0 comments/ 74078 views/ 6 favorites Big Man By: Coxswain WAR! dum-dum, dum-dum-dum! What is it good for? Absolutely NUTHIN'! Just change "War" to "Fame," and you've got the story of my life. Absolutely nuthin'. Back in the day, I got endorsement money for saying, "I wear Gazackstahegen Gym Shoes" or "I always keep my jewels in a Bazonga Athletic Supporter!" Back then Schwarzenegger made his money and fame winning legit weightlifting and bodybuilding contests, but I took a slightly easier, sleazier path. Thanks to good genes and some bodybuilding routines, I got myself cover shoots for men's magazines, glistening in the floodlights from an all-over coating of mineral oil. I was buff enough--and good-looking enough--for the muscle mags. I showed up on Wrestle-Crazy covers posing in a jockstrap--even though I didn't know shit about wrestling, and inside there was no story about me. I was just the horny, buff model. One of the covers brought lawsuits that went on for years. The tiny white jockstrap they gave me was so tiny it barely covered my cockhead. Legal arguments flew and lawyers got in fistfights about the "outrage" of my balls showing in a publication sold in mom & pop grocery stores. Those were the Good Old Days. Photographers shooting every part of me but my asshole. Anybody into bodybuilding, wrestling, or muscles knew my name. Paparazzi flashes blinded me every time I came out of a restaurant. Skip ahead 20 years, two decades of me as a ball rolling through the pinball machine of life. Hitting this bumper-layoff, bouncing off that spring-cancel, getting a bump from a flipper-reassignment, and a long career of caroming from one trajectory to another, finally dropping into the black hole at the bottom: a job as manager for a tiny advertising company in Komananqua Falls, Ohio. Fascinating place. The sign over the front door was a yelling, blazing, orange-yellow-red cartoon head bursting out of a television screen. Inside, the walls were painted putty-tan, and the employees were about as colorful. Fascinating life. Wheedling, begging, and whining at shopkeepers to part with their hard-earned dough so they could hear themselves in cracking voices over WQUA either blustering or stuttering about how "Wonderful" and "Desirable" were their chimney brushes, handmade furniture, or rendered lard. And I was doomed. Walking alone down a long, windowless hall. Twenty years back, in my days as a muscle-model, I lived a spoiled life. A man had spoiled me. He was a trainer. Some movie production needed muscular sailors in the background while Roger or Walter or whatever his name was sang his song in the foreground. I always thought I was hunky enough, but the director wanted "big chests, really big chests." So they assigned me a trainer. What the hell, it meant more money. But the guy's massages were stealthy, creeping stimulations. Slow, growing, unstoppable, his hands on my back and soothing my shoulders, kneading my buttocks--made me feel wonderful. Every time he finished with me, my ass was so hot, I could barely sit down. Like an itch. Like something wanted to happen. After two weeks it was pleasure-torture, and one day as I lay purring on the table, planning to jack off the second he left, he moved up to stand beside me. "Mr. Iniardi," he said. I turned my head. And blinked. He had pulled his shorts down over his ass, and his hard, throbbing cock was inches from my face. I gasped. The hot, red cockhead showed wetly through his foreskin, seductive, hungry, and beckoning. "Suck it," he commanded. To cut an uncircumcised story short, I gave in. Worse, as I sucked the big dong, his hand suddenly went from wide-focus stimulation of my butt to pointed attention, diddling around my asshole in slow, insufferable circles. When his finger--Oh, God!--pressed through, penetrating me, I catapulted into ecstasy, spurting astonished shots of semen onto the massage table beneath me. And at that moment (what timing he had), the man's sperm shot into my mouth, and I gulped it down--crossing the line. He made me so horny with that finger, starting a fire back there, when he rolled me over and spread my legs, I knew right away what he was after. And I got a terrible urge to give it to him. I loved everything he did to me! Never felt so fucking great. He raised my legs, and It happened. His pink cockhead, already slick with spit and cum, nudged against my beef-hole, and--not without a couple of yipes from me--he made it. I winced and bit my lip in virginal pain as he got my cherry. Like he married me. Nothing legal, of course, but as his legs flexed, screwing me in my inaugural fuck, my whole way of looking at things changed. Suddenly he was my partner. Higher in my esteem. Could never think of him in the same way again. And as he stretched me to fit him, he made another big alteration--about who could do what to whom. Men can pleasure each other! I couldn't hold back a groan. He had fucked me skillfully past the pain, and with every pump, my hips jolted, my balls shook, and a motherfucker of an orgasm grew in my guts. His thrusts raised the pleasure intensity until my ass felt like a pincushion--trembling with showers of red-hot sparks--and the earthquake started. "Oh, Jesus, yes! Fuck me! Harder! Do it! Ram it in!!" -==(^)==- The universe froze in mid-air, suspending me like the first atom at the instant of the Big Bang. I knew my whole life would change--and KA-WHAM! A tsunami of rapture so powerful I could drown in it rolled over me, blanking out all conscious thought, turning me into a glowing egg of ecstasy! I don't know how long it went on. Felt like days. But after the longest, most powerful orgasm of my life, I realized it came from both my cock and my asshole! Big Bang Boy had just taught me an atomic secret! A man can get the best of both worlds: an orgasm from both his cock and his man-cunt. Never forgot the smell. Mine and his. Somehow a combination of gut-level scents of our balls and the airy, oxygenated, stratospheric aromas of our brains. I smelled him. Somehow I knew all about him! From then on, although I enjoyed dinner and a late-night tussle with a willing lady, sex with women was always minor-league. Full-on pleasure came only from another man. Wasn't too hard to get my jollies back in the day, but willing man-pokers were hard to find in Komananqua Falls, Ohio. I survived with hand-jobs. Kept me from blue-balls, but I'd changed calendars so many times since my last scream for mercy, I was constantly on the lookout for a horny man who would look at me with one raised eyebrow. The problem was that I was over 50. Past the age of a peppery libido. No longer attractive. Not a serious contender even for Komananqua Falls' gay crowd (both of 'em) whoever they were. Life was a walk in the desert. -==(^)==- One day the regional manager dropped in for a visit. I shook his hand. "Nice to see you, Mr. Axelrig." I'm so good at fake, worshipful smiles, I should model for toothpaste ads. Almost immediately, he declared, right out of the clear blue sky, that our office needed an assistant. And by coincidence (surprise, surprise) he happened to have one with him. "Let me introduce Herman. He's been working with us in the home office, and he already knows all the ropes. Herman, this is Mr. Iniardi." People always wonder if I graduated from grade school, but I'm smart enough to recognize the boss's relative when I see one. Herman was somebody's kid, at best a lazy slug here for a free paycheck. Or maybe he was a plant, a spy, a mole. He looked like a human scrapbook, a homeless bum cleaned up for the visit. Expensive clothes, but slept-in. Hard to tell his height--he slouched like needing something to lean on. Maybe 5'8"? (Later I heard one of the secretaries: "He was average barfly height.") Skinny. Weighed maybe 100 pounds. Round face, pink cheeks. Innocent-looking, childish in a way, but he had fiery red hair haystacked on his head like he combed it with an eggbeater. It gave him an out-of-work air. Very thin lips. When he was born the obstetrician must've seen he didn't have a mouth and cut him one with a quick flick of his scalpel. Nice teeth, though. Must get free shipments from our toothpaste account. Dull eyes. Windows to the soul. Clearly "all the ropes" he knew were the ropes knitted into a hammock. No bright and eager intern, Herman was a plague waiting to happen. All the vibes told me, though, that if I stepped on this little roach, I would be out on my ass before he could hang up the telephone. Shook my hand with a big grin, staring at me with a look that gave me goose-bumps. Shit, was I the kid's target? That was all I needed, a corporate hit-man to get me filling out unemployment forms again. Later I looked up his employee file. Herman was 22. Looked 16--wonderful how a good case of acne can make you look younger. I would paint on some fake pimples, myself, but at my age, it would look like smallpox. And more: his last name was Wawfens. Must be an. Or a grandson. When His Reverence Mr. Axelrig finally left, and I was alone with Herman, he stood grinning at me, giving me that weird look again. Like I was a cold beer. "I want to learn everything," he said. "Hope to get an agency of my own one day." Ah, so. "All the ropes" just reduced to "a few threads." I showed him around the place, even the exercise equipment. Our company had taken over the site of a fitness center that went bankrupt (Komananqua Falls was also the TV Remote & Deep-fried Food Capital of Ohio). The treadmills and weight machines were still there. Even a