Professor Head – Intro – Julia

Bubbles

I give notable students nicknames. I don’t always use them publicly, mind you, so I never actually called a given sorority princess, “Lady Skanks-a-lot,” but, after the thirteenth Precious made her way through, somehow their names seemed less important to me. I can’t remember a single Precious, but I’ll never forget Lady Skanks-a-lot.

Bubbles definitely fell into the unforgettable category. After the first class of the semester, a Wednesday that winter, she bounced her way up to the lectern (no it isn’t a fucking “podium” and this mistake WILL cost your paper a letter grade) with a huge smile pasted below the devious eyes of an experienced, near professional, liar. She patiently waited for me to finish with, well, the subject of another story named Esther, but suffice it to say that Esther was asking for some accommodations, and given her situation and her willingness to work around her situation, I had no problem accommodating her. Bubbles, though? No. Bubbles was looking for a target to exploit, and she was only starting her second semester. I made a mental note to check her first semester grades before I agreed to anything she asked.

“Professor, I’m REALLY looking forward to your class, a lot!” Oh good. A steaming helping of bull fucking shit. First, had she listened or read anything related to the class, she wouldn’t have used “really” or “a lot” with me even in casual conversation. Second, she was deeply engrossed in her phone for the entire class. I’m too old to have been born yesterday, and the bullshit wears thin quickly.

“The syllabus and grading looks very doable for me…” Yeah. Very this time. Swell. At this point I didn’t tune out, but I began listening for key phrases which indicated substance amongst the ubiquitous flattery, the reframing of the contents of my syllabus as somehow optional, and the denigration of my class as less than necessary. I’m a fucking wordsmith as well as a teacher of wordsmiths, and this moronic teenage child was trying to double-talk me. Only one other student patiently waited, and before long he caught my eye, rolled both of his, and then pulled out a folder to write a note about what he needed. Young master Kyle had participated in class, and his patience with Bubbles had ended long before mine. After he packed up his folder and pocketed his pen, he caught my eye and handed me his folded note before inclining his head and heading for the door.

Bubbles kept prattling on and on…

Turns out she’s on some sort of dance team that takes up a significant amount of her time, “socially and professionally,” whatever the Hell that means, and she wanted to make sure she could make up any absences she accrued. I gestured to the syllabus and opened my mouth to explain the policy, but she kept right on talking. So I closed my mouth and continued to listen with both my amusement and irritation increasing by the minute. I didn’t have back-to-back classes that semester, and I figured this unequal exchange qualified as the day’s Office Hours.

When she finally took a break to breathe, I suggested we head for my office so she can explain, specifically, what she needed from me in order to satisfy all of her campus obligations while still participating in my class. She literally bounced as she replied with a giddy, “Okay!”

Bubbles stood about 5′ 4″ with a slim dancer’s body, and when I rarely saw her that semester, she always wore tights, sometimes with a skirt, but always with a short top of some sort that showed off her toned tummy. As the semester grew to a close in the spring, her jacket disappeared, and she replaced her tops with hankies and strings instead of shirts. Sometimes she wore bicycle shorts instead of the yoga tights. I like to think I didn’t overtly keep my eyes on her when she graced the class with her presence, but there’s no denying she’s attractive. She had long, straight, and shiny yellow blonde hair that gave her a presence beyond her athletic body and high cheek bones. She was striking, and she knew it. Also, she clearly put her assets to use.

As we walked to my office, she kept going on and on about the dance team, and she told me way too much. It’s not a school activity. It’s a club. This is fine, but where I have to make accommodations for football and volleyball players missing class due to games, I don’t have to do shit for the Dungeons and Dragons club, the local Moose Lodge, the Shriners,…or some dance club. I let her go on, though. The whole thing was getting funnier to me by the minute, and my irritation waned once I could sit in my big comfy chair.

“…So I just HAVE to be there on Wednesdays, there’s just no way around it, and if there’s any work at all, especially if there’s a lot of it, then it might be Monday instead of Friday when I can get it to you, and we have four competitions on Fridays that we have to travel to during the day and I can read or whatever on the trip but those four days I won’t be able to come to class Friday either, but maybe it could be made up with a character outline or something? Oh, you should come see our routine at the mall on Thursday — our practices are so intense, but they’re nothing compared to a performance like that…”

I honestly haven’t got the foggiest fucking idea what this dance crew was, but I think it was a bunch of 18-19 year old girls with showbiz delusions in the East Coast middle Atlantic states. The upshot of it all was that she would be able to attend class on Mondays, but not Wednesdays, and she would find it difficult to impossible to attend most Fridays, as well. Class work, particularly discussion, she would make up. And when she got to missing the mid-term and asking for a make-up date, I began chuckling.

