Joselyn marched briskly down the hall, her smile frozen, hard on her face. She was less than pleased with the outcome of her interview with Dr. Bertrand. Oh, she had gotten an offer of an assistantship with the famous man, all right, but in so doing he had shown her a side of himself that she didn't like. And she'd thought that Paul was a weakling! Bertrand was easily as much of a wimp under all the bravado, the sturdy reputation. She wondered, offhandedly, if the pregnant secretary had been whimpered and whined into sharing his bed, if she'd grown so sick of hearing him blubber that she'd finally said "Yes"? One thing was sure, though. She knew she could never respect a man who had lowered himself as the professor had done.
Even as she was thinking these thoughts, deep down, she knew that there was something fundamentally wrong with her logic. She wanted her men to assert themselves, their needs, but when they tried to she felt compelled to cut them down, to degrade them. She wanted to be the passive party, but she would not let herself submit. The very idea was highly repugnant to her. Her own mother had been a classic example of the spineless, dominated female. Her father tyrannically ran every moment of her mother's life, humiliating her in public and private, until the final humiliation, until he decided he wanted a younger woman and divorced her. At an early age, Joselyn had known that she would never be like her mother that she would never be so soft, so yielding, so vulnerable. In away, every victory against men was a blow struck at her father, in the name of her mother. What bothered her, what had always bothered her was that she got no real satisfaction from defeating her foes; her victories were always hollow.
She paused in front of Dr. Velasquez door. She hadn't intended on calling on him today, but she told herself that she might as well get the whole thing over with. She rapped on the door with her knuckles.
After a long silence, an irritated voice said, "Yes?!"
Joselyn turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack, looking in. Velasquez office was the exact opposite of Dr. Bertrand's. Everything had a place and everything was in its place when it wasn't being used.
"May I have a word with you, Dr. Velasquez?" she asked quietly.
The black haired, swarthy faced man sitting behind the desk glowered at her from over a handful of abstracts. Of all the department's little dictators, he had the worst reputation for arbitrariness and nit-picking. He was a few years older than Bertrand and his build was less bulky, more wiry, but still powerful. All the professors, with the exception of Dr. Veblen who was too old, spent their lunch hours in the college gym, working out with weights and swimming. It was part of their macho tradition.
"It's a brief," he said, gesturing with the papers for her to come in and sit down. Like Bertrand, Dr. Velasquez was handsome, but in a different way. His good looks were cruel, angular, his nose long, thin and hooked, his cheeks gaunt, chin heavy, his black eyes unnervingly piercing. Where Dr. Bertrand reminded her of a big, cuddly bear, Dr. Velasquez seemed to be both cunning and calculating, like a fox. Indeed, his face had a kind of fox-like quality to it, being long and thin and pointed. It was easy for her to visualize Velasquez blackmailing one of his female undergrads into performing for him sexually. He looked like the kind of man who would enjoy such a diversion no end.
Joselyn took a seat, her mind racing ahead, planning her campaign.
"What is it, Miss uhh?" he said, fumbling for her name.
"Foche," she reminded him. "Joselyn Foche. I'm starting my second year of graduate work in the department."
"Yes, I remember you," he said, giving her a feral grin.
Though his eyes moved only slightly up and down, she got the distinct feeling that he had catalogued every aspect of her entire body, filed it away in, his brain for future reference. The briefness of his once-over riled her. It intimated that she wasn't worth more than a fleeting glance. She was determined to make a more definite impression on him than that. As she turned to the side to put her book bag down on the floor, she casually, "accidentally" let her thighs slip apart. "A-hem!" Dr. Velasquez said, clearing his throat.
Joselyn fought the urge to grin as she straightened up. She glanced at herself and saw what the professor saw that the crotch of her shorts, thanks to all the accumulated slobber and love juice and the stretching it'd received, had become nothing more than a thin ribbon of material, a ribbon that allowed the pink meat of her pussy and the soft fur that rimmed it to show on either side.
