What You Say Can Be Held Against You
Posted: Fri Jan 24, 2020 3:47 pmI do not own these stories they were posted on the Patreon page of this Author and have since been taken down and not able to be reviewed anywhere. If you are looking for a story by The Weaver, I can post it quicker if you message me about it.
RUSTY CARDIFF
If history teaches us anything, it’s that it’s booooring.
And if it weren’t for the hottie teaching me, and the random specimens of sexiness spread throughout the auditorium style room, I’d be out the door, dropping this class faster than a virgin drops his first load, regardless of the slag he’s fucking.
Speaking of slags to be fucked, the only girl hotter than the professor in this class is the exotic one sitting behind me. She always wears skirts, but damn if she didn’t go to charm school and shit, because every time I turn around to try and catch a nice peek up, she’s got her legs properly crossed. Fuck my luck.
Eventually, I learn that her name is Zarah. Not from her, mind you, she’s too “good” to speak to me. I learn it through the grapevine. That’s not all the grapevine is useful for, though. Since she’s too holier than thou to deign speak to me, I get word spread that she’s done more with her mouth and pussy to my cock than a good girl should.
Professor Hotty-son (not her real name, just one that properly suits her) finishes up class and Zarah blocks my path. I guess word about our romps got back to her. She puts her hand on my chest and starts spouting out nonsense. It sounds like gibberish, but I’m not so stupid as to think that it’s not whatever language they speak where she’s from. By the look on her face, I can tell she’s cursing up a storm.
She finishes up saying, “There, that will suit you,” in proper English.
“What’ll suit me?” I say, defiantly.
“You like to speak about others, and spread rumors as if they were true. Now, everything that is said about you will become true.”
“You expect me to believe you’re like a gypsy or something?” I ask her.
“That is not the preferred term, actually, but —“
“Well, if you’re a gypsy, I’m the King of All That Is and Ever Was.”
Zarah bows down in front of me, “Your Grace.”
“Ha! I guess your sense of humor is as good as your ass.”
“Thank you, your Grace.”
I’m impressed that she just took that as a compliment and didn’t come back at me. She’s still kneeling when I leave the room. I like a girl with a good sense of humor — it makes the pre- and post-fuck times more bearable. Maybe I misjudged her. I foresee us living out that rumor I spread in the reasonably near future. But fuck if I don’t foresee myself plowing every hot chick I come across. What can I say? I’m insatiable.
Weirdness seems to follow me around the college campus, as everyone I pass bows when walk by. There’s no way Zarah could have orchestrated something like this on this kind of scale.
I walk up to a particularly tasty morsel, her bow giving me a great look down her shirt and into a fuck-worthy valley of cleavage. “Why are you bowing?”
She avoids my gaze. “We’re all taught from an early age to show proper respect to the King of All That Is and Ever Was.”
“Fuck…” I say.
Zarah must really be some kind of gypsy or something. What did she say? That things said about me will be come true? And then I jokingly declared myself King and now I am King? Shit, if that’s the case, then everything’s coming up Rusty from now on.
“You want to fuck me,” I tell Juggs Aplenty; not her real name — which I don’t know — but a good description of her nonetheless.
“If Your Grace commands, I have to obey… but…”
Hmm. It’s clear by her hesitation that she doesn’t want to fuck me. I mean, it’s cool that as King I have the sort of power to just command her, but the real power’s in whatever made me King in the first place. A bit of experimentation is required.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say.
That changes nothing. She still seems hesitant even though I’m really ready to go. Of course, I wanted to fuck her since the moment I saw her tatas.
I nearly slap my head, I’m so fucking stupid. It has to be about me. I can’t tell her to want to fuck me, because that’s not about me… but I can make it so that she does want to.
“I am the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. I am the kind of guy that you just look at and you get wet and uncontrollably horny and you just have to be with.”
Whatever hesitation Juggs had previously evaporates. I watch as she looks up at me and instantly shifts from zero to slut. She undresses me with her eyes just like I’d been undressing her. Then, I drop my pants and she takes her shirt and bra off, showing tremendous tits with big pink areola and nipples. I’m hard at the sight.
I wonder if Kings have the privilege of fucking subjects on the lawn of the quad without being interrupted. I test this out, enjoying a wonderful and thankfully uninterrupted titfuck from Juggs. It really is good to be the King.