“……………..what?” Her facial expression screamed an absolute lack of understanding.

“Miss…” I glanced down at the class list, “Jones is it?”

She nodded, “call me Brandi!…with an I.”

“Alright Brandi with an I,” I smiled at her, but she was more taken aback at my response than anything else. “It sounds to me like you have far more pressing matters than my class.”

She blinked. It never occurred to her that I might suggest my class wasn’t a good fit for her.

“You should probably drop CW201 and not worry about the mid-term, class work, or attendance. This class will require a fair amount of writing, not only reading, though reading good books will help you become a better writer, and reading on trips cannot make up for creative brainstorming sessions during class time. Those are meant to inspire ideas in my students. I want to hear what you think. I want to hear what you think about. I want your dreams adorning paper, and I want that adorned paper to express some part of who you are. Think of it as dancing with language.”

She nodded, still utterly befuddled by my response.

“If you stay in my class, you will need to abide by the policies laid out in the syllabus. If you cannot, then I highly recommend you not stay in my class. Add/drop is in two weeks, so you have some time to think about it and make a well-considered decision. It’s up to you.”

Bubbles finally found her voice again, “but what about Esther?” I raised an eyebrow. “Well, you told her you would accommodate her schedule, but you won’t accommodate mine? That’s really not fair.”

“Well, I’m not telling you someone else’s business, but Esther has significant responsibilities elsewhere-…” she opened her mouth to interrupt, but I raised my hand to stop her, “and Esther was asking to make accommodations that allow her to DO the work rather than to get out of doing the work. So there’s quite a difference between what you are asking and what she asked.”

She looked mutinous for an instant before quickly hiding it, so I pressed her. “If you’d like, you can file a complaint with the department. Professor Blake’s office is one floor up. I’m sure he’d love to hear this.” He would. He’d send me a thank you note for the opportunity to chew her a new asshole. Verbally, I mean. As far as I knew, he didn’t partake of the coeds.

Bubbles returned to bubbling. She would be in class, participate, do the work, she her ideas with me…yeah. Okay. Well, I can’t control whether she drops the class or not, so…

You know what happened.

*******

Spring sprang. I enjoyed that semester tremendously. The students shared a wealth of engrossing ideas, they built towering skyscrapers on each others’ ideas, and they blew away their own expectations. By the end of the semester, six of them had nearly finished books and some had outlines for several more.

Bubbles made a token effort to begin with, and she had at least warned me that she’d be gone for most of the classes, but she skipped the mid-term, she never even asked me for a make-up time, and by the last three weeks of the semester, I didn’t see her in class at all.

She wasn’t dead, mind you. After her invitation, I took an afternoon to see her dance troupe’s performance, and, poof, they had a new fan. As you might have figured out by now, I like a nice lady ass. One might even say I’m a connoisseur thereof, and the dancer figures these young ladies maintained were profoundly impressive — stimulating, even. So on instafacepagetwittergrambook…I followed that crew on all of them. I knew where she was for every class, exam, and assignment she missed or skipped. Her dance crew’s social media coordinator kept on top of everything remotely related to them, so I easily followed their progress, but I still had zero idea of their ultimate goal.

Bubbles greeted me enthusiastically after that first performance, and she thanked me again for coming at the next class she attended, but then she promptly ghosted. After reaching out the standard three times via email, and getting Silent Casper as a response, I shelved her as Not My Problem.

********

During the last week of the semester I sat at my desk while grading their final projects; I preferred doing actual work during my office hours, and for that semester, I skipped the final exam entirely and let their final creative project be their final grade. It gets us all into our break a smidge quicker, and this particular class had done such spectacular work that I figured they didn’t actually need a formal exam. Bubbles seriously missed out.

As I read the violent and racy exploits of Space Pirate Perkins and His crew of Tentacular Aliens, a soft knock on my open door pulled me from a particularly amusing naked wrestling match between, no shit, First Officer Desiré Morehead and a Jello Creature from Alpha Centauri who clearly longed to dehydrate her with orgasms.