shower room. I saw Herman in the showers a couple of days later. Even skinnier than I thought. His back looked like an illustration from a medical book. No muscles. Clear bone definition. Pimples on his back. Flat butt--a curved line at the top of each leg where a buttock should have been. Jeez. Never saw anybody before who didn't have an ass. He wouldn't be hard to draw. For each leg, just two straight lines. I wished my waist were that slender, but his looked scary. Tubercular. And his dick? Grade school. Three inches. Maybe four while reading a Playboy. -==(^)==- As the days wore on, Herman hung around me so much, I grew even more nervous. I tried to shunt him off onto other members of the staff, but they ran him through a quick summary of what they did and turned him loose again to come slithering back to me. His bladder and mine appeared to have the same schedule--every time I went to the men's room, he walked in a second later. As days went by and our "coincidences" more frequent, his choice of urinal got closer and closer until finally we stood beside each other in there at least twice a day. No temptation there: I had seen his future, and it was Economy Size. Couldn't help myself--I was a size man--I liked some meat on the bone. Even as starved and aching as I was, Herman wasn't my type. As time went by, though, his attempts to see what I zipped up grew more and more overt until one day, rather than stand so close I splashed back on myself (and maybe a little hornier than usual), I casually took a step back and gave him a look. Okay, although nobody ever begged me to star in a porn flick, I did have enough to turn a few heads. Since Herman was so hot to see it, I pulled back the foreskin and gave him a little glimpse of the ol' Purple Beret. That action, of course, started the inflation process, and I heard Herman gasp. I zipped up as if my mind were elsewhere, maybe thinking about the day's ad-shoot, and I walked out. Not a long time later, Herman came into my office unannounced. Closed the door behind him. Walked up to my desk staring at me like trying to walk a straight line for a sobriety test. I got the goose-bumps again. "What can I do for you, Herman." "Just want to learn more about you. How you run the place." Damn. Is this where the interrogation begins? I lit a cigarette. He went on, "How many accounts does this office have?" Stupid question. He'd probably been told that in the car on the way here. I set the cigarette in an ashtray and reached for a ring-binder across my desk. I didn't, though, raise my arm quite enough as I reached over the ashtray, and my cuff snagged the cigarette. While I gave Herman the usual bla-bla, my wrist suddenly felt hot, and I looked down to see my damned sleeve was on fire! I jumped up and slapped it out, then yanked the shirt open and pulled it off. Bad move. I was bare-chested for Herman. He stood up, too. "Damn! You're really built!" Echoes of decades past. I smiled. I'm not so bad for 50. Still got the big frame. Muscles are a lot softer, but I've still got the outline. Herman, though, was enchanted. "Look at you. Your daddy must've been a king to have a prince like you." Ultra-corny, but his voice was soft. Respectful and awed. I smiled. Nobody ever said anything like that to me. I looked over at myself in the full-length mirror we used to audition models. The years had trampled over me, but that wasn't a bad chest, really. My tank-top undershirt fit me nice and tight. Again the kid's velvet voice: "You mind if I stare for a minute? I want to remember you for my dreams." If he wrote that stuff in commercials, we were in trouble, but it made me all soft and squishy inside. Never been spoken to like that before. Felt a little shy. Embarrassed. But flattered. And romantic. Took me back to my glory days, back when I danced in a music video as a slave in a sheik's tent, cavorting around the room in a pink silk jockstrap. But even in those days, people never told me they dreamed about me. I looked back at the mirror and sucked in my gut. I remembered my waist back in those days. Slender. Even as I stood bared before Herman, I was better--not the same diameter all the way down, and I was hard. Still could crush a beer can on my belly. Still, I wished I were in better shape for him. What? No, I don't! I don't care about the little shit! The mellow Voice again, from behind me. Lower, deeper: "I would crawl naked in the cold rain, I would crawl naked on broken glass--just to get naked with you." Jesus Christ! I turned my head to look at him and found my face an inch away from his. "Herman, I--" --But his lips found mine. Warm. Inviting. Sweeping me away. Damn, what the hell? But it was too late. As his fingers wriggled through my hair, pulling my face closer, cutting off my escape, I suddenly began to enjoy it. And I kissed him back. Can't believe it! I'm getting turned on! But with his tiny lips on mine and his tongue snaking into my mouth, I knew was kissing a weasely little mole. I had a choice: peel him loose or let it roll. My scrotum decided. When I stuck my tongue in his mouth, the order came from my balls. Nice kiss. When we broke, both of us breathing a little harder, he caressed my cheek, murmuring slowly, nuzzling my ear. His voice was soft, lyrical, romantic, and in Italian: Posso comprarla una bevanda o fotteremo? Just one little problema--my family's from Naples. What he said was "Can I buy you a drink or shall we just fuck?" Another major crossroads. And again my balls made the decision. I kissed him again, and as I did, his hands fumbled at my belt. In moments my pants fell to the floor. Herman hit the floor a second or two later, yanking down my underwear, and he sighed. "Somebody should call the cops--it's got to be illegal to look that good." I smiled. The little twerp could really sling the shit. While his hot breath warmed my cock, his hands groped my buttocks. My ass was once so muscled I left two distinct, separate round marks when I sat on the sauna bench, but no more. Still, I had a good butt. Nice and rounded, and I loved his hands. "Mr. Universe," he murmured. Then his mouth electrocuted me as it slid over my cock! My best part. I was still proud of it. Years ago the head shots I handed out at photo auditions were actually cockhead shots. Ol' Trigger was my selling point, especially with a pullback to show the Purple Beret. And it still worked. Maybe not quite as impressive. Back in the day, Ol' Trigger stood up from hard, flat plates of muscle. In my office, Herman sucked on a hard dick based on a softer platform, but I loved it. Hadn't been sucked in years, and I was in heaven. His fingers up my ass-crack made an even bigger thrill. The finger jabbing into my asshole, though, hit my Go-button, and I gasped. He backed off. "God must have cried when you left heaven." The voice was soft. Warm. Like a cat's purr. Like gentle hands of a massage. I was putty in the hands of this little worm. Didn't know what to do. Nothing to say. The finger was still up my ass. Teasing me. Wriggling. Raising my temperature. Herman stood up with his finger still up me, delighting me, a tiny rabbit hopping back and forth inside me. I had gone so long, such a long time since any man-sex, the magic finger wound me tight. "What a body," he whispered in my ear. "Are you Greek? I thought all the gods were Greek." I couldn't believe it. The little schmuck really knew how to lay it on thick. Worse, I loved it. Nobody ever tried romance on me. Never heard anything like it, and when he hissed, "Get down on your hands and knees," I felt like a teenager asked to go to the prom. I took a deep breath and stooped. Jesus Christ, am I going to let myself be fucked by the Pimple Kid? Yeah. Yeah, I am. It's been too long. Beggars aren't choosers. He knelt behind me, then mounted. "Well," he said softly, "looks like I just hit a home run with you." By then I was so fuck-crazy, all I could think of was to get the little jerk's cock rammed inside me! I hadn't been stretched around a big, hard cock in so long! Whereas I hoped for a crowbar up my ass, Herman's cock touched my pucker only gently, like a flower petal landing on the grass. Damn the little bastard! "Come on, Herman! Come on, do it!" "Don't want to get my pants dirty." God, oh God! "Then take 'em off, man! I'm on fire back there! You gotta fuck me!" I crouched there like an idling, overheating 18-wheeler while Mr. Maladroit shucked off his pants. Black wingtip oxfords and white socks. What a nerd. When he mounted again, I gritted my teeth: the sexual low point of my life. But I was so fucking horny I would've bent over for a Doberman. One thing about getting shanked by Herman, there was no pain. Like getting a pipecleaner up my ass. No stretch. No stress. And that drove me crazy. Never thought I'd miss the pain! "Harder, goddammit! Fuck me harder!!" I was a pool of heated gasoline, and his goddamned fuse wasn't long enough to give me an explosion! What a fucking irony! Rapunzel's hair couldn't reach the prince. Once he started fucking, his hips slammed against my pelvis nicely, giving me good, bone-jarring jolts, but rather than the growing forest fire of a hot cock ramming up my ass, it tickled! I was going insane! Raging mad! Panting like running a goddamned marathon. I crouched there, lurching my hips back at him, sweat dripping from me! "Please! Goddamnit, PLEASE!!" Nothing! Nothing in my whole, goddamned life got me so fiery, insanely hot as fucking with that skinny little shrimp! I was so horny, so close, so begging for