Professor's Girthy Cock Plunders My Hungry Ass

I’ve always been an anal slut at heart, but my boyfriend’s pathetic little prick never quite scratched that itch. At 22, in my senior year of college, I was starving for something massive to plunder my hungry ass, to stretch me until I screamed. And there he was, every Tuesday and Thursday: Professor Harlan, my 45-year-old literature prof, tall and broad-shouldered with salt-and-pepper hair, piercing blue eyes, and a bulge in his slacks that made my hole twitch just looking at it. I’d fantasized about it for months—his girthy cock ruining me after class, claiming what my boyfriend couldn’t.

That day, the lecture hall emptied out, students shuffling off to their dorms or frat parties, but I stayed planted in the front row, my tight skirt hiked up just enough to show the lace of my thong. My pussy was soaked, but it was my ass I’d prepped—slick with lube I’d fingered in during his monotone drone about Shakespearean sonnets. Professor Harlan packed his notes, glancing at me with that stern, handsome face. “Emily? Class is over. Everything alright?”

I bit my lip, heart pounding as I stood, my nipples hard against my thin blouse. “No, Professor. Nothing’s alright. I need to talk to you. Privately.” My voice was husky, needy. He raised an eyebrow, but I saw the flicker in his eyes—the way they dropped to my legs, my hips. Tension crackled like electricity as I sauntered to his desk, leaning over it so he could smell my vanilla perfume mixed with arousal.

“About your grade?” he asked, voice low, but his gaze lingered on the curve of my ass.

I shook my head, confessing it all in a rush, my cheeks burning but my desperation hotter. “It’s not grades. It’s... this.” I turned slightly, arching my back to outline the bulge I craved. “I’ve seen it. That massive cock straining your pants. My boyfriend’s dick is tiny—four inches on a good day. It barely tickles my pussy, let alone my ass. I’m obsessed with anal, Professor. I crave being stretched, plundered deep. Please... I beg you. Fuck my hungry ass with that girthy monster. Right here, right now.”

His breath hitched, eyes darkening with lust and hesitation. “Emily, this is... highly inappropriate. I could lose my job.” But he didn’t move away. I stepped closer, pressing my tits against his arm, whispering, “No one’s here. Lock the door. Give me what I need. I’ll be your dirty little secret.”

He swallowed hard, then nodded, striding to the door with purpose. The click of the lock echoed like a promise. He turned back, his bulge now a throbbing tent. “You’re sure? This stays between us.”

“God, yes,” I moaned, already unbuttoning my blouse. “Plunder me, Professor.”

I dropped to my knees right there in front of his desk, my hands trembling as I yanked open his belt. His slacks hit the floor, and holy fuck—there it was. A throbbing 10-inch beast, girthy as my wrist, veins pulsing, the fat purple head already leaking precum. “Oh fuck, it’s even bigger than I dreamed,” I gasped, wrapping my lips around the tip, sucking greedily. My tongue swirled the salty bead, mouth stretching wide as I bobbed, worshipping every inch I could take. Gagging wetly, drool spilling down my chin, I fingered my lubed asshole—two digits plunging in and out, prepping for the invasion.

“Jesus, Emily,” he groaned, hands fisting my hair, hips bucking gently as I deepthroated half his length, my jaw aching deliciously. “Such a filthy mouth on that pretty face.”

I popped off with a gasp, strings of spit connecting us. “More. I need it in my ass.” Standing, I bent over his desk, skirt flipped up, thong yanked aside. I spread my cheeks wide, exposing my puckered hole, pink and glistening with lube. “Look at it, Professor. Hungry for your girth.”