"Is something wrong, professor?" she said, her eyes wide with innocence.
"Uhh, no. No, of course not," he said nervously, showing her all of his white, even teeth.
"You had such a peculiar look on your face," she said, crossing her legs. Again, it was all she could do to keep from laughing. When she lifted her right leg up, the material of her crotch-band twisted to one side, giving him a look not just at the edges of her little pink cunt, but at the whole thing, from top to bottom.
His eyes dropped to take in the breathtaking view and remained there until after she crossed her legs and pulled the curtain down on the free show.
"Exactly why did you come to see me?" he asked, showing her not only teeth, but gum as well.
"I'm looking for an assistantship," she explained… "You're the most prominent professor in the department and your field is what I'm interested in doing my thesis in."
"Critical solution points?" he said, beaming at her.
Joselyn figured he'd be a sucker for a compliment. "That's right," she said. "I'm particularly intrigued by low temperature problems." In point of fact, she knew that it didn't matter a hoot what one's thesis was about so long as the co-author was well known.
"I hadn't really planned on taking on an assistant this term," he said. "I have too much data correlating to do. I wouldn't really have time to devote much attention to the assistant's project, I'm afraid."
Joselyn found herself getting mad again. She had prepared herself for everything but a rebuff… and that's what it appeared he was giving her. She had shown him what she had to offer and he had ignored the bait. Perhaps all he needed was a longer look.
"I don't know what to say," she told him, raising her right leg from across her left and putting her chin on her knee, her heel on the edge of the chair. Once more she let him see the tender pink meat of her vagina, plainly visible in the flared out leg aperture of her shorts. "I'd really hoped that you might take me on. I hate to go second best."
Velasquez stared right at her pussy, the skin of his face taking on a congested, reddish hue. He moistened his thick, sensual lips with the tip of his tongue.
She knew that the time to act was at hand. "What are you staring at?!" she said, in the same grating tone she'd used on Dr. Bertrand.
"Your cunt," Velasquez said. "Your sweet little cunt, what do you think?"
"Well, stop it!" she said, making no move to conceal herself from him. "You're a married man. You should be ashamed of yourself!"
The professor smirked at her… and kept right on looking.
"You're not going to get any of it," she said, nastily, "so there's no point in leering like that."
"Do you really think so?" he said, his dark eyes glittering.
"Do I think what?" she asked. He was making her feel extremely uneasy.
"That I'm not going to get any of it?" he said, pushing up from his desk.
Joselyn gasped as he stepped around it and came into full view, her hand instinctively leaping up to cover her mouth.
Like his distinguished colleague, Dr. Velasquez had sprung a boner and the front of his Bermudas and the rigid leg in particular showed the bulging evidence of it. What startled Joselyn so was the size of his organ. It was so long that it protruded out from the cuff of his shorts by a good three inches, practically touching his knee. And it was grossly thick. The turgid head, a dark, fiery red hue, was easily the size of her clenched fist and the stout shaft, laced with blue dark veins, was much more than her fingers could encircle.
"What are you staring at?" he said, mimicking her.
She jerked her gaze back up to his face, her cheeks suddenly burning with embarrassment.
"I think I'd better leave now," she said, reaching down for her book bag. Her fingers trembled as she touched the strap. She was terrified… and terribly excited.
Dr. Velasquez quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her. His mammoth cock was a scant foot from her knee. She couldn't help but look at it. It demanded her attention. She'd never seen anything like it before. It was too large, too gruesome, more like the cock of some lower animal, a horse or a bull. The slit in its blind, featureless face was a vast vent, fully half an inch in length. She was sure that no human vagina could contain such an engine. She started to push to her feet, but Velasquez put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her back into the chair.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said.
"Out of here," she told him. "I'm not impressed by your friend."
