“That’s the kind of statement I’d expect from a professor of philosophy who’s still young enough and idealistic enough to identify with who he...was at fifteen.”“I’m remarkable,” I said simply. “I know that sounds arrogant, but really, how many of the faculty have called me Wonder-boy either to my face or indirectly in their conversations with you? Enough for the name to stick. The faculty at Harvard is calling me Wonder-boy. Harvard! Not beauty school. Not career college. Harvard. At that point,. Or my sofa. Or the table. Just pounding her hard as I thrust my big cock inside her.I couldn't take it anymore as I pulled over into a park near Lake Hefner. My hard cock sprung out as I unzipped my pants. Her hungry eyes were all over it. I reached over and grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her face into my crotch. She knew what I wanted as I felt her lips wrap around my cock.Her head bobbed up and down right there in that parking lot. It was heaven for me, I felt the heat of her. It started after my wife passed away. She was thirty-nine when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The women in her family are BRCA positive, which indicates a high propensity to get it. It seems there is some genetic flaw in her family. She has had two aunts and a cousin all die from breast cancer at a young age. Their odds are so awful some of her female cousins are considering complete breast removal on their thirtieth birthday.Because her mother never came down with cancer, my wife and. Yes Paul was right again, getting fucked was second only to cocksucking for true faggots. I wanted Paul to fuck me after that in the worst way. But being submissive and a true bottom, he steadfastly refused. Soon we got wind of upcoming cell to cell shakedown so Paul sold that makeshift dildo and the slippery lard to Clark for three cartons of Marlboro 100s. I might add just in the nick of time. While the now daily sex with Paul was enjoyable to me, I found myself craving a bit more. I wanted.