Professor Harlan's office smelled like old books and leather. I shut the door behind me and locked it without asking. He was already standing, tall and broad in his button-down shirt, the outline of his thick cock pressing against his slacks like it had been waiting for me all semester.
"Lock it," he said, voice low. "Now get on your knees."
I dropped fast. My hands went straight to his belt, yanking it open. The zipper came down and his cock sprang out, heavy, veined, already half-hard and growing fast. It was the kind of dick that made my mouth waterlong, thick at the base, with a fat head that flushed dark when I wrapped my fingers around it. I stroked once, slow, feeling it pulse and stiffen to full size.
"Suck it," Harlan ordered.
I opened wide and took the head in. It stretched my lips, salty and hot. I bobbed down, taking more, letting spit run down the shaft while my tongue worked the underside. Harlan groaned and grabbed the back of my head, pushing deeper until the head hit the back of my throat. I gagged but didn't pull off. I wanted every inch of that professor cock.
He fucked my mouth in short, steady thrusts. "That's it, boy. Take it. You've been staring at it in class for weeks."
I moaned around the shaft, eyes watering, throat working. Drool coated his balls. When he pulled out, strings of spit connected my lips to his cock. He slapped the wet head against my cheek, leaving a smear.
"Stand up. Pants off."
I stripped fast. My own cock was leaking, but this wasn't about me. Harlan turned me around and bent me over his desk. Papers scattered. He kicked my feet apart and spit on his fingers, rubbing them over my hole. One thick finger pushed in, then two, stretching me open while his other hand stroked that heavy cock.
"Look at this tight ass," he muttered. "Gonna wreck it with my cock."
He lined up and pushed. The head popped in first, thick and relentless. I grunted as inch after inch sank deeper. My hole burned then opened, taking the full length until his hips pressed flush against my ass. He was buried balls-deep, that big professor cock throbbing inside me.
Harlan started fucking. Hard, steady strokes that made the desk creak. Each thrust dragged over my prostate, sending sparks through me. I reached down and jerked my own cock in time with his rhythm. The wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the office.
"Fuck, your cock feels huge," I gasped.
"Shut up and take it." He grabbed my hips and pounded harder, the head battering deep. Sweat dripped down my back. My hole clenched around him, milking that thick shaft.
He pulled out suddenly, spun me, and shoved me to my knees again. "Open." I did. He stroked fast, aiming at my tongue. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splashing across my lips, tongue, and chin. Some hit the back of my throat. I swallowed what I could while the rest dripped down my neck.
Harlan wasn't done. He hauled me up, bent me back over the desk, and pushed his still-hard cock back inside. Cum-slick now, it slid easier but felt even dirtier. He fucked me through the mess, using his own load as lube, pounding until my legs shook.
When he came again, it was with a low growl, flooding my guts. I felt every pulse. My own cock jerked untouched, shooting across the desk.
Harlan pulled out slow. Cum leaked down my thighs. He wiped his cock on my ass cheek, then tucked it away.
"Same time next week," he said. "Don't be late."
I pulled my pants up, feeling the wet mess inside me, already thinking about the next time that professor cock would stretch me open again.
