Joselyn stared at Dr. Velasquez in astonishment. "You heard what I said," he told her, bristling with impatience. "You are going to be my spy in Dr. Bertrand's office. You are going to be the one who helps me put an end to his career at Mira Pavo."
She swallowed hard. "I… uhhh… I don't understand," she said weakly, pulling on her sticky cut off jeans.
He glowered at her. "I assumed that you had the mental qualifications for an assistantship job," he said, nastily. "Perhaps I have assumed wrong."
Joselyn was too shaken to respond.
"I suppose you are naive enough to think that the rivalry between that bastard and me is all friendly, all for the sake, for the greater glory of Science?!" he snarled, starting to pace the floor in front of his desk. He walked very briskly, with a curious, bouncing gait. "In a pig's ass!" he said, answering his own question. "If you knew half the underhanded tricks that character has pulled on me, tricks to try and get me in bad with the administration!" He paused and glared at her. Little flecks of foam surfaced at the corners of his mouth. "Why do you suppose there was such a big to do over what I did to that little cunt last year? The one who was trading passing grades for pussy?"
Joselyn made a helpless gesture.
"Bertrand!" Velasquez growled, the tendons in his jaws flexing, his hands clenching up into tight fists. "It was all his doing. He put the little slut up to it. I got the straight story out of her afterwards, believe me. She was originally one of his undergraduate playgirls. She'd been putting out to him since she was a freshman. It was his idea that she take my class, his idea that she come blubbering to me after she purposefully failed the first midterm, his idea that she let me do whatever I wanted to her, and it was his idea that afterwards, she go running straight to the damn college sponsor with her compliant about being misused."
"But, why would he do a thing like that?" she asked. "Why would he want to hurt your reputation?"
"Petty jealousy," Velasquez retorted. "Bertrand was the top dog here before I came, the top funded Ph.D. in the Theoretical Chem Department. Not only was he getting all the government research money, but he was getting all the stray nookie, too, using his position, of course, his authority to make the campus cuties put out to him. When I arrived and he saw what kind of work I was doing in Solution Points, when I started cutting in on his funding and his action with the girls, he started getting mean, playing dirty tricks, trying to eliminate the competition."
Joselyn nodded. In away, it all made sense to her. She'd realized early on in her scientific career that many of the respected leaders in pure research were more than a little emotionally retarded.
Because of their awesome intellectual abilities, they'd never been allowed normal childhoods, they'd been forced to skip adolescence entirely and go directly to the ivy covered think tanks. It was to be expected, perhaps, that they still act like children in some ways. The "macho" tradition they espoused was a perfect example of their immaturity. All the sports activity, the jogging, the weight lifting, the endless handball tournaments, was a childish attempt to show the whole world that despite their brains, their great accomplishments in pure Science, they were still "regular guys", still capable of having a "good time", that they were, indeed, a part of the vigorous, swinging college lifestyle.
"There's no way I'd stand aside and let a jerk like that push ahead of me," Velasquez said with conviction. "His surface scattering theories are just so much hot air. He hasn't published anything new in the field for eight or nine months. Everybody in the department knows that he's run into a dead end. And, my, oh, my, it's just about time to renew the old government grant." The professor could hardly restrain his glee at the thought. "If he doesn't come up with something important, a major breakthrough quick, he's going to get cut where it hurts the most… in the funding!"
"But, if you think he's at a standstill in his research, why do I have to work for him, why do I have to spy?" she asked, meekly.
Velasquez snorted at her. "There is a very small chance that he might stumble onto something in the next few days," he said.
The steely look in his eyes suddenly softened, telling her that the chance of Bertrand stumbling onto something major was better than Velasquez wanted to admit.
"I want you to keep me up to date on his progress… and when the times comes, I will tell you how I want you to sabotage his work."
Joselyn groaned. "Sabotage?! Surely you don't…"
"Of course, I do!" he snapped. "Hasn't he tried to sabotage me?! Doesn't he deserve what's coming to him!!?" She had no answer for that. There was only one protest that she could make, and though she already knew what he would say to it, she made it anyway.
"What if he doesn't want me as his assistant?" she said.
He laughed at her. "You're laking!" he told her flatly. "Bertrand will fall all over himself to get into your tight little pussy. And you're going to give it to him, too. You're going to do anything he asks, understand?"
