Paul pressed the button for the eighth floor and leaned back against the elevator wall. The doors closed, the car lurched upwards, and his stomach dropped. He groaned aloud. The ache in his balls was horrible, like they'd been caught up in a garlic press. Paul's case of the lover's nuts was chronic. Anymore, it seemed like it was all he could do to shuffle along, wincing at every step.
He would've kicked himself if the hurt would've allowed it. He'd thought he was Mr. Macho, Mr. College Stud. He'd thought he was man enough to handle any kind of sexual situation, man enough to handle any number of chicks. He glumly considered how long he'd held out under the pressure. There was no pride in the feat. Gradually, insidiously, the constant exertion had caught up to him, weakened him. It continued to sap his strength. He was getting himself fucked to death, and while some guys might think that would be the way to go, Paul knew different. He also knew that he'd gotten himself into a real jam, that he couldn't get out of it without jeopardizing his future. It was ironic because he'd started out using his cock to further his career.
He stepped out of the elevator and moved slowly down the corridors of the Theoretical Chemistry Department. He stopped in front of the office door of his mentor, Dr. Ruta Blensch, and rapped twice on the door with his knuckles.
"Yes?" said a rich female voice.
Paul took a quick, short breath and opened the door.
"Oh, Paul. You're late," the professor said. "Late again." Dr. Blensch was in her late thirties, a vital, dynamic, expatriate German. She wore her dyed red hair in a severe Dutch boy style, her lips, which were thick and sensuous, were painted a gory red, her large, rounded rectangular tortoise shell glasses emphasized her high cheekbones and her pale green eyes. Even the stark, sexless cut of the white lab coat she wore couldn't hide her voluptuous figure, a woman's figure, ripe and lush.
"What's the excuse this time?" she said. She was sitting on the front edge of her desk, with one long, creamy leg crossed over the other, the front of her lab coat's hem split to show smooth leg above the knee.
If Paul had known it was going to be like this, the strict schedule, the interrogations, he never would've gotten involved with Dr. Blensch, career or no career. At this point, however, it was a little late for second thoughts.
"I just overslept," he lied, shutting the door behind him.
"Lock it," she said.
He winced, but did as she asked.
She put a long-nailed finger to her glasses and pushed them down her small, thin nose. She peered at him over them. "Is something wrong, Paul?"
"No, of course not," he said.
"It's not your new roommate, is it?" she asked icily.
"We've been through that a million times," he said, his face coloring slightly. "She needed the room and I needed to split the rent with somebody. End of story."
Dr. Blensch pursed her lips. "She is a very attractive girl, though."
"End of story," he repeated.
"But something is bothering you. I can tell. What is it?"
There didn't seem to be any way around telling her something. "I'm starting to worry about getting out of here," he told her. "I mean, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm ever going to get my degree."
The professor sighed and smiled, showing him her teeth. "Now, why should you worry about a stupid thing like that? Of course, you're going to get out and your going to have your Ph.D. and a fine post-doc. Didn't we discuss that at the very start?"
Paul nodded. "Sure, we discussed it. Only that was a long time ago and I haven't got squat done on my thesis. The only work I've done under your guidance has been of a non-academic nature."
She clucked her tongue at him, shaking her head. "Paul, you're being silly. Haven't I lived up to my part of the bargain so far? You've had your name on some very prestigious papers, you know."
He frowned.
"When the time comes for you to present your thesis, you'll have a thesis. Don't worry."
"I don't have all that much time left."
"You have as much time as I say you have. I can extend your term as my assistant almost indefinitely."
Paul was not comforted by that thought.
"Come here," she said, beaming at him as she patted the desk beside her.
His balls gave an agonizing throb. He didn't move.
"I said, come here, Paul," she repeated, removing her glasses. "You know how much I dislike being kept waiting."
He knew, all right. And he knew what was in store for him when he sat down. In the beginning, he'd looked forward to the little extra-curricular sessions, as the professor was a beautiful, sexy woman with a ravenous appetite for sensation. He didn't even mind when she started monopolizing all his time, as she was a thousand times more experienced than any of the college girls he was screwing, and she knew tricks that he didn't think physically possible. One time, after a particularly strenuous session, she'd let something slip about earning her passage to the U.S. by working on the Reeperbahn, Hamburg's notorious red light district, but Paul could get no more out of her about it. It was too bad, too, because the idea of his lovely lady professor, the distinguished author of "Polymerization of Synthetic Resins", taking on all comers in a Hamburg whorehouse turned him on all the way.