"Really? That's a shame," he said, massaging her shoulder as if he owned it. "Because my friend here was mighty impressed with what you had to show him a minute ago. I think he'd like to take a close up look at it, a kind of inside look."
"You're even sicker than your reputation makes you out," she said. "Dr. Demento."
"Cut it!" he snapped, squeezing her shoulder hard.
"You're hurting me!" she whined, trying hard to twist away from his hard fingers.
"I'm going to do a lot more than this before I'm through with you," he said. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he slipped his other hand down into the front of her tube top and scooped out her breasts, mauling them greedily, pulling the nipples and tugging at them.
"Stop it!!" she cried. "Stop it or I'll scream for help!"
"Like hell you will!" he said, continuing to fondle the sweet, supple pears. "I know your type. I know the kind of treatment you're looking for. And you've come to just the right place for it."
Joselyn, consumed by fury and panic, struck out with her nails, raking them across the back of his pawing hand.
"Hell!" he croaked, jerking his hand back. Four bright red welts marked it.
Joselyn blinked at him, her heart thudding up under her chin. For the second time that afternoon, she felt the horrible tension in her belly, the pull of the conflicting desires that plagued her. Was he going to be the one she couldn't handle? The man who just took from her… and kept on taking? Or would she stifle him in the end, make him squirm on the floor for the privilege of kissing her ass? For an interminable instant, she hung there in limbo, unable to do anything but gawk. Then the familiar pattern surfaced, the dominant part of her personality. Even as she did it, she knew she was making a grave error, but she couldn't stop herself. She laughed at him, a cruel braying laugh.
Velasquez growled and swung on her, landing an open handed blow right alongside her face that snapped her head to the side. She groaned at the sharp impact, at the sudden flurry of twinkling lights in her skull, and then the hurt engulfed her face, washing over it in a red wave.
"You rotten little cunt!" he raged, raising his hand again, bringing it smashing down on her other cheek.
Joselyn tried to cover her face with her hands, to defend herself from the brutal assault, but it did no good. He ignored her covering hands, slapping them aside as he hit her over and over. Long before he finished, she was bawling like a baby, and hot, salty tears were running down her reddened cheeks down her throat and over her breasts.
No one had ever treated her like that before. No one had ever dared to raise a hand to her before. And the pain of what he'd done to her was not only physical, but menial as well. He'd humiliated her, knocked her about like some cheap little slut who confused physical contact, even violent contact with affection. She sobbed into her hands, making no move to pull up her tube top which clung about her waist, just under her naked breasts.
"You came in here for something," the professor said, his voice hoarse and thick. "Get to it!"
Joselyn bit her lower lip, wiping the tears from her eyes, so she could see his face.
"Don't give me that dumb look, cunt," he snarled. "Start sucking!" He jabbed his finger down at the massive head of his penis, indicating just what he wanted sucked.
She shuddered as the great bulb throbbed, its surface swelling then shrinking as if it had a life, a separate life of its own. Then she had a moment of what seemed crystal clarity. She saw herself, saw Velasquez, saw the predicament she'd gotten herself into. She even got a glimpse of her own twisted motivations.
"God! No! I don't want to! I won't!" she said, speaking what she sincerely believed was the truth.
It was Velasquez turn to laugh. "Tell me all about it," he said, grabbing hold of her hair and yanking her head down to a level with the tip of his penis. "Tell me you don't want to suck it."
Joselyn whimpered at the strain on her scalp, then whimpered again as he pulled her face forward, forcing his nasty bulb to brush her forehead, her nose, her cheek. It was searing hot and smooth as velvet and it had a cloying, masculine smell that made her want to gag. Worse than the scent of the thing, though, was the sticky, seepage from its great vent, a seepage that smeared over the bridge of her nose and along her eyebrow.
He jerked her head back and with his free hand, unfastening the waistband of his shorts, wrenching the garment down over his rigid cock. It was then that Joselyn got the full effect of it.
