Face fuck

"You're so turned on, you can't even think straight, can you? Poor little slut. Just let me guide you," he whispers. He frees his impressive erection from his pants and brings it to my lips. I meet his gaze, my eyes wide. My knees dig into his carpet painfully.

He sighs, and pulls the hair at the nape of my neck, holding my head in place.

"Open your mouth. Don't pretend like you don't want to."

I submit and do as he says. His control over me in this situation is intoxicating. My pussy aches, wanting him to take me in every domineering way I know he can.

These are thoughts that only a mindless slut would have........!

I plant several open-mouthed kisses along his cock, licking just under his head. Gently swirling my tongue around his opening, I work him deeper into my mouth, as far as I can take him.

I pull back, swiping my hand along the wet shaft, using my saliva to stroke and squeeze him as I glide my lips up and down. I glance up at him, cupping his balls in my other hand. Pride swells in my chest and desire pools between my legs as he emits a low moan.

"Fuck," he hisses. I continue stroking and sucking him, enjoying the reward of the small amount of pre-cum on my tongue.

He roughly tangles both hands in my hair, and forcibly controls my head, moving my mouth up and down his length. I deliciously gag on his cock as I feel my lips brush his balls. He continues using my mouth, stopping just before I gag each time.

"Is this what you have been thinking about when you blush at me, you little whore? Do you lay in your little dorm every night, stroking your clit, thinking about me face-fucking you like this in my office?"

He stops and gently pulls my chin upwards, forcing me to look at him. "Answer me," he orders.

My clit throbs with need. My pussy feels so frustratingly empty. I can't even think straight. Mascara-stained tears rim my eyes, and there is saliva dripping from my mouth.

"Yes, sir." My reply comes out as a desperate mewl.

He smirks. "Stand up and bend over the desk."

I do as he says, savoring every ounce of his dominance over me. He gently grips the hem of my skirt, pulling it up over my waist, barely allowing his fingers to graze the back of my thigh. The small touch sends electricity all over my body.

"Do you know how fucking soaked this little thong is, Miss Walsh?"

Every dirty word just about sets me on fire with need. He brushes his fingers ever-so-gently over my panties, just over my folds, stopping just before my clit. I try to grind against his hand, and he withdraws it immediately.

"Greedy slut," he reprimands. "Tell me what you want from me."

"I need you to touch me," I whine.

"Do you?" he taunts in response, toying with the damp scrap of fabric between my legs, rubbing it gently in between my lips.

"Please, Professor," I moan, desperately.