Things got strained between them after Paul met Joselyn… and immediately fell head over heels in love with her. He couldn't help himself. For one thing, she threw herself at him and for another, she was the equal of Dr. Blensch in the sack. She was just as skilled in love making and a good fifteen years younger and a hell of a lot tighter where it counted. Right away, Paul had big problems. He had to satisfy two highly demanding women and not let on to either one what he was doing with the other. The more he fucked one of them, the less he was able to fuck the other, and the more the other wanted. The vicious circle caught up to him eventually and now he was in the position of being barely able to satisfy either of them. He could tell that he was losing Joselyn, that she thought he was losing interest in her sexually because his ardor was flagging, and he knew that Dr. Blensch's suspicions about how he spent his mornings were growing daily. He was on the verge of blowing everything.
"Here, Paul!" she snapped. The professor was no longer pointing at the desk. Her finger was jabbed imperiously towards the floor at her feet. Her command was no longer the gentle, coaxing coo of one lover to another; it was the guttural shout from a mistress to her pet dog.
The curly headed young man moved jerkily forward, coming to a halt directly in front of the woman.
"Down!" she bellowed, her finger jabbing in that direction.
Paul groaned softly and sank down to his knees. It was as if he'd been sudden deflated. He felt much, much smaller.
"Look up," she told him.
He obeyed, raising his eyes from the floor to her long, slender legs. She wasn't wearing nylons; she had nothing to hide. Her skin was utterly flawless; almost too smooth, too silky. She scissored her legs, and in so doing, caused the hem of her lab coat to ride up further, so that she was showing him her thighs as well. He stared into the open, tube-like end of her skirt, into the warm shadows between her legs.
"What do you think, Paul?" she asked, rubbing her thighs together with obvious pleasure. "What do you think of my legs?"
It was not the first time Paul had been asked that question; indeed, it wasn't even the fiftieth. The professor was very vain about her legs.
"They're beautiful," he managed to say.
"That's all?" she said, taking hold of the hem of her coat, folding it and her skirt back until they barely covered her fork. Then she flung her knees open wider, wide enough so that on either side of the sleek, pale yellow crotch-band of her bikini panties, the tendons on the insides of her thighs stood out against the creamy skin from the strain.
Paul swallowed hard. Her legs were more than beautiful, they were magical. There was something about the shape of her calves, her thighs, the texture of her skin, that had always had the power to bring him back from the dead. Even as he stared at her, his cock began to pitch and throb in his underwear and the ache in his balls was awesome.
"Ooooooh!" she cooed, gently stroking herself from the insides of her knees to midthigh. "Look at these legs, Paul. Look how long they are. So smoooooth. How would you like to have them wrapped around your back? Real tight around your back. So tight you could hardly breathe, while your cock is going in and out of my hot, wet pussy."
He groaned. With a few words, a minimum of movement, of exposure, she had brought him to full, aching erection. His cock was so tight that it felt like a boiled hot dog about to split its skin. He started to rise.
"No, Paul!" she said, grinning furiously at him. "Stay there. If you want these legs, you must prove to me that you adore them."
He groaned again and sank back down. Dr. Blensch always demanded that he "prove" his love for her, as if only after some kind of personal sacrifice was he worthy of the honor of having sex with her. He didn't mind in the beginning. On the contrary, her kinkiness seemed very European, very sophisticated to him and he found it highly stimulating. It was only after he'd met Joselyn and discovered "true love" that he decided what she asked of him was perverted and sick. It still turned him on, of course.
The professor kicked off her shoes. "I want you to love my legs, Paul," she said, breathlessly. "I want you to kiss my feet, my ankles, my calves, all of my legs. I want you to miss nothing. Do you understand?"
He nodded, swallowing again. His mouth kept flooding with buckets of hot drool and his cock no longer ached quite so much. It had stiffened into a kind of steely hardness, a lurid bulge jammed down the inside of his right pants leg.
"Do it, Paul," she said, straightening out her legs, putting her bare, small feet on his shoulders. The graduate student's face burned with a mixture of shame and excitement as he turned his head, as he nuzzled his face into the side of her right foot. Her skin was so soft, so warm! He began kissing at once, kissing over her ankle, her instep, working his way to her toes.
"Oooooh!" Dr. Blensch moaned, clinging to the edge of the desk as his hot mouth, his hotter brain seared over the underside of her foot.
Her fat little toes were against his lips, the plump pads so sweetly scented, so dainty. He opened his mouth and extended his tongue, wiping the moist, red tip up against the sole of her foot, up from the ball to the underside of her toes.
