Pet My Pussy

Pet My Pussy, Professor

The second the door clicked shut behind me, I let my backpack slide off my shoulder and locked eyes with Professor Hartman. The dim office lights cast shadows, making his stern face look vulnerable. The air was thickened with anticipation, making every breath feel heavy and charged. My heart raced as I sauntered closer, skirt riding up to reveal the damp lace of my panties, and without warning, I blurted out, “Would you ever want to… pet my pussy, Professor?” The words hung in the air like a forbidden invitation. Surprise showed in his furrowed brow, but I could see the spark of curiosity igniting in his eyes as he set down his pen.

Meanwhile, I leaned in, my fingers trailing along the edge of my thigh and letting him inhale the musky scent of my arousal that had built up during class. “Professor would you like to Pet My Pussy? It’s been throbbing all lecture, thinking about your hands on me,” I teased, my voice low and sultry, watching as his gaze darted to the glistening spot on my fabric. The conflict in his expression only fuels my desire to break him. My soft laughter pierced the room’s silence; his composure was shattered bit by bit.

Pet My Pussy Now

I shoved his chair back abruptly and climbed onto his lap, my weight pressing him into the cushions while my skirt bunched wildly around my hips. “Pet My Pussy now,” I demanded, seizing his hand and yanking it toward my aching core. Guiding his fingers under the soaked fabric with unyielding force. The heat from my folds enveloped him instantly, and his initial hesitation was overcome by the wetness that coated his fingertips as I ground against his palm. However, I didn’t stop there. I began whispering filthy promises about how his touch could erase the boredom of his mundane marriage, making him envision me as the thrill he’d been missing. “Feel how ready I am for you,” I hissed, my hips circling to deepen the contact.

His fingers were dragged deeper into my slick entrance until he hit that sensitive spot that made me gasp. The friction built a fire between us. The desk lamp’s glow was flickering over our entangled forms, and I reveled in his ragged breaths, knowing I was turning this respected man into a slave to my whims. Therefore, I arched my back, letting him explore further. My juices began dripping down his hand as if to mark him as mine.

He buried his knuckles deep inside me, stretching and curling with a rhythm that I controlled entirely. My thighs quivering around his wrist as the pleasure mounted. “Do you even know how to… Pet My Pussy… properly?” I moaned mid-thrust. My words laced with mockery as I bucked against his hand. My words echoed my dominating mean brat tone. I kept imagining his wife’s disappointment if she could see him now. The waves of ecstasy were crashing over me. The feeling was amplified by his clumsy yet eager strokes that hit my G-spot with surprising accuracy.

Pet My Pussy, It’s Begging For You

Meanwhile, I clawed at his shirt. Pulling him closer so he could hear every wet sound his fingers made inside me, my insistent guidance directed his efforts. “Is this how you’d touch her? All timid and unsure?” I taunted, feeling his pace quicken in response. His free hand gripping my hip to steady me as I rode his digits harder. The room spun with the intensity, my moans echoed off the walls. I pictured him confessing this to her later, the humiliation making me clench around him. Therefore, I didn’t let up, demanding more speed and depth until his arm trembled from the effort.

I began dragging him down by his tie, pinning his shoulders with my knees so he was trapped beneath me. My skirt flipped aside to expose everything. “Pet My Pussy with your tongue this time,” I commanded, lowering myself onto his face with no room for refusal. My professor forced his mouth against my swollen lips in a rush of heat and salt. However, he faltered initially. His tongue was tentative and unsure, so I ground down harder, riding his face like it was my throne. “Do you like how… your petting… makes my pussy throb and pulse against you?” I questioned. My fingers tangling in his hair to hold him in place.

His vibrating, muffled groans were sent straight through me, building toward a climax I wasn’t ready to release yet. Meanwhile, I described how he’d never taste anything as sweet as me again. I began comparing it to his wife’s vanilla routine; my degrading words intensified his efforts. The power surged through me as he lapped greedily. My essence began dripping across his chin, turning him into a willing participant in his downfall.

Pet My Pussy

I began ripping his pants open with my impatient hands. His cock springing free and throbbing against my thigh as I positioned myself above him. “Pet My Pussy… with this,” I ordered, sinking down onto his length in one fluid motion, stretching me wide as he filled every inch. The initial penetration was electric. His hips bucked upward by instinct, but I set the pace. Riding him with deliberate, punishing strokes that made him groan in surrender. However, I leaned in close. My breath hot on his ear, and whispered, “Still think petting is… enough to satisfy me? Or do you need to imagine her walking in right now?” The cuckold fantasy fueled my movements. My hot professor’s thrusts began matching my tight grip.

Each one deeper and more frantic as I taunted him about his secret desires. Sweat dripped between us. The air was thick with the scent of sex, and I reveled in the way his eyes glazed over, lost in the humiliation. Meanwhile, I commanded him to go harder, faster, picturing how he’d avoid my gaze later, knowing he’d been claimed by a student half his age. Call Hot Roxy!

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