"Oh, oooh, oh fuck yeah!" Michelle moaned lowdly, no longer concerned with anyone hearing her. My hips slammed against her fat black ass as I rammed my cock in and out of her ebony pussy. Each thrust seemed to bring her more pleasure as what was once just elated sighs and occasional coos had progressively turned into roars and screams of ecstacy. It was hot, the way she had gone from my Gender Studies professor who clearly had a distaste for most men, to suddenly letting me fuck her doggy style without so much as a hint of hesitation. She tensed up, her vagina clamping around my dick. She was close, I wasn't. This encouraged me to go even harder. Like a jackhammer I picked up the pace, barely exiting her before I was slamming my dick full force against her womb, like I was trying to enter her.
I'm Jethro, by the way. Nineteen years old and happily married. Oh, but Michelle's not my wife. Now, I know what you're thinking: 'Asshole!' Yeah, a year ago I would have said the same thing but-
Another feminine moan sounded from the corner of the classroom. I looked over to a younger woman, looking barely eighteen and eagerly rubbing herself. That was Lara, my wife, and yes, this was all her idea. Michelle had just finished a particularly anti-male rant that class session which had thoroughly annoyed Lara. She loved men, and above all loved me, so I wasn't surprised by her frustration. I was, however, surprised when Lara stopped me from leaving and all but pantsed me in front of Michelle, who also wasted no time in tending to my erect cock. 'Fuck her brains out' Lara had whispered to me telepathically. I didn't protest, it did no good to anyway. Once Lara set her mind on something, nothing would dissuade her. Now she sat in the professor's chair at her desk, rubbing her slit and clit while I was working on giving Professor Michelle Bachman a fourth round of cumming. "Oh, oh, oh, oooooh....!" She finally tensed her last just as her pussy convulsed and a steady stream of clear fluid erupted from her vag, coating me, her, and the floor. Her legs quivered and gave out. I did the gentlemanly thing and reached up to guide her fall. She now laid on her back on the hard tile floor, her firm C-cup boobs heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. I was still hard, Michelle staring at my 8" member in disbelief.
"Keep going," came a sexy sigh from Lara. I looked up at her, my wife leaning back in the professor's chair, legs spread, giving me the perfect view of her pussy as she rubbed her clit. "I'm not done yet," she noted, seeing I was about to protest.
"But hun, she's already cum four times," I replied. I don't know why I protested. It never did any good. I knew how this was going to end. Michelle would be a sex covered mess on the floor having come maybe a dozen or so times, my balls would be empty, and Lara would have come two or three times. What else could I really expect of a succubus.
"But Jethro, she still wants more, don't you Michelle?" Lara cooed.
"Oh," Michelle moaned, her eyes turning pink for a second before returning to their dark brown hue. I had seen that magic before, felt it before. It was one of Lara's favorite tricks: take a person and reguvenate their energy and their lust. She could keep sex going indefinitely if she wanted to, and from the looks of things, I really would 'fuck her brains out.' Michelle spread her legs and smiled, her sweat and exhaustion seeming to disappear as though she had just taken a shower and a 12 hour nap. "Fuck me," she pleaded, reaching over a finger to stroke lips absent-mindedly.
"You heard the lady," Lara encouraged. "Fuck her."
"Will you let me cum this time?" I grinned.
"Oh, don't worry, hun. You'll fill her up to the brim," Lara answered.
I knelt down onto the floor and pushed my white meat against Michelle's pussy. She gasped with anticipation just before I plunged my long, thick shaft into her snatch. Perhaps you're wondering how this odd turn of events came to be. Well, for that we'll have to go back about a year ago.
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I had just turned 18 and had graduated highschool that year. It was summer and I had been working a job at the local supercenter. I worked odd hours and without a car I found myself walking home most of the time. I had been working since I was fourteen, saving up money to hopefully pay for college and a beater vehicle to commute to and from. I had to admit, I was jealous of my adopted sister for having all that taken care of. Don't get my wrong, I was thrilled that my adoptive family took me in but... sometimes I wondered if I was just an afterthought. Anyway, I was usually working up until closing which was around ten at night, and would then stay behind to help close up. By the time I finally finished everything and left work, it would be around 11 to 11:30 at night. Now I know what you're thinking: "What kind of idiot walks home that late by themselves?" Well, I tried to be smart about it. I took all the streets that were well-lit, well-populated, and well... safe. I even bought a spray can of mace just in case. No, I didn't buy a gun. I was saving up remember? Anyway, there I was walking home in the middle of July. In about four weeks I would be going to college, and in about two weeks I'd have enough for a car. Nothing too fancy, just something that runs. I turned on the last road leading up to my house. It wasn't very long and there was no sign of trouble so I really thought of nothing but the comfortable bed I finally got to sleep in. Just as a neared a community dumpster I heard a groan. It was coming from a dark alleyway adjacent to the garbage dumping ground. It was very narrow, barely able to fit a single person, and was usually filled with whatever trash didn't fit in the community dumpsters. At first I ignored it, thinking it was just a figment of my imagination. Yet as I neared, the noise came again. I stopped wondering if I should risk personal safety to investigate. My good samaritan instincts overrid my caution and I approached the opening. In a pile of garbage lay what appeared to be a young woman, perhaps no older than me. She had shoulder-length black hair and wore a dress that made her look like a princess out of a fairy tale.
"Hello? Are you okay?" I asked. She remained silent for a moment, long enough that I was tempted to poke her with a stick.
"Hrng," came a groan as I was just about to dial 911 on my flip phone. "Could... could you please... I need help," she murmured in the most feminine voice I had ever heard. I was more stunned that she replied than anything else.
"S-sure," I replied, trying my best to sound authoritative and comforting. "Are-are you hurt anywhere? Would you like some water?"
"You- you would help me?" the girl asked, raising herself up with her arms.
"I'll do what I can," I replied, spying a line of cleavage from the top of her dress.
"You promise?" she asked.
"Promise?"
"Do you promise to do anything you can to help me?"
I paused. That was a very unusual way to put a request for help. Was this some kind of test? There didn't seem to be anyone else around waiting to jump me. What should I do?