it, I was strangled, as if I hung from the ceiling by a rope knotted around my cock! Nothing I could do would make the little bastard treat me rougher! Finally, so desperate I was on the edge of a fucking heart attack, I dropped away from him, rolled over on my back, and frantic--my hands grappling clumsily at my sweat-slick legs--I pulled my knees back by my face, spreading my ass and my aching, eager asshole to him. I was on fire. "Here, Herman! Ram it in! Take me from the front! Do whatever you want with me! FUCK ME!!" Big Man and Big Woman in Love Love knows no boundaries of race, class or sex. Size should be no obstacle either. Where would so many of us be if it did? Not happy, that's for damn sure. The following tale is a love story. An actual love story taking place in the twenty first century. It involves two people who love each other very much, overcame many odds and in the end, made their relationship work. It's possible for two people to find and maintain a loving relationship even in today's world. Let no one tell you otherwise. Never lose hope. That's what this story is all about. Enjoy it, folks, and if you like it, be sure to tell a good friend! Kyle Rhodes showed up for the first time at Boston College feeling a bit blue. He wasn't sure he was going to like it here. The six-foot-eight, 270-pound African-American football player from Oklahoma wasn't too sure about Boston and its trendy, urban scene. He had won himself an athletic scholarship to that school and intended to earn his keep. Still, the big city was a bit overwhelming for the farm guy. He grew up on a farm, with three older sisters and one older brother. He was the first in the family to attend a major educational institution. His sisters had degrees from junior colleges and worked in town. Although they were quite bright, they lacked the funds to continue their education. His older brother went to city college for a couple years and then became a cop. Elsewhere on campus, another small-town person was finding themselves quite caught up in the city scene. This person was none other than Stacy Keller. The six-foot-six, 230-pound, blonde-haired, green-eyed, chubby but pretty basketball player from a small Texan town was finding herself quite bothered by the city. When she first arrived, people were gawking at her due to her size and height. This was something she had grown used to. Stacy Keller was a large woman. She had been big and tall throughout her life. Nothing could change that. So, she accepted it and put it to good use. She played basketball and became a hometown legend around the state of Texas. The sheer size of Boston overwhelmed the Texan gal. She had never seen so many people in one place. Boston College boasted of over fourteen thousand students. To say that Stacy Keller was in awe of it all would have been an understatement. She was trying to get to Orientation and kept bumping into lots of people. She asked them for directions but these urban guys and gals weren't very friendly. A couple of them even called her some nasty names. When she turned around, ready to pound some sense into whoever disrespected her name, they were gone. Instead she bumped into someone. Immediately, her country gal's manners urged her to apologize. And she gasped! Before her stood the tallest man she had ever seen. Taller than even her! He looked at her, smiled, and said hello. Stacy Keller looked at the tall, handsome African-American stranger and said hello. With a big friendly grin, he extended his hand. She shook it, after a brief hesitation. Introductions were definitely in order! And that's how it all began. Kyle Rhodes and Stacy Keller took one look at each other, and it was love at first sight. In that one moment, they had forgotten about the world around them. They were in awe of each other. The good-looking football stud and the gorgeous female basketball player. After introducing themselves, they began walking through campus. Around them, people gawked. Doubtless, they were the tallest couple in the city. What a sight they were! Tall and fabulous, athletic and beautiful. Like a pair of Titans striding through a world of mortals. People looked at them and smiled. They were something else. Something rare and wonderful, rarely seen. And you know what, for once, the people were right! Kyle and Stacy hung out on campus. Oh, they were a sight for sore eyes. Kyle had decided to major in Criminal Justice. He played football and led the Boston College football team to many soaring victories. Football teams from around New England learned to fear the amazing running back who seemed to be everywhere at once. He had strength, speed and technique. In many ways, he was flawless. The most dominant athlete on the field. And he was only eighteen years old! His best pal Stacy Keller came to all of his games. She was very supportive of the man she loved! When she wasn't leading the Boston College women's basketball team against teams all over New England, she was with Kyle. Always at his side. In many ways, she was Kyle's perfect counterpart. She did for women's college basketball what he did for college football. She was fast, strong, precise, agile and a team player. She seemed to be everywhere at once. Her teammates loved her. Her prowess on the basketball court left her opponents dazzled. Who was that gal? Many wondered. This eighteen-year-old female basketball player from Texas had New England coaches and athletes baffled. She had been on the cover of the Boston Globe time and again, and even featured on ESPN. She was probably the only college basketball player with her very own fan club! At the same time, Kyle was at the top of his game. The Boston College football team did very well this season. There was even mention of Kyle's name among Talent Scouts from the NFL. For this eighteen-year-old African-American from the backwoods of Oklahoma, all this attention seemed overwhelming. He had been blessed with talent in many areas, yet his athletic prowess was what he owed his fame too. No one cared that the star athlete of the school had a 4.0 GPA in his Criminal Justice major. Or that he liked watching cartoons and read the Bible every night before going to bed. All that mattered was what he did on the field. He liked the attention, but there was more to him than that. He just wished more people realized that when they looked at him. On her side of the pond, Stacy Keller was also being showered with attention. The eighteen-year-old had become the Power Player of Boston College's Women's Basketball team. She had been featured on ESPN and had legions of fans of both sexes and all ages across the country. Men and women would stop her on the street and compliment her on her prowess on the court. At first, she loved it. Then, it got really boring really fast. Stacy Keller was an aggressive and forthrightly dominant player on the basketball court. She played fiercely and would do anything to win. She was admired for that. However, off the court, she was simply wanted to be Stacy Keller, small-town gal who made good. She didn't like being showered with attention. This wasn't what she wanted in life. She had other plans. Fortunately, there was one person who understood her. The mere thought of him brought a smile to her face. The one who showed up at all of her games. Kyle Rhodes, the man she loved. Hopping from the window sill where she had been gazing at the city, she dropped on her bed and heard the mattress creak. Giggling, she whipped out her cell phone and decided to give her boyfriend a call. Kyle was pacing in his dorm when he heard his cell phone ring. The burly young man flipped his cell open and checked to see who was calling him this late at night. he smiled when he heard an all-too-familiar voice. It was Stacy, his girlfriend. He loved talking to her at the end of the day. No matter what was going on in their lives, they stayed in touch. When he and the team were traveling to other states to play, she'd call him before a game and calm him down. Stacy's voice always soothed him. She wasn't just blowing smoke either. She knew what it was like to feel nervous before a big game. When she was across the state, battling other female basketball players, it was his voice that soothed her, win or lose. They were there for each other. Always. He rejoiced upon hearing her. So, when he got a late-night invite to her dorm, he rushed there like an Olympic racer. Stacy stood behind the door, trembling. Her heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, or at least felt like it. She had made the decision, and now she wasn't sure if she was ready. Outside the dorm, Kyle stood. He hesitated. Why was he going there again? Oh, yeah, he was invited. Invited by his girlfriend to come visit her in the middle of the night. What could she have in mind? He climbed up the stairs and went to knock on her door. Inside, Stacy heard the knocks. He was here! Finally! She gathered up her courage, and opened the door. Stacy's heart skipped a beat when she saw him. There he was, the man she loved. Tall, looking so damn good in his sports jacket and jeans, and wearing that sexy grin. He raised his eyebrow, and coolly greeted her. Instead of hugging him like she usually did, she kissed him full and deep. He put his arm around her, and they embraced each other. Kyle looked at Stacy, and grinned. Stacy took his face in her hands, and smiled. They kissed again, and she closed the door. Once inside, all hell seemed to break loose as the passion which they kept hidden for so long