40[F] professor spoiled me 22[M] for two years…

2011. The college year started differently for me. Having dropped out once, I knew I had to do well and stay focused on grades. And I tried my best. But there was one class I found myself more distracted than the rest. A kind of prep course students had to participate in.

I wasn’t particularly happy about the placement, but the professor… She was like no one I’d ever seen or met. Genuine, kind, and beautiful.

An Irish sweetheart, complete with a biting humor and intoxicating desire for life.

So the semester came and went. A few flirtations exchanged. A few long conversations after class and even some in her office. Nothing crossed a line. Until the last day.

As my young and oblivious classmates exited the room, I stayed for a chat as I had done many times. Except this time I got up the courage and asked her for a drink.

Stunned, and noticeably flattered, she accepted, knowing I was of age and that the conversation would not be dull at least. We laughed at the irony of it all. A professor and a (now) former student. Cliché to a disgusting degree. Yet we had established a good rapport, so we decided on a dive bar.

We hit it off.

We laughed about ninety percent of the time we shared that first year. It was love and total bliss. She lived with her aging mother and two small dogs, whom I grew incredibly attached to as well..

We were truly in love. Blissful and unexpected love.

Sexually, we were insatiable. Neither one was truly aware of how much we really affected each other.

Now, I have to make an aside here. What I’m writing is true. But these coming details will make it seem fictional or the work of a teenage boy. It is pure non-fiction.

To put it one way, she is voluptuous. I mean, many women have large breasts. That is not what I mean. Her breasts are dirty magazine spread worthy — heavy, perfectly rounded, softly hanging balloons (for lack of a better word). In fact, that is a perfect way to imagine them. Like extra large, inflated, upside down balloons. Sensual masses of pure reproductive excess. Her nipples seated beautifully atop, ever slightly pointed upward, a rare sight for those sorts of breasts.

They are a sight to behold. For those more interested in a visual, think Lucy Wilde with a slightly shorter, thicker body and rid of her youthful glow. If you don’t know who she is, Google her. You’ll thank me later.

Back to her.

Her eyes are sky blue. Like a translucent sea with life brimming underneath. Her hair was dyed a warm blonde. She is very cute, to be frank. A small, straight nose, wide smile. Small dimples at the corners of her mouth.

A delight to look at. And play with…

Now, and, please excuse this part as well. I embellish nothing for your pleasure in this. I am a WELL endowed male. Which is nothing to really be proud of. But, she loved it and very frequently loved on it.

I recognize now I was a sometimes greedy lover then; however, she never complained and often asked to bring me to orgasm when the chance arose.

She had a healthy appetite for cum, begging for me to finish in her mouth or on her breasts, the latter of which she would rub all over and ‘keep’ as her reward.

I recall many evenings sitting on her back porch with my swollen cock in her hands and mouth, her voice whispering erotic fantasies we shared (or I had shared and pushed her to share) about orgies, swinging, gangbang scenarios, cuckolding, and homoerotic visions of sharing her body and sexuality with other endowed men.

Her soft hands tugged up and down, with her massive breasts pulled out of their enclosure, slowly swinging with the force of her arms, hanging low enough to caress the base of my cock and my balls. Their weight and mass adding extra pleasure and sensation to her expert hand massaging of my dick.

Between salicious remarks and her firm pumping of my shaft, she’d bring her mouth over the head of my cock and wet me, her cheeks contracting as she suctioned my member into the back of her mouth, where the sensation of her soft wet tissue wrapping and sucking sent me into a fever.

As I throbbed inside her warm mouth, she ran her tongue around my girth, salivating and providing every nerve of my cock with ecstasy.

She whispered, “I need cock and cum… More cock… Give me your cum.”

Sometimes, we played out real scenarios, and she was adept at this, staying in character, pushing boundaries together with me.

“I want both your cocks in my mouth, I want you to fill my whole mouth with your hard cocks. Please fill me… I want another cock right here, in my mouth. I need it.”

On another occasion, she asked, ” what will you do when you see me covered in cum?”

“Add to the pile.”

“Yes….”

It was an awakening for me. My fantasies of group sex, cuckolding, all shared with the perfect person.

On every occasion, she played vigorously and with incredible realism and thoughtfulness, only deepening my desires to share her and fulfill those same fantasies.

On that same porch, where most of our sexual exploits occurred, she would get me aroused only to climb over my lap, very often wearing a skirt or dress, and use my cock as her very own sex toy.

