Squeezed

"Alright, Sam. Give me one second..."

She stood up next to him, undoing her skirt and letting it fall. The red blouse remained, partly crinkled, hanging halfway down her hips. She lifted it up, and, still smirking to herself, peeled her underwear down to the floor, stepping out of it and kicking it away.

Sam was dead silent, his eyes following her movements. What was coming next was obvious, but he could barely believe it. Even as she lifted one bare leg over the chair, her knees digging in to the fabric on either side of his waist. She spoke very, very softly. "I don't even know whether I can take you, Sam." He couldn't make out anything through the red fabric, but as she brought herself lower into a squat, her hips became rounder once more, their soft skin curving outward from beneath the blouse. "It might take me a minute to get used to it. Okay?"

He didn't respond. His cock, still ragingly hard, was doing all the talking. As usual, she didn't wait for acknowledgement before acting. She brought one hand down and gripped his cock just below the head, the other lifting her blouse to pull the thing behind the curtain of soft fabric. As the tip made contact with her, he felt a warmth and slimy wetness that caused his pelvic muscles to instinctively tighten once more. Looking up, he could see her eyes were closed in concentration, or anticipation; she bent her knees further, lowering herself, and he felt the head of his cock slip inside her body.

Above him, she drew breath, maintaining her focus, and clearly taken by the sensation of him entering her. He gasped, too; he had never felt this before, the moist warmth that was enveloping the tip of his cock and sliding further down, claiming him into her.

A couple of inches in, and she winced, visibly; pausing for a moment, gasping and then letting out a moan of her own, that broke into the same giggling as before. "...wow" she breathed. "Mm... okay..." she seemed to be talking to herself. Wriggling in place, trying to get accustomed to the hardened organ stretching her pussy to an unexpected degree. She lifted herself back up, a small amount, and then pressed her weight back down, welcoming another increment of his length inside herself, screwing her eyes shut and making a strained "nnngggh" sound as it spread her wider.

More giggling. It was as if the sheer size of it, its capacity to overwhelm her, was itself ridiculous. Sam's face felt hot again, and the familiar resentment of objectification, of ridicule for his size, rose up in his chest. He stared intently at her closed eyes, her spectacles sliding down her nose a little, her hair partially covering her pained smile as she attempted to negotiate herself onto him. He looked lower: the bottom of her blouse had piled up on his body, leaving him no visual notion of the deep warmth that was strangling him halfway down his shaft.

Her private commentary carried on, absent any acknowledgement of him besides a deep focus on his cock. He could hear her whispering to herself, punctuated with giggles, as she rose and fell, sinking further and further down his length; eventually coming to what seemed like a final stop, though nowhere near all the way.

She opened her eyes with a piercing stare, breathing heavily, her giggling sporadic and vaguely humiliating. "Jesus, Sam" she breathed. "I didn't imagine it would be... god..."

She placed her hands in front of her legs, steadying herself to bring her feet up in turn to squat where her knees had been. "I think I'll need to do it like this." Flexing her legs, she began lifting herself up and down in longer measures, pulling up a few inches and then sinking back down again, a pained wince and trembling smile each time she hit her limit. The tightness was almost excruciating; the grip of her fingers had been nothing compared to the sensation of the Counsellor's pussy stretching and clamping around him, sliding up and down, each stroke only bringing the most trivial increase of ease. He mirrored her grimace with his own, both of them physically overwhelmed by the too-warm tightness inside her. She let out whimpering, strained grizzling sounds, and he returned breathy groans of uncertain ecstasy at the total arrogance with which she had cornered him, and claimed his cock.

She was no longer practicing a controlled rise and fall, but was bouncing on top of him now, her fingers gripping his shoulders tight, her hips descending with force as she grew accustomed to the stretch. She reared up for a moment, unbuttoning the top of her blouse before pulling the garment up and over her head. Immediately, Sam's eyes darted down, and he saw for the first time the grotesqueness of her vulva gaped around his girth: the membranes of her pussy stretched thin, her clit bared and visible, throbbing red against the pink veins of his cock, themselves now smeared with her wetness.