seemed to explode. Hastily, they undressed. They admired each other's fantastic physiques. Giggling and laughing, they went to bed. For a moment they lay there and did nothing but look at each other. Then, silently, they began making love. There was nothing to be said. Gone was the time for speech. Now, it was time to do that which they had longed to do from the moment they met. Kyle kissed Stacy, and they rolled around on the bed, playfully wrestling. He kissed her face, her neck and then began to suckle on her breasts. Stacy giggled as Kyle sucked on her tits and her hands caressed his face, his neck and his back before going straight for his groin. She held his sex in her hand. It was marvelous to look at. Both long and thick, ridged and uncut, with balls the size of apples. Her man was awesomely built and well-endowed! She felt his hands roaming all over body. Stroking her face, caressing her breasts, and finally, cupping her big, round bottom. She looked into his eyes, craving more. Craving him, in fact! Kyle looked into Stacy's eyes, and saw the desire there. God, he wanted that woman! Stacy smiled, and pulled him into a tight embrace. She opened herself up to him, welcoming him to enter her. Kyle smiled, kissed her, and placed his cock against her pussy. With a slow thrust, he entered her. Stacy gasped as Kyle's hard member slid inside her. Holding her by the hips, he began to push harder, going deeper into her. She felt his every thrust, every move. Locked in a tight embrace against his body, she could feel his heart thundering in his chest, echoing her own. She could also feel his hot throbbing member deep within her core. Inside of her, a furnace was burning and he was the only one who could fan the flames. As he thrust into her, filling her with his cock, the bonfire in her belly blazed hotter. She held him tighter and cried out, begging for more. Kyle looked at Stacy, the gal he loved. She was screaming like a woman possessed as he thrust into her, filling her with his manly tool. For a moment, he thought he had hurt her but she was screaming and begging for more. He had never seen her like this, hadn't known that she could be like this. It was fascinating, intense, and almost a little scary. He was just discovering this side of her. Her intense, primal and very sexual side. He liked it a lot! Her screams of pleasure stirred something deep within him. He held her tighter and began to fuck her harder, screaming her name as he possessed her. The harder he fucked her, the louder she screamed and the more turned on he became. She seemed to get really turned on too, screaming his name loud enough to be heard across the city and urging him to fuck her harder, to go deeper, to make her his. And he did make her his. In a sudden burst of inspiration, he pulled out of her. A look of profound shock filled her face. Without a word, he pulled her up and propped her up on all fours. Stacy looked at Kyle, astounded. One moment, he was fucking her so wonderfully hard and fast. His hard member was thrusting deep into her, filling her up and rubbing her in all the right places. He was deep into her sweet spot and she was loving every moment of it. The next thing she knew, he was pulling out of her. Why? Had she done something wrong? Did he no longer want her? She looked into his face questioningly. He smiled reassuringly, then suddenly grabbed her and trussed her up on all fours. She looked at him, a look of protest on her face. He winked at her, and then took her from behind. The penetration was swift, brutal and the most intense she'd experienced yet. Holding her by the hips, Kyle slammed into her. Stacy gasped as he filled her up once more with his manly tool. Hard and fast he fucked her, just the way she liked it. Suddenly, he thrust harder than ever before, and went impossibly deep. Stacy opened her mouth to scream, and that's when it happened. An event of cataclysmic proportions, deep inside her core, where his hard cock filled her sweet spot. It was like the opening of floodgates, the quaking of the earth and an explosion from deep within. Stacy screamed as her entire body was rocked by an earth-shattering, mind-boggling, pussy-twitching sensation from deep within. The orgasmic flow rocked her body, making her spasm and thrash about. Kyle looked at her, beholding a wonder. He had never seen anything like this before. His woman was orgasmic, and it was wonderful to behold. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a grunt emerged, followed by a scream of victory and satisfaction as he came, sending his manly seed deep within her. The two lovers practically collapsed on top of each other, their bodies rocked by the incredible sensations they had mutually brought about. A short while later, they lay in bed, sated at last. Kyle lay in Stacy's arms, his head resting on her chest. Gently, she kissed his forehead. Neither of them said anything. There was nothing to be said. Their bodies had done the talking for them, and expressed in action what their words could never say. They spent the night like this, locked in each other's arms. Tomorrow, they would have to face the world. A world that viewed him as the Commonwealth's hottest college football player and a potential NFL recruit. The same world that viewed her as New England's most promising female athlete and a shoo-in for the WNBA. Titans bestriding a world of ordinary men and women. But tonight, they were simply a man and a woman, two people in love. And for them, that was enough. And both of them are sure that it always will be. Big Man on Campus Adventures of Trey I stared at the large building surrounded by manicured lawns and cultivated trees. As a college freshman, I was nervous, excited and definitely scared. It seemed that I had just started high school, but already, here I was, staring at Building E on the University grounds at the beginning of September. My parents wanted me to go to Yale or Harvard or something more prestigious, but I liked my small time town and I didn't want to move to far from it. The state University was far enough away that I could get a taste of freedom, but close enough so I could go home on the weekends. I was studying Environmental Law, with a minor in International Law. Yeah, that's me. An overachiever. Signing, I shakily made my way to the building and opened the door. Well, here it goes. It's all or nothing. I paused, considered running for the hills, but pulled myself together at the last second. I was an adult and I can do this. I took a deep breath and proceeded. I weaved my way through the building, glancing at my registration card, trying to figure out which way the classroom numbers were running. I stopped in the middle of the hallway and was nearly trampled by the throng of students, pushing and shoving to find their way to their classes. "Ouch!" I yelled, when I felt an elbow in the back. I spun around and was face to face with a tall, brooding black man. Boy. No, he definitely was a man. He was cute too. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, baby." He apologized. "You stopped short in front of me. Shit like that is liable to start a chain reaction. You should be more careful." My face turned bright red from embarrassment. I stammered and pushed my brown hair out of my face. "I'm sorry. I was trying to find my class and I stopped to look at this registration thingy…" I paused. "Sorry." I said again and turned away. "Wait a minute." The guy said, grabbing my elbow. "You lost?" "I don't think so…I know I am in the right building, but I can't find room," I glanced at the paper again, "212." "That's because it's on the second floor." He said. "Oh." Duh. That would make too much sense, now wouldn't it? "I'll take you." He said, making a motion to follow him. "I think I can find it okay now." I said, smiling politely and hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder. "Whatever. See you around." The guy walked away with a distracted wave of his hand and I stared after him. I was debating if he was being rude or trying to be nice. Either way, I had to find my class and I did not want to be late for first college class ever. I made my way up the stairs, to the left and gave myself a high-five for locating the room. 212. Yup, Creative Writing, 110. Giving a sign of relief, I walked into the classroom, found a seat in the front and self consciously pulled my texts, my note book and my pen from my bag, which I slid under my chair when I was done. I nervously folded my hands in front of me and glanced around the room. Most of the students were upperclassmen because Creative Writing was an elective and wasn't really taken until the Junior or Senior year. I decided to take it early because I loved writing and if I had to take all the boring requirements for the next 2 years, I might as well take something fun. Several minutes later a wiry man with glasses walked in and placed a briefcase on the desk. He straitened his tie and popped the locks. He withdrew a folder and set it aside. He cleared his throat a few time, it seemed to me out of nervousness. Maybe this was his first college class ever too. "Okay, class, welcome to Creative Writing 110. My name is George Albright, author of ‘Peace of Mind' and ‘When in Rome…'" he cleared his throat again. "This is a full semester class, and is worth 3 credits towards your elective." He walked over and closing the door, and shutting out the noise. I began to relax. Maybe it won't be so bad after all. "Let's begin with Roster." He pulled a slip of paper from