
“So now what are we going to—” I started before he reached down, picked me up, and flipped me over. It was both terrifying and a little arousing how he could just toss me around, so much so that I didn’t register that I was now face down on the table. The wood was cold and rough against my nipples, my body pressed down against it. My legs he let hang down the edge, my toes just touching the floor and my ass out and on display for him.
He didn’t bother asking this time; he just stuck a foot between my ankles and pushed outwards, spreading my legs nice and wide. I fell forward and pushed myself in onto my elbows, looking back with my bottom lip trembling as he pressed his tip against my slit again.
“Wait… I just came, I’m so sensitive,” I said pleadingly.
“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” he replied simply.
I didn’t have time to process that response before he plunged back inside me, my whole body rocking from the force of the impact. I gasped as I felt that fullness again, my insides screaming at having been given no time to recover since their last battering.
Despite my strangled gasps, I gradually found that unbearable sense of overstimulation give way to the pleasure of his steady rhythm. Soon enough I was moaning again for him like a bitch in heat.
How is he doing this to me? I wondered as he rearranged my insides over and over, coaxing feelings out of me I didn’t know were possible.
He took me with long smooth strokes, using his size to his advantage. Despite his initial thrust to claim me for himself, he held back from going all the way in, stopping just short of the cervix to prevent any pain. His girth meant that he was always pressed up against my G-spot (as well as literally every other spot inside me). Since he was thicker towards the base when he went in deep it spread the sensitive parts of my lips and pushed the underside of my clit. His was so long that he could drag the entire length of him up and down my G-spot, the slight ridged shape on the underside of his cock applying constant pressure in a way that felt unbelievable.
I was in heaven. I had to be. I had died and gone to heaven and I thank whatever god led me here because this feels fucking fantastic. God, I must look so fucking good from behind; I bet my ass looks incredible right now.
“Enjoying the view?” I managed to choke out, my unconvincing bravado undercut by the fucked-silly expression I couldn’t seem to wipe off my face.
He responded by raising a hand and slapping me hard across my ass, the flesh rippling and reddening from the impact. I let out a sharp yelp and lost control of what was left of my higher faculties. I became a slutty little doll only capable of being thoroughly railed while making a constant stream of slutty moans. He continued to slap me across both cheeks, each one shooting electricity through my body and somehow causing my nipples to ache pleasantly.
Seemingly able to read my mind, he pulled me up by my shoulder and pressed me against the blackboard, taking me standing against the surface and reaching even deeper than before. He reached forward and grabbed my tits, squeezing and kneading them while he railed me with his massive cock. The additional layer of sensation was too much to bear; he knew all my weak spots and showed no mercy in dismantling me piece by piece till I became a dirty little slut for him. Just as a climax welled up within me, his lips brushed my ear as he whispered: “You don’t come till I say you can come.”
For a moment of sheer blind panic I thought he was going to pull out and make me beg like last time, but he just maintained his rhythm without laying off the pressure.
Oh fuck, this might be worse, I realized, my body mounting with pleasure towards an orgasm. I held my breath and squeezed, fighting with everything I had to obey his orders and delay my climax. It felt like trying to paddle upstream; how unfair to make me hold back from the one thing I wanted most in the world right now. He’s so big and mean and stupid and hot and so fucking sexy and oh my God oh my God I want him so bad fuck yes just like that.
“Daddy please, please, please I can’t hold on any longer, please let me come. Please let me come on your big dick,” I begged, all sense of dignity having long since vacated my body.
“I’ve already heard you say please,” his voice in my ear the only sound in the world. “Now it’s time to say thank you.”
“Thank you for wha— “
He pushed himself all the way into me, his hips meeting my ass and making it ripple. The tip of his cock pushed up and up, reaching that part of me that never knew I had. He managed to slow down so he didn’t slam my cervix but just pushed it with slow steady pulses. I almost passed out, a sudden wave of pressure rocketing through my body.
“Oh fuck, oh God, thank you, oh thank you so much, Daddy, yes, fuck, I’m coming, here I’m coming on your… on your huge cock I’m oh fuck yes yes.”
I’m sure I continued to babble as he rode me through the rest of my climax, wave after wave continuing to crash over me. He even reached down with one hand and began rubbing my clit, eviscerating whatever was left of my grasp on reality. It was almost too much to bear.
