I never planned on fucking my professor, but the way Mr. Harlan looked at me during lectures made my cunt throb every single class. He was thirty-six, tall, with rough hands that looked like they could pin a girl down hard. I was twenty-one, sitting in the back row of his advanced lit seminar, always wearing short skirts and no panties on purpose.
One Thursday after everyone left, he told me to stay. "Elena, your last paper was shit. We need to talk about it." His voice was low and direct. I walked up to his desk, heart pounding. He didn't waste time. He grabbed my wrist, spun me around, and bent me over the wooden surface. "You've been teasing me all semester with that ass.
Time to back it up."
He yanked my skirt up. Cool air hit my bare pussy. "No fucking panties? Dirty little slut." His fingers slid straight between my legs, finding me already wet. Two thick digits shoved inside me without warning, pumping hard. I moaned loud, pushing back on his hand. "That's it, take it," he growled.
Harlan pulled his fingers out and unzipped. I heard his belt hit the floor. His cock slapped against my ass, heavy and hot. He rubbed the head up and down my slit, coating himself in my juices. "Beg for it."
"Fuck me, Professor. Shove that cock in my cunt right now."
He slammed in deep on the first thrust. My walls stretched around his thick shaft, and I cried out. He didn't start slow. He fucked me like he hated me, hips snapping forward, balls slapping my clit with every stroke. The desk creaked under us. Papers scattered. His grip on my hips was bruising.
"Goddamn, this pussy's tight," he grunted. "Been thinking about bending you over since day one." He reached around and rubbed my clit in rough circles. I came hard, cunt pulsing around him, juices running down my thighs. He kept pounding through it.
When he pulled out, he flipped me onto my back on the desk. My legs went over his shoulders. He drove back in, eyes locked on mine. "Look at me while I use this hole." Every thrust bottomed out. I could feel him in my guts. Sweat dripped from his chest onto my tits. He leaned down and sucked a nipple hard, teeth grazing.
I reached between us and played with my clit again. "Fill me up, Professor. Come in my pussy." That pushed him over. He slammed in one last time and unloaded, hot cum flooding me in thick pulses. He stayed buried, grinding as he emptied every drop.
After, he pulled out and watched his cum leak from me onto the desk. "Clean it up." I slid down, got on my knees, and sucked his softening cock clean, tasting both of us. He stroked my hair. "Same time tomorrow. Don't wear anything under that skirt."
We kept meeting after class for weeks. Sometimes he'd fuck my mouth first, making me gag on his cock until tears ran down my face, then bend me over again. Other times he'd sit in his chair and have me ride him reverse, watching my ass bounce while I worked his shaft. He'd slap my cheeks red and call me his favorite student slut.
One night he brought a plug. Bent me over, worked it into my ass while he fucked my pussy. The stretch made me shake. "Both holes filled like the whore you are." I came so hard I almost blacked out.
The semester ended, but the hookups didn't. He'd text me to meet at his apartment. I'd show up, strip, and he'd use me however he wanted—against the wall, on the kitchen counter, on all fours on his living room floor. Raw, fast, filthy. No romance, just cock and cunt and cum.
Last time, he had me on my back with my ankles by my ears. He pounded my pussy until it was swollen and dripping, then pulled out and painted my tits and face with his load. "Good girl," he said, rubbing it in with his cock. "See you next term."
I left with his cum drying on my skin and a smile on my face. The best sex stories always start with a teacher who knows exactly how to teach a student what she really needs.
