My English Professor

India Summer sure as hell didn’t plan on spotting Robby Echo lounging around the spa. A student with zero background rubbing rich ladies for cash, yet here he is, turning on the charm, begging for one shot to prove he can handle her body without screwing it up. She tells him flat out she’s not sold, but Robby swears they’ll pretend it never happened if it’s a bust. India’s cool with that—on one condition: cash back if the happy ending’s a no-show. He starts slow, hands slick, calling her Miss Summer, letting her toss back “Ken” whenever she feels like it. His thumbs slide over every curve, touching and teasing like he knows exactly where she aches. India melts, legs loose, chest tight. Robby catches the vibe and ups the ante—kisses at her neck, palms cupping heavy tits, then lower until his fingers part her slick folds and press inside. Every stroke says he’s dying to get her off. She rewards him by wrapping both hands around that fat student cock, stroking it thick and shiny, no hesitation. The chemistry crackles hotter than either expected. India drags him into her mouth, gagging loud while he fucks her throat, spit dripping down her chin. When she spreads wide on the table, Ken’s “massage tool” slips straight into her soaked professor pussy, pounding a deep rhythm that makes her toes curl and her walls grip. They fuck hard until neither can hold back.