This is a stroke story. It's ridiculous and unrealistic. No one is worried about STDs, sizes are exaggerated, and people can fuck for hours without chafing. Enjoy it for what it is.
*
I grabbed my anthropology professor's hips and pulled her back, driving my own hips forward at the same time and thrusting myself deep into her ass with as much force as I could muster. I forced myself into that tight hole, going balls-deep in a single thrust. Her eyes and mouth opened wide, and I expected her to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.
I took a few more experimental thrusts into her slack asshole, but it was no fun while she was unconscious. So I pulled her head up by her hair and slap her cheeks a few times. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around the room, hyperventilating as she did so. "You don't get to avoid this, slut. I want you fully present while I break in your ass."
Dr. Carrington panted, "Oh god oh god oh god... too much... came too hard..." And sure enough, a small puddle of her juices was visible under her on her desk. I smiled and started pulling back to pound her ass properly.
But perhaps I should start at the beginning.
My name is David Beech. I am a student at a small Southern liberal arts college-it's not worth naming it, since you've never heard of it. And in any case, I don't want people to find out where I am; I've got a good thing going here and too many strangers coming into town could ruin it. Nominally, my major is archeology. But ever since last summer's trip to Greece, I've picked up another field of study: fucking. Last year, and in high school, I was an average, normal student. I went out occasionally, got laid sometimes, and had a few girlfriends. But then there was a six-week field course offered last summer, where students could travel to Greece on the university's dime and participate in a real dig. I went, mainly to get a free vacation. One evening, I brought a local girl out to the dig site. One thing led to another and then we were fucking in a shrine to Priapus, a god of fertility and sex. He had an enormous and perpetual erection, which the Greeks (and later the Romans) apparently found hilarious.
I ended up railing this girl for hours. Neither of us noticed the sun coming up, and it wasn't until we were found by one of the researchers that we realized what had been happening. Long story short, fucking in Priapus's shrine did something to me, and now I've got the blessing of the god: a long, thick cock that gets hard on demand and stays that way, plum-sized balls that can release prodigious amounts of sperm, and the ability to emit pheromones that can affect people's minds in various subtle ways. Usually, they just make people horny (including me, as it happens). I got sent home early from the dig, but I didn't get in any trouble over it, and after spending a summer experimenting with my sexual superpowers on some of the girls in my hometown I returned to school ready to start living a new life, one where all my wildest sexual fantasies are sated on demand. Yeah, it's shallow, and it's not exactly superhero material, but I didn't get the relative strength and speed of a spider or the ability to talk to fish. I ended up with powers that let me fuck whoever I want and make it fantastic for both of us, so that's what I do.
I ended up making a list of women who were worth my attention. One of them was Dr. Anne Carrington, my anthropology professor. She was a bitch-still is, I guess, in a different sense. Her Ph.D. was from some Ivy League school, and she acted like she was too good for us. She was something of a name-dropper, always talking about her work with Professor So-and-So of Harvard and Doctor Who-Cares at Oxford. I think the only reason anyone took her classes was that she is a knockout. She's in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, and she is about 5' 4" and probably weighs 115 lbs at most. She has pale, milky skin, blue eyes and medium-length strawberry-blonde hair which she usually keeps pulled back in a bun or ponytail. But her best assets were undoubtedly her tits. Dr. Carrington had a truly magnificent rack-a pair of C-cups that looked surprisingly large on her small frame. On the day I fucked her ass, she was wearing a crisp white blouse and a charcoal grey pencil skirt. Her shirt was open just enough to show a bit of cleavage. She wore a strand of pearls as a bracelet, and a silver pendant on a chain dangled invitingly in between her tits.
Dr. Carrington was lecturing about something or other; I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I was staring at her tits and (when she turned around) her ass-which wasn't as impressive as her tits, but was still pleasantly rounded. I was sitting up close to the front, and I decided to have some fun. I started releasing pheromones designed to lower her inhibitions and get her mind wandering to sex. As the class wore on, she started flushing a bit and her steps started getting a bit unsteady. Some of the girls sitting around me were getting a heavier dose. The girl sitting directly to my right was biting her lower lip, breathing heavily, and shifting in her seat. I half expected one of them to start masturbating there in class, which would have been a bit more than I intended. Luckily, class ended before things went too far with the other girls (although I bet that there were more than a few guys getting fucked by lust-crazed girls immediately after class).
I went up to the professor after class ended, keeping my pheromones going. As I approached, I saw her nostrils flare and her chest rise as she took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment and swayed on her feet. "Dr. Carrington," I said, "I have a question about today's material. Do you have a few minutes?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Beech, but I'm feeling a bit off. Can you come back tomorrow during my office hours?"
"I have another class then. Let's go to your office-you can sit down, and I promise I'll only be inside as long as you want me to be." Yeah, it was a bit clumsy as far as double entendres go, but it was the best I could do.
"All right. Let's go." We walked down the hall to the anthropology department, which was empty (another stroke of luck for me-everyone had gone for the day). She went in to her office, which was tucked away in a corner. I followed and closed the door behind me-no sense taking unnecessary risks with noise, and I figured it would be fun to throw her up against it and fuck her from behind that way. Her office was a fairly standard college professor's office. One wall was entirely given over to books, and another wall had her framed Ivy League diploma hanging on it along with other personal and professional certificates and mementos. Her desk was mostly clean and clear; there was a computer off to one side, an empty coffee mug bearing the red and blue colors of her alma mater, and a small stack of papers with a red pen on top.
"Been doing some grading?" I asked.
"Yes. It's the first writing prompt for you class," she replied, as she took a seat behind her desk. "Now what can I do for you?"
"Well, I was hoping you could go over some bits from today's lecture in more detail. In particular I was wondering about..." I babbled on for another minute or so; Dr. Carrington wasn't listening, and I wanted her thoroughly under the influence of my pheromones before making my move. After a few moments, her eyes closed and she started swaying gently in her seat. Eventually, I saw her hand move up to her chest, where she tweaked one of her nipples through her shirt and then unbuttoned a button on her shirt. That was my signal. "Or you could let me fuck you."
Her eyes opened instantly and she flushed with some mixture of anger and lust. "Who the hell do you think you are, Mr. Beech?" she snapped.