Even though Joselyn knew what the bottom line was going to be, she couldn't help but recoil at the idea. Bertrand was a wimp, a nebbish, in her opinion totally unworthy of her. But what hurt worse than the prospect of giving herself to him was the realization that Velasquez, the man in a million, the one she thought could make her truly happy the one she could not bully with her brains and beauty, cared so little for her that he would give her to his worst enemy, that he wouldn't even think twice about it. To him, she was nothing but a bit of fluff, a cheap tart to be passed around, to be used, and moreover, a tart who expected to be used. She shuddered.
"Understand?" he said, grabbing her by the arm, squeezing so hard she squirmed at the pain.
The physical violence was totally uncalled for and they both knew it. "Yes!" she gasped, her eyes brimming with tears. They both knew that she would obey him without question, that she would take her punishment willingly, that she would be the swarthy professor's sex slave, his whore, and love him for it.
"All right, then," he said, releasing her, taking a seat behind his desk. He picked up an abstract and resumed his reading.
Joselyn just stood there, trembling, unable to do anything else. He looked up at her with disdain. "Do I have to tell you everything twice?" he said, icily. "Well?"
She shook her head. She turned and walked stiffly out of his office, closing the door carefully behind her.
There was a hurt inside of her, a horrible aching in her chest and throat. For the first time, she understood what her mother must've felt: the love pain, the soul ache. To be treated as worthless by the one you adore, that had been her mom's fate.
Now, it was her fate. Whether she had unconsciously sought it out or not, it could not be denied that she was strangely satisfied, contented by her predicament. There was still a churning conflict within her, her intellect trying to do battle with a purely gut level need to be dominated, but even that she found pleasurable in a perverse way. She walked down the hall, back to Dr.
Bertrand's office door and stood there for a moment before knocking, considering what was about to happen to her. Every other time she'd given herself to a man, it'd been her decision, her will; this time was different. Though she did not think of it as such, she was, in effect, torturing herself, much as a person with a sore tooth does, constantly poking at the tender place with the tip of the tongue to make sure it still hurts. The hurt was so real, so intense that she forgot that she hadn't knocked on the professor's door. She grabbed the knob, turned it, pushed the door open a crack and barged into the office.
Dr. Bertrand frozen in place, sitting on the office chair, a bug in amber. His Bermudas and under shorts were down around his ankles, his t-shirt folded up over his chest. His torso and loins were evenly tanned… there was no swim suit line whatsoever… and they were covered with a dense, curly mat of sun bleached hairs. In his right hand, he held his cock, in his left, he cupped his testicles. The latter were snugged up tight to his groin, and the former stuck out of his clenched fist like a tree limb. The shaft of his hard cock was rubbed a bright, fiery red, every vein bulging, every sinew bowstring tight, and the head, bloated, bulbous, shiny, visibly throbbed. As it pulsed, it spat gobbets of thick, creamy white semen into the air, gobbets that came flopping back down onto his thighs and belly, back down onto his cock. The pearly goo drizzled down over his bulb like streusel frosting.
Joselyn just blinked at him in amazement. That he had been masturbating was all too apparent; she had caught him in the act of spurting. The look in his eye, the horrible look, told her what he was masturbating over; her! Since she hadn't allowed him to fuck her earlier, he had taken it upon himself to relieve the pressure in his balls.
He repeated, mindlessly, his eyes glazing over as more semen poured from his cock. There wasn't nearly as much force behind his ejaculation at this point even though sperm was coming out of his slot by the tablespoon. It kind of billowed from his vent, huge viscous gobs that oozed down over the face of his penis, down over the folds of his nerve bundle, down over the rigid shaft and over his clutching fingers.
Looking at him made Joselyn slightly ill. It wasn't just because he was such a Godawful mess, hot cum splashed all over his hairy groin, or that he'd been so weak-willed that he'd had to jack off; it was because she knew that she was going to have to submit to him, to satisfy him if she expected to become his research assistant.
The last, gelatinous blob of semen welled up from his slot and slid down the glistening path to his fingers. His eyelids fluttered shut and he heaved a great sigh, then he opened his eyes.
"I didn't expect you back so soon," he managed to say. "That oily bastard Velasquez must not have had much to offer, huh?"