My ongoing chuckles continued as I glanced up to see Bubbles looking far less Bubbly than the last time I saw her.

I smiled. “Miss Jones! Long time no see! How’s the dancing career going?” Her eyes blew wide open in surprise as she expected hostility instead of friendliness, and she clearly preferred to discuss her dancing over whatever brought her here. She perked up a bit before replying.

“Really good.” I smirked at her phrasing. “Er…very well…” My countenance slumped a bit more as my chuckles restarted. “It’s…glorious, invigorating…meaningful…” She hadn’t learned much in my class, but she apparently noted that the words REALLY and VERY were both really very fucking verboten.

“That’s better. Tell me about how dance is so meaningful.”

She paused for a moment to ponder. “It’s like…” her eyes popped open at yet another nothing phrase I professionally despise, but I motioned for her to continue. “When I dance the world makes sense. Even when we work a fast beat, the world slows down. I feel like I fit in existence.”

“So it organizes the chaos of the universe itself for you…”

“YES!” She leapt to the edge of her seat with wide eyes since I apparently understood her so well.

“Yeah, writing does that for me. There was a musician who said something along the lines of, ‘if nothing else could demonstrate it, music proves to me that God exists.'” Her eyes went wide with recognition as she nodded.

I placed the Space Pirate Perkins story back on the to-be-read pile, leaned back in as relaxed a manner as I could muster, interlaced my fingers across my belly, and calmly focused on the wayward dancer. “What can I do for you, Miss Jones?”

Her glorious, invigorated, and meaningful countenance dropped into despair. “I hoped to speak to you about my grade.”

“Okay, well, here’s your big chance. Speak to me about your grade to your heart’s content.”

She remained silent for a solid minute before murmuring, “it can’t be good…”

“No,” I laughed, “it really can’t, can it.”

She didn’t like my laughing at her, but I’ve always had an infectious belly laugh, and her indignance broke into some chuckles of her own. “How bad off am I?”

I contained my chuckles and with a bit of a paternal grin I replied, “Well, really bad. Verily. A lot.” She chuckled at my self-referencing joke — that was nice of her — as I tapped on my computer. “Yeesh, yeah, 24.”

Her eyes widened in profound fear. We both knew this wasn’t something a little extra credit work could possibly overcome.

My grin morphed into a rueful one as I ceased chuckling. “Honestly, Miss Jones, I’m surprised you care. I figured when you didn’t drop that maybe you actually wanted to be in the class, and I’m always happy to have students who want to be with me. This semester blew my mind, too. Your classmates worked hard and developed significantly. I’m in such a good mood right now because I was in the middle of reading their final projects when you knocked.”

I paused as her face contorted into something close to regret and confusion.

“Then you ghosted us.” She looked at her feet. “You didn’t even reply to my emails asking if you were okay.” She squeezed out a crocodile tear over that one. “After that I figured you wanted nothing more to do with me or the class, so I kinda put you out of my mind.”

She nodded, and took a deep breath before answering. “I have so many responsibilities with my dance team — they got in the way of school this semester.”

“Mine’s not the only class, eh?” She kept studying her feet as she shook her head. “When you have a 145 credit hours, you can afford to fuck around on a class and it won’t hurt your GPA. When you have 14, well, that’s a different matter.” She nodded again and looked up at me. Two more tears slowly dripped down her face. “So just how fucked are you?”

Bubbles registered surprise every time I said fuck, but she answered fluidly. “If I don’t pass your class, my mom said I have to stop dancing.”

“That would be a shame.” She looked up hoping for leniency. She also leaned forward which allowed her spaghetti strap rag masquerading as a shirt to droop forward and give me an excellent view of her hanging tits. They weren’t all that big, but they drooped slightly into a tear drop shape I could possibly get my mouth around…and maybe bite…hmm… She caught me looking down her shirt, and she wore a self-satisfied smile by the time I returned my eyes to hers.

She quietly said, “D’you want to see them?”

I let silence linger for two full minutes as I stared her down without expression. “Is that really the direction you want to take this?” She shrugged. “You need to answer me. Are you trying to swap a quick glimpse of your tits for a better grade?”

