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The sun had no mercy today.
Even at 6:30 in the evening, the heat clung to Brittany like a wet sheet, thick and pressing. After circling the lot twelve damn times and finally parking two blocks away, she was done. Her pink slip-ons slapped against the burning pavement as she strutted across campus without her usual sway – because the way her thighs slid together in this heat forced her gait into a slow, hypnotic roll.
She was wearing the tiniest white crop top – the kind that barely held to her chest even in air conditioning. Now it was soaked through with sweat, clinging transparently to the round curves of her breasts. No bra, of course. Her nipples had stiffened ages ago from nothing but friction and heat, two glossy beads poking proudly through the fabric as she walked. They bounced slightly with every step, trapped in damp cotton that outlined everything – the slope, the roundness, and faint shadows underneath. A single drop of sweat rolled slowly down the side of her left breast, catching the golden light as it slipped down her cleavage.
Her skirt wasn’t doing her any favors either – pleated, pastel, and so short that the hem teased the crease of her ass every time a breeze stirred. It clung to the tops of her thighs now, damp where her skin met fabric, the waistband loose from the way she’d unbuttoned it earlier just to breathe in the hot car. Between her legs, she could feel the sweat gathering and rubbing – not quite enough to be gross, but just enough to make her shift her hips every few steps, thighs glistening, inner edges shiny and pink as they peeked with every step.
By the time she stepped into the dorm lobby, her blonde hair – normally soft and bouncy -was clinging to her neck and collarbones in damp strands. She paused just inside the door, sighing dramatically and lifting her arms above her head in a stretch, arching her back until her chest practically spilled forward. Her top lifted just enough to expose a sliver of underboob and the edge of her ribcage, where faint goosebumps had started to rise beneath the sheen of sweat.
The lobby was empty. Thank god. Her makeup was a mess, her lip gloss melted into a faint shimmer, her eyeliner smudged to the corners of her bright blue eyes. She was too hot, too sticky, too tired to give a damn. Her tits ached from the heat, her thighs itched from the sweat, and every step in those goddamn shoes reminded her just how sweaty her soles were.
She crossed to the elevator and let out a high-pitched groan.
“Ughhh, seriously?” she pouted, puffing out her cheeks.
The stairwell it was.
Each step up to the third floor pulled at her calves and ass, making her bounce with exertion. Her skirt rode higher with every step, and the backs of her thighs were slick and shiny. The bannister was hot under her hand, the walls smelled faintly of mildew and someone’s forgotten instant noodles, and her sweat now trickled freely down her spine, between her shoulder blades, and lower – all the way down her lower back, pooling at the waistband of her skirt.
By the time she reached her floor, she was a flushed, glistening mess – tits bouncing, chest heaving, thighs trembling just slightly from the climb. Her keycard stuck in the reader twice before clicking green. She pushed the door open with one hand, too tired to announce herself.
And that’s when she heard it.
A wet rhythm – faint thuds and slick movements, a guttural breath like someone trying to stay silent… but failing.
Brittany blinked, lips parted, her skin flushed from the heat. She stepped inside slowly, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
Her hand still rested on the doorknob, slippery with sweat. The heat inside was just as oppressive as it had been outside, maybe worse as the A/C broke just yesterday, and the windows didn’t open. The short entranceway was dim, lit only by the faint pinkish glow bleeding in from Riley’s LED strip along her desk. The air was thick, still, and humid, like breathing through a towel. Her skin prickled, sticky and glowing from the walk.
But that sound…
She tilted her head.
Slap-slap-slap-squelch-slap-
It was rhythmic. Fast. Aggressive. Raw. And every few seconds, a stifled grunt. Deep. Strained.
Her eyes widened, lips parting into a glossy pink “o.”
“No way,” she whispered, voice a breathy mix of surprise and disbelief. Her heart skipped. Riley – her weird, bookish, mouse-voiced roommate – had brought a boy over? Like, a real one? Here? In this heat? And she didn’t even say anything?
Brittany’s glossy pink nails fluttered to her mouth in amused shock.
“Oh my god, I didn’t know you had it in you…” she muttered, more amused than judgmental. “You go, nerd.”
But even as she let go of the doorknob with a soft, slightly audible click, she furrowed her brows.
Something… wasn’t right.
There was only one voice. A masculine one, maybe – low and shaky, muttering breathless “fuck-fuck-fuuuuck-” into the stale air. But there was no female voice. No gorukle escort gasps. No giggles. No squeals. No begging. No slap of flesh against flesh the way she was used to hearing it.
