Break Time, Break Her

“You know you can’t smoke here, right?”

You make a point of taking a longer drag while staring her down, then blowing it in her direction. She blinks twice and her lips twitch slightly but otherwise, she holds your stare like it’s a competition. This girl’s gaze is intense and she has real wide eyes—it’s the first observation you make of her, and it probably won’t be the last. “So?” you ask with all the casual bravado of your rebellious heart.

“You’re not the first to pick out this spot to hide, but the art professor always patrols back here and destroying people’s smokes gets him off or some shit.”

“And you’re telling me this why? Just hurry up and go brown your nose with some teacher and tell on me already.”

She finally breaks eye contact, only to glance over to her right, where the rest of the campus is, and then to step forward so she joins you out of sight behind the groundsman’s building. You don’t give an inch in reaction—your dead eyes watch every movement with the same lack of care you started with.

“That’s what you think? I’m going to run and tell?” You don’t bother to give any response; just a barely-cocked eyebrow to let her know how thoroughly bored you are. “I’m telling you as a bit of friendly advice. You need a better spot.”

“Okay, you’ve told me, now run along,” you snort dismissively, only to get a flat look of exasperation in return. You place the filter between your lips and leave it there before you fish out your phone from your pocket. Then this girl sighs, and right after that she plucks the cigarette right from your lips and settles it between her own. You manage a brief sound of confusion before she mirrors your motion from earlier and blows the smoke in your face.

“Listen.” She points at you with your smoking cigarette held between her two fingers. “I can show you a good place where nobody ever goes.”

Actions failing her appearance, you would admit she has caught you a little off-kilter. The tucked-in shirt with the button all the way up to her neck and properly fitted tie. The skirt sticks to the school’s mandated knee-length fit. Innocence in her first smile when she rounded the corner and confronted you. Everything pointed to this girl being straight-laced and by the rules—but the second she stuck your own cig between her teeth and showed you a saucy grin, all expectations of a predictable conversation fell to pieces.

“So you can stay here and get caught,” the girl holds out her hand, presenting the cig back to you, with her pink lipstick painting the filter. “Or you can put it out and follow me.” She punctuates her sentence with a challenging smirk.

You snatch it from her hand, place the lipstick-stained filter between your lips and take a drag. She rolls her wide eyes for a second, and then you throw it to the floor and crush it underfoot. “Lead the way.”

Her little triumphant smile washes over her face for a half second before it returns to her normal, friendly expression. She turns on her heel and expects you to follow her without another word. And while the anticipation does drive you nuts the whole two minutes you stalk around the buildings, and follow her into an old iron door that leads to a staircase, you have no reason to keep quiet.

“So, why are you showing me this anyway?” Your voice carries loudly as you head upstairs after her—her fingers only brush the railings as she takes confident steps up. “And who are you?”

“Not yet,” she dismisses the question with the promise of more later, which means either this is actually a setup or a pretty unhinged person—for all you know maybe a bit of both.

“Fine.”

The stairwell ends abruptly—she pushes another rusted door open, and the fresh spring air greets your skin once you pass the threshold. There’s nothing on the roof bar a few vents and electric units. A quick and cursory scan around lets you determine you two are well and truly alone and with no chance of anyone else finding you. You cross your arms across your chest and keep the grin from tugging at your mouth as your companion turns around to reveal a smile spread across her lips.

“I’m not taking a step further until I get a name.”

“Yuna,” she says so softly before turning away and walking around to the side, behind the door and around the structure of the stairwell. You follow her around, letting the door swing closed. Behind it, there’s a spot to hide from the afternoon sun, and not only that but there are a couple of old folding chairs waiting for a couple of troublemakers to come settle in.

“So there’s no one else here?”

“What? Did you think I would lead you into some sort of trap? Are you really that self-centred? Do you think people are after you?” The joke rolls off her tongue easily as she props open a metal storage bin, revealing some… surprisingly familiar brands of cigarettes and alcohol, as well as a lighter.

“Listen, I’ve made some enemies in my past.”

“So I’ve heard,” Yuna smirks again. “The teachers were talking in their office about the new transfer, and how he had terrorised his last two schools…”

“And they just let you in there?” you ask while leaning against the wall and watching Yuna unfold a chair.

“Of course they do. The teachers here love me. All the women think I’m the sweetest, most loving girl.” Yuna holds the chair just off the floor and then plants it heavily into the concrete with a scraping sound. “And well, all the men are pervs.”