“I guess…”

“You guess?” She shrugged again. “Let’s say I give you an 80 because you showed me your tits. What would that say about the 80 Pamela earned by working her ass off and improving her writing by about 1000% this semester?”

She shrugged once again. “I dunno.”

“Doesn’t that sound deeply unfair to you?”

“…not necessarily…” I scowled at her, and she began reexamining the toes of her shoes.

“So basically if I give you an 80 for showing me your tits, we’re both giving Pamela a good fucking over without her even realizing it. It’s certainly against her will. So you’re asking me to metaphorically rape your fellow students. Is that what you want?”

Bubbles met my eyes at that; she looked shocked, astounded, and mortified. She blinked repeatedly as she tried to mentally reframe what she wanted so that it didn’t sound outright evil.

“What kind of a teacher would I be if I taught you to screw over other people just to benefit you and me…especially for things we didn’t earn?”

She slowly closed her eyes and slumped in her seat in dejection. “I guess a bad one…but you’d be a kind one…”

“Hrrm…” Time for another pause. I’d be kind, huh? “Would it be kind to Pamela if I did that?”

“I guess it wouldn’t, no.”

“But it would be kind to you.”

She nodded silently but hopefully.

“Well, in that case I think Pamela and the rest of the class shouldn’t get fucked over for your grade; I think you should.” I remained in my chair and leaned all the way back. “What do you think?”

“That…” she paused, “seems…fair…”

“Okay. “What are you doing tomorrow morning at 6am?”

She twitched in surprise. “six a-………sleeping?”

“Until when?”

“I don’t have anywhere to be until after noon.”

“Alright. Here is your option.” She now watched me with wide eyes and rapt attention. “Be here at 6am. You will be awake, and you will be ready to do literally anything I want you to do.” She leaned back in her chair as the realization hit her. “This isn’t fucking Mardi Gras, and a quick flash isn’t going to accomplish anything. If I invite an entire frat house to come through here and systematically fuck you over like you wanted me to fuck over the rest of your class, then you will entertain them willingly even if you don’t necessarily want to.” Her face dropped into horror. “I’m not going to do that, but I want you to understand the extent of what’s going to happen tomorrow morning. You. Will. Be. Punished. Are we clear on that?”

“O…kay…” She hesitated in every movement, every thought, and every word.

“Don’t tell me your answer now.” She slunk into a confused grimace. “Think about it. Decide after giving it all due consideration. Talk is cheap. You will tell me what you decide by showing up in the morning…or by not showing up. Now, are we clear?”

She remained frozen for a few more moments before finally saying, “Yes, Professor,” and she gathered up her things and left. I chuckled and picked up the Space Pirate and the Jello Creature where I left off. I figured there was pretty much zero chance Bubbles would show up in the morning.

*******

I arrived early to prep in case she showed, but, after the office setup, I settled in to read more of the delightful creations my students gave me that semester. They were a joy that time around, and I savored every single one.

At 5:59, a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened gingerly, and Bubbles padded in with all the presence of a titmouse. She held a coffee cup with both hands after shutting the door, and I waited for her to take a step away from it. When she did…

“Lock the door, Miss Jones.”

Except for us, the building was completely empty, but I wanted her to experience obedience from the moment she set foot in my office. It worked. She stepped back, locked the door, and turned to gaze at me with fear. She didn’t move.

Her flowing hair shined in the early morning sun, and she wore a jacket over whatever flimsy top hung in front of her chest like a bib that day. Her standard yoga tights showed off her incredible dancer legs, and she even wore heels. She watched me with wide eyes as she waited for…something. I enjoyed the view. As many stories as I have, there aren’t many where I get a tight and toned 19-year old coed presenting herself for my inspection.

Part of room prep means turning up the heat, and it was over 80 degrees in my office by then. Without thinking about it, she set her coffee down and pulled off her jacket. As she turned and hung it on the coat rack, she turned her lower half slightly more than necessary to give me a good look at her ass and thigh. Mmmmmm…delicious.

Her top was literally one of those rags with spaghetti straps. The light blue offset the black tights and her hair well. It covered her tits to a lawful extent, but not much more, and she obviously wore no bra.

Bubbles struck a pose. It was cute. Honestly, she looked sexy as hell, but she didn’t know which part of her I was most interested in, so it only worked so far. Still, she tried. Points for that.