Finally showing me a little mercy he started to pull out, catching me in his strong arms as I collapsed forward. I don’t think I could have moved a single muscle in my body in that moment if I tried. I’m pretty sure my soul had vacated my body and was dancing among the clouds, leaving my limp form to pant and heave in his arms. Unbelievably, I managed to regain some degree of consciousness, picking myself up and looking down to see my inner thighs glistening and soaked. Was that me? I don’t think he came, I think that’s all from me cumming. Woah, I didn’t even know I could do that.
I perked up and turned around. My professor was standing behind me, skin glistening with sweat, cock still hard and throbbing.
This poor man, I thought to myself, turning around to press my body against his. He keeps giving me incredible orgasm after incredible orgasm and I just keep coming too quick for him to get anywhere.
He looked at me but didn’t move to take me again, even in his fervor trying to protect me. I leaned in and placed tender kisses on his chest, standing on my toes to trace up his neck and onto his jaw with my lips. He leaned down and I kissed him deeply, my hand going out to stroke his cock. I could feel it in how he throbbed; he was straining to burst and yearning for release. I pushed him back into his chair and straddled him again, resuming our position from before. I put both hands on his chest and leaned forward, raising my ass up in the air and lining up my entrance with his tip. It was time for me to reward him for treating me so well. I made sure to breathe as I sank down onto him, my body now knowing how to take him in. He groaned as I began to ride him, my hips moving in hypnotic waves. I squeezed my tits and ran my hands along my body seductively. I’d love to say I was just trying to give him a show but honestly it just felt really fucking good and it made me want his hands on me instead.
I reached down and grabbed them, bringing his palms up to my hips and watching the soft flesh of my upper thighs give way to his fingers. I’m not going to pretend like I was the best in the world at this, but I had it on good authority I was a pretty decent cowgirl (even if this is a bigger stallion than I was used to riding). Despite the fact that I had better control of the angle and depth like this, he still continued to fill me up so much that I had to struggle to keep my composure with each move of my hips. Just like last time, I pushed through the overstimulation at the beginning and sank back into the rhythm of our bodies, a steady heat rising all too quickly within me.
Fuck, I’m going to come again, I thought to myself, biting my lower lip. God, why does he make me come so easily? Fuck, I need to do something fast. I leaned forward and pushed one of my tits into his mouth, not helping my case whatsoever. His teeth and tongue sucked and teased my nipples and I had to bite my lip hard. He seemed to enjoy the sensation though and his hips began to thrust to meet mine, the added movement pushing us faster and deeper. I leaned back, placed my hands on his shoulders and locked in. I began to ride faster and faster, his cock churning my insides in ways that felt like the type of good that’s going to leave me a little sore tomorrow. I watched his breath tighten as his cock stiffened even more within me. Oh God, we’re so close, come on.
I leaned forward and this time pressed my face to his, our eyes locking. The fire in his gaze matched the fire in mine and we continued to stare into each other as we pushed one another to an earth-shattering climax. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, pressing my tits to his chest and his lips to mine as my pussy spasmed and clenched around his dick. This sent him over the edge and he came hard inside me, moaning into my mouth as pleasure flooded through his body at last. I think I could have come again just from how unbelievable it felt to feel him pump me full of his warm seed. How the fuck is he still coming so much? I thought to myself, his dick continuing to throb as cum leaked down and out the sides of my pussy.
I collapsed forward into his shoulder again, breathing the scent of him with each heave. He continued to hold me with his big strong arms, reaching one hand up to run gentle fingers through my hair. We sat like that for some time, our breathing synchronized and our bodies still connected together. He perked up and pulled back, looking at me with all the concern and kindness I was used to seeing in his eyes.
“Oh shit Risha are you-”
“I’m on birth control.”
“Oh thank God, for a minute there… oh Lord.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t stop looking at his lips when he talked, my brain too mushy and sex-drunk for executive function. He kissed me back tenderly, one hand reaching up to trace my cheek. Well, someone contains multitudes, I thought to myself, grinning into the kiss.
I pulled back and looked at him, a haze still thick in the air between us.
“Professor O?”
“Yes Risha?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Oh God… what is it?”
“Does this mean I get an A in your class?”
He burst out laughing before answering. “Well like I was trying to tell you, you already have an A in this class. Your presentation for today was extra credit, remember?”
“Oh…”
Right, I thought to myself, extra credit, I knew that. I might have forgotten that amidst the chaos of trying to get this presentation ready, but at some point I knew that.
“In fact… I think technically you got a D just now.”
I looked at him incredulously as he smiled his own dopey self-satisfied grin and the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself from smiling just a little.
God, I want him, I thought to myself, leaning in to kiss him a little more.