“Sounds like you have them wrapped around your little finger, so what do you want with me?”

“You’re straightforward. I like that.” Yuna retrieves a packet of cigarettes from the bin while her eyes roam down the length of your body. It isn’t even subtle, the way her eyes dip to linger on your waist and then down to your thigh. “And you look tough, strong, and dangerous. A nice change to all the mousy boys around here. They are all just pussies, desperate for the smallest scrap of approval from me.”

“Is that right?” you ask. Yuna pushes up a cigarette in the packet, grips it lightly with her teeth and pulls it out. She puts the packet down and then sets it smouldering all in one smooth action. You watch it all carefully, taking in the mannerisms, the casual, sexy grace to her motions, but all of them with the utmost ease that belied years and years of practice.

Yuna sucks in the hot smoke, closes her eyes, and lets her head roll back. You can’t help but be drawn to the long line of her exposed neck. The smoke plumes upward for several seconds as it is released slowly from her full lips. Finally, her eyes slide open and find yours.

“Very,” she drawls out the word, giving it more weight than it really needs. “You asked what I want from you? To have some fun.”

“Are you having fun?”

“Not yet.” Yuna stands from her chair and takes a step over to you. Close enough to place the cigarette into your mouth, and when she places it in your lips, her hand lingers a little before slipping down to your neck. Her fingertip brushes over your bare throat gently.

“Careful, you’re going to lose a finger,” you try and warn her, but you don’t stop her advances, and she has a couple of perfectly manicured nails touching your skin.

“Who, me?” she scoffs, but the motion is just a distraction for Yuna’s other hand as she traces down the open front of your blazer and then slips off the end of it and plants her hand right against your dick. She dares to grin right then and there, and it only widens as she tightens her grip. “You really want me to move my hand away?”

She begins to massage gently, and she bites her lower lip. She shuffles a little closer, pressed against your right side, with her mouth close to your ear. She takes the hand from your neck, holding the cig so you take a drag and then pulling it from your lips so you can let the smoke out. Yuna takes another drag before giving it back to you.

“Hold this.” Her massaging movements are bolder now, and Yuna applies her entire palm to cup around you firmly before beginning a slow and gentle stroking. “Suddenly lost for words?” Yuna jokes quietly, with the cadence of her hand stoking the fire. “Do you like that?

"Yuna, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Crazy? They say to never stick your dick in crazy. I wonder how true that really is?” She is still running her fingers over your length, working the flesh and muscle through your clothes. You’re starting to get hard, and Yuna can certainly feel it.

“I wonder if that counts for mouths too,” you drawl back and it’s a message received. She presses herself against you, pushing you flush against the wall, and then she slides her body down, making sure her entire front drags over you, dragging her breasts down across the hardness of your cock. You get a very unabashed stare, her lips agape with delight, and her hands finally settling to work your pants and belt free before yanking it down.

Yuna’s on her knees and telling you, “Let’s put that theory to the test.” Her eyes drop to the object of her attention now, as she pulls it free and holds it in her left hand. Then Yuna grins as she inches closer—so close you can feel her breath warm and moist over the tip.

Her lips touch the surface, the softest of kisses and then you see her tongue lash out and flick against the tip. The contact is fleeting, but it’s like lightning through your body. So, Yuna dips down to a new point and presses a deeper, open-mouth kiss. Lips around you and slowly sucks you into her mouth, feeling the damp warmth engulf the head.

She holds you there for some time, just the head inside her gently suckling mouth. She jerks you ever so gently and then looks up for a reaction. Her stare commands you to never look away, so you don’t, watching those lust-glazed eyes look up as her lips close tighter. “Mmm,” she moans softly before jerking you a little harder and faster while swirling her tongue.

A long exhale escapes your lips as Yuna makes your pleasure her priority. You hit your hand against the wall behind you, snuffing out the burning cig and dropping it to your side. Both your hands find her head, stroking her long black hair. Fingers wind into her locks, gently gripping.

“Come on, more, Yuna…” You start guiding her deeper, more forceful, and a part of your brain thinks this has to be a dream—no real woman would approach a guy in broad daylight and service like this. But clearly, Yuna is no normal girl. The way she slides those lips down your shaft and takes you all the way in proves that. And with the soft, muffled hums, her eyes lidded now with desire.

Her rhythm is steady, pulling all the way out until she reaches the tip, where she uses her lips to grip tight and slide right down to the base again, all the way, making your cock fully sheathed in her. She braces against your hips and slowly moves back and forward, grinding her lips and mouth along the entire length before picking her pace up.

