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"...Bathroom's on the right as you leave my office."
She stopped and looked back in confusion.
"Oh, I thought you might want to check and see if you look like you've been fucked over a desk before going anywhere else."
She closed her eyes and shook her head before walking out.
Ah, Heather's mom.
That was fun. Cathartic even. At the time, I wondered if I'd ever get a chance like that again.
******
...and Heather came by the next morning.
I'm Professor Richard Blythe Head. I'm in my mid 40s, and while I'd love to tell you I'm in perfect physical condition with a cock you would all kill to have, I'm not and I don't. I figure part of the charm of my experiences is that I'm real. I'm slightly under six feet tall and somewhere north of 300 pounds. I teach language arts at a large college in a small town, and I don't actually live for the shenanigans I describe here, but, when an opportunity falls in my lap, I grab it by the ass and hold on for the ride.
If you made it this far, then I thank you for the time and attention you spent here. You managed to read more of my writing than around half of my students!
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