"Uhhh!" she whined, gawking at the bloated rod protruding out of the right side of his jockey briefs. It was enormous! And it was so stiff that it was pulled up into an obscene curve, like a vile red banana. She had only thought the neck of it was thick. Compared to the huge, hulking root, the neck was miniscule. Indeed, the lower third of his cock was so big around that it gave the whole thing a kind of pyramidal shape.
Dr. Velasquez shoved his underwear down and the great penis lurched up to slap his sternum, showing its underside to her. It looked like a cobra swaying there, the flaring rim of its cap an opened hood. It was a ruddy color, too, especially on the pendulous nerve bundle and the swollen, hair fringed scrotum. That wrinkled bag contained a matched pair of balls. Slowly, the staff dropped down from his chest, sticking out from his groin like a tree limb.
"Take it in your mouth or I'm going to knock you silly," he said, raising his hand to her.
It was like a nightmare come true. She had become the victim, the dominated one, she had become her mother. The tension within her was unbearable. She thought she could feel the fabric of her mind ripping, the seams splitting…
He pulled her mouth uptight against the upper surface of his cock head, mashing her nose against the pulsing rim, practically smothering her with it.
"Do it now!" he demanded, twisting his hand tighter in her hair.
Joselyn's eyes fluttered shut, and as they did, a fresh batch of tears sprang forth. She had no choice. She had to obey him. Slowly, she let the muscles of her jaws relax. She didn't so much open her mouth, as allow him to force her lips apart over the knobby tip of his cock. It was a passive act, but surrender, nonetheless.
Her lips slipped smoothly down over the rubbery head and it pressed hard against her teeth, so hard that she whimpered. Then her jaws slipped further apart and the gross thing nosed over the edge of her teeth and pushed into her mouth, rubbing over the surface of her tongue, the insides of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth. Instantly, the flavor of his cock racked her taste buds. She coughed, choked about the horrendous mouthful, but he gave her no quarter, forcing her to keep the tip between her ovalled lips.
The very idea of her trying to get all that meat in her mouth was ridiculous. She could barely get her lips to go down to the thick rim. And even then, her cheeks were all ballooned out, stretched to the splitting point by the size of his bulb.
"Suck it!" he demanded.
It was easier said than done. In order to suck, there had to be some slack, some room for cheeks and lips to compress. Such space was non-existent. Joselyn whined pathetically, her hands flapping at her sides. She knew she had to obey him or suffer his wrath, but there was no way she could do it.
"I don't feel anything," he warned her, once again threatening her with his hand.
Terrified, she reached up and wrapped her fingers about the thick shaft, clutching the oily rod tight, then pumping her fist up and down, sliding the loose outer sheath of skin over the rock hard inner bone. She masturbated the gruesome thing into her open mouth, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him.
The professor grinned down at her, slitting his eyes against the pleasure her milking fingers were giving him.
"Harder!" he said. "Squeeze it harder!"
She dug her finger into the rigid shaft, jerking them forward and back, causing the sheath to bunch up behind his fat rim, then to wrinkle about his root. To her relief, he relaxed his grip on her hair and allowed her to pull her head back a little bit. She dragged her aching lips down from mid-bulb, down to the much smaller cleft tip.
She could feel the vent moving, opening and closing against the tip of her tongue, opening and closing in time to the stroking of her hand. And warm, viscous fluid belched from it, oozing into her mouth, filling it with the acrid taste of his precum, making buckets of slobber well up. Groaning, she sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, bolting the awful stuff down.
"Good, huh?" Velasquez smiled, giving his hips a little flip, making his knob bash against her teeth. She kept right on sucking. She didn't even pause for breath. She knew that if she could get him to orgasm now, she wouldn't have to undergo a more horrible, more complete ravishment later. Bobbing her head, she puffed her cheeks in and out, her lips making nasty wet noises against the red bulb.
"That's enough," the professor said, stepping back.