Just… wet, furious squelching, and heavy slaps like something massive being pounded into tight resistance.
Her glossy lips pursed in confusion.
“Wait…” she murmured, removing her slip ons by the door and padding closer to the corner in the room, every step sticky and soft against the linoleum. “Why isn’t Riley doing anything…?”
Another grunt. More urgent.
The sounds echoed now – sharper, more desperate. And loud. So loud.
She stopped walking.
What the hell was this guy doing to her?
Her mind flipped between fascination and indignation. Was Riley just letting this loser pound her like a broken toy and not even enjoying it? Or worse – was she scared to say no? Brittany tilted her head, concern sneaking past her own bimbo haze of lip gloss and crop tops.
“No no no,” she whispered to herself. “That’s… not cool.”
She inched closer to the corner – the one that turned into the main dorm room. From here, the sound was so close it practically vibrated in her chest. She pressed her bare back against the wall, breath held, the sweat on her neck now cool from the rush of adrenaline.
She had to check.
Just a peek. Just to make sure Riley was okay. That’s all.
Brittany leaned in – ever so slowly – letting one eye, then the bridge of her perfect little nose, slip around the corner.
And what she saw wasn’t Riley being railed by some anonymous college boy.
It was Riley.
Alone.
Nude from the waist down, hunched over beside her bed, legs were trembling, pale skin flushed and twitching, and between them…
Brittany’s breath caught.
Her jaw dropped.
At first, all she saw was the crown of Riley’s head – that familiar black braid she wore every day, still tied back neatly like always… but frayed. Stray hairs had slipped free, curling at the edges, clinging to the sweat slicking her neck. They glistened in the LED light like little black threads, fluttering slightly with each panting exhale.
She looked at her shirt. It was the same black button-up Riley wore to class most days – now rumpled, soaked, and halfway unbuttoned down the front. It clung to her shoulders, the collar askew, hanging off one side just enough to expose a wet patch of flushed skin. Her breasts – small, soft, unbound – were clearly visible beneath. No bra.
Brittany’s lips parted in a stunned little gasp. She had never seen Riley’s nipples before. Riley did a good job of hiding her body while Brittany was around.
They were pink, stiff, glistening with sweat – standing out from her pale chest like two drops of candy just waiting to be sucked. The shirt barely covered anything now. Every shallow breath Riley took made her chest rise and fall visibly, the fabric sliding slightly over damp skin, bunching at the underside of her ribs.
Brittany’s eyes made it to the girls face. Sweat rolled down her temples, past her cheeks, down the flushed curve of her throat. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lashes clumped with wetness, brows pulled together in something between pleasure and desperation. Her mouth hung open – not in a moan, but something more primal. Her tongue was out, way too long, like a thick, slick ribbon hanging down past her lips, trembling with each frantic breath. Brittany had never seen anything like it.
Brittany’s thighs clenched instinctively.
The girl was squatted in the middle of the room, just beside her bed. Her thighs spread wide, her bare ass rested against the backs of her calves, and her feet were dug deep into the carpet, toes curled, ankles trembling.
The carpet was soaked.
All around Riley’s feet, the originally white carpet was a darkened, rippling mess of sheen and stains and spreading fluid. It shimmered faintly under the pink LED glow. Brittany stared, stunned, trying to count the droplets falling – from Riley’s face, her nipples, her everything. And it still wasn’t enough to explain the volume.
Sweat? Maybe. Drool? Definitely. But that thick, cloudy fluid pooling near her heels, leaking in clear rivulets down her thighs?
Brittany swallowed, hard, the realization loud in her own ears.
That was… precum.
Her breath caught before she even saw it – her gut tightening like she doing an ab workout. Some instinct inside her screaming that she shouldn’t be seeing this. That this wasn’t right. That Riley… sweet, quiet, flustered Riley… couldn’t possibly-
Between Riley’s trembling thighs, jutting forward like a living beast, was a cock.
Not a boy’s. Not a toy.
A monstrous, impossible shaft of veiny, glistening flesh that throbbed and flexed visibly with each desperate pump of her hands. And she was using both hands — one wrapped around the thick, drooling crown, fingers unable to span the girth, while the other stroked the length of her bursa görükle escort shaft all the way down to the root where her thighs pressed in tight. The thing was so big she had to angle it upward just to keep it from slapping against the floor. It pulsed with heat and slick with her own oozing arousal.
