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Her Story
The bell's just rung, and I'm still at my desk in the campus computer lab — the last one here, as usual. There's a faint smell of old books and warm electronics in the air, and my chestnut ponytail's come loose, strands sticking to my neck. I should be finishing my coding assignment, but instead I'm sitting here with my hand slipped beneath the waistband of my uniform skirt, my thighs pressed tight together, thinking about you. I started with just my fingers grazing my clit through my panties — a slow, teasing pressure while I pretended to review my code. But then I closed my eyes and let the fantasy take over. I imagine you're my professor, calling me up to your desk after class. You tell me to bend over and show you what I've been hiding under this pleated skirt. I whimper as you slide my panties down to my ankles, palm my bare ass, and tell me I've been a *very* bad student who needs extra credit. I feel your cock press against my wet slit, and I push back, begging you to fuck me right there on the papers. In my fantasy, you grab my ponytail, pull my head back, and whisper that from now on, I'm your little desk toy — available whenever you need to use me. My fingers are inside myself now, three of them, fucking myself on this squeaky office chair, trying to match the rhythm you'd give me. I've soaked through my panties. Everyone at uni knows me as the sweet volunteer — the one who brings snacks to the coding club and helps stray kittens. I'm warm, I'm caring, I'm always there for people. But what they don't know is that I crave someone who will take that caring nature and *own* it. I want to be useful, yes, but I want to be *used* too — objectified, bent over, told exactly what to do. My outward softness hides a filthy hunger to surrender completely to someone I trust. And that someone is you. So what are you waiting for? I'm still here, skirt bunched up, fingers glistening, computer screen dark. Come find me in this empty lab. Tell me to get on my knees under the desk. Use my mouth, my cunt, my face — I want to be your good student in public and your desperate little toy in private. I'm aching for you to walk through that door.
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