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“Student ID?”

I fumbled around my jeans for my student ID. The Indian security guard at the gate nodded as I found it and flashed it at him. “Long night at the library?” he asked casually, leaning backwards in his chair as his eyes flicked down and up again.

“Yeah.” I gave him a small smile and quickly turned away. The security guard (what was his name again?) was, truth be told, fairly attractive with that handlebar mustache, and he was always polite, but the way he always raked his eyes over my body, as if he were undressing me with his eyes, made me feel uncomfortable. I shrugged. It wasn’t worth getting upset over. He meant nothing by it, and in an odd way it was almost flattering.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ears as a sudden gust blew it loose. Considering the weather, I was glad that I had gathered my shoulder-length hair up into a loose ponytail, clipping my fringe to a side with a hair clip.

About halfway to the library I made a right turn, going down a flight of stairs into a narrow corridor with a number of stage doors. I went to the one on the left and pulled at the door. It was locked, but it gave way with some protest on my second yank, and I quickly slipped into it and secured it behind me.

I took a deep breath of the still air in Lecture Hall 1. Throughout the past week, I had been dropping by the lecture hall surreptitiously after class. Lecture Hall 1 was a large, auditorium-style room with rows of seats sloping down to an elevated stage. Due to its size the third-sem students used it for their lectures. I had known about the faulty stage door locks for a while, and last week I discovered that, with the seniors’ final exams in full swing there were no lectures being held there, so I had the whole place to myself.

The hall had a set of restrooms, each situated on opposite sides of the hall. I made a beeline for the one on the left. The universal ‘male’ icon on the door of the restroom seemed almost like a fellow conspirator as I slipped myself through the door. I felt a small spasm of arousal within me as I walked pass the row of urinals, thinking of the cocks these ceramic receptacles had seen. It had been a one-time thing the first time, done in a fit of adventurousness. But the seedy thrill of it was exhilarating, and I soon found that I could not resist coming back here.

I scurried into the stall nearest to the door, closing it behind me and sitting down on the toilet seat. I was already kicking my comfortable flats aside as I sat down, at the same time struggling to wriggle out of the confines of my jeans. They were off my legs and on a strategically-placed wall hook in no time. There was a growing wet patch on my striped panties, sticking partially to my shaved crotch and rendering the cotton semi-transparent. I didn’t usually shave my pubic hair, but I had done it on a whim yesterday, and I had to admit that the smoothness felt sexy. With one practiced movement I slid the panties past my hips and down my thighs as well.

My hand immediately reached down to my slit, expertly locating the little pearl amongst the folds of my pussy. I had to chew on my lip to stifle a moan as I finally gave my clitoris the attention it desperately needed. No one was likely to hear me in here, but old precautions died hard. The waves of pleasure rippling through my lower body made me shudder as I massaged my clit. I started out slow, but unconsciously the tempo began to increase until I was masturbating furiously.

As I felt an orgasm approaching, I consciously forced myself to slow down. There was no point in rushing to the finish line when I had all the time in the world. I could feel a bead of sweat rolling down my neck and down the valley between my heaving breasts. It was getting hot in here. I reached up to unbutton my shirt with one hand while I kneaded my clitoris lightly with the fingers on my other. The cooler air felt like a seductive caress on my skin as I let my shirt fall open, revealing the front of my 34B bra, which was already half-soaked with perspiration.

I giggled breathlessly at the sheer wantonness of what I was doing. After a moment of consideration I flipped at the lock of the stall door, allowing it to drift ajar. I had never done that before, but it wasn’t like anybody came in here anyway. As the door languidly drifted open I gasped, seeing my reflection the mirror on the opposite wall.

The slut in the mirror was panting through slightly parted lips, her pale face flush with arousal. An errand strand of dark hair had fallen loose from under the floral clip, clinging to her sweat-sheened face. Her sober checkered shirt was hanging wantonly open, chest heaving under a demure light blue bra. A hand was propped against the wall of the cubicle stall, while the other arm shook with urgent motion, the object of its attentions cut off from the mirror by the basin counter.

Is this how I look like when I’m aroused? The thought was absurdly titillating. I imagined my male coursemates bursting in and finding me in this state, stroking their big, virile cocks as they watched me get off on the seat of a toilet.