Jocelyn clutched his cock tightly and wouldn't give it up. She tried to get her lips back on it, to push her tongue tip into the gaping slot.
"Enough!" he exclaimed, punctuating his command with another slap.
The right side of her face exploded in pain once more and she went limp, allowing him to take back his property.
"You really like to suck dick, don't you?" he grinned. When she didn't answer, he added, "Some other time I'll let you finish it that way, but now…"
"Ohhhhhh!" Joselyn gasped as he reached down and thrust his hand between her legs, digging his fingers under her sodden crotch strap. He gripped it like a handle and jerked her up from the chair. For a second she swung helpless in mid air, suspended by the thin strip of fabric, her legs flailing wildly, her hand trying desperately to grab onto something, anything. He slung her over on the top of his desk like a sack of potatoes.
"Don't move!" he warned her, pulling her legs down so they draped over the desk's edge.
She lay there, panting, petrified, as he fumbled with the button and zipper on the front of her shorts. His hand still held the wet crotch-band, but it was so thoroughly stretched that she couldn't feel his fingers against her sex. Once he had the zipper pulled down, he used the crotch-band to jerk the shorts off her.
"Spread 'em!" he said, tossing the garment to the side.
When she was slow to obey; he angrily gripped her knees, wrenching them apart, splaying her crotch wide open. He chuckled coarsely as he leered down at her defenseless cunt.
Joselyn, shuddered on the desktop. A short time before he had looked at her pussy, but then it had been different, then she was at the helm, calling the shots. Now she could do nothing. His laughter made her face suddenly burn with shame.
"Tell me you didn't like sucking my cock," he demanded, gingerly reaching down and flicking her pudenda with the edge of his forefinger, brushing the lips of her vagina.
"Oh!" she said, recoiling from the intimate touch.
Velasquez held his finger up for her to see. It glistened unctuously in the light. "Your pussy is sopping wet," he nodded grinning. "You're ready for a fuck and we both know it."
"No!" she said, but even to her own ears her voice lacked power, conviction. She was suddenly aware of the warm moisture between her legs the tingling heat about the mouth of her cunt. Then her head went into a steep dive and the world began to spin. The Joselyn that was giving way to the Joselyn that was to be.
The Professor grabbed hold of the neck of his cock and bent it down, pushing his hips between her thighs, jamming the bloated head up against her wet labia.
"So fucking hot!" he exclaimed, rubbing himself up and down her sticky gash.
If she'd had any doubts about her readiness to perform sexually for the man, they were squelched at that instant. Squelched by the way her labia slipped apart, by the slick cum that rushed forth to lubricate the massive tip, by the mind-bending surge of delight that swept up over her tummy as the big bulb nosed about in her crotch.
She began to cry again, turning her head to the side, biting her finger to choke back the sobs. She knew she wanted it to happen, wanted his huge cock ramming about inside her cunt, ripping it, ruining it for any other man's pleasure… and that knowledge was more shameful than anything she'd ever experienced. All along she'd been waiting for just such an animal as Dr. Velasquez. A man who could use her, abuse her and think nothing of it, a man like dear old Dad.
The professor bore down on his shaft, forcing the tip to push into the mouth of her cunt. It was so impossibly huge, the rim so broad that it caught on the ragged edge of her labia, pushing the tender lips outside in, cramming them up her cunt.
For a horrible moment, Joselyn was sure that he was going to split her open. The pressure of his cockhead and the doubled over labia on her aperture was indeed awesome. But then, all at once, her pussy just gave way. It was so hot, so wet that it stretched out, yawning, gobbling the massive bulb with a moist slurp. And that searing, throbbing knob was inside her, filling her as she'd never been filled before, mashing down on her clitoris, flattening the oily marble as it nosed deeper.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!" the professor gasped, feeding her more of his thick cock, his eyelids fluttering shut as the slithery drapery of her cunt swarmed over his aching bone.