“Good morning Professor…….Dick…”

I chuckled. “Good morning, Bubbles.”

Her physical presentation stalled as she considered the appellation, but she shrugged and accepted the name as she returned to putting on an extremely slow dance for me. She stepped, she slowly swayed, and she even rotated at an agonizing pace as she moved forward. When she arrived at my desk, she slipped around the side of it, and I rotated my chair to keep facing her. Once she stood directly in front of me, she seemed unsure about what to do next. I silently observed. She glanced down at my crotch to see the bulge, and she looked back up at me with an accomplished smile. She slowly rotated in front of me, and I couldn’t let her ass pass again without grabbing a handful of cheek.

She jumped in surprise, but she didn’t jump out of my grip or try to push me away. She stopped her rotation facing away from me, though, and I enjoyed her assets with both of my hands. Her glutes felt damned solid. I had to grin, and I even moaned happily as I gripped and caressed that ass. I played with her for several minutes until she turned and placed her hand on one of mine. I looked up at her to see the same condescending look she gave me on the first day of class when she thought I was an easy mark. I gave her a genuine smile.

“Give me your top.”

She had me. She knew it….and she was right about the grade, but she wasn’t in charge, and she didn’t realize that, yet.

Keeping her ass still so I could keep groping it, she slowly used both hands to lift her top over her head. She kept her back to me, but, when she turned to hand me her top, I saw a bigger tit than I expected to see on a dancer. I might not get it entirely in my mouth, but I’d certainly try. Later, anyway. For now…

When she reached out to hand me her top, I took her wrist instead, and I slowly brought her other arm back to meet the first. I folded her arms up well above her waist and almost crossed behind her back. She put up no struggle; she even seemed amused by the gentle restraint. I wrapped her top around both of her wrists with one fist poking out on each side of the tube her wrapped top made around her forearms. When I secured the top around her arms with a thick velcro restraint, she finally realized her vulnerable position. She glanced back with wide and scared eyes, but I gave her an expressionless silent treatment. She found this utterly unamusing.

She kept eye contact as I slowly guided her to bend over the desk. As I tucked my fingers into the waistband of her tights, her eyes closed tight. I pulled the tights down slowly as the tears slowly rolled down her face. When the tights reached her ankles, I stood up and looked down at her. I still watched her face — I had all morning to play with her ass, after all — and I wrapped my hand in her hair. Despite how gently I gripped her hair, she gasped and her eyes flew open. I pulled and she got back to her feet. The tears continued collecting in her eyes, and I bent down to her cheek.

“Oh God…” she murmured as my tongue wiped her cheek clean. I turned her head so I could get the tears on the other cheek, and then I kissed her gently on the lips. I gave her only a brief peck, and it lasted only an instant, but, in that instant, she kissed me back. Her eyes flew open as she realized what she did, and I smiled wide as I slowly pushed her back over my desk.

I released her hair and helped turn her head to the side. Her tears puddled on my desk. She sobbed softly.

“After each spank, you will announce how many times you’ve been hit, and then you will thank me and ask for another. Do you understand?” Her eyes tracked back to mine in confusion as she shook her head. “Okay. Let’s practice. This one doesn’t count.”

I smacked her ass directly on her left cheek…viciously. She howled.

“OWWWWW!!!!!!!!” Her eyes squeezed shut as more tears expanded the puddle on my desk.

“Now you say, ‘One, thank you sir. May I have another?'” Her eyes flew open. When she saw the expression on my face, more tears ran down hers.

“ONE…” sniff…”thank you sir…” Her crying became audible: “uh-huhnh….may I have another?”

“That’s exactly right.” I caressed her fabulous tight ass. “Now, we’re going to reset our count and do this properly.”

She openly cried. The puddle of tears grew. My dick hardened. She even had a few snot bubbles in that puddle…

“Are you ready?”

The crying continued. “Ahhhh…unh-hunh hunh hunh!” I could wait for-… “Yes, sir!” Ah! She even went with Sir. Good girl.

SHMACK

“GAH!” She sobbed. “One!” A gurgling noise drifted up, and then, “thank you,” a hiccup, “Sir.” She took a deeper breath as I caressed and massaged her burning cheeks. I tried to rub the pain away from her skin while I waited for the request. In her haste, she yelled loudly instead of spoke, “May I have another?!”