It was plain to Joselyn that the professor was trying to brazen out the whole thing, to act as if it was a perfectly commonplace occurrence for him to be caught in mid-ejaculation by a young coed. He tried to pull it off, but he couldn't. Though he made no move to cover his obscenely erect cock, no move to wipe up the sticky mess on his belly, the furious blush of color creeping into his cheeks, his ears, betrayed his embarrassment and shame. Joselyn was angered by his flimsy attempt at bravado, but she kept a lid on it.
"No, he didn't," she lied, forcing a smile. "Not nearly as much as you."
Bertrand positively beamed. "So, you've decided you want me for your thesis advisor, huh?" he said.
She gritted her teeth. True to form, Bertrand was taking the wimp's way out. Instead of telling her what she wanted, he was asking her. She knew that if she told him "No," that if she started berating him for being a degenerate, he would back down at once, meek as a lamb, cringing before her wrath. As much as she wanted to tell him "No," as much as she wanted to give him the humiliation he deserved, she could not, for she wanted to please Dr. Velasquez even more. She wanted to follow the swarthy professor's instructions to the letter in the hope that he would reward her by making savage love to her again.
"Yes, I do," she said.
Bertrand's eyes twinkled. "Well, I'll be damned!" he exclaimed. He took his fingers away from his cock, allowing it to stand up straight on its own. Webs of sticky white stretched from his shaft to his hand. He rubbed his fingers together and the webs broke, threads of cum snapping back to his cock. A lewd grin spread, across his bearded face. "Come over here," he told her, a new edge of authority in his voice. "I've got something for you."
Joselyn could see what he had for her. She bristled at the commanding tone of his voice. It irritated her far more than his earlier wheedling, perhaps because it was so patently false, empty of real threat. She had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from telling him what she thought of him and his "something special". She told herself that what she was about to do she was doing for Velasquez, that if it was revolting to her, so much the better, as it would prove her love for him more convincingly.
"Come on, now don't be shy, baby," he said wiping his fingers onto the bulb of his cock daubing the residual semen that clung to his hand over the rounded tip.
She moved closer to him, stepping up to his splayed legs, stopping short, groaning as the cloying, chlorine odor of his semen, the sour, musty odor of his loins hit her.
"That's it," he said, reaching out, grabbing her by the elbow, pulling her closer. "I can tell that we're going to have a wonderful relationship. You're going to love being my assistant. What you're looking at is just one of the fringe benefits you're going to get."
Joselyn stiffened, fighting the urge to jerk her arm free, to bolt as his blood-thickened penis flexed, the moist head bobbing, nodding to her.
"Lick me clean," he demanded, with obvious pleasure.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to do it, she knew. Slowly, she sank to her knees before him. He kicked off his Bermudas and underwear and spread his legs wide apart.
"Come on, you know you want to do it," he told her. "All the chicks want a taste."
She moved between his thighs and lowered her face to his loins. She'd never seen so much cum in her life. It looked like he'd masturbated three or four times in a row.
"Lick it up," he said, slipping his hand around the back of her neck and jerking her nose, her lips into the sticky mess.
Joselyn whimpered as she suddenly found herself face to face with his hairy scrotum. Her mouth was jammed against the pebbly flesh, the scratchy hairs, the gobs of spent semen, and the tip of her nose was pressed against the juncture of cock and balls. Under her tightly clamped lips his huge testicles began to slowly shift, to rotate.
"Lick," he said.
The rank, sour smell of his crotch, the sharp, acrid taste of his cum exploded in her nose and mouth and Joselyn was overwhelmed by the reality of her predicament, horrified by what she had gotten herself into.
"Lick!"
She obeyed. The voice commanding her was not Bertrand's, however; it belonged to another. She opened her mouth and swirled her tongue over the tacky scrotal skin, licking up the salty, lukewarm sperm. She could feel his whole body stiffen as she lapped at his balls, his cock arching up from his groin, trembling with excitement.
"Ooooh, yeah! Yeah!!" the professor moaned, grinding his hips lasciviously, rubbing his testicles against her mouth and chin, his sticky hairs painting her cheeks with pearly goo.