"Ooooooh!!" the professor cried, her face flushing suddenly with color. "Ooooooh, yes!! Lick them!! Lick them, Paul!"
Paul did just that! Moaning ecstatically, he slathered over her toes, sliding his tongue not only over and under them, but between them as well, while the lovely professor squirmed in delight.
"Suck!" she begged him. "Suck!!"
He obeyed at once. Thrusting her toes into his mouth, he began nibbling on them gently, sucking on them, forcing them in and out of his pursed lips like they were tiny cocks.
"Oh! Ohhh!" she wailed, madly shrugging out of her lab coat, fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. As he nursed on her toes, she tore open the front of her blouse, exposing her lush, full breasts in their yellow tricot brassiere cups. Her nipples were enormous, great round circles of muted pink mashed up against the tightly clinging nylon. She began plucking at the tiny bumps in the center of her areolas, making them grow alarmingly, making them pucker out into long, fat stubs.
Paul could see what she was doing to herself, how she was teasing herself. Every time she pinched her taut buds, she would let out a low, animalish moan and shudder violently. Her excitement was contagious. Paul got so turned on watching her, sucking her that his cock started oozing pre-cum. It trickled in a solid line down the inside of his leg. He left off sucking her toes and started kissing and licking her ankles, slowly working his way up her long, smooth legs.
When he reached her calves, he swore she had an orgasm. She let out a piercing shriek, threw her head back, thrust her pubis forward, her knees spread as far apart as they'd go. And when he glanced up at the snug-fitting crotch-band of her panties, he grunted as if he'd been booted in the stomach. The flimsy strip of material was sopping wet! The heavy moisture had turned the fabric translucent and through it, he could see the ragged red petals of her pussy, the dense curls of coal black pubic hair that fringed their outer edges like lewd sideburns. Then the smell of her arousal hit him like a ten-pound sledge.
"Oooooof!" he groaned, shutting his eyes tight as his nostrils flared.
Of all the women he'd made love to, of all the sexual perfume he'd sampled, hers was the most astounding. It was dank, musky, and above all, moving. It was so strong that it made his mouth fill up with fresh slobber, so strong that it made his head reel and his blood pressure go right through the roof. It had exactly the right chemistry to make even the most hopelessly impotent man come up stiff as a stick. It was an olfactory call-to-fuck that simply could not be ignored.
He lapped hungrily behind her knees, his breathing heavy, hoarse, his pants leg all sticky wet from the seepage of his throbbing cock. He wanted to fuck her, all right, to fuck her in the worst way, but he knew that she wouldn't let him until he finished the job, until he'd licked every square inch of her legs, bathed them in his hot drool. So, he set about doing that as quickly as he possibly could sliding his tongue over the silky smooth flesh of her inner thighs, painting them with his saliva.
"Ooooooh, yes!!" he gasped, her hips starting to tick with a will of their own, to flip her well padded ass rhythmically towards him. She was so enthused that she couldn't just sit there and take it. She slumped back across her blotter hooking her moist toes about the edge of the desk, throwing her knees so wide apart that the outside of them touched the desktop.
Paul was forced to come up off his knees to follow her, to maintain the tongue to thigh contact. As his face slipped down between her legs, the awesome heat of her aroused pussy engulfed him. It was like she had a furnace between her thighs. And the entire length of her panty crotch was saturated with love juice. Through the soggy material, he could not only see the parted lips of her vagina, but lower down, the deep crack of her ass, the shapely womanly buttocks.
As she tossed and squirmed her bottom under his nose, as she moaned and whined like a bitch in heat, he knew that he was a goner, that he'd never hold out long enough to get his cock wet. He whimpered. He choked. He caved in. Paul threw his open mouth against the sodden cuntstrap, lapping, licking, sucking at it, smearing the unctuous fluid, the stinky lubricant all over his face.
"Uhhhhh!!!" she shrilled, arching her back, clamping her thighs tight to the sides of his head, hunching her super-heated pussy against his tongue, his teeth.
The slithery, slippery nylon rubbed over his nose, his mouth, and under it, he could feel the pliant lips of her vagina smooching apart and her lubricant was heavy and thick. The taste of her sex exploded on his tongue, keen and foxy, and he was snorting and snuffling between her legs like a hog at trough, corkscrewing the tip of his tongue against the sticky fabric, burrowing it right into the blazing spot that covered the mouth of her cunt.