FHWHAP

She had no air to expel this time. Her scream died before it got to her lips, but her mouth opened wide, her legs slammed into the desk, and her ass glowed red. When she could take another breath, the crying returned in earnest. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaa….fwuh — huh….huh….aaaaagh….” The puddle bubbled all the more. After another breath, she managed to collect herself momentarily. “Two. Thank you sir.” She took another deep breath and only used part of it to say, “may I have another?”

I pulled my hand away, leaned down slightly, and slapped her twat relatively gently. And I left my hand right there to caress and rub.

“What the fuck?!” She tried to twist and raise her chest and head, but I held her down with a hand between her shoulder blades. She had muscles, but I have weight, and she couldn’t do shit from that angle in any event. She managed to lock outraged eyes with me. Her crying came to an abrupt end, though. It’s amazing how quickly humiliation can turn to indignance…especially when I find a sopping wet pussy below the ass I’m spanking. It happens more often than you’d think.

“Don’t make me wait, Bubbles.” I glared intently at her, and her indignance slowly receded as her fear returned.

“Three.” She gasped as I pinched her pussy lips. “Thank you sir.” A strangled leftover crying gasp hit her as I flicked a finger over her clit. “May I have another?”

SHMACK — left ass cheek this time.

“AAAAAACK!” She strangled her own scream and gasped, “ugh…Four.” Another deep breath as I rubbed and massaged her cheek. “Thank you sir,” and as she continued, I ran a finger between her cheeks, “may I have a-…” to locate her asshole, “NOTHER!!”

She squealed that part — it was almost a shriek. I didn’t shove my finger inside. I merely let the pad drift over her anus. She was so reactive…by then I knew she’d dance for me in every way.

I pulled my hand away, and she managed to relax…..for a fraction of a second.

FHWHAP — right ass cheek.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhggghggff…” I got a sob from that one, but she caught her breath and announced, “Five!” She looked forward, her chin in the bubbly puddle of tears, and her drool added to additional tears. She had already made her face and neck slick with that puddle. “Thank you sir!” She’ll be deeply thirsty by the time I finish with her. “May I have another!”

SHMACK

“UNH…Six…” Another sob, but her recovery time improved. “Thank you sir.” Her tears streamed with considerable lesser convulsions, but that puddle kept growing, and it found its way to her tits. Soon she’d be shiny all over. “May I have another?”

I gave her pussy a firmer smack that time, and it fucking squelched. She jerked her head around with a scowl, but we both knew how turned on she was. The bondage, violence, and humiliation might be indignities, but she got off on all of them. Hell, I DESERVED thanks from her for this…

“Seven. Thank you-…UNH” slipping two fingers into her pussy stopped her in her tracks. I gently wrenched them around a couple times and pulled them out in almost a scoop motion. “Thank you, sir…” and, as she asked her question, I ran them up her ass crack. “May I HAVE ANOTHER!” She yelped through her request like I shoved a cold beer in her ass (don’t get excited — that’s a different story). I focused singularly on her being this time…Shiny. All. Over.

FHWHAP

“GYAAAaaangh…” She huffed out the last of her breath and took another deep one before, “Eight. Thank you si-…” I roughly massaged her deep red ass and spread the cheeks at the same time. The unexpected exposure choked off her ‘sir’, and I caressed her crack with firmness this time. No dragging a pad of my finger across it, no gentle slide of slippery lubed fingers, no, I full-on groped her ass crack if you get my meaning. Imagine cupping a pussy, but working your hand between the ass cheeks. I exposed her fully, and she squirmed like a maniac as she gasped out, “Sir, may I have another?!” As I spread her cheeks open, her body slid back towards me. She opened her legs and ass, though I’m not sure she meant to, and she put her pussy on display.

I pulled my hands away to silently unbuckle my slacks, and she tensed up even more with every passing extra second. On occasion, the anticipation fucks with them more than the fucking does. An intriguing detail arose here — she entirely stopped crying. No sobbing, no sniffling, a few tears still squeezed out occasionally out of sheer pain, but she stopped with the blubbering. As my slacks fell to the floor, I reared back to see if I could start her up again while aiming low and center.

