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As I said, Marcus Aurelius Harpston with his big cock was also the most fabulous pussy eater. He loved being on top of a woman banging her hard as she begged for more. He loved standing over a woman like big Junita Cruz or Olga Brentoff while they were on their knees sucking his mammoth cock and begging for more. More in their mouth, more in their pussy.

He liked the feeling of superiority. He liked the feeling watching and hearing what his oversized manhood did to these women. They were beside themselves. They begged and pleaded for it.

Every one of them, except for one. Her name was Marjorie Narducci and she just happened to be the president of the university.

Marjorie Antonelli Narducci was barely five feet tall, but weighed close to 150 lb. Her IQ was much larger than her weight. She spoke six languages and advised presidents on international relations. She’d never been much to look at, so when Mario Narducci asked her to marry him, she didn’t hesitate.

Given her unattractive body, and not so pretty face, it was no surprise that she hadn’t dated much. In fact, she hadn’t dated at all. On her wedding night she was a virgin. Mario wasn’t and discovered that his new bride was lousy in bed, and in the first years of their marriage didn’t get any better.

She tried to be the good wife. She was always available to her husband. Sadly, when they fucked, her mind was a million miles away. Perhaps that very day she’d received a call from the President or the Secretary of State about a crisis in the Middle East or Asia.

As for blowjobs. The very idea had her gagging, but as I said, Marjorie tried to be the good wife. Mario found eighteen-year-olds who sucked better than his wife.

She went from grad school to college administrator, working her way up the academic ladder. Meanwhile Mario found solace in the beds of undergraduates. One more beautiful than the next in contrast to his wife, who behind her back was called horse face, cow and other even more derogatory terms.

There was only one thing that kept Mario from divorcing her. For all the girls he’d fucked, none had a sweeter pussy. Mario may not have wanted to fuck her, but he could never get enough of eating her pussy.

Some nights he’d come home after fucking some centerfold-like twenty-year-old and snuggle up to Marjorie’s pussy and eat and eat; telling her how delicious she was. He may have fucked that twenty-year-old two, maybe three times that evening, but his cock got hard while eating his wife. It wasn’t unusual for Mario to cum just from eating her.

That was all well and good until Marjorie was named president of a small college. It was her first presidency. She could not have a husband who was fucking every co-ed with a skirt. They divorced.

Mario tried to win her back. He took her away for a romantic weekend where he ate and ate, praising her taste, worshipping her pussy. That was all well and good, except, “Mario, who was that gorgeous blonde you were with at the I-87 motel last week? Was she eighteen? What’s wrong with you?”

Over the next decade, Marjorie rose to eventually become president of this large midwestern university. On occasion she had a lover. They found the same thing Mario found; the fucking and sucking were less than acceptable, but universally, “Marjorie, I’ve never tasted a sweeter pussy.”

They didn’t say anything about her being a lousy fuck or about her aversion to cocksucking. It was always, “Marjorie, I’ve never tasted a sweeter pussy.” Often followed by, “whenever you’d like me to eat you again, just give me a call.”

It wasn’t just one man; it was every one of her lovers; not that there were all that many. Most didn’t wait for her to call them. “Mrs.

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