Loving life, I decide to take my experiments further. “I can get hard at will and keep it hard for as long as I want. When I cum, I can cum gallons if I choose to. Whenever I flex my dick inside of a girl, she orgasms.”
It doesn’t take much convincing to get Juggs to also lose her pants and panties, as I’m still hard and she hasn’t been serviced by me yet. And she absolutely craves to be serviced by my still-hard cock. She’s slick to the touch, hot and ready for me.
The moment I’m inside her, I flex my dick and, sure enough, she orgasms. I start to flex in rapid succession, bringing her to her climax over and over again. What starts as screamed out yeses become barely coherent grunts. For all I know she’s cumming her brains out and that’s alright by me. Not hearing any complaints from her, either.
“When I cum on or inside of a girl, she derives pleasure by offering up to be mine to command.”
That said, I cum inside Juggs and watch her jerky motions with every orgasmic movement of my cock subside into a slightly glazed-over look to her eyes when I’m done flooding her insides with my seed.
“Please, command me,” she begs.
“Stand up,” I command and she does excitedly.
“Yell out that your my fucking whore-slut.”
She yells, “I’m Your Grace’s fucking whore-slut.” Then, just for the two of us, she adds a pleasured, “Oh yes.”
Oh, yes is right. This is fun.
Looking her over with the clarity of having just cum, I see that I could do better than Juggs. She’s got great tits, sure, but the rest of her is only average at best. She’s a seven. She doesn’t warrant someone of my stature. I deserve tens from this point forward.
To prove I’m a benevolent ruler, I command, “Offer your body up to anyone you see. If they say yes, do whatever they want you to until they’re done with you. If they say no, or whenever they’re done with you, repeat the process. Each time you do this, you’ll get even more turned on by the idea of it. I’m sure you can’t wait to get started, so… off you go.”
She moans out a delighted “mmm…”
A little something for her. A little something for my people. I don’t want to have all of the fun. Most of it, sure, but not all of it. I can share when I want to.
I watch as Juggs, still naked, walks up to a random guy on the quad. Not long after, she’s walking away with him. Her first satisfied partner. I’m a giver, she’s a giver, everybody wins. If I weren’t already King, I’m sure the people would elect me as such.
Karah marches across campus toward me. She’s got a look unbefitting a subject and a head full of steam.
I stop her in her tracks with a well-timed, “Wait. I know what you’re going to say.”
And I do. She was going to use this “curse” of hers against me, turning me into a toad or the like. I don’t like that idea all that much.
“In all of my years walking this planet, I’ve never met a bigger sex-crazed skank of a girl than you.”
Before the statement, Karah was the kind of girl who crossed her legs all of the time in class when you just wanted a glimpse of what color panties she’s wearing.
After, however, I’m certain the lascivious girl doesn’t own a pair of panties.
She wears fishnet stockings — ripped on purpose or from a recent tryst — an incredibly short vinyl skirt, a bustier, and a lot of makeup. She looks like she went in for a whore makeover and asked for and received “the works.”
Through the sex haze clouding her mind, I can tell she’s trying to regain her bearings and lay down her attack on me, I launch another preemptive attack of my own, “And I’m your best friend with benefits. I’m sure that, because of that friendship that you and I share, you’d only do things for my benefit and never against me.
The scornful look on her face softens. “Hey buddy,” she says in a jovial voice, “thoughts on a midday fuck?”
“Shit, Karah, if you didn’t want a midday fuck from me, why would you wear that outfit?”
“Why do you think I wore the outfit, Rusty?”
I have the feeling this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
That, or it’s the feeling of Karah’s long red nailed hand gripping my cock through my pants.
Or both, it doesn’t have to be a mutually exclusive sort of thing.
Karah clocked in as an easy ten and now that she’s had a bit of an “easy” makeover, she’s a ten and a half.
I drop my pants to the ground below, saying, “I’ve never met a girl who could give a better blow job than you.”
She blesses me with her talented mouth. I don’t hold off at all. I could, but I choose not to. I want to bless her in return with my cum. I erupt in her mouth, but by the time I’m past a mouth full, I pull away and coat her face entirely.
“You look good like that,” I tell her as she cups her hand to shovel what she couldn’t already swallow into her mouth.
