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.”

He growled low in his throat, stepping forward to grip my hips hard enough to leave marks. His thick fingers traced my slick rim, then he spat a fresh glob of saliva right onto my hole, rubbing it in with the blunt head of that massive cock. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, pressing forward. The fat crown nudged against me, demanding entry. I pushed back, moaning as the stretch burned—inch after thick inch forcing my ass open wider than anything I’d ever taken.

“Yes—oh god, yes, split me,” I begged, knuckles white on the desk edge. He sank halfway in one smooth thrust, my ring clenching and fluttering around the invading girth. Sweat beaded on my back. He paused, letting me adjust, then drove deeper until his heavy balls slapped my dripping pussy. Full. Stuffed. Ruined exactly how I needed.

He started fucking me in long, powerful strokes, each withdrawal dragging my rim outward before he slammed home again. The desk creaked under us. My tits mashed against the cool wood, blouse hanging open, nipples scraping. Every plunge punched a broken cry from my throat. “Your ass is so tight, Emily—taking every fat inch like a greedy whore.” His hands spread my cheeks wider, watching that thick shaft disappear into me over and over. Lube and spit frothed around the base.

I reached back, fingering my clit in frantic circles while he pounded deeper. The dual sensation lit me up. My hole stretched obscenely around his wrist-thick cock, the burn melting into pure white-hot pleasure. He hooked an arm under my belly, hauling me back onto him harder, faster. Skin slapped wetly. His free hand cracked across my ass cheek, the sting making my inner walls spasm.

“Harder—plunder it, claim it,” I sobbed, drooling onto his scattered papers. He obliged, hips jackhammering, that 10-inch monster rearranging my guts. The pressure built viciously low in my belly. My clit throbbed under my fingers. He leaned over my back, chest hair rasping my skin, breath hot at my ear. “Come on this cock. Squeeze me while I flood your hungry hole.”

The command tipped me over. My orgasm ripped through me like lightning. Ass clamping down in rhythmic pulses, milking him as I screamed and shook, pussy squirting onto the floor between my heels. Vision whited out. He roared, slamming to the hilt one final time. Hot ropes of cum blasted deep into my guts—pulse after thick pulse painting my insides. I felt every spurt, the heat and volume overflowing around his still-throbbing shaft, dripping down my thighs in creamy rivulets.

He stayed buried, grinding slow circles while aftershocks fluttered through us both. Finally he eased out with a wet pop. My gaping hole winked and leaked his load onto the desk. I stayed bent over, panting, thoroughly plundered and glowing. He spun me gently, crushing his mouth to mine in a filthy kiss that tasted of shared lust. “Next Tuesday. Same time. Bring more lube.”

I straightened on wobbly legs, tugging my thong back into place so his cum stayed trapped inside me. “I’ll be counting the minutes, Professor.” We cleaned up quickly, trading sly smiles. He unlocked the door. I walked out into the evening air with that perfect ache blooming in my stretched ass—finally satisfied, already craving the next ravaging.