She was always wet. My last three partners, all my age, could only hope. She was sexually charged and ready for penetration at the slightest tease of her soft pink lips. It was remarkable.

She often looked up and away, as if spellbound, riding to her own rhythm, her hairy and wet blonde pussy reaching orgasm and wetting our laps, legs shaking as I threw her weight (and breasts, greedily) on my own chest to fuck her deeply, thrusting underneath her, her soft white ass bouncing steadily on my lap, and satisfying both of our desire to continue until we were awash with ecstasy mixed with sweat, and often, her tears from the overwhelming sensations we shared.

She got her money’s worth for the patio furniture.

We enjoyed it outdoors, the thrill, the heat, the sweat as we collided over and over until we were satiated, her breasts dripping with our combined sweat, draped over my face, a boy’s dream.

It almost became ritual. Foreplay. Fantasy. Sex. Everytime, she released my hot cum as if it were her duty, a sacrifice and tribute to her sexual hold over me, a physical token to let her know I was hers. Her pleading almost like a caretaker, as if getting a child to take his medicine. “Please. Give me your cum tonight.”

Every week or so, she’d beg I don’t cum for days, to save it for her. And I did. She got her tribute.

We traveled often, making a habit of packing up and exploring places together. It was one of the only ways to achieve real privacy, so we relished in that. In hotel rooms, in beach condos, in the car itself, we were completely over-sexed.

While we never got to fulfill some of those erotic fantasies we had, the thrill of our mutual sexual freedom made it so every orgasm was an awakening.

There was another layer to all of this, which perhaps brought your attention to this post. Although we hardly discussed it explicitly or at length, the age difference and ‘taboo’ of our sexual relationship.

I will state. I do not have a particular fetish or kink for older women. Since our separation, I will on occasion seek out porn or erotica about the subject, driven by memory and looking to recapture that fleeting feeling.

We both enjoyed it. It was apparent physically in some ways (although not to a great degree), but it was something else. We knew the sexual relationship was temporary, like we were playing with fire. A woman twice my age milking my college cock every chance she got, squirming and squirting on its girth.

And she loved it. Needed it.

In her office. In the car. At friend’s house’s. Everywhere we could. Some times not even sex.

“Pull out your cock.”

A command. Like she owned it. Taking it in her mouth like it fed her. Like she starved without it, forcing my cum into her body once more, safe and sound, her need satisfied by blowing her young boyfriend’s large pretty dick when she wanted. Her reward.

On our trips, we hit the town as a couple and weren’t shy about affection nor excessive. It was a privilege we didn’t have back home where many people recognized us anywhere we went.

After a night out, we hid away to our lodgings, desperate to fuck each other and relive the same sexual ecstasy we shared over and over.

I get aroused now, as I write this, picturing her wriggling underneath me on a bed somewhere, guttural animal noises in the air, the mass of her bloated pale breasts swaying in circular patterns as my girthy, long mixed-race cock dug into her soaking hole in one persistent rhythm, my thrusting not rarely rewarded with a warm cocktail of juices squirting unto my member and my groin area. I can recall the feeling of her juices sliding down my balls and taint, my cock only harder as her pelvis contracted under my pistoning hips.

I came inside her almost every time, with no regard for contraceptives, emptying my throbbing pole per her request, her voice the voice of relief, of wanting, of joy.

It seems whenever I try, I remember that scene. Not knowing when or where it happened, but remembering it lovingly. Her beautiful body bare on a bed that wasn’t ours, glistening with sweat, filled with my hot seed, a few tears in her eyes, and laughing. Laughing at how little anything really meant, at how insignificant our problems were outside that bedroom.

But we knew it would end some day. At least that stage in our relationship, and it did. Painfully. Stubbornly.

We still talk from time to time. Always lovingly. Sometimes sexually, although I admit that is more my desire than hers.

I recall one evening back then, talking about sex, as was not odd for us to do. Telling her I wish I could video tape our sex life, capturing that pure sexual form of hers. I was surprised when she replied that she would be open to it. When I said we’d make sure to cover her face, she replied simply, “I don’t care if people see.”

That energy. The careless freedom of pure sex. That was her. An exceptional woman released of her own sexual inhibitions by a young man only beginning to explore his own.

And me. A lucky man to have dropped out of college.

Neither of us ever finding that fine line between fantasy, pure sex, and love once again.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/t2zk9b/40f_professor_spoiled_me_22m_for_two_years