"Ahhhhhhhhh!" the professor gasped, feeding her more of his thick cock, his eyelids fluttering shut as the slithery drapery of her cunt swarmed over his aching bone.

Joselyn could do nothing to stop or ever slow the mind-numbing penetration. It felt like he was shoving a telephone pole up her pussy and the thing's girth was ironing out all the ridges and valleys, the slick corrugations of her channel. It just kept coming and coming, the upper surface of the shaft sawing over her clitoris, the knob end jamming deeper and deeper until she was afraid that it would pop out between her teeth.

Velasquez gave her everything he had. He only stopped when the huge root of his cock was pressed tight to her distorted orifice, when his balls nuzzled between her buttocks. He lay there on top of her, panting, gasping obscenely, his face flushed with excitement.

Her face was flushed, too, and contorted in a grimace of pain. The incredibly broad base of his penis was wedged into her, ripping the mouth of her cunt wide open. She was pronged to the hairs, utterly helpless. And every time his cock throbbed, pushing out in all directions against the already tautly stretched sheath of her pussy, she let out a strangled yelp.

If she expected any kind of mercy from him, she was sorely disappointed. The swarthy professor seemed to delight in her squeals and he purposefully flexed his cock, watching the gamut of emotion pass over her face as the bloated shaft swelled within her. And when the novelty of that diversion wore off, he began to move his lips.