MY PROFESSOR'S FILTHY GIRL

The lecture hall smelled of old wood, dry paper, and the faint buzz of nervous freshmen. Mia Sinclair didn’t belong among the nervous ones. At twenty-one and in her final year, she had already aced every literature course that mattered. But this one was different. This one had Professor Adrian Vale.

She arrived early and took the exact center seat in the front row, crossing her long, toned legs so her short black pleated skirt rode dangerously high on her thighs. Her white blouse was tailored tight, the top buttons undone just enough to show the soft swell of her full breasts and the delicate black lace bra underneath. She wanted him to notice. She *needed* him to notice.

When Adrian Vale entered the room, the air shifted. He was six-foot-three of pure authority—broad shoulders filling out a crisp charcoal waistcoat and white shirt, dark wavy hair with silver threading the temples, and piercing grey-blue eyes that scanned the room like a predator assessing prey. At thirty-seven, he carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made panties wet and careers rise or fall.

His gaze swept over the class and locked on her.

Mia didn’t smile. She simply uncrossed her legs slowly, deliberately, letting her thighs part just enough for him to glimpse the shadow between them before crossing them again. His jaw flexed. Once. That was all.

For the next ninety minutes, she barely heard a word about modernist literature. She was too busy watching his mouth move, imagining it between her legs. Too busy staring at his large, veined hands as he gestured, picturing them pinning her down. By the time he dismissed the class, her thong was soaked through and her clit was throbbing with every heartbeat.

Students poured out. Mia stayed seated, pretending to write notes while the room emptied. When the last person left and the heavy door clicked shut, Adrian locked it with a decisive twist of the key.

“Miss Sinclair,” he said, voice low and rough as he stalked toward her desk. “Do you make a habit of distracting your professors on the first day, or am I special?”

Mia looked up at him through her lashes, lips parted. “You’re special, Professor Vale. I’ve read every paper you’ve published. Twice. And I’ve been wet since you said my name during roll call.”

Adrian stopped inches from her, towering over her. His scent—sandalwood, coffee, and something darkly masculine—flooded her senses.

“You’re bold,” he murmured. “And reckless. I don’t fuck my students. Ever.”

Mia stood up slowly, bringing her body flush against his. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She could feel the hard, thick outline of his cock straining against his trousers.

“Then why are you so hard for me already?” she whispered, sliding one hand down to palm him boldly through the fabric.

Adrian’s hand shot up, gripping her jaw firmly, forcing her to meet his burning stare. “Because you’re a filthy little cocktease who’s been flashing her cunt at me for the entire lecture. You want me to lose control? You want your professor to bend you over this desk and destroy that greedy college pussy on day one?”

Mia’s breath caught. Heat flooded her core. “Yes. God, yes.”

The last thread of his restraint snapped.

Adrian spun her around violently and shoved her chest down onto the wide wooden desk. Papers and pens scattered across the floor. He yanked her skirt up over her ass in one rough motion, exposing her round cheeks and the tiny black thong that was completely drenched.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled, running his palm over her ass before slapping it hard. The sharp smack echoed in the empty hall. “Look at this sloppy little cunt. You’ve been leaking for me since I started talking about Nabokov, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Professor,” Mia moaned, pushing her ass back against his hand.

He hooked two fingers into the waistband of her thong and ripped it down her thighs, letting it tangle around her knees. Then he kicked her legs wider apart, spreading her obscenely.

“Such a pretty pink pussy,” he rasped, dragging two thick fingers through her dripping folds. “Already swollen and begging. How many times have you touched yourself thinking about your professor’s cock?”

“Every night this summer,” she admitted shamelessly, gasping as he pushed two long fingers deep inside her without warning.

Adrian groaned at the tight, wet heat gripping him. “So fucking tight. This hole is going to ruin me.” He started pumping his fingers fast and deep, curling them mercilessly against her g-spot while his thumb found her swollen clit and rubbed tight, vicious circles.

Mia cried out, gripping the edge of the desk as her tits pressed harder into the wood. The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers fucking her echoed obscenely in the quiet lecture hall.

“You like that, you little whore?” he snarled, leaning over her back, lips brushing her ear. “Getting finger-fucked by your married-to-his-career professor while anyone could still be outside that door? What if someone hears what a desperate cumslut you are?”

“I don’t care,” she panted, pushing back onto his fingers. “Just don’t stop—please—”

Adrian added a third finger, stretching her brutally. “This is what you wanted? To be used like a cheap campus whore on the first fucking day? Say it.”

“I wanted it,” Mia moaned loudly. “I wanted my professor to treat me like his personal cumslut.”

His dirty words sent her spiraling. Her thighs shook violently. Adrian felt her walls fluttering around his fingers and doubled down, fucking her harder, faster.

“Cum then,” he commanded, voice dark and dominant. “Cum all over your professor’s hand like the filthy girl you are. Soak it.”

Mia shattered. Her orgasm crashed through her with shocking force. She cried out his name as her pussy clamped down hard, gushing around his thrusting fingers. Her juices ran down her thighs and dripped onto the floor.

Adrian didn’t stop until she was whimpering and oversensitive. Only then did he pull his soaked fingers out and spin her around to face him.

“Open,” he ordered.

Mia dropped to her knees obediently on the hard floor, mouth open, tongue out. Adrian fed her his glistening fingers. She sucked them clean eagerly, tasting her own sweet tang while staring up at him with lust-drunk eyes.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, voice husky. He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his massive cock—thick, veined, and rock-hard, the head already leaking precum. It looked almost intimidating.

“Suck it. Show me how badly you want your professor’s cum down your throat.”

Mia didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her lips around the swollen head and took him deep, moaning around his girth. Adrian groaned, threading his fingers through her dark hair and guiding her movements.

“Fuck, that mouth is perfect. Deeper, baby. Take every inch like the cock-hungry slut I know you are.”

She bobbed faster, saliva dripping down her chin as she tried to swallow him whole. Adrian’s hips started thrusting, fucking her face with controlled power while his dirty talk continued.

“That’s it. Choke on your professor’s cock in his own lecture hall. You’re going to swallow every drop, then you’re going home with my cum still dripping out of your ruined little cunt.”

Mia moaned loudly around him, the vibration making him curse. He held her head still and fucked her throat harder, eyes locked on hers.

When he finally came, it was with a deep, guttural groan. Thick ropes of hot cum flooded her mouth and spilled down her throat. Mia swallowed greedily, not wasting a single drop.

Adrian pulled out slowly, breathing hard, and tucked himself away. He stared down at her—kneeling, flushed, lips swollen and shiny with his cum.

“This can never happen again,” he said, voice rough.

Mia smiled wickedly as she stood up, fixing her skirt.

“We both know that’s a lie, Professor.”