Erotica Professor Mga Nobela at Kwento

“At least I get fucked properly. You’re still chasing a man who barely looks at you.” Professor Harlan muttered something panicked about his wife and tenure before bolting past me, nearly tripping over his own feet. I felt bile rise in my throat. The sight of his glistening, cum-covered cock, the smell of sex in the air was revolting. Especially knowing Sophia had done it so casually. “You’re disgusting,” I said quietly, voice steady despite the nausea. “Both of you, how can you even be fucking with a professor because of grades atleast I've dignity not to be spreading for some Fs because I know you're definitely getting that”.

I gasped, gripping his shoulders. "Oh God," I moaned softly. "We can’t do this. You’re my professor. You’re married." "But you want it." He pumped his fingers faster, thumb circling my clit. "Tell me how long you’ve been touching yourself thinking about your professor." "Since my first semester," I admitted breathlessly, hips rocking against his hand. "Every time you praised my work in office hours, I got wet. It’s so wrong." "Damn right it’s wrong." He added a third finger, stretching me. "I’m twice your age. Your professor. And you’re going to come on my hand like the needy little slut you are underneath that professional act."

He was the kind of professor who made you question your morals. His wide back tapered to a tight waist. His hands were big, and I know for a fact that I would cum multiple times with just his mere touch. He had an ass that filled his pants in the best way when he turned to write on the board. I've fucked him in my head for like a thousand times now. At literally every lecture, I imagined him bending me over his desk in his office, after everyone had left, that deep voice of his growling my name while he fucked me hard and deep, those broad shoulders flexing above me.

Professor Nadia slaps them, pinches them, twists my nipples until I’m sobbing with pleasure into her pussy. “You love this, don’t you?” Marcus growls, pounding faster. “Getting violated by your professor and her bull right in the middle of class. Say it.” “I love it— fuck, I love being your schoolgirl fucktoy!” I cry out between licks, completely broken and possessed by lust. The taboo is insane — my strict professor’s mouth on my clit, her partner’s cock rearranging my insides. I cum hard the first time, pussy convulsing violently around him, gushing all over his shaft while Professor Nadia sucks my clit through the orgasm.

“Begging for your professor’s cock like a desperate little cumslut who can’t wait to get her tight virgin hole wrecked. You’ve been teasing me for weeks in those tiny skirts, flashing that wet pussy, sketching my dick in the middle of class like the filthy girl you are. Now you’re bent over my desk, dripping everywhere, crying for Daddy to split you open. Such a naughty fucking student.” He leaned closer and kissed me deep, his lips claiming mine. I tasted myself on his tongue—sweet, messy and intoxicating. His hands wrapped around my waist, turning me around with ease until I was on all fours on the wide desk. My ass high and facing him, my soaked folds completely exposed. He stepped in clo

He simply gathered his notes, slid them into a leather satchel, and jerked his head toward the side exit that led to faculty offices. She followed, skirt swishing against her thighs, the click of her heeled boots echoing down the empty corridor. His office door was already open, dark wood, brass nameplate reading *Dr. Damien Blackwood, Professor of Nineteenth-Century Literature and Cultural Erotics*. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

NEVAEH I have a romantic crush on my best-friend's father who also happens to be none other than my professor. I know what you must be thinking about me and yes, you're right. I'm a dirty, little slut with no shame and a potentially horrible best friend but can you blame me? Castia, my one and only best friend has been nothing but kind to me. We've been best-friends for seven years even before we graduated high school. We were so close that it got to the point where we couldn't be separated.

Instead, I opened wider, let him in, let him take. His hand left the desk and found my waist, fingers roaming my body possessively, pulling me closer until my hips brushed against his. His hard dick pressed into me, unmistakable, and a shameful moan tore from my throat. His answering growl vibrated against my lips, rough and satisfied. “Professor,” he whispered against my mouth, low and dangerous. “You taste so much better when you stop pretending.” The word sent a shiver through me—professor, spoken not as a title of respect but as a filthy reminder of everything that made this wrong. That wrongness only made it hotter.

"Professor—" "Third problem." His fingers left me abruptly, and I whined at the loss. The sound of his belt unbuckling made my stomach flip. "You’re impatient." The zipper followed, the rustle of fabric. Then, thud. Something heavy landed on the desk beside my head. A book. "The Eros Discipline." His voice was a smirk. "Ever read it?" I shook my head, my cheeks flaming. "Pity." His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back so I could see the cover—a woman bound in ropes, her body arched in submission. "It’s about a professor who re-educates his student. Sound familiar?"

“The windows are tinted so stop struggling.” “Professor…” The word tore out of me, a mix of plea and broken moan, muffled as I tried to twist away. “That’s right,” He smiled, dark and triumphant. “Say it again.” “Professor, please—” My voice cracked as my hips betrayed me, grinding helplessly against his hand. His fingers curled deep, stroking exactly where I couldn’t resist. Pressure coiled fast, unstoppable, my body trembling as his thumb circled my clit in ruthless precision.