I saw her again years later, and she'd become a flabby suburban bitch. You wouldn't look at her twice.

But that year, that year that she showed up in the front row of some weed-out "Intro" class that I caught as junior faculty, she was as sexy as any chick ever was. Every quivering inch of her body screamed for insemination.

Puberty had fired up her reproductive system a few years before, but now the hormone-enriched electric atmosphere of a new year at uni had kicked it into over-drive.  Her womb was desperate to get to work, and needed a good soaking in semen to start off.  Not that she thought of any of it in those terms. She said she "loved" me. She talked about hopes and dreams.  About building a life.

I took her home, but all I talked about was happiness. "Oh, I'll make you happy," she said, quietly, breathlessly, the side of her face pressed against my chest.

"You already do," I told her. She hugged me tightly for a moment, and after a moment more I felt her hands fumbling with the zipper of my pants.

"Here, let me," I said, pulling down the zipper and easing my rock-hard penis out. The metal teeth of the zipper bit into the side of my cock, but I ignored that as her head slid down off my chest, and she wrapped my penis in the warm wetness of her mouth.

That beautiful, long brown hair. Gently I stroked it. And I stroked it so many more times after that. In my car. In the supply closet. Sitting at my desk, with her folded up into the knee-space. Every time and place we could find over the next few weeks.

But her baby-making inner core demanded more. "I want you inside me," she said.

"Inside your mouth?" I teased.

"No," she said, making a face like a child who's been forced to eat spinach. "You know, really inside me," she said as she rubbed her lower abdomen as emphasis.

"I don't know," I said, "you know what they say: 'Life finds a way'." She said nothing in reply. Just pouted a little.

"Then again," I said, and I slid my hand behind her and grabbed hold of her ass.

"Ew!" she said, and pulled away.

"Okay," I said, "It was just a thought." I pulled her back to me, and we cuddled for some time. Until, that is, I eased my prick out of my pants, and she sucked me off, like the perfect little cum-vacuum she had become.

But this time, I fought back and did my damnedest to make it take as long as possible. I sat there thinking about the unsexiest things I could conceive of, and closed my eyes tight to help ignore her head bobbing in my lap. When it got to the point that I knew I could no longer delay the inevitable, when even the burning mental image of a leering Hillary Clinton could no longer stop the rain, I took my hand and slid it down inside the back of her pants. My middle finger followed the strap of the pink thong she was wearing down into the cleavage between the cheeks of her ass.  Deeper, deeper, into the warm dampness, and there!  Just there the tip of finger found the target, nudged the strap to the side and rubbed rapidly, even as I let my thoughts shatter and my balls explode.

As my hips bucked and I squeezed shot after shot of hot jism into her mouth, she couldn't help but feel me probing at her ass. She began the hard-vacuum sucking on my cock she'd always use to pull every last drop of semen out of me, and I relaxed and casually slipped my hand back out of her pants.

And when she finally pulled her mouth off my cock, with a wet little slurp, I said nothing.

She moved back into full-cuddle, and after a moment said, "I love you."

"Oh," I said, as breezily as I could manage, "I know you do."

Then, I waited.

After a few moments, she whispered, her voice cracking, "Do you love me?"

"Who wouldn't love you?" I said, and kissed her on top of her head. After a few minutes, she pulled away, and without a word went into the bathroom.

She didn't slam the door.  She just eased it closed with a sad little click.

I stood up and moved into the hall.  I leaned in close against the bathroom door.  Ever so faintly, I heard a sniffle. I smiled to myself, straightened up and called through the door "I'm going to bed!" I did just that, turning out the lights as I went.

After ten or fifteen minutes she came out.  She didn't make a sound, but the suddenly shining of light on the far wall told me she'd opened the door. Wordlessly she came into the bedroom, then slid into bed, behind me as I lay facing the wall.

I rolled over to find her curled into a sad little ball.  I spooned up behind her, pushed her beautiful, brown hair away from her ear, and kissed her gently on the outer, curving edge of that ear. I slid my left arm under her pillow, and used my right hand to position my once-again rock-hard cock so that it nestled into the crack of her ass. Then my right arm wrapped over her, and cupped her left breast.

I snuggled in closer, slid my right leg up and on top of hers, executing what I think of as a "whole body hug." Again I kissed her ear, and as quietly as I could, I said, "I love you."

Her body jerked a little, as if she'd been jabbed with a cattle prod. "What?" she said, hoarsely.

"I love you so much," I said, "You make me so happy."

"Oh," she said, "okay. Yeah." She made some quiet little sound, like a sob.

For a moment I smiled to myself again, then I sighed a contented sigh, dropped my head back onto the pillow, and waited. After a while, she uncurled and pressed more firmly against me.  Then she gave a little wiggle to her ass, as it pressed up against me. "Mmmm," I hummed appreciatively, then waited some more.

Finally, she said, "Hold on a sec," crawled out from under my arm, and scampered back to the bathroom.

She came back with a towel and the bottle of KY that had appeared on the windowsill in the bathroom, next to my shaving cream and her bottle of facial cleanser.  "I'm going to keep making you happy," she said, "And I still want you inside me."

She didn't think to bring a towel, but I didn't mind washing the sheets the next day.  And conscientious little cum-bucket that she was, she never forgot to bring a towel along with the lube after that.  But, Christ almighty, for the rest of that semester it seemed like I was having to launder a load of towels every goddam Monday.

Anyway, go back and look at that ass in the picture. Look at that face. As I was fucking that big, round wonderous ass, she'd turn her head and look back at me. Her face had that look on it, that look that asks, "Are you happy? Does fucking my ass make you happy?"

I look at that picture and, to this day, her eyes still talk to me.  Still beg me: "Fuck my ass. Fill it with your cum.  Please... fill my ass with your cum."

Dear Lord in heaven, just look at that ass! I lost my academic career over plowing that ass.

Not that I regret it. Not for one goddam minute.  I can still feel her under me, feel her hips jammed between my thighs as I rammed my cock as deep inside her as I possibly could, hear her grunting at the bottom of my stroke, and I sense The Edge out there.  The narrow, ragged edge that I would find and ride as long as I could until the moment captured me, until I lost all notion of time, lost all concept of the future, lost all my memories of the past, and I was filled to bursting with the Eternity of the Now.

And, BAM, the clock would tick, and I really would burst, and disgorge my flash of enlightenment up her ass in shuddering spasms.

Goddam.  If the fat bitch that she has become ever gets a colonoscopy, the proctologist is gonna find my soul up in there.