“So good,” you groan, fingers grasping onto her tighter, and Yuna obliges you by taking you faster and deeper into her throat. After a few frantic movements, she pushes deep and holds you there, her nose pressed against your stomach, her chin against your balls. There’s a slight choking, gasping noise coming from Yuna, as she keeps you there until she draws her head back again and gasps for air.

“Mmm,” she purrs and laps her tongue across the length of your wet shaft while panting. The base of your cock is painted in that same pink lipstick she left on the filter of the cigarette. She switches hands, grabs you tighter, pumps you aggressively, and asks, “You like my mouth?”

“Yeah.” You hold her face in your hands, stroking her cheek, looking into those glittering eyes.

“They always tell me I’m blessed to be so pretty, what do you think, from up there? Am I pretty, watching my face with you in my mouth, feeling my mouth around you, taking you in my throat?”

“Yes. Pretty, so fucking sexy.” You struggle to find any more words than that, which for you, is unusual—you’re typically cool and articulate. But now with her kneeling in front of you, still pumping away at your cock and not relenting in her assault, you struggle to piece together another sentence.

“Show me then. Cum for me.” She lowers her face down again and wraps her lips around your cock, moaning the command into your sensitive tip and then pushing herself as deep as she could go, over and over. Your whole body quaked in reaction, and so Yuna pulled her lips off to allow herself a breath of air, and as soon as your tip was out of her throat, she spat saliva all over the top, using her fist to pump her spit and your pre-cum over your cock as it slid in her hand. “Come on, cum, cum.” She grinned wide and then planted kisses over the length and pressed her face against the throbbing hard rod, with her eyes pointed upwards and a silent, pleading gesture on her lips.

“Yuna… keep… just…” Words and requests die on your lips, but Yuna is satisfied that your reactions convey her actions well. The dirty girl pulls your cock into her mouth, and she won’t stop now, not until you finish. And you’re on the very brink, fighting your urges for as long as possible, but that means nothing. Her mouth is so hungry for you, sucking down every inch, eager for your taste, and Yuna coos softly around your cock, adding vibrations to the swirling sensation she is painting on you.

“Yuna, I…” You’re about to try and give some warning, but the sounds are all there—the desperate grunts, your breaths all struggling as your body seizes and shudders. In the end, a handful of long strands of Yuna’s silken hair are yanked in your fist while your other hand grasps the top of her head. But she is receptive, not panicked or fearful, she holds herself on your cock, steadying as you release yourself.

And you flood her mouth, and with each successive burst, you pull your head back and gasp and pull her head forward. Your hips buck as you release, with her name falling from your lips once, then again, a half-groan followed by, “Yes…” She sucks, and slurps and moans loudly, swallowing the thick and warm loads you give her. Your breathing slows, and your body loosens its tension, fingers in her hair gently release, and you stroke her while you catch your breath.

A loud, wet popping sound announces Yuna pulling her lips off your cock, but the slow slurp of her sucking out any residual juices is the sweetest and most intense sensation. Just a little spilt from the upturned corners of her mouth, and Yuna wipes them off her skin before sucking the same finger into her mouth.

“You’re welcome.” Her smile is back. Yuna pushes up to her knees and slides up to meet you standing. She opens her mouth to show the lewdest of sights, the very last of your load still in there. She makes a point of swallowing it and then licking her lips clean. “You owe me, handsome.” She gives you a push in the chest, to create separation and keep you against the wall. “See you tomorrow.”

She struts away, leaving you slouched, trousers down at your thighs, and recovering. Her fucking hips, ass, everything swaying with a saunter. The view is one of the best and is the last before the rusted iron door creaks shut and you’re alone in silence.

***

A whole evening and morning have been and gone, and all throughout the memories of yesterday have plagued your mind. It’s not like something like that happening is entirely new. There’s been plenty of girls who have fallen for ‘that guy who breaks the rules’ and plenty of them who have found themselves on their knees at your feet, or any other manner of positions.

But Yuna seems different, from her smirk and her grin, the intensity with which she approached, the self-assurance and her playful flair. Her beauty is not to be understated either. None of those other girls has ever left you so badly wanting more like she has. Seduction personified. That view of her walking away, the way she threw those hips side-to-side is on replay in your head.

So when break time rolls around, you make a beeline right for the old, rusted door, and climb those same stairs, one by one. And finally, with the same metal door leading to the same roof, you throw it open. Your eyes quickly fall upon Yuna. She’s not on her knees, this time, no, she’s over by the far side of the roof, resting against the low wall and metal railing above it. A smoke sits in her mouth, lit, while she idly talks to her phone.