Dr. Blensch flung her ass at him so vigorously that it was all he could do to grip her svelte hips and hang on. The meat of her buttocks and thighs jiggled and jounced at each violent impact of hot pussy to his face.
"Uhhhnnnf! Uhhhnnnf!" she grunted, each grunt punctuating another snap of her pelvis. Her fingers were twined in his hair, hauling down on it, holding his face as tight to her pussy as possible as, with every successive lunge, she worked herself into more of a dither.
Gradually, Paul's sense of his own need went out of focus. Instead of there being a distinct thing hunger in his loins, a distinct throbbing in his penis, there was a kind of general pleasurable glow over his whole crotch. He found himself so caught up in her need, in satisfying her hunger that, for the moment at least, his own was left by the wayside.
Nuzzling into her slick pussy he slipped his fingers in under the waistband of her panties and began to roll them down over her jutting hips, down over the smooth, round domes of her buttocks. He was forced to pull them down from behind because his face was blocking his access to the panty front. When the professor realized what he was doing, she relaxed her death grip on his hair and, panting and wheezing, allowed him to peel the wet bikini underwear down over her thighs.
Once she was naked below the waist, the redhead splayed her long lithe legs apart for him, showing him the havoc his licking, sucking mouth had wrought on her pussy.
"Wow!" he gasped.
No matter how many times he gazed into her open cunt, no matter how many times he saw the silky black fur sopping with juice, clinging to her puckering, inflamed labia, no matter how many times he peered between those ragged petals, at the creamy, hot moist pink flesh of her inner sex, at the very mouth of her cunt, he never failed to be awed by it. There was something about the startling contrast between the satiny, alabaster whiteness of the surrounding skin, of thigh and buttocks, and the angry red of her hairy cunt: it was feral, salacious, unspeakably obscene.
Paul thrust his head forward, his mouth open, tongue extended, slobber spilling from his lips.
"Ooooooh!" she said, holding her palm flat against his forehead, holding him away from her yawning cunt.
He groaned. Stretching his tongue as far as he could, so far that the underside of it was cut by the edge of his bottom front teeth, he could just barely manage to make contact with her labia.
"Love it, Paul," she cooed, lifting her right leg, sliding her foot, her calve over his shoulder, tipping her whole fork up to him, showing him not only the gaping maw of her pussy, but the deep cleft of her ass as well. Nestled in the silky bun valley, tiny and red, was the wrinkly ring of her anus.
Paul blubbered, pushing against her hand, trying to get at her. Everything between her legs, her mound, her ass, her thighs, was slick with her viscous juice. He waggled his tongue madly from side to side, grazing the ragged edges of her glistening petals.
"No, Paul," she said huskily. "Love it. Love it."
The poor guy still didn't know what she was talking about, but he got the picture when she relaxed the stiff arm she had on his head. She let him lower his head, all right, but as she did, she pushed down with all her might, so that instead of his tongue dropping right into her open cunt, his hungry mouth covering her entrance, it fell an inch or so lower in her crotch.
Paul shuddered as the tip of his nose dipped into her juicy pussy, as his upper lip pressed against the super smooth band of skin that separated her pussy from anus, as his lower lip brushed something searing hot and buttery soft. Her buttocks were parting over the point of his chin and she was groaning, pushing his mouth down over the nasty wrinkly ring.
"Love it! Love it!!" she cried, hunching her ass against his face, making her puckering pussy mash against his lips.
The graduate student was in no condition to deny her anything. He was mad for the feel, the taste, the smells of her lush body. Moaning like a kicked pup, he started doing as she asked, "loving it". He kissed her tiny sphincter as he would've kissed her mouth, grinding his pursed lips up against it, burrowing his chin between her tight buttcheeks. No matter how he squirmed his head, he could not seem to get enough of it. And as he passionately kissed her pore, his hot slobber smeared over it, bathing it, making it even slicker, even more delightful. Before he knew it, he was parting his lips, opening his mouth against it.
"Uhhh!!" she gasped, her eyes bulging, her back stiffening at the feel of his moist tongue lashing over her fundament.
Paul whined as he felt her tiny anal ring open under the tip of his tongue, blooming like a tea rose. He fought the demented urge that threatened to overwhelm him; he fought it for all of three seconds. Then, in a near delirium, he stabbed his tongue into the aperture, moaning as the hole widened, as it seemed to suck him up into its seething, rubbery depths.
"God!" the professor howled, clawing at the blotter, her svelte bottom going wild, flipping up into his face, jamming his tongue through the squeaky tight grip of her sphincter.