The only way Joselyn could continue was to pretend that Velasquez was watching her, nodding approvingly. She kept on licking, lashing her tongue over the underside of his balls, cleaning them scrupulously. The flavor of his semen raged in her mouth, burning her tongue, mixing with and thickening her saliva. It was nasty stuff, indeed. She bathed his balls in her hot slobber, laved them with her moist tongue until they were rubbed a cherry red, until their sack was all shriveled, all wrinkled up tight over the bloated orbs.
When she paused to gasp for breath, he caught her head between his palms and pulled her mouth up higher, up to the thick base of his penis.
"Lick it," he cooed to her. "Lick my prick, baby."
Joselyn groaned. His cock was iron hard against her mouth and she could feel the veins throbbing, the tendons flexing anxiously.
Bertrand didn't wait for her to respond to his demand, but lifted her face, dragging her soft mouth up the sticky underside of his cock, then shoving it back down, masturbating against her tender lips.
She shuddered as he so callously used her, as the silky smooth skin at the base of his penis gave way to an entirely different type of skin about a third of the way up the curving shaft. The skin of his cocksheath was pebbly, covered with a million hairless follicles; sort of a natural "french tickler" effect. The bumpy flesh rasped against her mouth, her tongue, and she could not help but imagine what that coarse texture would do to the buttery soft lining of her cunt, to the tender nubbin of her clitoris. She felt a surge of excitement, unwanted excitement at the thought.
"God, baby!" he mumbled, twisting and turning her head in his hands, his ass shifting impatiently on the chair seat.
Joselyn began to lick at the hulking boner, to swirl her tongue over and around it as he forced her to bob her head. In a matter of seconds, her copious saliva had covered the rod from tip to root and the thing was rushing pell mell through the warm, wet trough of her lips, the rubbery tip bumping against her forehead as the shaft slid up alongside her nose.
"That's it! That's the way!!" Bertrand howled in delight, guiding her lips over his tumescent meat. She moved her tongue faster, whipping it across his sensitive nerve bundle, stabbing its tip into the open, gaping slot in his cock head. Everything was suddenly so hot and slippery, so sexy that it stole her breath away. There was a bonfire in her lungs and it pulsed in time to the huge penis between her lips. She realized at once what was happening to her, that she was getting turned on and the idea revolted her. She didn't want to be excited by this jerk's cock, by submitting to his animal needs, but she was, undeniably. And she could almost hear Velasquez urging her on, half-laughing as he did so, wanting her to go wild, wanting her to prove to herself that she was not only his, but that she was anybody's anytime. Though she fought against the hunger building in her belly, she gradually began to lose control of herself, her shame succumbing to passion, and she began to move her head faster and faster without his prompting, moving her lips, her tongue in a blur over his arching boner.
"Ohhhh! Ahhhhh!" he gasped as she stuffed his enormous bulb in her mouth and proceeded to cram it over the back of her tongue and down her throat. Her wet lips nursed at the middle of his shaft, sliding back and forth over the band of pebbly skin.
Joselyn knew what she was doing. She wanted him to cum. She wanted him to cum in her mouth. Suddenly, there was no thought of Velasquez in her mind, no thought of whose cock it was she was sucking. None of the details mattered to her. She hungered for the feel of hard penis bucking and jerking between her cruelly stretched lips, for the boiling surge of semen pouring down her throat.
The professor, momentarily unbalanced by the squeaky-tightness of her throat, the maddening, sucking caress of her lips, began hunching up from his chair, driving the last three inches of his penis up into her gaping mouth and unguarded throat. She whimpered each time the incredibly broad root jammed between her teeth, spreading her jaws to the splitting point, each time the bloated knob end rammed deep in her gullet, but she didn't stop sucking. She held her cheeks concave, maintaining the maximum friction against the madly flipping rod, letting it fuck in and out of her lovely face at will, the bumpy gooseflesh of his shaft scouring over her tongue and throat.
Bertrand finally stopped lunging and sat there, panting hard, his eyes bulging as he watched her continue to blow him, to bob her head, forcing the monstrous cock in and out of her throat, making her lips slide from tip to root and back, over and over again. He could've just sat there and let her bring him off, but he didn't want it that way. He grabbed hold of her hair and as she raised her mouth up his shaft, he lifted, jerking her lips from his gleaming bulb.
"Uhhh!" she whined, trying to bridge the gap between her mouth and his cock with her long, dripping tongue.
