Chapter 49 #2
Her hips buck up and down, slow and steady at first. And I find myself again, moving as she moves, stroking myself.
As I see the ecstasy on her face, as the big dick is thrust inside her, I feel pure pleasure across my crown.
The sound of her thighs slapping against the professor's is so real.
I can see myself there, under her, as she takes all of me, deep into her core.
She writhes faster and harder. Her panting increases, her moans bellowing.
I can feel myself teetering, ready to unload.
She halts and looks into the camera. “Uh-uh, hands off,” she says, and I hadn't even realized she had stopped. Jesus fucking Christ.
“KILLING ME,” I shout as I relinquish myself.
“I've got one more hole for you, Professor. But only if you're going to give me what I want.”
I'll give her fucking anything in this moment. More money? I'm happy to send it.
You need to tell me you're going to give me extra credit,” she says firmly.
My hands twitch and wobble as I slap them against my ears.
Fingers dig into my scalp until I feel the half-moons of my nails.
The evil glint in her eyes catches the blue light of my monitor.
A predator's shine in the digital dark. She knows exactly how the pressure builds low in my belly.
How each denied pulse sends lightning up my spine.
My jaw unhinges as I mouth desperate promises to my screen with a throat so tight the words emerge as strangled whimpers.
I'd sign away my inheritance. My empire. Anything for the mercy of release.
And I swear the devil takes over her body.
She turns herself around, facing away from the professor, her spine arching like a drawn bow.
The bottle of lube catches the light. Clear.
Viscous. Promising. Her manicured fingers grip it with practiced ease.
She backs herself up, the muscles in her thighs flexing beneath flushed skin, until her perfectly rounded ass presses against what I can only assume would be his chest. With theatrical slowness, she inverts the bottle, squeezing until thick, glistening rivulets drown his rigid cock.
She works it methodically, coating every inch until it shines like wet marble, before reaching back with slick fingers to spread the cool gel between her cheeks.
She steps forward, looking back over her shoulder, her eyes hooded and hungry beneath smudged mascara.
“Are you ready to take my ass, Professor?” The words hang in the air like smoke, and my eyes couldn't be wider if they were stapled open.
I want to see that dick destroy her asshole.
But of course, she waits, savoring the tortured anticipation building.
She teases herself first, circling the lubricated tip against her puckered flesh until the tight ring glistens in the studio lights.
When she finally breaches the first resistant barrier, her breath catches audibly, a sharp inhale cutting through my speakers.
She withdraws completely, the muscles visibly clenching at the sudden emptiness, before lowering herself again with excruciating patience.
Each descent takes her deeper. Half an inch.
Then another. Her thighs trembling with the effort of controlled surrender.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip until the flesh blanches white beneath the pressure, a thin crimson line appearing where the skin nearly breaks.
Her nostrils flare with each labored breath as the professor's magnificent cock stretches her impossibly wide, the delicate skin around it paling then flushing as she finally hilts herself completely against the unyielding silicone.
Impaled and motionless, she sits with her eyes half-closed, chest heaving in shallow, rapid bursts. Sweat beads along her hairline as she adjusts to the invasion, her fingers splayed against her own thighs, leaving white pressure marks against the flushed skin.
“Holy fuck, Professor,” she boasts. “I think you're tickling my kidneys.” She raises herself and then lowers herself and lets a squeak out. She raises a little more, farther this time, and forces herself down with added fervor. She gasps. The professor's cock is literally taking her breath away.
She picks up the pace. Her thighs quake and shiver like snowflakes in a windstorm.
Her fingers grip her clamped tits and press them together until the flesh whitens at the edges.
Her head flings back, exposing the vulnerable column of her throat.
I watch as she loses herself on the professor.
Her expression melts into something primal and unguarded.
Her mouth slack. Her eyes unfocused. Her cheeks flushed the color of crushed berries.
My cock throbs with each heartbeat. Its veins stand out like rivers on a map.
Precum slicks my hands with a viscous glaze which catches the light from the screen.
My own ass has almost scooted off the edge of the leather seat, the material squeaking beneath me as my hips instinctively thrust upward, yearning for release.
The pressure builds at the base of my spine like magma gearing to erupt.
Each stroke sends electric currents through my groin.
My balls are dried concrete marbles tightened against my body.
As she picks up her pace, the wet slapping sounds filling the room around me, she looks over her shoulder again. Her mascara has created dark rivulets down her cheeks, and she whispers with trembling lips.
“Come in my ass, Professor. Fill me with your knowledge.” The words ignite something intrinsic in me.
I howl a sound I don't recognize from my own throat, and spasm as my orgasm hurls globs of come across my keyboard.
Second and third bursts spurt through the air before dribbling down my thighs, leaving dark stains on my tailored pants and pooling on the hardwood floor.
Through the haze of my own pleasure, I hear her screams harmonizing with the aftershocks of my own. Her body convulses before she hurls herself from the professor's lap. She crumples to the floor, visible only from her heaving shoulders at the bottom of the screen.
Her head lifts slowly from the floor, hair clinging to her sweat-dampened face.
“Thank you, Professor,” she says, voice husky and raw, still in character. Her eyes, though exhausted, hold a glint of triumph. “I knew you'd see things my way.”