He tried gamely to bob his head in time to her thrusts, to hurry the moment when he was root deep in her ass, but she was hunching madly, out of control. Any movement, forward or back, on his part was a grave risk. As the smooth, resilient cheeks jerked up from the desk to bash his face, to whip his tool in and out of her asshole, it was all he could do to just hunker there and whimper.
"Uhhhh-heeeeee!!!" she squealed.
And for the second time, Paul was certain that she was cumming. This time he was far more certain because he could feel the way her anus was clamping down on his tongue, squeezing it in time to the rhythmic seizures racking her pussy.
Dr. Blensch was not one to hold back when the heat of orgasm was upon her. She used her student's flushed face and waggling tongue like a dime store dildo, something cheap and easily replaceable. She launched her ass up from the desktop, driving his nose between her parted labia, his tongue deep in her bowels. Every time she made contact, her crotch impacting with his face, she let out a baleful yowl of pleasure. Her stomach was visibly rippling with sensation, her cunt undulating, attempting to milk the tip of his nose, and skyrockets were zooming between her ears.
Paul took the abuse, though it felt like she was knocking his front teeth loose. He took it because he had no real choice in the matter. He had to acquiesce to her… and that knowledge seemed to free him to enjoy what, under other circumstances he would not have been able to do. Her cunt was smacking moistly into his nose and forehead growing looser, sloppier by the second, a furious pink maw, and the musky smell of it raged in his brain.
After what seemed like forever to the young man, the woman's gyrations slowed to a stop. She lay there on her back on the desk for a long moment, gasping to catch her breath, then shifted her bottom so his tongue slipped out of her still twitching, but widely stretched anus. If Paul thought he was going to be getting a respite from oral sex, he was sorely mistaken. Dr. Blensch rolled her hips, making his extended tongue lap at the sticky mouth of her pussy.
"Oohhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh! Paul! Paul!!!" she bleated, squirming, forcing his broad blade of a tongue to slip into her seething deft.
He groaned, his eyelids fluttering, nostrils flaring. His tongue felt like it had been ripped to tatters, but the hot, quivering passage that enfolded it was sweet, sweet balm. The slick, buttery lining of her pussy glided down over his tongue, the marvelous inner wrinkles, the ridges and valleys, bumping against it. Before he knew it, his open, gaping mouth was jammed tight against the yawning lips of her vagina, the soft, wet hairs tickling his nose and cheeks, and his tongue was lashing, rolling about in the sticky grip of her channel.
The professor gripped his curly hair in both hands and held his head still, lewdly swiveling her hips, grinding her pussy against his mouth, making his tongue cut wild figure eights deep in her belly.
"Yesssss!" she hissed, her sensuous lips curling back from white, even teeth, her eyeballs rolling up in their sockets so that only the whites showed.
The sensation of having all that hot, slippery meat squirming over his tongue drove poor Paul crazy. The glow of pleasure between his legs bloomed anew. The feeling was still indistinct, spread over cock and balls and belly, but it was nonetheless delicious. In his excitement, he began to suck at her open pussy to suck even as he thrust his tongue in and out. He forced his jaws to open so wide that he managed to get all of her pussy between his lips. Then, when he sucked, he sucked at her entire cunt, at hair-fringed labia, at flexing fuck mouth, everything. Moaning, he nursed at her sex, making it pop in and out of his wet lips, making nasty, sloppy suck sounds as he did so.
Those noises were music to the professor's ears. She stopped hunching and lifted her knees, her legs high in the air, tipping her pussy up for maximum penetration.
"Suck it, Paul!!!" she crooned ecstatically. "Suck all of it!! That's it! OHHHHHHHH! God, that's so good! Your mouth, it feels like a vacuum cleaner! It feels like you're sucking me inside out!"
Paul could not longer understand what she was saying to him. He no longer cared to understand. He was wallowing in her vagina, greedily swallowing down the oily, pungent juice, licking at her little chick pea of a clitoris. Everything was hot and sloppy. He started bobbing his head, jamming tongue into her cunt, able to go much deeper into her than before due to the compression of her channel.
"Muuuhhff! Uhhhh-muuuuhff!!" he snorted, rooting about in the slick maw frenziedly, holding her bare buns in his hands, massaging them, shifting them so he could taste and feel every crevice, every cranny of her cunt.
The professor could feel that things were getting out of hand. Her graduate student was going wild on her. His sucking mouth, concave cheeks were wailing on her pussy like a plumber's helper, making her slack labia puff in and out. She wanted to cum again, but she wanted it in her own way. To that end, she brought her balled fist down on the top of his head… hard.
