0004: Bend Me Over, Professors—Part 1

LIANA

The air outside Professor Reynold’s office was crisp with the approaching Christmas break. The hallway smelled of pine and cinnamon, credit of the festive garlands strung across the office doors.

It was the last day before the Christmas holidays and most of the professors had already clocked out early, eager to celebrate the break with their family.

I’d spent weeks plotting this, weeks fantasizing about the man whose name alone made my core clench—Elijah Reynold.

He was forty-two, devastatingly handsome, and had the kind of muscular buildup that looked strictly forbidden beneath his fitted academic tweed jackets. And me? At twenty-three, I was ready to admit to myself that I wasn't just a student with a crush; I was a horny, aching slut ready to be used. Ruined.

And I knew this was my last chance before the holidays.

Clutching the brightly wrapped gift box, I approached his secluded office on the quietest wing of the history department. I knocked once, then twice, but silence met me. On my way, I saw that his black sedan was still in the lot. He was definitely inside.

With a slow breath, I twisted the brass doorknob. To my utter surprise, it yielded with a soft click.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft, warm glow of a small Christmas tree tucked into the corner and the harsh blue light of a screen. Professor Reynold was seated in his leather chair, his back partially to the door. He wasn't grading papers. Not buried deep in history texts. No.

He was wearing his customary fitted gray trousers, his belt undone, the fly open, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. His sinfully beautiful face was flushed, tilted back slightly, eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop, and his mouth slightly open as he stroked the thick, veined length of his cock.

It was fully hard, glistening slightly, and utterly breathtaking. The unmistakable sound of his low, guttural moan filled the quiet office.

I froze, my heart hammering a wild rhythm against my ribs. The shock lasted only a second before a bolt of white-hot arousal shot straight to my core. My knees instantly went weak, and I had to press my thighs together, rubbing the ache that instantly began to throb in my pussy.

God, he was magnificent.

Suddenly, he shifted, catching the faint reflection of me in the dark window, and froze.

His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were wide with a mix of shock and acute embarrassment. He snatched the fabric of his trousers and quickly shoved his rigid cock inside, buckling his belt with a panicked haste that was almost endearing.

And God help me, I smiled—a slow, coy, predatory curl of lips that let him know I wasn't sorry to have interrupted his meat beating session. I was turned on, badly turned on and my pussy ached.

"Professor Reynold," I purred, stepping further into the room.

He stood up quickly, his tall, muscular frame now fully visible, but the air around him was tight with tension.

"Miss Brooks! I... I apologize. I wasn't expecting anyone. Is there something I can help you with?" He said in a rush.

I walked straight to his desk, hips swaying beneath my tight jeans. I leaned over his huge mahogany desk in a deliberate, agonizingly slow bend that exposed the heavy swell of my breasts beneath my thin sweater.

I placed the gift down, fingers lingering on the box.

"Just a little something," I whispered, straightening up slowly, meeting his flustered gaze. "A thoughtful student's Christmas present."

Reynold cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. "Thank you, Liana. That's…very kind of you."

Instead of leaving, I rounded his desk.

He was backed up against the chair, trapped.

I moved behind him, my fingertips lightly brushing the broad, muscular expanse of his shoulder, right where the tweed met the collar of his shirt.

"You seemed to be having some trouble finishing up before the holidays, Professor," I murmured, leaning in close so my breath feathered against his ear. "I could help you better than those videos, don't you think?"

It was a bold, reckless move—but it worked.

A slow, predatory smirk finally curved his lips, melting away the embarrassment and replacing it with pure, dangerous desire.

"I see the rumors are true, then," he drawled, his voice deep and rough. "Liana Brooks isn't just a brilliant student. She's a very dirty little slut."

The word "slut" was like a match thrown onto kindling. A gasp escaped and my pussy instantly clenched, soaking wet and ready.

I didn't answer with words. I walked to his front, parted his legs open to accommodate me, and then I slid my hands down his firm stomach, past the buckled belt, and dropped to my knees.

I unbuckled the leather strap, then pulled down his zipper in one smooth, practiced motion. The scent of him—hot, musky, and faintly of an aroused man—hit me instantly. I reached inside and carefully freed the hard, thick cock.