the folder and sat in the chair. He clicked open his pen and started reading off the names. Halfway through the names, the classroom door opened and a student walked in. Of course. It had to be the same one who ran into me downstairs. And, as my luck would have it, the only seat was next to me. "Sorry, sorry." He said to the teacher and the class, taking a seat next to me. He didn't even glance in my direction. Mr. Albright continued his roll call. When he called, "Morgan Drake?" I raised my hand and said, "Here." The latecomer next to me answered the next name he called, "James Everett?" "Here. But, uh, call me Trey. James is the family name; I probably won't answer to it." "Noted, thank you Trey. Moving on." Mr. Albright said, and continued down the list. When he was finished calling all the names in the class he stood, and began speaking. "We will have 3 projects this semester. All are small groups of 2 people, which I have already predetermined. If for some reason you cannot work with your partner, please see me and I will try and make an adjustment. However, it had better be a good reason." He paused and I thought that maybe this wasn't his first class teaching. He continued. "I paired you up by last name. When I call your last name, please raise your hand and make note of your partner. Meaning, students last name Allen and Ammerman," He paused when the students raised their hands, "will be partners, etcetera. Next is…" The teacher moved through the list ticking off the pairs. I prayed that I didn't get stuck with macho man elbower. His last name was close to mine, and I couldn't remember if there was a person or two between us. I crossed my fingers. "Drake, Everett." Shit. I glanced at Trey and gave a weak smile, raising my hand. He did the same and then looked over at me. "Hey, it's the short stop girl," He said in a whisper. "Yeah." I said back. I added, "Why didn't you tell me this was the class you were going to?" "What, and ruin the surprise?" He laughed. "You didn't look like you wanted help, so I didn't offer any more." "Well listen, I appreciate it and I wasn't trying to be mean." I lowered my voice. "But it looks like we are stuck for the semester, so, lets just try and get through it, okay?" "Fine with me." Trey said, rummaging through his bag. "But how in the hell did you end up in this class? It's for upperclassmen." "It's an elective. I needed something outside serious stuff to take." He only nodded and then turned his attention back to the teacher when he began to speak. 50 minutes later the class was over and I gathered my books and headed for the door. Trey stopped me as I exited. "So, since we are partner and stuff, we should exchange information." I looked at him blankly. He continued. "Like, what is your cell phone number, which dorm are you in, and when can we schedule to start on this first project?" "Oh. Well, I am in the East dorm, 3rd floor." I reached into my bag and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and scribbled my dorm phone number down. "This is the number for the room." "Aight," Trey said, giving me his information as well. "I'll call and set something up." With that he walked away. I sighed in frustration and moved my thoughts to the rest of the day. 4 more classes and then Track practice. Along with my heavy class load, I also decided that continuing Track was a good way to stay in shape, since my mother swore I would gain 10 pound in the first semester. By 3:30 my mind was warped and stuffed with syllabuses, grading policies and points calculations. I returned to my dorm room, changed into my tracksuit and headed for the football field. I was looking forward to running today, but not to returning to do an armful of homework. I jogged over to the field as a warm up, regulating my breathing and concentrating on my flow. I made my way onto the track, ran some sprints and drills, becoming more and more focused. On my last drill I turned around and ran backwards. This helped with my footwork and built the muscles in my thighs. I was intently engrossed in not falling when I ran into what felt like a brick wall. "Ugh!" I said, losing my footing and falling flat on my ass. My hands broke my fall and I looked at the left one which was scraped. "Man, you just don't quit." Trey stood over me, dressed in the schools football uniform. No wonder I felt like I hit a wall. "Its you again." I said, standing up and dusting myself off. Of all the people. "Damn right," He said smiling. "Why do you find it necessary to keep running into me?" "First off, this is the first time I ran into you," I said. "You ran into me this morning." "Yeah, because shorty stopped short." Trey laughed at his little joke. "Ha ha. Laugh it up." I said, walking away. This man was becoming an ass. "Hey, wait up!" I heard him call after me. "I wasn't trying to be dick." He said. "Yeah, well, you sure sound like one." "Sorry." He paused. "Actually, I am glad I ran into you. I just left a message at your room." I arched an eyebrow. Man, this guy worked fast. "And?" I said impatiently. "Well, the first draft of our project is due next week. We should get together and work on it soon." I tapped my foot impatiently, debating. I could ask Mr. Albright for a different partner, but the chances of him changing it will be slim to none. I sighed. "Fine. When do you have free?" I asked. "Let's meet tomorrow, at the library?" He smiled. "Do you know where that is?" "Yes, thank you very much. What time?" my patients were growing thin. "How about 5?" He asked, putting on his football helmet. "Fine. See you then." I turned and jogged away, not allowing Trey to add anything else. Damn this was going to be a long semester. The following night, Trey and I were sitting in the library's 4th floor, reviewing the assignment for Mr. Albright's class. We h ad been at the assignment for 3 hours when Trey suggested we take a break. "Come on, let's get something to eat." He suggested, closing his textbook and rubbing his eyes. "This is too much for me right now." "We really should finish up," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I think we almost have the basis and the draft done. And ahead of schedule." "Shit, this is going to be a long ass class." He sighed, stretching his arms over his head. His chest arched and the muscle definition showed through his t-shirt. The muscles in his arms also strained, thick from the years of football he had played. His skin was smooth and dark, taught against his stretch. I snapped out of my staring when Trey laughed. He flexed and said, "See something you like?" "No!" I said hurriedly, blushing because he causes me staring. I slammed my book shut and stood. "Fine, let's get something to eat." We made our way from the library and back to the quad. We were debating on weather or not to leave campus for food, or go to the cafeteria. We were leaning towards leaving, when Trey's phone range. "Yo," He answered. He listened and commented with a few "uh-huhs" and an "okay". When he was done, he grabbed my hand and said, "Come with me." "Where are we going?" I asked, trying to pull my hand from his. "What are we doing?" "We are going to the pizza joint, Louie's for dinner, and then some of us are going to see a movie." "Um, excuse me, who is ‘we' and what makes you think I want to go?" "Um," he said mocking me, "'we' is some of the guys on the football team, and we were going to get something to eat anyway." He stopped when he got to black BMW in the parking lot. "Get in." I debated the situation. I had options. One, I get in the car, go to dinner, go to a movie and have a good time. Two, say no, go back to my dorm to study and starve. Three…well, there wasn't a three I could think of, but I was working on it. "Get in," he said again. "What if I don't want to?" I ask belligerently. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my chin a notch. "Well, if you don't get it, we will never get around to finishing this project. Shit, all I wanna do is get some goddamn pizza. You got issues with pizza?" He stood on the driver's side, leaning over the roof of the car, keys in hand. "No." I said honestly. "But, is this going to be an all night thing?" I was thinking about the rest of the homework I had to do. "Nope," Trey smiled. "Not at all. Now get in the car already, I'm starving," I sighed, throwing my books in the back seat and sliding into the passenger's side. Trey put the car in drive and made his way to the main road towards the city. We rode in silence for a few minutes. "So, you got a boyfriend?" Trey asked, glancing over at me. "Why?" "Damn, I'm only asking a question. Trying to hold a conversation. Shit." "Sorry." Yeah, that was smooth. I mentally slapped my hand into my forehead. "Actually, I had a boyfriend, but he decided he liked Kathy Fitzpatrick the ‘gymnast' better because she was flexible." "Ouch." Trey said, laughing a little. "I guess that means you can't put your feet behind your head?" "No!" I said, laughing and swatting at his arm. "That's not funny!" "I think it's fucking hysterical." He said, still chuckling. "Thanks, but what about you? Any girlfriend? Or should I say, ‘girlfriends'?" "Well, you know, I never kiss and tell." "Whatever, I bet you keep a list in your pocket or something." "And what makes you think I'm a player like that?" He asked. "For one, you have this way about you. Like, you're saying ‘I wanna get with you, but I don't want to be with you.' On the other hand, you also seem like the type of guy, if he was serious about a girl, who would stop