Oh fuck, you guys… I can’t even believe I’m spilling this filthy little secret from my coed life, but holiday season has me extra horny. The library, stacks of dusty books smelling like old paper and forbidden fantasies. It’s late afternoon, cold air begging to frost the windows, and the place is dead empty except for him. This tall, ripped handyman type—broad shoulders straining his flannel shirt, jeans hugging a thick bulge that makes my bratty little pussy clench just looking at it. He’s up on a ladder, stringing twinkling holiday lights along the ceiling, muscles flexing as he reaches, sweat beading on his neck. God, he looks like he could pin me down and wreck me right there on the study table.
Wicked Things I Wanted To Do
I’m tucked in the back corner, pretending to “study” in my denim skirt and thigh-high socks—classic coed tease uniform. But my notebook’s forgotten, legs crossed tight under the table, thighs squeezing my aching clit. His ladder creaks, and I steal glances, biting my lip as he stretches higher, shirt riding up to flash those carved abs. Fuck, my nipples are rock-hard against my cropped sweater, poking like little sluts begging for attention. I can’t help it—my hand slips under my skirt, fingers dipping into my soaked panties. Yeah, I’m touching myself right here in the library, you pervy readers. Slow circles on my swollen clit, imagining his rough hands yanking my skirt up instead.
He’s humming some dumb Christmas tune, oblivious, hanging those garlands like he’s decorating my body. My mind’s racing with nasty thoughts: me as the naughty elf, dropping to my knees under that ladder, unzipping him to worship that fat cock I know is throbbing underneath. Begging like the bratty switch I am—”Please, sir, stuff my tight little masturbating coed pussy. Ram it deep, make me your holiday whore.” I’d spread wide on the carpet, legs over his shoulders, moaning as he pounds me balls-deep, lights twinkling above like stars exploding from my orgasms. His girth stretching me, hitting my G-spot until I’m squirting all over his jeans, books tumbling off shelves from my screams.
Masturbating Coed Squirms
My fingers plunge inside now—two, then three—fucking my dripping hole quietly, juices slicking my thighs. I picture him catching me, eyes darkening as he climbs down, grabs my ponytail, and shoves his cock down my throat. Gagging me on holiday cheer, pre-cum tasting like pine and sin. “Beg for it, little tease,” he’d growl, and I’d whimper, “Stuff me, fill every hole till I’m leaking your cum like a used candy cane.”
I’m edging so hard, hips grinding the chair, breath hitching. He turns slightly, ladder wobbling—does he hear my soft whimpers? Fuck, the risk makes me throb harder. Imagine him spotting my flushed cheeks, skirt hiked, fingers buried knuckle-deep in my creamy pussy. He’d drop everything, pin me to the table, rip my panties aside, and stuff me raw. Long, brutal thrusts, my small tits bouncing free, his hand over my mouth to muffle my begs: “Harder! Breed me!” I’d switch it up, clawing his back, then flip him—maybe peg his ass later with my strap-on for payback, but right now? Pure submissive slut mode, pussy clenching around his pounding cock until he floods me, cum dripping down my legs as the library clock chimes midnight.
I came so hard that day, biting my sleeve to stay silent, panties ruined. Now I’m teasing you with it—want more? Imagine your cock stuffing me while I roleplay this bratty library fantasy. Who’s next to make me wet like that?
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Kylee
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