"Enough of that!" he said, shoving her back and rising from the chair. His cock was hard as granite, rubbed a furious red by the prolonged friction with her throat and mouth.
She looked up at his huge penis, arching like a monstrous red banana from his wet crotch to breastbone, and moaned. Her head was reeling, she could hardly breathe for the pressure in her chest.
"Get up!" he said, pulling on her hair.
Joselyn got up on wobbly legs. She stood there, making no move to defend herself as he roughly jerked her tube top down, making her smooth breasts bobble free, as he ripped open the fly of her cut off jeans and wrenched them down around her ankles.
"Ohhh! Yesss!" he groaned as he took in the pert stubs of her nipples, the soft swell of her tummy, the furious, parted petals beneath her wispy blonde pubic hair. He jammed his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy in his palm, squeezing the plump mound while he greedily worked his fingertips over the sticky lips.
"Ohhh!" she gasped, shuddering, hunching into his lewd caress, making her cunt grind into his probing fingers.
"You're all wet, baby," he wheezed, massaging the slick pussy flesh, teasing the tip of his finger round and round her entrance. "You're so loose I could drive a truck up you. You're all ready for a good, hard fuck."
The reason she was so well lubricated, so loose, was because she'd already been fucked once, and only minutes before, but that was a little too fine a distinction for the highly aroused professor to make. More important than the previous fucking was the fact that she'd been made to climax. She'd already reached a pleasure plateau. As she soon discovered, it didn't take much more intimate contact to push her to the brink again.
She had to grab hold of his forearm with both hands and collapse as he shoved his finger into her pussy. Waves of ecstasy rolled up over her tummy, licking at her nipples. The professor worked his finger in and out of her cunt, rubbing it back and forth over her clitoris. Joselyn whimpered, then arched her back as a surge of pure delight rocketed up her spine.
"Ohhh!" she cried. "OHHH!"
"Go, baby, go!!" Bertrand panted, fingering her a mile a minute, making her pussy give up wet, nasty, sputtering sounds.
There was no question of wanting or not wanting it anymore. She began to hump his stiffened finger like a bitch in heat, responding automatically to the flicks of his finger, snapping her bottom as fast as she could. And as she stuffed, emptied, stuffed, emptied her cunt, her cries of pleasure became a long, unbroken wail.
The wail was cut off short as Bertrand jerked his hand out from between her legs. He turned the startled girl around so that she faced his cluttered desk, then he gave her a hard shove.
"Ooof!" she exclaimed as she landed, belly down, half on, half off the desk.
Bertrand was on her back in a flash, pulling her towards him, making her put her feet flat on the floor, making her drag her firm breasts over the debris-ridden blotter.
"Ohhh!" she moaned as he wedged his hard knees between her thighs, levering them wide apart. He was forcing her to mash her tits down into the desktop, to tip her bottom up high in the air.
"So nice," he said, thickly, rubbing his knuckles between her upturned buns, over the wrinkly ring of her anus, the open maw of her pussy.
Joselyn buried her face in the blotter as he began to diddle her cunt from behind, shoving two fingers up into it and screwing them in and out, buffeting her clitoris unmercifully. Wave after wave of sheer pleasure exploded between her legs, surging rhythmically, surging in time to the insistent thrusting of his doubled digits.
Bertrand leered down at her upturned bottom, at the wet, clasping lips of her vagina, pink, pliant, nursing frantically at his probing fingers. In no time, he had her pussy so widely stretched, so loose, so ready for a fuck, that he could whip his fingers in and out in a blur. As he proceeded to do just that, the savage pumping motion of his digits drew a great gush of slick, viscous juice from her cunt, juice that trickled down the insides of her thighs in crystal clear rivulets.
The young blonde let out another long wail, only this time it sounded much different. Though it was a single, extended cry, it was turned into a quavering, stuttering howl by the frenetic impacts of his hand, as it slapped against her open cunt, impacts that jarred her whole body, making the firm flesh of her breasts and buttocks jiggle and bounce. No longer able to just lay there and take it for the steam heat rising in her pussy, she began to roll her bottom, to shift it from side to side, so that the deeply skewering fingers rubbed over every inch of her cunt, caressing every wrinkle, every fold.
The professor ceased his wild fingering and held his hand still, letting her do all the work. To his glee, she rose to the task with uncommon zeal pushing herself up and back from the desktop, spitting herself on his stiffened fingers, gasping, grunting like a madwoman.