all the ‘playing' and get with it." "Interesting observation." Trey said, smiling. "But, for the record, I don't have a girlfriend, and don't really want one. Not while in college anyway." He quickly added, "But don't let that discourage you from trying to fuck me." My mouth dropped open and I stared at him. Who did this guy think he was? I was so stunned that I couldn't even hold a thought. The nerve! "Cat got your tongue?" He asked, smiling. He was actually enjoying this "First of all, I do not want to fuck you…" "Yes you do." "…Second, I don't care what you do with your girlfriends…" "No, because you wanna be one of them." "…And third…well, your just plain rude!" "Listen baby, I call it like I see it." "Oh yeah? How do you see it then?" I was so heated that I turned sideways in my seat so I could really yell at him. I was definitely going to have to talk to Mr. Albright about this pairing. I would not work with him! "I see it like this; you had a boyfriend who was safe. He played it sweet with you, doing that touchy feeling thing. You probably dated for 3 or 4 months before having sex with him, but all the while, he was probably diddling Katie what's-her-face." "He was not!" I practically screamed. "And for your information, I only waited 2 months to have sex with him. And he was NOT doing Kathy!" I was furious. "You think what you want." Trey said shrugging and pulling into the parking lot. "Time for some pizza!" he said, as if the preceding conversation had never taken place. I got out of the car when he did, but instead of going towards the building, I moved in the opposite direction. "Hey, hey. Where are you going Morgan?" He asked jogging to catch me. "I will not be insulted by…by…by a guy like you!" "What are you talking about?" Trey asked. "You don't know me or anything about me! You make me seem like I am some naive innocent child! I can fuck with the best of them! I have never had any complaints! I've fucked on the first date before you know. It depends on the situation!" I paused to take a breath. "And, for your information, I was starting to like you, but you just fucked that up!" I turned and started to walk away again. "Wait, wait!" He said gripping me by the shoulders and turned me around. He kept his hands on my arm and bobbed down to look me in the eye. "I didn't mean to piss you off. It's just that I sense things about people, and I speak my mind. Don't take it personally. Look, if it is any consolation, I am sorry." "Whatever." I said, trying to shrug him off. "I'm serious. Tell you what, to make up for my rude behavior I will pay for the pizza and the movie. How about that?" He pleadingly looked me in the eyes. I debated. I sighed. I said yes. "Good! Now, can we get in there?" An hour later I sat back in the red booth stuffed with pizza and beer. I let out a little belch and Trey laughed. "That's real ladylike!" "Hey, cut a girl some slack." I said back playfully. Most of his friends had left and it was only Trey and a guy he introduced as Jay, and I. Jay was the running back for the football team and was planning to go pro after next year. He had several prospects already lined up, and was planning to make them sweat it out before making a decision. "So, what movie are we seeing?" Trey asked, fishing through his wallet for cash to pay the bill. "Does it really matter?" Jay answered. "I just need to veg out." "I agree," I said, wiping my fingers with a napkin. "It's only the first week of school and already I feel drained." "Huh! Wait until mid-terms and finals." Trey said, grabbing his jacket and handing me mine. "Shit, that's too far to think about. Let's go to the movie." The three of us made our way over to the Cineplex, which was a 5-minute walk. We paid for our tickets and walked into theater number 5. Surprisingly, we were the only 3 in the theater. We took seats about halfway up and directly in the middle. Jay disappeared to buy popcorn (I couldn't believe he could actually eat anything else!) and brought Trey and I each a soda. Settling in for the previews, I relaxed and decided to enjoy myself enough to get through the rest of the night. After the little confrontation in the car, Trey had been on his best behavior and I admired that he took my feelings seriously. Well, I'd like to think he was doing it to be nice, and to not get into my pants. This brought me to my current situation. An odd tremor was beginning in my stomach, a feeling that made it awkward sitting in the dark next to Trey. I mean, I had never thought I like black guys in that way, but for some reason Trey was different. I glanced at him sideways and at his profile. What would it be like to kiss him? I thought. Damnit, I am at school to get a degree, not hook up. And besides, I really shouldn't like this guy. He was an egotistical, self-centered, fast talking thug wanna be. He had power issues and woman issues. The woman issue being either he was used to get ass, or if had trouble doing it, he overcompensated with his oh-so-winning personality. I doubted it was the latter, but for some reason, I was so enthralled. Maybe I would make a move on him after all. I wondered if he could take it. I laughed at myself. Trey glanced over at me and caught me staring. Shit. "You still look hungry, baby." He said into my ear. "I, uh…no, I'm fine. Really." What a lie. I think I was drooling. "That's a lie." Trey said. Shit again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare and make you uncomfortable." I took a sip of my soda and returned to the movie. A minute later I felt his hand brush against my right thigh and a spark was shot through me. I jerked my leg away and I heard Trey laugh gently. "You acted like a scared rabbit," He said. "I ain't gonna bite you." I pretended like I didn't hear him, least we start another conversation, but it wasn't but a few minutes later that he placed his whole hand on my right knee. I whipped my head to the right and glared at him. "What are you doing?" I hissed at him. "At the moment, I am watching a movie and trying to feel you up." He smiled and his dimples deepened. "But you're making it a little hard for me." Big Man On Campus This is a stroke story. It's ridiculous and unrealistic. No one is worried about STDs, sizes are exaggerated, and people can fuck for hours without chafing. Enjoy it for what it is. * I grabbed my anthropology professor's hips and pulled her back, driving my own hips forward at the same time and thrusting myself deep into her ass with as much force as I could muster. I forced myself into that tight hole, going balls-deep in a single thrust. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, and I expected her to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out. I took a few more experimental thrusts into her slack asshole, but it was no fun while she was unconscious. So I pulled her head up by her hair and slap her cheeks a few times. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around the room, hyperventilating as she did so. "You don't get to avoid this, slut. I want you fully present while I break in your ass." Dr. Carrington panted, "Oh god oh god oh god... too much... came too hard..." And sure enough, a small puddle of her juices was visible under her on her desk. I smiled and started pulling back to pound her ass properly. But perhaps I should start at the beginning. My name is David Beech. I am a student at a small Southern liberal arts college-it's not worth naming it, since you've never heard of it. And in any case, I don't want people to find out where I am; I've got a good thing going here and too many strangers coming into town could ruin it. Nominally, my major is archeology. But ever since last summer's trip to Greece, I've picked up another field of study: fucking. Last year, and in high school, I was an average, normal student. I went out occasionally, got laid sometimes, and had a few girlfriends. But then there was a six-week field course offered last summer, where students could travel to Greece on the university's dime and participate in a real dig. I went, mainly to get a free vacation. One evening, I brought a local girl out to the dig site. One thing led to another and then we were fucking in a shrine to Priapus, a god of fertility and sex. He had an enormous and perpetual erection, which the Greeks (and later the Romans) apparently found hilarious. I ended up railing this girl for hours. Neither of us noticed the sun coming up, and it wasn't until we were found by one of the researchers that we realized what had been happening. Long story short, fucking in Priapus's shrine did something to me, and now I've got the blessing of the god: a long, thick cock that gets hard on demand and stays that way, plum-sized balls that can release prodigious amounts of sperm, and the ability to emit pheromones that can affect people's minds in various subtle ways. Usually, they just make people horny (including me, as it happens). I got sent home early from the dig, but I didn't get in any trouble over it, and after spending a summer experimenting with my sexual superpowers on some of the girls in my hometown I returned to school ready to start living a new life, one where all my wildest sexual fantasies are sated on demand. Yeah, it's shallow, and it's not exactly superhero material, but I didn't get the relative strength and speed of a spider or the ability to talk to fish. I ended up with powers that let me fuck whoever I want and make it fantastic for both of us, so that's what I do. I ended up making a list of women who were worth