Brittany couldn’t move. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, echoing in her ears as she stared – openly, helplessly – at the thick, meaty column Riley was jacking with frantic, greedy strokes.
And the sounds.
Slap-squelch… slap-squelch… ffffuck-
That wasn’t a man’s voice, but it wasn’t Riley’s, either.
It was deeper. Not her usual soft-spoken mumbles, not her stuttering apologies in the hallway. No. These were raw, low grunts pulled from somewhere deep in her gut – primal and masculine in tone, like they didn’t belong in her body at all. Each groan trembled on the edge of a growl, lips wet and open, tongue flopping as she pumped harder, faster, letting the thick, cloudy precum pour from her tip like syrup onto the ruined carpet.
Brittany’s thighs squeezed together. Hard. She felt her breath stutter, her mouth dry.
That thing had to be at least 16 inches long…
She couldn’t even estimate. It moved like it had a pulse. Like it was aware. Veins thick as cords pulsed with every squeeze of her slick fingers, the crown twitching and flaring, fat and flushed and so sensitive Riley whined every time her thumb passed over the slit.
“Haaah… fuck…” Riley gasped, and Brittany’s pussy clenched at the sound – a moan, yes, but not the kind she ever heard from any of her past failed relationships. This was something else entirely.
Brittany’s eyes looked around the room, to look for answers, but also to distract herself from her own feelings. Her eyes focus on Riley’s laptop. The screen was coated in light – a digital haze of pinks and flesh tones, flickering shadows, and moaning voices. She blinked. Then leaned a little closer.
A video was playing
A girl.
Young, petite, hair in messy pigtails, collar around her neck. On her knees.
Face completely smeared in cum – so much it dripped from her chin in ropes. Mascara running. Makeup ruined. Eyes rolled back. Mouth wide open.
And pressed against her lips – from offscreen – was a cock. Not just any cock.
A monster. Thick, heavy, glistening. Veiny like a forearm. Covered in slick, messy lubricant.
And coming out of the girl’s ass was another one.
Brittany’s eyes widened.
It was a double penetration. But not from two guys.
The girl’s stomach bulged – visibly, grotesquely – and between her legs, she wasn’t even touching herself. Her hands were tied behind her back. The only thing twitching was her tongue as it flicked and wiggled in front of that massive cock like a trained pet.
Brittany gasped – softly, her breath fogging against the wall she hid behind. Her stomach twisted.
She was disgusted, stunned, but, most of all, she was wet.
“Holy fuck,” she whispered.
Because Riley – nerdy, quiet, flushed-faced Riley – wasn’t watching normal porn. She wasn’t watching dick pics or amateur couples or soft moaning. She was jerking that titanic cock to girls being broken. Used. Filled. Fucked in both ends by women with cocks the size of arms. Drenched in cum, tongues out, eyes crossed.
And Riley’s hand was still moving. Faster now.
Brittany watched as the muscles in Riley’s forearms strained. Her thighs trembled.
She could feel the pulse between her thighs – quick, sharp, almost painful – syncing up with every slap and squelch of Riley’s strokes. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her breath was quick and quiet, shallow enough to keep from being heard, but not enough to cool her down. And she was still sweating.
“Fuck dude…” she whispered to no one but herself.
The back of her crop top clung to her spine. Her skirt – already too tight – now felt suffocating. Her thighs were slick. She hadn’t worn panties all day. There was nothing to stop the heat.
Or the wetness.
She bit her lip as she watched her roommate do her thing.
Riley’s entire body was trembling. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, lips stretched wide in a helpless expression of animal need. She grunted through clenched teeth, hips rocking slightly now, chasing something deeper. Her hands were soaked in a mixture of precum and sweat, the noise of it filthy – like someone plunging into thick syrup.
Schhlap-schhhlap-pop-squelch-
The screen flashed again – the video was still playing. Brittany caught another moment of that poor cum-soaked girl being held down and stuffed like a toy, her stomach visibly bulging as one of the futa twins rammed her full from behind, while the other was working deep in her pussy.
Riley moaned. A deep, vulnerable sound.
Brittany’s hand moved.
Without thinking, without hesitation, she slid one hand down – beneath the front of her skirt – fingertips brushing the hot, soaked skin just below her belly. She touched herself softly, just at first, as if testing how wet she really was.
Her fingers came back slick.