SHPLAT

Her squelching pussy sounded more like a soft pudding hitting the kitchen floor that time; I swear, her cunt must have been a sponge in some former life. “YIE, NINE…” She yelped, but she didn’t give me the prolonged whining. “Thank you, sir;” her tone softened, and her body relaxed into the desk. I think she meant that one. “May I have another?”

Brandi rested her head sideways on the desk, and she had her eyes closed, but when I shoved my dick into her, they flew open as she grunted in surprise. I rested my belly on her ass and lower back — this is something my coeds have mentioned was distinct with me — and I ground my dick into her sloppy twat. She groaned with almost a pleading tone, and I slowly pushed and shoved my way into her several times.

Her groan ceased as she twisted her body to look back my way. My belly held her down. My hands on her hips pulled her toward me. Her pussy felt a little loose, but I didn’t judge her on that since my dick isn’t even average, at least the part that sticks out of my pubes. As slick as that twat got, I imagine a horse might have felt loose in her.

I pulled her away from my desk just enough to get an arm between her and the edge of my desk, and as I fucked her, I began stroking her clit. She made few noises except for an occasional grunt when I banged into her with vigor, but every dozen or so strokes I pulled my hand away from her clit and savagely smashed it into her ass or hip. She maintained the count and always asked for more.

I think I broke her brain for a while, there, but she built up to a raging orgasm. With her arms still secured behind her back, she arched impressively, her hardened nipples sticking straight ahead (I saw this on the video when I reviewed it later), and her mouth opened in a silent squeal as her body tensed up. Her vagina even clamped down to where it felt like fucking a balloon in a straw. When she came down, she relaxed tremendously. A tiny smile even curved her lips up as she rested her cheek against the desk — directly in her puddle.

Her juices covered my rod, balls, thighs, and she even saturated my pubes. I looked and felt like she had sprayed me with a hose of warm olive oil mixed with pitch. Normally, I keep lube around, but in this case…

I spread her cheeks again, and having done this several times without going any further, she didn’t react at all. She might have still been dazed from her orgasm; she was certainly still as relaxed as she could be given the situation.

I withdrew from her pussy, lined my cock up against her asshole, both of us and all of our bits sloppy with her bubbly essence, and I slowly applied increasing pressure.

“WAAAAIT wait wait wait….” Not waiting. I kept pressing my way in. Her knot folded into her tight muscles a little, but she lacked the fatty flesh to truly keep me out. Once, a particularly large girl’s ass cheeks were so grand that I literally couldn’t get my short dick through the canyon of her ass crack and into her asshole. With a dancer’s body, this ain’t a problem.

“SIR PLEASE!” She gasped. It wasn’t pain on her face; it was more like shock. Her eyes gazed at me with fear and surprise.

I softly groaned, “Mmmmmm…” as she tried to twist and scoot away from me, but I locked her between my hips, my desk, my belly, and my dick. My dickhead speared the weak point of her asshole, and I felt her shudder as the outer sphincter relaxed. Her ass knot gripped my dick head, or at least it tried, but her slippery juices covered my mid-section. Her asshole may scrape off a layer of her slop from my cock head, but plenty more slid down from my pubes and even the underside of my belly.

Though she wriggled like a landed bass, I kept my dick pressed precisely where I wanted it. The wriggling felt amazing around my rod, and it helped her open up and relax for me. With a physical pop, and her audible yelp, my dick plowed into her ass.

And she yowled like a banshee giving birth to an elephant.

I pressed into her muscular ass as hard as I could, but at the end of her yowl, I withdrew my dick entirely.

“…….oh……thank God……”

Oh yeah, God’s the one that put you in this position…it was God….sure.

I pressed my dick head right back onto her asshole, and the outer sphincter opened instinctively. The inner one, not so much.

“Nooooo no no no no no….!” I pressed hard again, but this time her inner ring wouldn’t budge…yet.

“Push out a little like you’re taking a shit.” That would take concentration, and I couldn’t see whether she listened or even heard me or not.

Bubbles kept muttering low, “no no no no no….” as my rod pushed persistently at her asshole.

She felt fantastic, at least to me, and God certainly had a hand in that. Alas, Bubbles had a different perspective on the whole affair, so, as I forced my way back into her rectum, she tried to tighten up and keep me out.