She turns toward the door, lifting an open palm to you signalling 'stop’ while she continues to talk, holding eye contact with you the whole time. But your eyes stray. They move further down, dropping to the curves and dips. And then to her bare legs that you can see beneath that navy skirt. It’s shorter than yesterday's—that’s so clearly intentional.

There’s a couple of minutes, stuck like this, she’s talking on the phone and you’re undressing her in your mind. Thinking of all the filthy things you would do to her. That smug smile plasters itself on her pretty mouth when your eyes gravitate back to her eyes. Finally, she ends the call, slipping her phone into the pocket of her blazer.

Yuna beckons you forward with the curling of her index finger. Your hands itch in your pockets, but it’s not the usual itch for some nicotine—it’s because they want to be in Yuna.

It’s strange, really, because it has long been your mantra that structure, rules, and instructions were made to be broken and ignored, but there’s something about her. Her stance, her countenance, and the very atmosphere about her have you hanging on her every word and doing what you’re told. It’s a wildly unfamiliar feeling, though the argument in your head as you walk over to her, is that it’s simply a means to an end.

Do what she wants, get what you want. That’s the plan—you think.

Yuna settles on the lowest part of the roof edge, perching herself on the flat surface and letting her long, lean, elegant legs dangle over. “You came back. For me?” she asks. The implication and insinuation are plain, and even now Yuna doesn’t hide her eyes as they flicker across your form.

“Came for a smoke,” you bluff and fish in your pockets for the familiar box and lighter.

“If that’s all, I’ll leave you be.” Yuna stands up, taking another draw of her near-finished cigarette just as you light your own.

“You can sit with me if you want.” It doesn’t sound so much like an offer as it does a reluctant allowance. Though Yuna smirks back her approval. There is, you concede, a lack of point in feigning disinterest, but you do it anyway.

Yuna waits and watches, her head held at an odd angle, with a tilt. You seat yourself, much as Yuna did, and she retakes her seat, then asks you a most abrupt question, “How did you end up here? I mean, what happened at your last place?”

“Right out the gate, huh?” You snort, and take a moment before deciding exactly what you will disclose, and what you will hold back on. “Well, there was a girl there. Very pretty. Her parents were kind of big figures in town, business owners, celebrities, that sort of stuff.” Yuna is apparently paying close attention, she raises her head up to look you directly in the eyes while you speak. “I never actually liked her all that much. The thing is, she never really liked her parents that much and she acted out, and in the end, I got all the blame.”

“Were you to blame?”

“Probably. I enabled her. Gave her someone to smoke with, drink with, and have sex with. In the end, they forced me out. For their reputation,” you mutter bitterly.

“That sounds really unfair,” Yuna coos sympathetically. “Lucky for you, some girls can do all of that with you… without the backlash.” She taps her lit end, and ash falls freely in the air before dropping silently to the ground.

“Let me guess—you.”

“Got me.” Yuna points a finger gun at you as her mouth curls up in a smirk. “We both know why you’re here.”

“Then maybe we can stop the verbal foreplay, break only lasts another twenty minutes.”

“You’re right,” Yuna says, before flicking away the butt of her cigarette, and you make sure your own is soon to follow. “In that case, feel free to take whatever liberties you please. I’m sure my body will let you know what works and what doesn’t.”

Yuna stands and turns to face the railing. She moves as if it were rehearsed. Slipping her blazer from her shoulders and folding it so she can place it on the lower section of the wall and kneel on it. She holds the railing, bending forward, making no mistake in letting her intentions be clear and then waiting.

You switch into autopilot, following her lead, only you’re slipping your trousers to your ankles and taking up position behind her. One of your hands caresses her hips, gently but firmly squeezing as it passes down her thighs and hooks underneath. You slowly lift the skirt up, so it settles on her waist. And what is underneath defies comprehension. An ass that’s simply too big for her slender build, wrapped up snug in a pair of silky, black panties, just asking for you to destroy it.

Yuna trembles as she feels your warm hand cup her right cheek and begin rubbing and kneading and pushing. She leans into your gropes, encouraging you more and more. All of a sudden, you make a sharp slap hit that round ass, the impact a noisy pop and the slight reddening of her cheek. A quiet gasp escapes Yuna’s throat when you press two fingers against her panties. You can feel the moisture, the heat that radiates off of her pussy lips, and the sound of her increased breathing as she waits and anticipates.