Joselyn could do nothing to stop or ever slow the mind-numbing penetration. It felt like he was shoving a telephone pole up her pussy and the thing's girth was ironing out all the ridges and valleys, the slick corrugations of her channel. It just kept coming and coming, the upper surface of the shaft sawing over her clitoris, the knob end jamming deeper and deeper until she was afraid that it would pop out between her teeth.
Velasquez gave her everything he had. He only stopped when the huge root of his cock was pressed tight to her distorted orifice, when his balls nuzzled between her buttocks. He lay there on top of her, panting, gasping obscenely, his face flushed with excitement.
Her face was flushed, too, and contorted in a grimace of pain. The incredibly broad base of his penis was wedged into her, ripping the mouth of her cunt wide open. She was pronged to the hairs, utterly helpless. And every time his cock throbbed, pushing out in all directions against the already tautly stretched sheath of her pussy, she let out a strangled yelp.
If she expected any kind of mercy from him, she was sorely disappointed. The swarthy professor seemed to delight in her squeals and he purposefully flexed his cock, watching the gamut of emotion pass over her face as the bloated shaft swelled within her. And when the novelty of that diversion wore off, he began to move his lips.
"Ahhhhh! Yessssss!" Joselyn groaned as the huge, curving ramrod was wrenched from the back of her womb. For a miraculous instant, the horrible pressure was gone, and then he was lunging into her sending the full length of his cock spearing into her open cunt… and the world dissolved in agony.
"Yes… oooh, yes," he gurgled, flipping his hips in an even, rhythmic cadence. He was fucking into her teasingly, working his big cock in and out slowly, watching down between their bellies, watching the friction-reddened, glistening shaft, push in and out, in and out of her ovalled pussy, breathing in the scent of her plundered loins.
The poor girl tried to fight the sensations that were enveloping her, the maddeningly slow pistoning of his cock, the rasping pressure against her clitoris, the awful suction on her insides as the huge shaft slogged backwards. It was too much. He was fucking her against her will and he was making her love it. No amount of lip or tongue biting, no amount of self-loathing could alter the fact that she was getting hot. Without thinking, almost as a reflex action, she lifted her feet from the edge of the desk, raising her knees, and slipped her legs about the small of his back.
He laughed at her, then. He laughed right in her face.
She moaned, and kicked him, pounding her heels into his firm ass, starting to squirm under him, unable to stop, wanting him to pick up the tempo, to fuck her faster.
Velasquez ignored her and maintained his infuriatingly slow pace. His cock was going in and out much easier now, as the slick rush of her juices had lubricated things. He was plowing himself in to the root, her warm fluids smearing over his testicles, which, in turn, rubbed into her asscrack.
"Oh! Oh!" she cried, trying to flip her hips, to drive his cock in and out, herself. She succeeded, but only for, a moment.
Velasquez growled at her dropping, his full weight down onto her stomach, pinning her flat to the desk top.
"Relax," he said, through tightly clenched teeth. Then he began doing it to her again, doing it so slow that he could feel the sides of his shaft squeaking over her snug-fitting walls.
Joselyn clung to him, her legs winding about his back, her arms about his neck, and she began to sob. It had finally dawned on her why he was screwing her that way. He wasn't doing it to drive her crazy… or to turn her on… her pleasure or pain didn't matter in the least to him. All he cared about was prolonging his own ecstasy, postponing his climax as long as possible. The realization that he didn't even care enough about her to torture her, that she was nothing more than a handy vessel, a place to slide his cock, both humiliated and aroused her. It made her feel absolutely worthless and that feeling underscored her own fears about herself and her own need to be overwhelmed, to be totally dominated.
"That's better," he wheezed, his ass rising and falling, forcing his cock to slip in and out of her cunt.