"All the same. All you chicks are the same," he told her hoarsely, and with what was obviously great satisfaction. He grinned down at the desperately squirming girl. "All the same. All of you are hot. Hot for me."
Joselyn was not so much hot for him as she was just plain hot, period… hot for anything. It was not so much a function of the professor's amatory skill or the deftness of his fingers as it was the result of her previous climax, her Velasquez induced climax. Her nerve ends had been still tingling from it when he began fondling her and now, after a few minutes of deep finger-fucking, they were jangling, crying out for another release. He could've been using a broomstick or a mop handle on her, for all it mattered…
Without warning, Bertrand pulled his hand back, drawing his sticky fingers from her pussy. Joselyn groaned and thrust her bottom back, trying to spit herself one more time, but the professor had other plans for her cunt. He put his thumbs to the insides of her smooth buttocks and pushed outwards, levering the supple domes wide apart, leering down into her flattened asscrack, down at the tiny, winking pink ring of her rectum, at the slack lipped, pouting maw of her pussy.
"Hot for me," he babbled.
The rush of cool air over her super-heated crotch startled Joselyn, momentarily snapping her out of her fuck-fever, giving her an instant of lucidity. She struggled out from under the stifling weight of her sex hunger and saw herself, saw him, saw what he was doing to her, how he was gawking into her obscenely splayed fork, peering at her like she was some kind of lower animal, a cow or a sheep, a creature with no dignity to offend, and she was horrified. Never before in her life had she ever allowed herself to be so humiliated, so degraded. But even as part of her rose up in rebellion against this mistreatment, another sensation welled up in her belly, a sensation just as devastating as her anger, perhaps stronger. It was the soul ache, the love ache, the bottomless hurt of being trod upon by the one person you love, of having that sweet perfect love twisted, turned as a weapon against you. Suddenly, she wasn't sure whether or not what was happening to her didn't feel exquisite. Her confusion, her inner conflict was so intense that it cancelled out any actual physical protest she might have made.
Long before she got her wits about her, Bertrand was moving. He held her crotch open with the fingers of one hand and with the other gripped the thick neck of his penis, bending the arching rod down from against his chest, fitting the massive, purpling head to her wet and parted slit. At the feel of that smooth knob nosing into her cunt, at the feel of her labia yawning, stretched wide to enclose it, Joselyn's instant of sanity came to an abrupt end. The steam heat of her arousal dropped down on her like a ton of bricks and she pushed herself back hard, ramming her cunt onto the broad bulb.
"So hot," Bertrand moaned, his pleasure-slitted eyes glued to the lower half of his cock which protruded from her ovalled cuntlips, its skin dark with blood, so lewd against the milk white of her beautiful buttocks, the funny triangle of pale skin left by her bikini. He pulled his cock back a little and leered at the way her labia smooched back with it, pursing out from her crotch, clinging to the sides of the shaft, leaving behind glistening, fragrant juice.
When he had surged into her, Joselyn had been far too overwhelmed by the girth of his penis, the sensation of having her pussy filled from wall to wall with hot, hard meat, to notice all the little bumps on his cock skin. But now it was different. Now, as he withdrew a bit, she got the full brunt. Those hundreds of tiny warts rasped the soft lining of her cunt, scouring over her clitoris, teasing the inner edges of her labia, making flickers of delight dance in her loins, making her belly tighten.
"Ooooh," she sighed, immediately responding to his withdrawal by swiveling her round bottom, by thrusting it backwards, by forcing her vagina to gobble every inch of him. She took all of his prick into her, cramming the broad, hairy root between her wet cunt petals, leaning back until she could feel his heavy testicles gently sliding over her inner thighs.
"That's it," the professor crooned to her, keeping her from moving any further by locking his forearm about her waist, keeping his penis from moving in and out of her, but flexing it so that it throbbed out against the tender grip of her pussy. As he did this, he slid his free hand over her smooth hips, up over her ribcage to cup her breasts, to pinch and tweak her stiff nipples.
That awful outward pulsing made Joselyn's knees go to jelly and the savage groping of her breasts, the plucking at her tender nipples made her dizzy. Each pulse of his huge penis, each hard twist at her nipples so infuriated her passion that it felt as if her head was going to explode from the pressure of the hot blood pounding in it. She had to have her release, she had to.