There was no doubt left in his mind about his abnormality. He couldn't believe how painfully wide he had stretched her, how shockingly uncanny it looked. Equally shocking, still, was the fact that she had barely gotten two-thirds down his length. He had imagined sex as the interlocking of two partners in pleasure, and could see how unrealistic his expectations had been for his size. The thought of doing this to Ellie seemed absurd.

He could see her body clearly now, too, her round hips flanking her tummy, her figure an hourglass with the relaxed softness of her age. She unhooked her bra, letting it fall away, her breasts spilling out and hanging over him as she resumed her hunched bouncing. Her face was close to his, too; now dripping with sweat, brow knotted, glasses at the tip of her nose. Her expression was akin to a horrified grin, sheer disbelief at the mass that she'd managed to fit inside her; the giggling continuous, maniacal. He finally placed it: it was the laughter of someone who was trying to keep from crying. But behind it, she could tell, he was marvelling at the scale of his cock, at the pain of feeling it slide in and out of her. Up close, it felt like she was laughing in his face; the same laughter he'd been subjected to by his fellow students.

It was at this debasement, this physically oppressive objectification, that he started to feel the first tremors building behind the base of his cock.

"I'm... I..."

"Oh my god, yes," Mary trembled, her eyes still closed in thrilled agony. "Do it inside of me, Sam. Make it throb. Please."

His legs began to tremble. The tension in his lower body was peaking, and in an effort to force him past the point of no return, her piston-like bouncing became even more forceful, the tight cunt that was constricting his erection sliding up and down him at speed. The naked, sweaty, crouched body of the Campus Counsellor bearing down on his enormous cock and emitting incessant bursts of moaning laughter as she fucked him to the brink.

His whole body seized, the trembling in his legs turning to violent shaking. His hands had gripped the chair as if holding on for dear life, and now they instinctively grasped at her skin, one claiming a fistful of her right buttock, the other clawing at her back. He arched, moaning loudly, and she collapsed on top of him, holding him tight, her breath rapid and warm in his ear, her breasts crushed against him.

His perineum tightened harder than it ever had done, his cock throbbed, and several plumes of warm semen shot upwards inside her, flooding the Counsellor's cunt and coating his own cock.

She squeezed her knees and arms against him, her sweat soaking into his shirt, smothering him with her body as his orgasm throbbed and surged throughout his, pumping his cum into hers, each shot replacing a portion of his pleasure with warm, post-orgasmic ache. At every throb, every fresh squirt of cum, her body tensed, and she moaned into his neck.

Neither one let go of the other until the tremors died completely. They disentangled themselves, and she reared up above him, pushing her glasses back up her face and panting, exhausted, in time with him.

She began to unbend her knees, lifting herself off him. As his erection, finally, began to fade, it seemed easier for her to move. His cock slid free, and behind it, from her still-gaping hole, his ejaculate spilled generously back onto his balls, and onto the chair beneath him.

She staggered off him, knees trembling. He was still panting in shock at what had transpired. She made her way back across the carpet of her discarded clothes, cum leaking down her thighs and sweat glistening on top of the fingernail marks on her back. She turned, and sat down again in her seat, nude, doing her best to emulate the composure with which she'd sat earlier. Staring back at him with the same analytical intent, which felt more than ever like judgement in spite of the fact that she had contrived the event.

Lying there with his shorts around his ankles, his own cum pooling between his thighs and his softening cock lying there, used and sore, he felt more exposed and with less recourse to comment or question the situation than ever.

"Alright, Sam." Her voice still trembled with exhaustion. She picked up the ledger of notes, glanced for the briefest second, and put them down again. "I can't say we've made much headway in addressing your anger issues in this session. There were a number of obstructions to our discussion today, and I can't say I could sign off on our work just yet." She picked up a black day planner from the table next to her chair, and flipped through it.

"We should have another session to address this properly. Does the same time next week suit you?"

Sam eased himself upright, casting about for a box of tissues.

"Um. Yeah."