(Hi everybody! I have a few things to get out of the way before you start this one:
1. This is a sort of sequel to "Big Timmy: The College Years" which was itself a work of fan-fiction for Epic Lust's (AKA Big Timmy) original run of stories, My Life as a Teenaged Stud. If you haven't read those, you might like to, particularly because this features many of the characters contained in those works besides Tim Donehy.
2. This work was requested by a reader and as such has details that might seem discordant with other works featuring Big Timmy, particularly that his already massive endowment is even larger. (I think we just assume that in addition to being an early bloomer Tim is also longer-lasting in his development.)
3. I did receive Epic Lust's blessing in posting this. I hope you all enjoy!)
It had been a very tiring four years. Ever since he publicly humiliated me and then privately fucked me, Timmy had made my life a non-stop roller-coaster ride of orgasms and recovery at the mercy of his giant cock. I became very much like a willing slave to him. I passed him in all the classes he took from me, and did what I could to persuade or convince other professors to let him pass too. I sucked a lot of old tenured dick to make sure he kept doing well, and I'm sure he pounded every female professor into submission.
At his football games, I became his number one fan, my nipples stiff in the cold air during every practice, my gut sloshing with his cum with every victory blowjob.
I gave him. While I did my best to be encouraging, I don't think it was my back-seat coaching that helped him win every game by devastating numbers. His incredible muscles, great reflexes, smart play-making and intimidating swagger were enough to make every team opposing his go weak in the knees at the sight of him.
So it was no surprise to find myself watching him get honored for both his athletic and academic achievements when he finally took to the cap and gown for graduation. It's a good thing gowns were involved; the rest of the time there was no hiding the behemoth cock he tended to keep coiled around one thigh or bunched up into a massive package with his insanely big balls. The scary part was that even though Timmy had apparently been an early bloomer, he also just kept growing. The last time I'd measured (and I measured frequently) he'd topped the ruler at a mind-bending 26 inches, a full two feet and two inches of cunt-busting cock.
Sitting in that graduation audience, I found myself getting more and more anxious, panicked even, and I couldn't put a finger on why. Then, as he accepted his degree to a thunderous standing ovation it hit me; I was about to lose him! I didn't delude myself into thinking I was the only girl for him of course, Timmy seemed to always have a vast harem of young and old conquests, but I'd like to think I might have at least been one of his favorites. I decided that I'd have to do something to keep Timmy in my life, to keep my access to that incredible body and unbelievable cock.
#
It was my sluttiest outfit. From the slutty heels that lifted me about five more inches off the ground, and more importantly thrust my ass out to angles that were incomprehensible, to the insanely short skirt that was cut to perfection just below my cunt-lips, which would be easily visible in the crotch-less panties beneath, to the bodice-cut shirt with the laces I could use to bind my massive tits in a dozen different ways (today I'd put all the pressure beneath them so it was doing some of the work of a push-up bra while betraying enough natural FF-cup weight to make my lack of implants clear) to the makeup I'd pretty much laid on with a trowel.
At the end of the day, I don't think Timmy gave the smallest fuck about what effect makeup had on me, I think he liked how it looked staining his cock and the way it would mix with my slobber and smear all of my face when I was blowing him. So wearing it was basically the promise of a blowjob more than anything, especially the off-color magenta lipstick. That looked just awful on me, but it did
have the benefiting of emphasizing just how huge my pouty dicksuckers are.
I had hoped my presence at the airport would shock Timmy, or at the very least give him some pause. But as usual, he seemed to know exactly the power his cock had over me and when he set his carry on down and sat next to me at the gate all he bothered to say was,
"Hi teach."
I sighed heavily, arching my back into it a little so my boobs really stuck out.
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you Tim, I'm a professor, not a teacher."
He chuckled, "'ssat so? Do professors usually dress like this?"
I flushed, unable to resist him. Even while he insulted me I just wanted to be on my knees, cradling his big nuts against my face. He went on goading me, loving to push my buttons at every opportunity, "What are you a professor of?
Cleavage-ology? The futuristic science of dick-sucking? Seat-stainometrics?"
I flicked an eye down, realizing with horror that he was right, my juices were seeping out visibly. Just being next to him got me flowing like a waterfall.
Changing the subject I said, "So Minnesota, huh? I never took you for a Midwesterner."
"Born and raised," he grinned, leaning back, his package on lewd display in white cotton pants and probably nothing else. My eyes wandered the coil of his cock over a thigh, the bulging twin impressing of his balls, the sheer power of it all together beneath those muscular thighs.
"And you don't think it's quite the coincidence that I'm here to get on the same flight?" I finally addressed the elephant in the roomβscratch that, the *other* elephant besides that dick.
"I don't think it's a coincidence at all," he said smugly. He closed his eyes in total serenity before he continued speaking. "I think you deliberately booked this flight because you've had my cock and now you can't think of anything else. I think you're wet for it right now. I think I pretty much own you now, like a pet or a an object."
His words made my blood boil, my nipples hard, my panties damp. Well, damp-er anyway.
"An Object? Like a classy chandelier? Or a prized sculpture on your mantle? Maybe a crystalline decanter?"
His eyes snapped open and he sneered, "I was thinking more like a jizz bucket."
I shivered at his lewdness, his sheer brutality.
"That's gross, Timmy." I said, not really meaning it.