“Good enough to fuck or are you just going to use me for my mouth?” Her tone is a little challenging. Clearly, she’d like me to stick my dick into another of her holes, but I spot Professor Hotty-son exiting the student union with a coffee in her hand. No doubt she’s on her way to her next class to provide other young men with the thought of bending her over in front of a classroom — you know, quality masturbation fodder.
“Later,” I tell Karah, making a firm mental note to take her up on her holes.
She pulls one of her breasts out of the bustier and licks her nipple. “You know where to find me.”
I approach Professor Hotty-son kneels with the customary proclamation of “Your Grace.”
“You know you don’t have to kneel for me. After all, I’m your secret lover.”
Said, it becomes true, and her eyes shift from respect to longing.
Her voice is breathy and sexually charged. “Just tell me where and when, you know how much I need you.”
“I mean, now works for me.” I touch her arm like a lover would and feel her yearning as she pushes against my touch, “Wanna find an open classroom and live out my fantasy?”
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “Does it involve my legs in the air as you pound met on the desk at the front of the room?”
I think I actually blush, but I take control again. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
She looks around to see if we have any spectators to our little secret affair and when she’s sure that we don’t, she grabs my hand and leads me into the nearest building. We find an open classroom and the moment the door shuts behind us, she starts to shed her clothes and I follow suit. In all honesty, half of what made Professor Hotty-son so attractive was the impossibility of her. Now that I’ve made her quite possible, I take a moment to assess her as she stands naked in front of me, waiting for me. It’s entirely reasonable to mark her as a nine, but I grade her on a curve, bump her up to ten status in my rankings and remove my pants, ready to impale her on my rigid cock.
I flex just once on entry. I want to see and feel what it’s like for Professor Hotty-son to orgasm. She doesn’t disappoint. She goes absolutely wild, thrashing and biting her lip to the point of almost drawing blood when she isn’t screaming out in pleasure.
I take my time, not ready to release my hold on my hard-on until I properly work her to her next climax with no cheating. Her breasts aren’t as big as Juggs, but they’re no less impressive. Professor Hotty-son has an all-over tan and she keeps her body in tip-top shape.
Between thrusts, I ask, “Do you do yoga?”
She manages to answer, “All of the time, you?”
“Oh. Sure. I do yoga all of the time.”
Once said, I feel my body tighten up, but feel more pliable at the same time. I’m now a yoga master on top of being a cock master. It’s a good thing, but I have to be careful with what I say and how I say it. Who knows what consequences a flippant comment could bring?
I’m so lost in thought that I nearly forget about the woman below me and the fact that we’re playing out my fantasy of fucking a professor on the classroom desk, her tits shaking with each of my thrusts.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I tell her and the compliment sets her off.
Feeling no need to hold back any longer, I release inside of her — not a gallon, but enough to ensure that when she stands, some will surely leak out. But before that happens, I drop a command on her. “Keep your legs in the air. I want to make sure you produce a royal heir. Lineage is everything, am I right? Didn’t we learn something about that in your class?”
She looks at me lovingly. “You’re so thoughtful. I’m so glad you’re mine.”
And I am. Both thoughtful and hers. At least now. Now that she’s said it. I realize that that might not have previously been true, but it’s true now and I accept it as such. I feel blessed and lucky to have her.
“You’re going to make an honest woman of me soon,” she says with a smile, starting to get dressed.
I find a ring box in my pocket. I get down on a knee and propose to her. “You shouldn’t have to be just a secret lover. I want you to be my wife. There’s no other woman out there for me. I’ll love you forever and I hope you say yes. Will you be my Queen?”
I bite the insides of my cheeks, nervous that I’ve made a fool of myself. If this woman, this goddess, doesn’t say yes, I don’t know what I’ll do. She’s my only shot at love. I’d be devastated if she said no.
Through some tears, she manages to nod before the “yes” escapes her mouth.
I should have my mind set firmly on my future Queen, but it drifts off to a promise I made to my cock not to long ago to bury it deeply in Karah the slut’s pussy.
“I have to be honest with you. I’m not the kind of guy to be faithful. But then again, I probably wouldn’t be with someone who wasn’t open to me fucking and fucking around, right?”
“You’ll let me watch?” She asks.
Hearing that, I realize that I couldn’t love this woman more. Sure, I’ll fuck around, because that’s in my nature, but my heart will only belong to her.
“Of course, I’ll let you watch. I wouldn’t want to get off without you there watching or joining in.”