Moving with surprising speed and strength, the young blonde hurled her full weight forward, breaking free of Bertrand's armlock, dragging her tight, wet pussy down the length of his cock, down over the band of bumps. She squealed as the tiny nodes scraped her clitoris and then she lunged backwards once more, cramming all the hard meat back into her cunt.
The professor chortled to himself. He could tell that his new protege was out of control, that she was on the verge of sprinting, pell mell for orgasm. He let go of her, putting his palms flat to her shapely buttocks, gently pushing, pulling on the firm flesh as she worked herself forward and back, as she fucked his big cock in and out of her pussy.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped, a gasp for every scrape, a surge of pleasure for every gasp. Even under the heat of her excitement, Joselyn knew that she disliked the man on her back, even loathed him. But what he was making her feel was anything but dislike. To be stimulated by a man's face or body was one thing, but to hate the man and be in love with his penis, or to be more exact, with the warts upon it, was something entirely different, something that even to her seemed unspeakably obscene.
Bertrand didn't move his hips at all, but let her do all the work, guiding her buttocks with his hands, making sure that the entire length of his cock got the full benefit of her pussy. Gradually, the tightness, the slick moisture, the searing heat of her cunt began to have its effect on him. His breathing became ragged, labored, his face flushed. Everything between their smacking loins was sopping wet, deliciously wet and then he started to hunch, driving his cock in and out of her two or three times in the time it took her to fuck forward and back once.
His rapid-fire fucking only served to fan Joselyn's inner fires. More strokes of pebbly bump band over her clitoris meant more sensation, more pleasure. Even as she clawed at the blotter, her pussy sputtering and farting up a storm, even as the waves of joy buffeted and bounced her, there was pain, too. He was screwing into her so hard, the broad root of his cock smashing into her upturned pussy like he was trying to split her in two. His balls slapped hard against the upper portion of her parted slit and the head of his penis bored into her so deeply that she swore she could feel it throbbing in the back of her throat.
There was pain, yes, but instead of weakening the effect of all the pleasure, it only served to emphasize it. On a purely mental level, it was as if Joselyn were being punished for her wickedness, punished even as she reveled in it; on a physical level, her nerve ends were so overloaded that they could no longer distinguish between one powerful sensation and the other… it all felt good. Before thirty seconds had passed, before fifteen strokes had been sent surging into her, she was cumming. She let out a shrill, bleating cry and tried no frantically to fuck him faster, to bring herself off, but her climax was too awesome. It was all she could do, as the world dropped out from under her feet, as the colored lights began to flash inside her skull, to slump forward onto the desktop, holding her sleek bottom up high in the air for him.
The professor grunted as he felt her tight, tremendous pussy begin to spasm about his cock. Those fluttering, startlingly powerful caresses made tingles of ecstasy shoot down the shaft of his cock, made his balls glow with a cozy warmth. He fucked her harder, actually pinning her belly down on the desktop, jamming his cock to her as fast as he possibly could.
Whether she liked it or not, Joselyn was orgasming abut his pistoning rod. Every muscle in her belly was convulsing, rhythmically contracting and she could feel her pussy squeezing at him, desperately trying to tease the climax from his cock… to no avail. Though her own ecstasy was non-stop, his had not even begun, yet. He was pumping on her so furiously that she could hardly breathe, forcing her orgasm to go on and on and on, until she was sobbing, bawling like a baby, begging him to finish it.
When he didn't let up, even then, she began to panic. It felt like her whole body was coming apart, muscle, organ, bone rattling loose under the violent seizures that racked it. Was he so jaded, so used to having beautiful young women orgasming under him that nothing she could do would bring him off?! What had she gotten herself into?!
As for Bertrand, there was a method to his madness. He was biting down so hard on the tip of his tongue to keep from cumming that he could taste his own blood, hot, metallic, in his mouth, but it was going to be worth it. He didn't just want to screw Joselyn; he wanted to subjugate her, to teach her what he was going to be expecting from her in the future. He knew that if he prolonged her climax, stretching it out to the point of pain, he could break her will, shatter her personality. He'd done it before, done it to the young undergrad he'd forced into seducing, then finking on Velasquez. He'd fucked that one so hard and so long that she couldn't even walk by the time he was finished. He knew that he could get Joselyn to follow him around like a puppy, too, if he could just hold out a bit longer.