You drag her panties to the side and revel in the glistening pussy. It’s hard to imagine a woman with a body that begs to be fucked as badly as this one. “If this is your way of convincing me to stick around, it’s working,” you comment dryly, as you coat those two fingers in Yuna’s slick, and then spread her lips.

“Could you be convinced to hurry up?” She reaches back to her own cheeks, digging in her fingers and pulling them apart. “You can sit and stare some other day. I’ve had to wait a full day, remember, so why don’t you skip to the bit where you fuck me, and fuck me good?”

“Who could argue with that?” You draw down your trousers and present to her cunt, a hard throbbing cock. It takes very little effort to hold her waist and position yourself directly against her entrance. Yuna shudders in anticipation, a series of shaking, excited breaths slipping from her throat.

You put a hand in front of her face. “Spit,” you tell her. She spits out on your waiting hand, and then you spread it across your length. “Good.”

Rolling your hips forward, you slip right into her. This woman, in this position, couldn’t be any more accepting of a stiff dick. There’s not a hint of resistance in her pussy. It is wet, hot, tight but giving. With one hand you grip a handful of her black, silken hair while the other slips up the white top of hers. Beneath, she wore a soft, laced bra. You hooked your finger right into it, and pull free a breast, then fill your palm with the warm and firm sensation of Yuna’s tit.

“Like that, do you?” She teases. You show her no answer, save for rolling your hips with a new intensity. Each time you thrust your cock inside, your body slams forward, into hers, and you meet an exquisite squeezing as her pussy pulses around you. “Tell me,” Yuna gasps out. “Tell me how good my little pussy is.”

The volume of her voice starts climbing as you ravage her from behind, her cries become hoarse and higher pitched, her gasping getting shorter and more rapid as she pushes herself back into every stroke. “I love it,” you grunt back at her, finding time between the panting and the focused act of fucking to respond. “The best. This cunt is the best…”

You grab tighter on her tit, tighter on her hair, and keep forcing Yuna’s face toward the metal railing while you make her gasp and squeal.

“The way this slutty cunt wraps around my cock. I love it…”

“Oh yes,” she whimpers back at you. “Your cock… Feels good. Like that! Fuck! Feels… feels really good.”

Yuna lifts a leg to the upper part of the wall as if you need her help to impale her—you don’t.

You release her hair, release her tit, hold onto those wide hips and thrust into her so pure and intense that the force leaves Yuna struggling to stay upright and pressing down hard with her hands against the railing. “Oh!” she cries and rolls her eyes back. Your lips curl upward in satisfaction and pride—what you’re giving her makes her shake and moan and thrash back.

That thick, juicy ass smacks loudly and rhythmically into your hips each time you spear her over and over again. Ripples trace over the surface and jiggle after each violent impact. The rippling travels to her tailbone and her hips before disappearing underneath the upturned skirt.

A string of unintelligible words leave her lips, her eyes glass over and she says through strained moans, “Gonna fucking cum. Harder, I need it!” Yuna grits her teeth and growls out loudly as her grip on the railings becomes so powerful her knuckles are white. Her pink-painted nails scrape and claw at the iron, unable to find purchase as your slamming reaches an apex.

The powerful wave of pleasure washes over her and pulls her under its surface—it leaves her crying your name in sweet agony, throwing her head back, letting her spine arch while you ravage her, again and again, showing her no mercy whatsoever.

Her contractions around you squeeze you tightly, they quiver and try to milk the orgasm right out of your body, and you fight so hard to hold on for as long as you can. When you feel your own self start to ebb, you slip free from Yuna.

But the fucking is far from over.

Yuna twists around, using your body for stability, her flushed red cheeks and frazzled look betray exactly what is running through her mind at this moment in time—more, more, more. Her own hands are still wrapped around you, searching your cock as soon as it comes free from inside her.

She sits back, pressed and curled against the railing and pulls you closer in between those spread legs. She grips the length and guides you to her pussy, to the welcoming opening, soaking wet from all the juices her body spent on you so far. Yuna spreads herself as wide as she can and urges you in, panting, wanting more so desperately, and as soon as you are inside again, a wide, sultry grin stretches her red cheeks.

She pulls her hands away and urges you forward by gripping a handful of the collar of your shirt and drawing you inward. Lips to lips, Yuna whispers, “Fuck me,” before crushing hers upon yours.