He was magnificent. Even thicker than I’d imagined, veined and rigid, his head already glistening with pre-cum. It throbbed against my palm like it recognized me. I wrapped my fingers around his length, perfectly centering him in my eager hands.

"Oh, Professor," I moaned, running the tip of my wet tongue along the underside of his shaft. “You're so fucking big.”

He groaned out a curse, his dark eyes locking on mine.

I took the full, shiny, pink head of his dick into my mouth, wetting it slowly, letting the salty, earthy taste coat my tongue.

Reynold groaned loudly, his hands immediately grabbing my head, anchoring me in place.

I began working on his length with a fierce, practiced intensity. I pulled back slightly, then plunged deep, stretching my throat around his length. I bobbed my head on his cock, varying the pace, using the tip of my tongue to rake the ridges beneath the head of his thick cock, then swallowing him almost whole, until my lips bumped against his groin.

I felt him strain against my grip, his thick rod filling my mouth completely, making my jaw ache deliciously.

"God, Liana," he gasped, his voice tight. "You're a professional. You nasty little girl. I should fail you for this."

I couldn't speak, but I looked up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes, letting him see the fierce desire in my face as I worked him. I used my hands to stroke the shaft, mirroring my mouth’s motion, milking him, driving him faster and faster toward the edge.

He lasted only minutes under my relentless assault. His hands left my hair, gripping the edge of his desk, his whole body convulsing, his warm seed filling my mouth.

"Enough," he rasped, pulling my head up just as a shudder began to run through him. He pulled his cock free from my mouth and a thick bead of fluid dripped from the corner of my mouth onto the carpet. "You're too much. Now, get up."

I rose, my mouth wet and tingling, my pussy throbbing so hard I could barely stand.

Reynold didn't hesitate. He grabbed me by the hips and spun me around, shoving me toward the desk. He bent me sharply over the surface of his huge mahogany desk, causing me to land hard on my hands. Everything happened in a blur, but within a few seconds, I was bare. Tits dangling free over my chest, exposed ass lifted high for my professor.

My wetness was already sliding down my thighs. I was burning and ready.

"You came in here asking for this, didn't you?" he growled, ripping his own pants down and fully freeing his stiff length.

He didn't wait. He grabbed my hips, slammed the rigid head of his cock against my wet center, and plunged in with an animalistic grunt.

I screamed—a loud, muffled cry of shocked pleasure onto the desk. He was immense, filling me completely, stretching me in a way I'd only ever dreamed about.

He slammed in again, harder this time. “Answer me, you filthy whore.”

“Yesss, fuckk…yess,” I moaned, hands scrambling to get a hold of anything.

He started the rhythm immediately—hard, fast, and unforgiving. The desk shuddered beneath me as he rammed into her.

"Look at you," he panted, his voice raw with lust, his mouth inches from her ear. "Bending over your professor's desk. You're tighter than I imagined, you little whore."

“Please,” I gasped in a half plea and a half moan. I didn't know what I was pleading for, but it was definitely not for him to stop.

I liked his cock. I liked the length of my professor's big cock stretching my dripping pussy.

"I want to hear you say it, Liana. Say you're a slut."

"I'm a slut! Oh, Professor, I'm a fucking slut!" I cried, gripping the desk so hard my knuckles turned white.

He slapped my ass sharply, the sting momentary but intensifying the shock of the pleasure.

"Good girl," he growled. "Take it, Liana. Take every inch of your Christmas present."

He drove into me in a blinding series of powerful thrusts, his rhythm becoming a desperate scramble for release, making the heavy mahogany desk shake violently.

I felt the knot tightening in my stomach, the pressure building to an unbearable degree, and I started to scream his name just as he let out a guttural roar, pumping his thick, hot load deep inside of me.

He collapsed onto my back, a dead weight, his cock still throbbing in my core, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I was left a shaking, ruined mess, pinned to the desk, the Christmas lights twinkling innocently in the corner of the room.

Professor Reynold’s cock was finally sliding out of my pussy, leaving me sleek and gasping, when the unthinkable happened.

The office door, which I had forgotten to close properly in my lust-haze, swung open.