my attention. One of them was Dr. Anne Carrington, my anthropology professor. She was a bitch-still is, I guess, in a different sense. Her Ph.D. was from some Ivy League school, and she acted like she was too good for us. She was something of a name-dropper, always talking about her work with Professor So-and-So of Harvard and Doctor Who-Cares at Oxford. I think the only reason anyone took her classes was that she is a knockout. She's in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, and she is about 5' 4" and probably weighs 115 lbs at most. She has pale, milky skin, blue eyes and medium-length strawberry-blonde hair which she usually keeps pulled back in a bun or ponytail. But her best assets were undoubtedly her tits. Dr. Carrington had a truly magnificent rack-a pair of C-cups that looked surprisingly large on her small frame. On the day I fucked her ass, she was wearing a crisp white blouse and a charcoal grey pencil skirt. Her shirt was open just enough to show a bit of cleavage. She wore a strand of pearls as a bracelet, and a silver pendant on a chain dangled invitingly in between her tits. Dr. Carrington was lecturing about something or other; I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I was staring at her tits and (when she turned around) her ass-which wasn't as impressive as her tits, but was still pleasantly rounded. I was sitting up close to the front, and I decided to have some fun. I started releasing pheromones designed to lower her inhibitions and get her mind wandering to sex. As the class wore on, she started flushing a bit and her steps started getting a bit unsteady. Some of the girls sitting around me were getting a heavier dose. The girl sitting directly to my right was biting her lower lip, breathing heavily, and shifting in her seat. I half expected one of them to start masturbating there in class, which would have been a bit more than I intended. Luckily, class ended before things went too far with the other girls (although I bet that there were more than a few guys getting fucked by lust-crazed girls immediately after class). I went up to the professor after class ended, keeping my pheromones going. As I approached, I saw her nostrils flare and her chest rise as she took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment and swayed on her feet. "Dr. Carrington," I said, "I have a question about today's material. Do you have a few minutes?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Beech, but I'm feeling a bit off. Can you come back tomorrow during my office hours?" "I have another class then. Let's go to your office-you can sit down, and I promise I'll only be inside as long as you want me to be." Yeah, it was a bit clumsy as far as double entendres go, but it was the best I could do. "All right. Let's go." We walked down the hall to the anthropology department, which was empty (another stroke of luck for me-everyone had gone for the day). She went in to her office, which was tucked away in a corner. I followed and closed the door behind me-no sense taking unnecessary risks with noise, and I figured it would be fun to throw her up against it and fuck her from behind that way. Her office was a fairly standard college professor's office. One wall was entirely given over to books, and another wall had her framed Ivy League diploma hanging on it along with other personal and professional certificates and mementos. Her desk was mostly clean and clear; there was a computer off to one side, an empty coffee mug bearing the red and blue colors of her alma mater, and a small stack of papers with a red pen on top. "Been doing some grading?" I asked. "Yes. It's the first writing prompt for you class," she replied, as she took a seat behind her desk. "Now what can I do for you?" "Well, I was hoping you could go over some bits from today's lecture in more detail. In particular I was wondering about..." I babbled on for another minute or so; Dr. Carrington wasn't listening, and I wanted her thoroughly under the influence of my pheromones before making my move. After a few moments, her eyes closed and she started swaying gently in her seat. Eventually, I saw her hand move up to her chest, where she tweaked one of her nipples through her shirt and then unbuttoned a button on her shirt. That was my signal. "Or you could let me fuck you." Her eyes opened instantly and she flushed with some mixture of anger and lust. "Who the hell do you think you are, Mr. Beech?" she snapped. "I've been watching you. You're horny, and there's nothing wrong with that. I promise I'll keep quiet about it." "You're damn right you will," she said, and then she practically lunged over her desk, grabbed me by my shirt, and pressed her lips to mine. Even though I had been getting her worked up, her aggressiveness still surprised me. Her tongue forced my mouth open as she kissed me hungrily. She slid off her desk and into my lap with a low moan that was practically a growl and kissed me again. This time I returned the kiss with just as much vigor. Dr. Carrington broke off the kiss first and pulled back, staring directly into my eyes. "Here's how this is going to work. We're going to fuck. I run the show. You do what I say and get me off, then maybe we do it again. If you can't keep up, then I toss you out of my office and leave you with blue balls. Understand?" said Dr. Carrington. I smiled inwardly-even when she was practically out of her mind with lust, she was still giving orders. I knew I'd be able to bring her around soon enough, so for now I just agreed with her, trying my best to seem nervous and docile. She stood up and sat back on her desk, spreading her legs as she did, giving me a very nice view of an ivory pair of lacy panties covering up her pussy. I could see a dark spot where her wetness was seeping through the fabric. "Good," she said. "You can start by eating me out as a warm up." She hiked up her skirt and toyed idly with her pussy through her panties. I sunk to my knees and moved close to her, close enough to smell the musk of her arousal. I kissed her lightly on the inside of each thigh, alternating from side to side and drawing closer to her cunt. Then she grabbed my hair and pressed my face into her, smashing my nose and lips into her panties. "Don't be a tease." I pulled her panties to the side and set to work. Her clit was already engorged, so I focused my attention there. I used a technique that served me well before receiving the gift of Priapus, and used my tongue to trace out the alphabet on her clit and labia. I started with a capital A. She was moaning by the time I reached E, panting by the time I reached H, and on M she started screaming in orgasm. Her hips bucked up against my face and a small flood of her juices came out. I lapped them up eagerly and continued going through the alphabet. As I hit Q she came again, squeezing her thighs around my head and pulling on my hair as she writhed around. As she came down, she pulled me up to me feet and kissed me, tasting her own juices on my lips and tongue. "Fuck me, you're good at that. You deserve a reward. Sit back down." With that, she pushed me back toward the chair and stood up, causing her skirt and panties to drop more-or-less back in place. As I sat down, she dropped to her knees and pushed my legs apart, running her hands up my legs as she did so. Her left hand met resistance just above my knee, causing her to stop. "Is that..." Her mouth dropped open as she felt my cock through my jeans. With both hands, she rubbed my erect cock through my pants, getting a sense for its length and thickness. "Oh, my. That's definitely the biggest dick I've ever found. I'm glad I'm running the show here, or you could tear me up." If only you knew, I thought. I was already partially erect, but I was growing under her touch. She reached up to my crotch and, with her hands shaking slightly, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. I had planned ahead, so I was going commando, and as a result Dr. Carrington was confronted by the sight of the base of my cock pressed against my inner thigh. Priapus's gift to me included an impressive cock. At full length, it was a bit over 13" long and thicker than a soda can. I wasn't quite fully aroused yet, but it was still impressive. Dr. Carrington reached in and hauled out my equipment. It hurt a bit as it rubbed against the seam of my pants, but such is life. Once it was out in the air, I decided to give her the full show and let it harden all the way. In a matter of seconds, it swelled under her grip, getting longer and thicker, and losing the slight bend that let her drag it out into the open. It stood up proudly as she grasped the shaft in one hand. "That's... impressive, Mr. Beech. Or perhaps I should call you David and Goliath. I can't even close my hand around it." She began to stroke me in long, single-handed strokes, going from base to tip. She ran the fingernails of the other hand lightly across my balls. "And these things are sized to match, aren't they? How did a student like you get so lucky as to have equipment like this?" Then she brought her other hand up and started pumping faster. Before long her vigorous pumping began to have an effect and precum started to ooze out of my dick. She ran her hands across the tip, gathering up my copious emission, and used it to lubricate her hands as they glided up and down your shaft. She started twisting them in opposite directions as she stroked, adding in extra stimulation. "You're enjoying this; I can tell," she cooed. Her breath