Share and share alike. That’s just our relationship. I feel little pangs of guilt having taken Juggs and Karah earlier without her, but there’s time enough in front of us to rectify that.
“You know Karah from your history class?”
Professor Hotty-son smiles wickedly. “The dark-skinned skanky slut?”
“That’s the one. You want to take turns making her scream out my name?”
She kisses me, hard, with a lot of tongue, pulling away to say, “Sounds like a perfect engagement present to me.”
As we walk toward Karah’s dorm, I hear some girl I don’t know whisper to another, “If he weren’t King, he’d still pull a beauty like that. I hear his penis is almost too much for a girl to take in.”
My flaccid cock snakes down my pant leg. I can tell that, when hard, it’s primed to destroy some pussies.
The other girl says, “Yeah, I’ve heard that, too. He’s got the kind of cock that belongs in pornos.”
A life I hadn’t lived filters into my mind. It’s debaucherous and wonderful — an entire line of King porn.
The first girl responds back, “You’d have to be really fucking freaky to want to fuck him.”
I look at Professor Hotty-son. Any ounce of propriety she used to possess drained out of her. She wears a mesh shirt that shows that’s the only thing she’s wearing, with pierced nipples, tattoos, and high boots. Fuck if the killer dick in my pants doesn’t stir at the sight.
I step over to the two girls who prostrate themselves at my presence. “Thank you, ladies. I’ve got a keen eye for talent and I can see that you are clearly women who’ve fucked me on video in the past.”
The coeds become a pair of tarted up twin whores.
“Where’s the crew?” Twin 1 asks before Twin 2 asks, “And when do we screw?”
I look to formerly a professor Hotty-son. “Orgy?”
She licks her lips. “Orgy.”
I am ready to live my best life when I see a prude, judging me out of the corner of my eye. I somehow know that she will be my undoing. She should be out of earshot for me, but I can still make out her words as she speaks them. “He thinks he’s something special, but he’s really nothing. It’s all in his head.”
“Noooooo….” I think, like a villain watching all his plans unravel.
I find my eyes closed. I’m laying on steps. I open my eyes to find Karah, proper and stuck-up Karah and not properly slutty Karah, standing above me.
“Was it real?” I ask.
“Did you see the error of your ways?” She asks, lording above me.
“Not really,” I say. “Let’s try that all again, shall we?”
RUSTY CARDIFF
If history teaches us anything, it’s that it’s booooring.
And if it weren’t for the hottie teaching me, and the random specimens of sexiness spread throughout the auditorium style room, I’d be out the door, dropping this class faster than a virgin drops his first load, regardless of the slag he’s fucking.
Speaking of slags to be fucked, the only girl hotter than the professor in this class is the exotic one sitting behind me. She always wears skirts, but damn if she didn’t go to charm school and shit, because every time I turn around to try and catch a nice peek up, she’s got her legs properly crossed. Fuck my luck.
Eventually, I learn that her name is Zarah. Not from her, mind you, she’s too “good” to speak to me. I learn it through the grapevine. That’s not all the grapevine is useful for, though. Since she’s too holier than thou to deign speak to me, I get word spread that she’s done more with her mouth and pussy to my cock than a good girl should.
Professor Hotty-son (not her real name, just one that properly suits her) finishes up class and Zarah blocks my path. I guess word about our romps got back to her. She puts her hand on my chest and starts spouting out nonsense. It sounds like gibberish, but I’m not so stupid as to think that it’s not whatever language they speak where she’s from. By the look on her face, I can tell she’s cursing up a storm.
She finishes up saying, “There, that will suit you,” in proper English.
“What’ll suit me?” I say, defiantly.
“You like to speak about others, and spread rumors as if they were true. Now, everything that is said about you will become true.”
“You expect me to believe you’re like a gypsy or something?” I ask her.
“That is not the preferred term, actually, but —“
“Well, if you’re a gypsy, I’m the King of All That Is and Ever Was.”
Zarah bows down in front of me, “Your Grace.”
“Ha! I guess your sense of humor is as good as your ass.”
“Thank you, your Grace.”
I’m impressed that she just took that as a compliment and didn’t come back at me. She’s still kneeling when I leave the room. I like a girl with a good sense of humor — it makes the pre- and post-fuck times more bearable. Maybe I misjudged her. I foresee us living out that rumor I spread in the reasonably near future. But fuck if I don’t foresee myself plowing every hot chick I come across. What can I say? I’m insatiable.