The sound of the blow, a dull thud, resounded in the office. Paul grunted and raised his shining, friction-reddened face from her loins. His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, his mouth gaping.
"No more sucking, Paul," she said hoarsely. "Fuck me. Fuck me now."
The student nodded like a marionette. He was so turned on that he could barely get his fly undone; his fingers were trembling something awful. And even when he got himself unzipped, there was still the problem of how to get his erect penis to bend enough to pull it out from his pants leg. He solved the problem in the simplest way possible: by pulling down both jeans and underwear in the same motion. As he bared his loins, as the wadded up clothing cleared the head of his cock, the rigid member flipped up, sending a strand of white gummy fluid high in the air.
"Oh!" the professor gasped, as the streamer of pre-cum landed, draping itself across her upper thigh. She rubbed her fingers into the semen, pushing it into her crotch, smearing it over the lips of her pussy. "Hurry!! OHHHHH! YESSSSS! Will you hurry!!?"
Paul moved like an automaton, his horribly engorged cock thumping against his chest. The cockhead was huge, purple, so full of blood that the skin was shiny, like the skin of an over inflated balloon. His testicles were drawn up so tight to his groin that they were barely visible under the fringe of his pubic hair. Every sinew, every tendon on his shaft stood out in high relief.
He moved far too slowly to suit her. When he was once again between her legs, she reached out and caught hold of the thick neck of his penis, jerking the thing down, aiming it at her open cunt. She pulled him closer, using his cock as a handle; she actually pulled the head of his cock into her pussy, jamming it between her labia.
As her liquid lips parted over his bulb, as the steam heat of her vagina engulfed his cock, Paul came out of his stupor. His body reacted to the feel of cunt about his cock instinctively: he snapped his hips, driving himself deep into the searing channel.
"Fuck!" Dr Blensch cried, pummeling his bare, lean ass with her heels.
Paul pulled back to obey. Delicious folds of her pussy clung to his cock on the back thrust, teasing over his shaft, his nerve bundle, his bulb. There was a sudden flicker, a spark behind his balls, a spark that blossomed, spreading like wildfire up the length of his penis.
"Christ!" he swore, his eyes widening, his hands clutching at her silky hips as he began to climax.
"Oh! OH!!!" the professor wailed, feeling his cock flex ominously within her, feeling her own rhythmic pulsing pushing at the walls of her vagina. Locking her legs about his back, she started to hump him, to force her cunt up and down his penis as fast as she could, sawing the tiny bud of her clitoris over the hard man meat. She wasn't moving her pussy more than a couple of inches over his cock; she didn't want to risk him slipping out, not now.
Paul threw himself against her, jamming his penis as far in as it would go. Joy exploded at the tip of his cock and he could feel the spasms racking his shaft, the gobs of semen being pushed up from his balls.
"Oh! Oh!!!" she howled as the first white hot bullets sprayed her womb. Her pussy reacted automatically to the boiling deluge. It began to flutter, to squeeze the orgasming rod, to tease more cum, more joy from it.
The young man hunched like a maniac, driving his cock through the convulsing orifice, chills rushing up his spine each time he sent another spurt of sperm into her, each time she responded with a squeal of delight.
Too soon, the pleasure ended for Paul, tapering off into an ache in his testicles that he could not believe. The professor reached in under her spermy buttocks and caught hold of his balls, which were no longer uptight, but swaying pendulously in their sticky sack. When she bounced them in her palm, he let out a mournful whimper. She stopped fondling him, holding his scrotum in her hand.
"Is something the matter?" she asked, greedily flipping her hips, causing her cunt gobble his still erect cock.
"Uhh! OH!! Christ, I think I hurt myself," he said faintly. "Please don't do that. It makes it worse."
Dr. Blensch gave him a skeptical look, as if she suspected his sudden attack of blue balls was a put up job. She let go of his balls and made no protest when he disengaged, unsheathing his cock from her cunt, then staggering back to an office chair. His penis was a ruddy red spear, gleaming from tip to root with semen and lubricant.
"All right," she said, impatiently, slipping from the desk top to her feet. "You can rest for awhile. I was hoping that we could do it again right away. You know that the fourth one is always the best one for me."
He nodded weakly.
"But, if you can't do it now, I guess we'll just have to wait, won't we?" she said, her anger barely suppressed. "I have some paperwork to clear up. It shouldn't take more than a half hour. You'll be ready by then, won't you?"
Paul said nothing. His face was white as a sheet.