was quickening to match her pace as she pumped. Within a few minutes, her soft hands and firm grip started to overwhelm me. A normal man might hold back, but one of Priapus's gifts was a nonexistent refractory period, so I didn't feel any need to hold back. I started to buck my hips up as my professor's handjob caused incredible sensations. She knew just when to let go and let her hands glide gently up and down my length and when to squeeze tight. Just before I came, she backed off with a small smile just. She reached down with one hand and grabbed my scrotum, close to where it meets my body, and made a circle with her forefinger and thumb with my balls hanging below. She squeezed gently and pulled down on my sack. "Not yet. If you can hold on a bit longer it will be worth it." Then she brought her mouth into play-and if her hands were heavenly, her mouth was downright divine. She started with my balls, running her tongue across my nuts, coating them in her spit. "Mmmm, so big and full..." she mumbled into my sack. Then she opened her mouth wide and tried to engulf one of my plum-sized seedmakers entirely. It took her a few moments, but she managed to get one in there, filling her mouth almost completely. I felt her tongue frantically swirling around, bathing my orb in hot saliva. After a few moments of this, she removed your ball from her mouth with a pop and then turned her attention to its twin, giving it the same treatment. During this whole time her hands never stopped moving, and soon I grunted as her stroking hands brought me to orgasm. My cock pulsed a few times, and each time a small spurt of off-white cream dribbled from the head of my dick. As the cum drooled out of my cock, Dr. Carrington let out a small whine of disappointment. "I would have hoped that someone with a dick like yours would have some more stamina, or at least a more impressive load." That's when I let fly with my real load. My cock throbbed in her hand as I fired off an enormous shot of cum, a pencil-thick rope of thick white seed that was a foot long if it was an inch. The stream went off over her head and landed with an audible splat somewhere on the far side of her desk. It was soon joined by another stream, and then a third and a fourth. Dr. Carrington gasped with each shot. "Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my!" I continued to unload; my next shot left a pearly streak across her desk, and then Dr. Carrington angled my dick down lower, so that the next half-dozen powerful blasts struck her desk's front panel, staining the dark wood white. She kept stroking me as my orgasm subsided; a few weaker spurts landed on the floor behind her, and the last dregs spilled out over her knuckles. Then I relaxed back into the chair. Dr. Carrington stood up and leaned over her desk, examining the mess I'd left on the far side. Without turning around, she said, "I underestimated you. How long has it been since you emptied those bull balls?" She didn't realize that an orgasm like that was, to me, a warm-up. She continued, "It's a shame you won't be able to fuck me now after an orgasm like that." I stood up behind her wordlessly, and answered her by pressing up against her from behind, so she could feel my rock-hard shaft grinding against her ass and back. "And you're still hard? I'm impressed. Maybe the students here are good for something after all." That was the point where I decided I was going to show her her place and fuck her into submission. I hiked her skirt up again and grabbed her panties, tearing them from her body in one quick motion. I pressed the head of my cock against her opening, which was practically dripping. But she pulled away and turned back to face me. "You're not running the show here. If you want in to my pussy, all you've got to do is ask." She grabbed my shirt and drew me in for another passionate kiss. "Let me fuck you," I said. She stepped around the desk, pulling me with her, and then sat me down in her chair. She faced away from me and looked back at me. "Strip," she said. I quickly pulled off my shirt and raised my hips to drop my pants, kicking off my shoes as I did so. Dr Carrington sat back against me, with my cock nestled in the cleft of her ass. She ground against me for a few moments. As she did so, I could see her hands working in front of her, undoing the buttons of her shirt. She pulled it open and took it off, still facing away from me and grinding against me, giving me a lovely view of her pale white back and the straps of her ivory bra. She leaned back, pressing herself against me, and continued to writhe, all the while emitting a low moan that was practically a purr. I reached around her and grabbed her tits, groping them through her bra; I felt her erect nipples against my palms through the lacy fabric. Then I pulled at the front clasp, tearing the fabric rather than unhooking it, then tossing the shredded fabric away. Now her bra and panties match, I thought. Dr. Carrington said, "Do you want to be inside me, baby? Do you want to fuck my cunt?" With a low growl, I pushed her away slightly and positioned my cock at her entrance. "Let me do that. I want to take my time with this monster and show it the respect it deserves." She teased the head of my cock for a moment, keeping it (and only it) in her while she made some small movements. Then she slowly sunk down onto my shaft until her ass pressed firmly against my groin and my balls were pulled up tight against her cunt lips. "My... goddddd," she moaned, as she got acclimated to my size. Dr. Carrington then started to rock up and down on my cock, taking most of my length with each stroke and emitting little coos of pleasure when my cock reached her deepest places. She leaned back against me, rolling her hips as she did. I reached around and started to rub her clit with one hand and slap lightly at the sides of her tits with the other, while she tweaked her nipples. She turned her head, putting her lips by my ear, and murmured, "Your cock is amazing, baby." In response, I moved my hands down to her hips and began to thrust up into her, causing her back to arch as she spasmed with pleasure. She froze in place with her head thrown back and her mouth open as she came around me. Her hips twitched a few times, and I could feel her cunt clenching and releasing my shaft. Then she fell backward, laying against me, as she rode one orgasm directly into another. I reached down and grabbed her legs behind her knees, pulling them up to her body and supporting her weight as she quivered and moaned. I started thrusting up into her-weakly, since I wasn't able to get a good angle. But that seemed to be enough to prolong her orgasm. I could feel her juices spilling down over my balls. I leaned back, letting one leg go, and turned her head toward mine so I could press my lips to hers in a fierce kiss. I felt, rather than heard, her small moans of pleasure through the kiss. After coming down from her climax, Dr. Carrington pulled herself off me and then turned around to face me. She as breathing hard and her face and chest were flushed with a mix of exertion and pleasure. I got up and laid down on her desk. She climbed on top of me and mounted my cock, leaning forward slightly to make her tits accessible to my hands and mouth. I took her up on the offer (what a gentleman!), giving them a light squeeze and biting lightly on her nipples. She paused for a moment as her pussy engulfed the tip of my cock, then with one quick motion she swallowed up the rest of it. "Oh, fuck, that is fantastic!" she said as she slowly pulled herself back up. Just before I slipped out, she slammed herself down once more. She kept up this action, repeating it over and over-the slow rise and the sudden, powerful descent, letting my titanic rod touch her core each time. Each thrust was accompanied by an gasped exclamation: "Fuck... yes... so... good... so... fulll..." Her cunt gripped my cock like a fist on each upstroke, bringing our inevitable climaxes ever closer. Big Man On Campus She kept going, slamming herself down on my cock in one quick motion, gasping as I bottomed out in her. I grabbed her hips and lifted her up, adding my power to her own, only to drive her back down again. Then it was time: I felt myself clench up as I reached my climax. At the same time, Dr. Carrington's cunt clamped down on me as a small flood of her juices came out. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her back arched in pleasure. She unleashed a wordless scream, then fell forward, letting my cock slip out of her and rest against her ass as I came. I reached down to stroke my shaft. I could feel my cock throb in my hands as my balls released their gooey contents. My first shot left a white streak up my professor's back running into her strawberry-blonde hair. She turned her head to watch me cum, my next shot caught her on the chin and left a line down the back of one shoulder. My next five shots struck her back, pooling in the small of her back. Another three shots to her left ass cheek left her thoroughly drenched on that side, and moments later I did the same to right side. "I guess you wanted to frost my buns," she said, rolling off me and laying beside me on the desk as my cum cooled on her skin. "That's just as much as the last time. My god," she said. I grabbed her hand and brought it down to your balls, which were still full and heavy with sperm. Dr. Carrington's eyes went wide as she realized what she had in store. "We're not stopping until these are empty and my dick goes soft."