Weirdness seems to follow me around the college campus, as everyone I pass bows when walk by. There’s no way Zarah could have orchestrated something like this on this kind of scale.
I walk up to a particularly tasty morsel, her bow giving me a great look down her shirt and into a fuck-worthy valley of cleavage. “Why are you bowing?”
She avoids my gaze. “We’re all taught from an early age to show proper respect to the King of All That Is and Ever Was.”
“Fuck…” I say.
Zarah must really be some kind of gypsy or something. What did she say? That things said about me will be come true? And then I jokingly declared myself King and now I am King? Shit, if that’s the case, then everything’s coming up Rusty from now on.
“You want to fuck me,” I tell Juggs Aplenty; not her real name — which I don’t know — but a good description of her nonetheless.
“If Your Grace commands, I have to obey… but…”
Hmm. It’s clear by her hesitation that she doesn’t want to fuck me. I mean, it’s cool that as King I have the sort of power to just command her, but the real power’s in whatever made me King in the first place. A bit of experimentation is required.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say.
That changes nothing. She still seems hesitant even though I’m really ready to go. Of course, I wanted to fuck her since the moment I saw her tatas.
I nearly slap my head, I’m so fucking stupid. It has to be about me. I can’t tell her to want to fuck me, because that’s not about me… but I can make it so that she does want to.
“I am the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. I am the kind of guy that you just look at and you get wet and uncontrollably horny and you just have to be with.”
Whatever hesitation Juggs had previously evaporates. I watch as she looks up at me and instantly shifts from zero to slut. She undresses me with her eyes just like I’d been undressing her. Then, I drop my pants and she takes her shirt and bra off, showing tremendous tits with big pink areola and nipples. I’m hard at the sight.
I wonder if Kings have the privilege of fucking subjects on the lawn of the quad without being interrupted. I test this out, enjoying a wonderful and thankfully uninterrupted titfuck from Juggs. It really is good to be the King.
Loving life, I decide to take my experiments further. “I can get hard at will and keep it hard for as long as I want. When I cum, I can cum gallons if I choose to. Whenever I flex my dick inside of a girl, she orgasms.”
It doesn’t take much convincing to get Juggs to also lose her pants and panties, as I’m still hard and she hasn’t been serviced by me yet. And she absolutely craves to be serviced by my still-hard cock. She’s slick to the touch, hot and ready for me.
The moment I’m inside her, I flex my dick and, sure enough, she orgasms. I start to flex in rapid succession, bringing her to her climax over and over again. What starts as screamed out yeses become barely coherent grunts. For all I know she’s cumming her brains out and that’s alright by me. Not hearing any complaints from her, either.
“When I cum on or inside of a girl, she derives pleasure by offering up to be mine to command.”
That said, I cum inside Juggs and watch her jerky motions with every orgasmic movement of my cock subside into a slightly glazed-over look to her eyes when I’m done flooding her insides with my seed.
“Please, command me,” she begs.
“Stand up,” I command and she does excitedly.
“Yell out that your my fucking whore-slut.”
She yells, “I’m Your Grace’s fucking whore-slut.” Then, just for the two of us, she adds a pleasured, “Oh yes.”
Oh, yes is right. This is fun.
Looking her over with the clarity of having just cum, I see that I could do better than Juggs. She’s got great tits, sure, but the rest of her is only average at best. She’s a seven. She doesn’t warrant someone of my stature. I deserve tens from this point forward.
To prove I’m a benevolent ruler, I command, “Offer your body up to anyone you see. If they say yes, do whatever they want you to until they’re done with you. If they say no, or whenever they’re done with you, repeat the process. Each time you do this, you’ll get even more turned on by the idea of it. I’m sure you can’t wait to get started, so… off you go.”
She moans out a delighted “mmm…”
A little something for her. A little something for my people. I don’t want to have all of the fun. Most of it, sure, but not all of it. I can share when I want to.
I watch as Juggs, still naked, walks up to a random guy on the quad. Not long after, she’s walking away with him. Her first satisfied partner. I’m a giver, she’s a giver, everybody wins. If I weren’t already King, I’m sure the people would elect me as such.
Karah marches across campus toward me. She’s got a look unbefitting a subject and a head full of steam.