Now, assfucking a woman is great. I love it. But it’s the opening moment when an unwilling sphincter releases enough to allow a cock head through it that is pretty much the highlight of the event. The circular separation with just the right amount of lingering constriction perfectly couples with a cock to feel absolutely incredible to the fucker. Now, the fuckee, well, some people can and do enjoy it, but more often it’s something to be endured…especially when it’s a situation like with me and Bubbles here.

She was not having it. At all.

“YOU ASSHOLE!” She shrieked as my dick pushed all the way in. I slowly withdrew without removing my dick, and then I jammed it right back into her so my hips audibly smacked her ass cheeks.

My dick hardened into granite. The sound of my hips smacking into an ass while the young lady yells obscenities at me, I dunno why, but I love that, too.

“You want me to take it out?” Of course I’ll be putting it right back into her, but…..

“YES, you FUCKer!!!” I withdrew my cock from her ass and shoved two fingers into her pussy. She coated them in her juices, and then I not at all gently shoved them into her ass.

She screamed. “YEEAEAAAAAGHGHHH!!!!!!!!” I gently sawed my fingers in and out while stretching her sphincter. She tightened dramatically to begin with, but she eventually relaxed again, and I was able to spread her open…at least a little.

“Okay, now it’s going back in.” She jerked and twisted to no avail. “Do what I tell you and relax, and this will work better.” She ceased thrashing, but she stared murderously at me from behind her curtain of hair.

I smiled as I began working my dick back into her ass. Credit where it’s due, Bubbles managed to relax herself a little, and when I pressed into her anus, it opened up a lot easier this time. It remained super tight, of course, but she experienced less….discomfort.

“FUCK YOU AND YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY, DICK!”

I mean, she wasn’t *comfortable* either…

I chuckled. “That line alone warrants an increase in a letter grade for you, Miss Jones.” Her anger didn’t subside, but she remembered the purpose of this whole affair. She didn’t want to be assfucked, that was clear, but she was getting what she wanted by getting assfucked, and, with a huff, she resigned herself to sharing her asshole with my dick.

…not that she had much choice at this point.

I settled in with my belly resting on her lower back, my hands grasping her arms — still bound behind her back — and my dick pushed all the way into her ass. I began rolling my hips to get some penetration motion without popping out of her ass every time I withdrew, and I managed to pull her torso off the desk again. She continued her dirty talk, mostly saying mean things to me. That seemed fair — besides, yelling profanity helps people endure pain.

A couple minutes later, her exhaustion overtook her outrage, and her sustained declarations about my questionable heritage, as well as, “you piece of shit,” and, “fucking asshole,” reduced to a whisper. I gently let her body back down, and she draped over the desk, resigned into acceptance. I leaned back to get an open shot on her ass cheek.

FHWHAP

She squeaked, but in comparison to her previous reactions, she barely registered the spank. Still, she gave me the response, “thank you sir…”

“Where’s my cock, Bubbles?”

“Mmmf…” Heh, she didn’t want to say it.

THRUST, “where’s,” THRUST, “my,” THRUST, “cock?”

“Ugh…in my butt.” She breathed out slowly and softly added, “you’re disgusting.”

“Yes, but your butt feels amazing!” I grabbed her hips and settled into a relatively gentle thrusting grind.

“…for you, I guess.” She got damn near conversational. I figured we might as well clear the air.

“Yeah, and I guess your butt’s not feeling so amazing to you…”

“…no.” Her cheek rested in her puddle of tears, snot, and drool, but she turned her eyes toward me. “Now that I’m calmer and you’ve relaxed my ass, at least it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Bubbles rolled her eyes. I continued fucking her as the conversation went on.

“Would you say you’ve been thoroughly fucked over this morning?”

“WAY more than thoroughly.” Her bitter sneer surprised me.

“…fucked over as much as we are fucking over your classmates who actually earned their grades?”

She didn’t say anything, but she looked dead in my eyes and glared.

“Well, then it seems to me you’re done.” I stopped for a break after moving while all the way inside her. Her head turned as far as she could manage so she could look back at me in deep confusion. I unwrapped her arms, and, as slowly and gently as I could manage, I withdrew my dick from her ass. I was still rock solid, and my balls ached for release, but if she honestly believed she’d paid her dues, then I figured that was fine. We could be done.

She moved her arms around to hold up her body and she slowly stood up. “So…” she turned enough to look down at my dick, “you’re not going to come in me?”