"Uhhhh," Joselyn whined, the constant pumping of his cock building up a staggering friction heat in the walls of her cunt, a heat that only made her pleasure more intense. She could feel her ego, her personality beginning to melt away, and she was determined to fight back, to fuck back, to assert herself. Whimpering from low in her belly, she began to lift and lower her bottom as fast as she could, to force her pussy to suck and slurp at the darting cock.
The professor was a little surprised by her sudden renewal of strength, but he quickly adapted it to his game plan. He stopped fucking her altogether and just stood there, hunkering behind her, waiting.
Joselyn reacted at once, knowing what he was waiting for, that he expected her to bring him off. She started screwing, him like she'd never screwed anyone before, not only thrusting the big, wet cock in and out, but twisting, turning her hips, making the thick shaft rub over her slippery inner drapery.
"Oh! Uhhh! Come on!! Oh!" she panted, her own orgasm still raging unabated.
Bertrand once again put his thumbs to her buttocks and spread them wide apart. As he peered down at the gleaming root of his cock, at the pearly pink, buttery soft flesh of her pussy smooching down over it, he groaned. He had to bite his tongue again, harder, or squirt on the spot.
"Cum! Cum!!" she chanted mindlessly, puffing from the exertion, her svelte buttocks suddenly damp with perspiration.
The professor eased the ball of his right thumb into those sticky wet flaps of her, moistening it. Before she knew what was happening, he jammed the tip of his finger right up against her wrinkly little anus.
"Uh!" she choked, freezing with her ass stuck up high in the air.
"Screw! Screw!" he gasped.
Though she knew what was going to happen and didn't want it, she could not disobey him. Moaning balefully, she pushed her hips back and down, sliding her pussy over the full length of his cock, cramming her poor anus hard against his stiffened finger.
Bertrand grunted as if he'd been kicked as the tiny ring of her pore flowered open under his fingertip, as the end of this thumb popped right up into her ass. No amount of tongue biting could've kept him from cumming then. He stood there, the waves of delight raging down his cock, his face contorted, every muscle tensing as he fought to hold back the tide for just one more thrust, just one more.
Joselyn whimpered as the finger rammed up her ass, whimpered as her own desperate movements forced the finger, as well as his cock, to fuck in and out. Even the stinging pain of the dual penetration did not dim her ecstasy. She continued to cum, both sphincters clasping, nursing hungrily at their respective probes.
"Ohhh, ahhhh!" the professor gasped as the white light exploded in his loins, as the muscles behind his balls began to pump furiously. He was cumming, all right, but he didn't want to cum in her.
The blonde squealed as he wrenched his spurting cock from her tight pussy, as a jet of something boiling hot spattered across her smooth back. Wild with passion, no longer even aware of what was happening, she continued to fuck his thumb. Bertrand didn't even aim his big log of a cock. He just let it go off anywhere it pleased. As it jerked and bobbed up and down, gush after gush of thick white semen shot from the tip, arching high in the air, arching over her shoulder to splatter on the desktop beside her face, arching onto the back of her head, her neck, rolling down the small, silky buttons of her spine in a sluggish, viscous stream. Every time one of his volleys landed on her, she let out a piercing shriek. This, the professor thought was uproariously funny.
Even after the spurting had stopped, Joselyn caught herself flinching in anticipation of more hot sperm hitting her. He pulled his thumb from her behind and stepped back, proudly surveying the damage he'd done. Totally exhausted, she lay there panting on the desk top, her thighs spread, trembling, his semen dripping from her sides, her shoulders, her hips.
"You did all right, baby," he said, smirking at her. "I think you're going to work out just fine."
Joselyn groaned softly.
"Now, get up," he said, "and come over here. There's a little something I want you to do for me."
The blonde slowly swung her head about and peered at him from around her hip. He was leering at her, his cock half-erect, but still long like a fire hose, hanging practically down to his hairy knee, and gleaming with her juices.
"It's something that I haven't had done in a long, long time," he said.
After what had just been done to her, what she'd submitted to, Joselyn figured that she'd seen the worst the professor could possibly offer. She was wrong.
"Come over here and lick my ass," he said, still smiling.