She let out a whisper of a gasp – quiet, sharp – and flattened her back against the wall again, her free hand covering her mouth. But her other hand kept moving. Two fingers now, sliding slow circles around her clit, warm and swollen, pulsing with need.
Her knees buckled slightly.
She bit down on the side of her palm to stifle the sound.
Watching Riley stroke that beast of a cock, hearing her moan like that, seeing the way her whole body trembled – it was like watching something sacred. Or profane. Or both. It shouldn’t have made her horny. It should have made her sick.
Brittany’s hand moved in tight, practiced circles now – just enough to keep the pressure building, never tipping over. She kept her thighs pressed together, using the friction, letting her own slick heat coat her fingers, spreading that warmth until it pulsed all the way into her gut.
But she didn’t want to cum yet.
But Riley on the other hand… Riley was close.
It was obvious now in every motion – the way her hips bucked, erratic and strained, the way her grip shifted from stroke to grind, mashing the base of that dripping shaft against her own soaked skin. Her fingers trembled. Her breath came in broken gasps. Her tongue hung out like a dog’s, quivering with every heaving grunt.
Her cock was furious now – flushed deep red at the tip, precum gushing in steady, leaking pulses that dripped down her shaft and pooled on her stomach in thick, cloudy strings. The entire thing flexed in her hands, throbbing with need, her knuckles white from how hard she gripped the base.
Her voice – or what was left of it – broke in a choked moan:
“Nnn-ahh-g-gonna… fuck…”
Her back arched.
Her toes curled into the soaked carpet.
Her hips rocked forward, jerking against the air, desperate for friction. Her hands pumped faster – sloppy, uncontrolled now – the sound of wet flesh against flesh louder than ever.
Brittany watched. Her lips parted. Her fingers slowed again, hovering just on the edge of her climax, but holding. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to be ready. Not until Riley came.
One more moan. One more twitch of that fat cock.
“F-fuck-!” Riley whimpered.
Riley eyes shot open, and her cock flexed once – violently – and then erupted.
Brittany’s eyes widened as the first jet of cum fired straight up, splattering Riley’s chest, her neck, even her face. Thick ropes shot from her tip in brutal pulses – creamy, heavy, like warm batter – coating her stomach, her thighs, the poor carpet, everything.
She moaned through it, deep and helpless, her hips twitching, her hands still pumping as spurt after spurt of that hot, milky load spewed across her trembling form.
Brittany squeezed her thighs tighter.
Her fingers hovered – aching – but she didn’t cum.
She just stood there, panting silently, soaked, edging, and completely entranced. Watching her quiet, nerdy roommate empty a week’s worth of lust across the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Brittany didn’t know how long she stood there, watching her roommate writh in pleasure and her own release. Riley had completely collapsed.
Her body was now flat against the carpet, limp, twitching. Her back arched unnaturally from the way her legs were still folded beneath her – thighs pressed under her, ass shoved between her calves and body, knees splayed to the sides, like her body had just given up in the middle of that violent orgasm. Her chest heaved, nipples still stiff, streaked with cum, her breath coming in long, uneven gasps through parted lips.
Her face was a mess. Drool, sweat, semen – all of it clung to her flushed cheeks, soaked her neck, dripped from the side of her jaw. Her long tongue finally pulled back into her mouth, twitching once before vanishing behind trembling lips. Her eyes fluttered open, just for a second, red and dazed, blinking against the thick splash of cum that had painted her face.
She wiped at it lazily with one shaking hand, smearing it more than cleaning it, then let her arm flop limply to the floor.
Her cock was still massive, laying across her stomach like a collapsed tower, stretching from just above her pelvis all the way past her navel, the tip resting sticky and flushed against her ribs. With every slow breath, it twitched. Not fully hard anymore – but not soft, either. The thing was monstrous even in retreat, shiny with cum and slick, veiny, beautiful in the most obscene way imaginable.
Brittany couldn’t look away.
The air was thick with it – sex, heat, sweat, cum. Her own thighs were soaked. Her hand was still between them, fingers trembling just slightly, wet with her own lust but too stunned to move anymore.
Looking away in embarrassment, she noticed the porn video was still playing.
The cum-splattered girl, the very same one from before, was now lying on her back, panting, eyes half-lidded and dreamy. One of the futa twins, the one who had filled her pussy, was now crouched beside her, stroking her hair lovingly while rubbing her still-leaking belly.
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