I stop her in her tracks with a well-timed, “Wait. I know what you’re going to say.”
And I do. She was going to use this “curse” of hers against me, turning me into a toad or the like. I don’t like that idea all that much.
“In all of my years walking this planet, I’ve never met a bigger sex-crazed skank of a girl than you.”
Before the statement, Karah was the kind of girl who crossed her legs all of the time in class when you just wanted a glimpse of what color panties she’s wearing.
After, however, I’m certain the lascivious girl doesn’t own a pair of panties.
She wears fishnet stockings — ripped on purpose or from a recent tryst — an incredibly short vinyl skirt, a bustier, and a lot of makeup. She looks like she went in for a whore makeover and asked for and received “the works.”
Through the sex haze clouding her mind, I can tell she’s trying to regain her bearings and lay down her attack on me, I launch another preemptive attack of my own, “And I’m your best friend with benefits. I’m sure that, because of that friendship that you and I share, you’d only do things for my benefit and never against me.
The scornful look on her face softens. “Hey buddy,” she says in a jovial voice, “thoughts on a midday fuck?”
“Shit, Karah, if you didn’t want a midday fuck from me, why would you wear that outfit?”
“Why do you think I wore the outfit, Rusty?”
I have the feeling this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
That, or it’s the feeling of Karah’s long red nailed hand gripping my cock through my pants.
Or both, it doesn’t have to be a mutually exclusive sort of thing.
Karah clocked in as an easy ten and now that she’s had a bit of an “easy” makeover, she’s a ten and a half.
I drop my pants to the ground below, saying, “I’ve never met a girl who could give a better blow job than you.”
She blesses me with her talented mouth. I don’t hold off at all. I could, but I choose not to. I want to bless her in return with my cum. I erupt in her mouth, but by the time I’m past a mouth full, I pull away and coat her face entirely.
“You look good like that,” I tell her as she cups her hand to shovel what she couldn’t already swallow into her mouth.
“Good enough to fuck or are you just going to use me for my mouth?” Her tone is a little challenging. Clearly, she’d like me to stick my dick into another of her holes, but I spot Professor Hotty-son exiting the student union with a coffee in her hand. No doubt she’s on her way to her next class to provide other young men with the thought of bending her over in front of a classroom — you know, quality masturbation fodder.
“Later,” I tell Karah, making a firm mental note to take her up on her holes.
She pulls one of her breasts out of the bustier and licks her nipple. “You know where to find me.”
I approach Professor Hotty-son kneels with the customary proclamation of “Your Grace.”
“You know you don’t have to kneel for me. After all, I’m your secret lover.”
Said, it becomes true, and her eyes shift from respect to longing.
Her voice is breathy and sexually charged. “Just tell me where and when, you know how much I need you.”
“I mean, now works for me.” I touch her arm like a lover would and feel her yearning as she pushes against my touch, “Wanna find an open classroom and live out my fantasy?”
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “Does it involve my legs in the air as you pound met on the desk at the front of the room?”
I think I actually blush, but I take control again. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
She looks around to see if we have any spectators to our little secret affair and when she’s sure that we don’t, she grabs my hand and leads me into the nearest building. We find an open classroom and the moment the door shuts behind us, she starts to shed her clothes and I follow suit. In all honesty, half of what made Professor Hotty-son so attractive was the impossibility of her. Now that I’ve made her quite possible, I take a moment to assess her as she stands naked in front of me, waiting for me. It’s entirely reasonable to mark her as a nine, but I grade her on a curve, bump her up to ten status in my rankings and remove my pants, ready to impale her on my rigid cock.
I flex just once on entry. I want to see and feel what it’s like for Professor Hotty-son to orgasm. She doesn’t disappoint. She goes absolutely wild, thrashing and biting her lip to the point of almost drawing blood when she isn’t screaming out in pleasure.
I take my time, not ready to release my hold on my hard-on until I properly work her to her next climax with no cheating. Her breasts aren’t as big as Juggs, but they’re no less impressive. Professor Hotty-son has an all-over tan and she keeps her body in tip-top shape.
Between thrusts, I ask, “Do you do yoga?”
She manages to answer, “All of the time, you?”
“Oh. Sure. I do yoga all of the time.”
Once said, I feel my body tighten up, but feel more pliable at the same time. I’m now a yoga master on top of being a cock master. It’s a good thing, but I have to be careful with what I say and how I say it. Who knows what consequences a flippant comment could bring?
