Big Timmy The College Years
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(The following is a work of fan-fiction for an erotica author who was very inspirational for me when I was starting out, ‘Big’ Timy Donehy. If you would like to hear me reading it aloud, please feel free to contact me)
‘Mrs. Divine?’ he asked, as his hand shot into the air.
I rolled my eyes before responding. ‘For the last time, Mr. Donehy, it’s ‘Ms’. I am unmarried.’
I’ve known a lot of arrogant teenage boys in my time, and to be honest, I’ve busted their balls down to a size nothing in no time at all. It’s not hard, college freshmen are simply not men yet. I just level my intimidating FF cups at them and watch their egos melt away.
‘Yeah, but I have to at least pretend that there’s a guy I’m making jealous.’
The clas snickered at his impudence. One girl stared at him dreamily, and another whispered something to a friend that made the latter’s eyes widen, jaw drop, and diminutive young bosoms heave.
I silenced them all with a scowl over my steel-grey glasses, a few of the boys lost in my cleavage.
‘That’s it Timmy, you will stay after class.’ Now I’ll admit that he did have some things to be proud of. He had come to my big city university from England on a sports scholarship, his athletic body radiating strength and power.
He rested his head on a massive curled bicep as he shrugged back at me. ‘Have it your way, Mrs. Divine.’
The disrespect made me fume, buff bod or not, when I got Big Tim Donehy to myself, I was gonna make him my bitch.
***
When the last little slut in my class had managed to pry her face away from Tim and ass-wiggle her way out the door, I locked it behind her.
‘Okay Timmy, I’m not letting you get back to your dorm until you have agreed to show me proper respect.’
‘Whatever, Ma’am,’ he slurred, ogling my huge tits with brazen audacity.
I cracked my yardstick across his desk, ‘TIM! What the Hell makes you think you’re so special?’
He thought on this question a while, an arrogant smirk creeping across his face. ‘Well for one thing,’ he said, ‘there’s my cock.’
I gasped at his obscenity.
‘Young man, I’ve been teaching for nearly ten years, I’ve dealt with such lurid advances from students, parents, faculty, and even coaches. NONE of them have EVER impressed me, and you won’t either.
‘Wrong,’ he said, forcefully standing, absurd bulge snaking down his left pant leg. The thing was gargantuan and grotesque, the definition of a pair of dangling doorknobs set low at his crotch completed the illusion.
For it must have been a trick! I smiled to myself, knowing that when I discovered whatever fruit, vegetable, or sausage he was faking this monster member with, that I would make him eat it for dinner, rubbing his face in his own insecurity attempting such a scandalous deception.
His large, masculine hand was going for his zipper. The little fucker was actually going to make me call his bluff! He must have figured I would scream ‘NO!’ before letting him unveil the sad, limp, little truth.
But I just stood firm and stared, forcing him to go through with it.
There was a zip.
Then there was a FLOP.
Now I really did scream.
***
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