With no distractions and no obstructions, Yuna wraps her arms around the back of your neck and lets you go to work on her. Hard, powerful, intense movements that leave her pussy spasming, shuddering with the waves of fresh, raw sensations crashing down over her again and again. Yuna can do nothing, nothing but fold underneath you and take what’s given her, with each movement eliciting a drawn-out, muffled groan as she breathes it out against your tongue.

“I’m such a little slut. A dirty girl. Such a fucking dirty, bad girl. A delinquent bitch. My family would be so ashamed. Everyone, I’m such a—” You interrupt Yuna’s spiralling train of thought with a particularly hard thrust that drives the air from her lungs and causes a hitched whine to squeak from her parted lips.

She winces and grins. Then her lips are back upon yours, eager for more. You slow the pace, and she feels every long, lingering and painful inch sliding its way out of her, dragging against her walls, causing them to flutter. Yuna’s eyes drift closed for several seconds. She enjoys the feeling. Then her eyes open, and lock with yours.

You’re both looking right into the depths of the other’s soul, and something electric passes between the both of you. Then the tip leaves her entrance, and Yuna, gasping in despair, her arms tighten around your neck as if holding on for dear life.

“What am I?” Yuna’s voice is husky as she pulls from your mouth for the first time in minutes, a single strand of saliva still linking you together.

“A delinquent slut.” You roll forward and spear her once more.

“Mmmnf!” is Yuna’s only response, a muted hum. You start to get a comfortable and easy rhythm going, back and forward, holding her gaze the whole time, even while her head drifts back slightly and her eyes flutter. “Yes! Tell me what I am!”

“A depraved slut. Who sucks the cock of a guy she has known for five minutes.” You grab Yuna’s throat, she chokes up and struggles but she’s loving every minute of it. The frantic movements. The overwhelming power she has no way of countering or fighting.

“More. More! Tell me,” Yuna all but demands, “Tell me exactly who and what I am.” She wraps her hand around your wrist and draws your touch tighter about her, digging her nails in and helping you choke her even harder.

“You’re some privileged, spoilt girl who uses her sexy body and pretty face to get whatever she wants. Is that right, slut?” She’s nodding. She’s actually fucking nodding at those words. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s who you are?”

Again, she nods, but the gasping starts becoming more pronounced. You slacken your hold a little. A minute passes where your rolling strokes and Yuna’s drawn-out breathlessness are the only noises. Your shared moment of mutual ascension starts drawing nearer. “Use this slut as your cum dump,” Yuna cries out. “It’s safe, just do it. I need it, I fucking need it, cum in me, cum—”

“You act all special, but we all know you’re not. You’re just a big ass and dirty mouth with a hole. One that everyone and anyone is welcome to enjoy at the drop of the hat. Aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Yuna squeals and laughs and chokes back a cry of, “Oh god! Keep going, keep going, keep, going!” Yuna arches her back, her chest thrust forward, head tilted upward and those bright eyes staring right up at you in what almost can only be described as adulation.

“Gonna fucking do it,” you grunt.

“Please!”

You don’t slow as you draw near. You concede to the reality that you’re about to finish, and you accept it. Allow it. Urge it, in fact, because that base, primal desire has overcome all other needs or wants. You can’t think clearly, you don’t need to. Everything boils down to the slick tightening grip of this girl’s perfect cunt, and the sight of her cute face twisted in delight. The noises she is making, and the movements and her skin as it flushes with that vibrant red and her eyes turn glassy and half-lidded.

You come undone. “Fuck,” you moan into her ear as the dam bursts and the hot torrent of your lust pours into her. She melts completely against you, crying out loudly at each pump of your hips as you spray out another sticky rope. It’s only when you can’t continue, the aching, burning tautness finally catching up, you collapse in a heap, breathing heavily.

“That’s it. That’s all I’m worth. I’m nothing more than an outlet for your dick.”

You roll off her and sit at her side, against the cold concrete and colder metal. Both of you take the opportunity to regain some form of regular breathing, and finally, you ask her, “Is that what you want from me?”

“Yes. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Someone who isn’t afraid to break the rules. Someone to hold me down, throw me over something, pull me by my hair and fuck me like he owns me.” Yuna pauses to catch her breath before finishing with an admission, “So sick of fucking men who are afraid, who need permission, or who treat me like I’ll break.” Yuna sounds so far from that pretty girl image you first saw twenty-four hours ago. But it makes a perverted kind of sense.

“Just don’t fall for me,” you tease.

“No chance, you’re not my type. You’re just hot with a cock.”