I’m so lost in thought that I nearly forget about the woman below me and the fact that we’re playing out my fantasy of fucking a professor on the classroom desk, her tits shaking with each of my thrusts.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I tell her and the compliment sets her off.
Feeling no need to hold back any longer, I release inside of her — not a gallon, but enough to ensure that when she stands, some will surely leak out. But before that happens, I drop a command on her. “Keep your legs in the air. I want to make sure you produce a royal heir. Lineage is everything, am I right? Didn’t we learn something about that in your class?”
She looks at me lovingly. “You’re so thoughtful. I’m so glad you’re mine.”
And I am. Both thoughtful and hers. At least now. Now that she’s said it. I realize that that might not have previously been true, but it’s true now and I accept it as such. I feel blessed and lucky to have her.
“You’re going to make an honest woman of me soon,” she says with a smile, starting to get dressed.
I find a ring box in my pocket. I get down on a knee and propose to her. “You shouldn’t have to be just a secret lover. I want you to be my wife. There’s no other woman out there for me. I’ll love you forever and I hope you say yes. Will you be my Queen?”
I bite the insides of my cheeks, nervous that I’ve made a fool of myself. If this woman, this goddess, doesn’t say yes, I don’t know what I’ll do. She’s my only shot at love. I’d be devastated if she said no.
Through some tears, she manages to nod before the “yes” escapes her mouth.
I should have my mind set firmly on my future Queen, but it drifts off to a promise I made to my cock not to long ago to bury it deeply in Karah the slut’s pussy.
“I have to be honest with you. I’m not the kind of guy to be faithful. But then again, I probably wouldn’t be with someone who wasn’t open to me fucking and fucking around, right?”
“You’ll let me watch?” She asks.
Hearing that, I realize that I couldn’t love this woman more. Sure, I’ll fuck around, because that’s in my nature, but my heart will only belong to her.
“Of course, I’ll let you watch. I wouldn’t want to get off without you there watching or joining in.”
Share and share alike. That’s just our relationship. I feel little pangs of guilt having taken Juggs and Karah earlier without her, but there’s time enough in front of us to rectify that.
“You know Karah from your history class?”
Professor Hotty-son smiles wickedly. “The dark-skinned skanky slut?”
“That’s the one. You want to take turns making her scream out my name?”
She kisses me, hard, with a lot of tongue, pulling away to say, “Sounds like a perfect engagement present to me.”
As we walk toward Karah’s dorm, I hear some girl I don’t know whisper to another, “If he weren’t King, he’d still pull a beauty like that. I hear his penis is almost too much for a girl to take in.”
My flaccid cock snakes down my pant leg. I can tell that, when hard, it’s primed to destroy some pussies.
The other girl says, “Yeah, I’ve heard that, too. He’s got the kind of cock that belongs in pornos.”
A life I hadn’t lived filters into my mind. It’s debaucherous and wonderful — an entire line of King porn.
The first girl responds back, “You’d have to be really fucking freaky to want to fuck him.”
I look at Professor Hotty-son. Any ounce of propriety she used to possess drained out of her. She wears a mesh shirt that shows that’s the only thing she’s wearing, with pierced nipples, tattoos, and high boots. Fuck if the killer dick in my pants doesn’t stir at the sight.
I step over to the two girls who prostrate themselves at my presence. “Thank you, ladies. I’ve got a keen eye for talent and I can see that you are clearly women who’ve fucked me on video in the past.”
The coeds become a pair of tarted up twin whores.
“Where’s the crew?” Twin 1 asks before Twin 2 asks, “And when do we screw?”
I look to formerly a professor Hotty-son. “Orgy?”
She licks her lips. “Orgy.”
I am ready to live my best life when I see a prude, judging me out of the corner of my eye. I somehow know that she will be my undoing. She should be out of earshot for me, but I can still make out her words as she speaks them. “He thinks he’s something special, but he’s really nothing. It’s all in his head.”
“Noooooo….” I think, like a villain watching all his plans unravel.
I find my eyes closed. I’m laying on steps. I open my eyes to find Karah, proper and stuck-up Karah and not properly slutty Karah, standing above me.
“Was it real?” I ask.
“Did you see the error of your ways?” She asks, lording above me.
“Not really,” I say. “Let’s try that all again, shall we?”