She shuddered as she felt her own juices trickling down between her buttocks, searing over the tiny floral adornment of her anus, as she felt her tummy push up and down as the monstrous thing filled and emptied her, distending her whole lower torso. Flickers of delight danced in her loins and then the flickers blossomed, but slowly, so very slowly, like a slow motion replay of a bonfire leaping to life. It took forever for the pleasure to build and during those interminable seconds, she collapsed, her mind caved in. She knew that he was making her cum, controlling her like a puppet, making her cum to his whim, and that he didn't give a damn whether she orgasmed or not.
"Yeeee!!" she shrilled, arching her back, her long neck, as the klieg lights flashed on in her skull, as the sheath of her cunt closed down on the huge cock.
Velasquez stiffened. His eyes rolled up in his head so only the whites showed. Her cumming cunt was milking his cock, sucking on it with a ravenous hunger.
Joselyn writhed against him, totally out of control, sliding her long legs over his torso, rubbing her inner thighs along the sides of his rib cage, her nails raking his shoulder blades.
Her pussy held the head of his cock like a rubber ball in a hot buttered fist. Only some kind of God would've been able to keep from hunching, to hold back and not drive his aching bone through that constricted opening, that tight delight. Velasquez was no God. He proved his mortality by snapping his hips, by plowing through her quivering channel, sucking air through clenched teeth.
"Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhhh!" he groaned, jerking his cock faster and faster, making her cunt give up a wild sputtering din, smacking his balls into the red hot ring of her rectum.
Joselyn tucked her knees up under his armpits, tipping her cunt up to receive the full brunt of all that slogging meat. The greedy, greedy girl plummeted backwards, through the void, and every jarring impact of his cock upon her upturned pubis made the fireworks go off between her ears.
The professor couldn't hold out any longer. He was going too deep into her, she was too juicy, he was too hot. He threw himself against her like a wild man as the sudden, mind-racking surge of pleasure exploded behind his balls. And then he was cumming, his cock a roman candle in her tight cunt, a roman candle fountaining jets of white.
"Yeeeeeeeeee!!" she shrieked. "Uhhhyeeeeeeeee!!!" Spurts were so powerful that she could actually feel them splattering over the inside of her pussy, coating her walls with his boiling egg flesh.
Velasquez pounded her ruthlessly, using the full length of her vagina to tease out every last shiver of joy, every last drop of his cum. And long before his humping was finished, he was forcing out the very stuff he had shot up her, his pistoning cock making his cum ooze out between the sides of its shaft and the walls of her cunt, making it pool on the desk top beneath her beautiful buttocks…
Joselyn fainted before he was done. She couldn't help herself. Once he had started her cumming, she couldn't stop. She kept on falling and falling. It was the friction against her clitoris, the incessant, rasping pressure that kept her orgasming until she thought she'd go mad, until she had to black out or die. She awoke to the feel of a still-hard penis being wrenched from her cunt. The two parted company with a wet plop.
"Oh!" she groaned as the dammed up cum and lubricant came pouring out of her.
"Damn you," Velasquez snarled. "Don't let it drip over the edge of the desk like that." He picked her cut-off levis up from the floor and tossed them to her. "Here," he said, "wipe up the sticky mess."
She did as he ordered, not even considering the fact that she was going to wear the cut-offs home afterwards.
The professor pulled up his Bermudas, watching her dab at the pool of semen. He grinned ferally. "I've changed my mind," he said.
"What? Huh?" Joselyn said, blinking up at him…
"About the job," he said. "That's why you came here, wasn't it?"
Her heart leapt. He wanted her, after all! She had fucked him so well that she'd broken through his armor! The thought of being his assistant, his sex slave, available whenever, wherever he got the urge made her want to swoon again. She knew in that instant that there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. Nothing!
"Thank you! Thank you!" she gushed. "You really don't know what my being your assistant means to me."
"My assistant?" he said, giving her a strange look. He shook his head. "No, Ms. Foche, you're not going to be my assistant. You're going to be Dr. Bertrand's assistant. You're going to help me destroy that son of a bitch!"