Remembering a scene from the porno I had been watching as I rubbed myself to sleep last night, I spread my legs brazenly and parted the moist lips of my pussy with my fingers, giving my imaginary audience a show. “Fuck me,” I whispered to the empty men’s room.

It didn’t take long before I felt the beginnings of an orgasm building in me. I was leaning back on the toilet lid now, the fingers of one hand sawing up and down my inflamed pink nub while the other hand spread my virgin pussy wide open. As I squirmed and bucked against my digits, the friction of my erect nipples against the fabric of my bra fed trickles of arousal into a rapidly widening torrent of lust.

I closed my eyes, savouring the rising sexual tension in my loins. A sudden waft of cool air on my exposed inner lips pushed me closer to the edge, and a low moan escaped my lips as I shuddered and squirmed with the beginnings of an orgasm.

The sound of a door clicking shut made my heart skip a beat. My eyes flew open. In the mirror I saw the security guard, standing dumbstruck at the restroom door. He gaped openly as I writhed on the toilet seat, powerless to stop the climax from ripping through my body.


He was moving as I bucked uncontrollably to the throes of a most intense orgasm, and held a hand to the cubicle door as I tried to slam it shut. Seeing him close in I instinctively covered my body instead, and the door drifted open again.

“What the hell indeed,” he said quietly. He had a fiendish glint in his eye that I did not like.

“Wrong restroom, asshole!”

That elicited a short bark of laughter from the guard. “Nice try.” Not exactly the response I had hoped for.

“Just go away!” I cried. I was thinking fast. Where was my cell phone? With it I could call the police, or one of my friends-

Shit. My cell phone was in the pocket of my jeans, which were hanging from a hook on the wall of the stall. I shot a quick, discreet glance at my jeans. The small bulge in the right pocket confirmed my suspicion. The guard did not miss my glance, and his eyes flicked to it briefly and back to me, eyes burning with a challenge. Could I get it before he did?

Abruptly I lunged up from the toilet seat and made a grab for them, but he was nearer and got to them first. Smirking, he dangled the jeans just out of my reach, daring me to try and snatch it. I would have tried to make another grab for it, but that would have exposed my wet pussy to him, which was something I wanted to avoid as much as possible.

When he saw that I was not about to make another move, he began searching through the pockets of my jeans wordlessly.

I knew that I probably looked ridiculous, with one hand barely covering my leaking crotch and the other holding my unbuttoned blouse together. “Give m- I- I would like my jeans back… um… please?”

“Sit.” I flinched at his commanding tone, and with his body dominating the stall entrance I had no choice but to slump ignominiously back down on the toilet seat.

The guard resumed his methodical ransacking of my pockets. My phone he found first, tossing it aside out of my reach. He fished out my wallet, flipping through it. “Elise,” he muttered, but otherwise said nothing.

The tension was unbearable. I had to regain control of the situation.

“Listen, I-” I began, but the look of warning he shot me made my words catch in my throat. I decided to change tack. “You know what? You got me. What do you want?” I was trying for assertive, but it came out like pleading.

His replying smile was chilling, and I quailed under his predatory stare. He did not say it, but his flaring nostrils gave me some idea of what he wanted. “A quick fuck,” he confirmed bluntly. “In, out, fifteen minutes, tops. Then I give you your jeans back, let you go, and we’ll forget about this. Yes?”

I blushed fiercely at his suggestion. “I don’t… I don’t do that,” I stammered. “Just please give me my jeans back.” Quite unconsciously I started reaching for my jeans again.

He moved my jeans ever so slightly away and gave me an impatient look. “No fuck, no pants,” he said slowly, emphasizing each syllable as if trying to explain a simple concept to a child. “Are we clear on this?”

He leaned forward into the stall, reaching out with his free hand to caress my burning cheek. I flinched from his touch instinctively. “Get away from me! I-I’ll report you!”

He chortled derisively. “Who’re they going to believe – the half-naked bitch in the men’s room, or the security guard, doing his job?”

“They’ll believe me,” I said, trying to keep the quaver from my voice. Even to me it sounded like a plea. “You’re g-going to jail.”

“Jail?” His shrug was supremely nonchalant as he lifted his sleeve, revealing what I assumed was a gang tattoo on his dark skin. “I’ll risk it. You, on the other hand, will be the sex-crazed slut in the men’s room.”

Dammit. He called my bluff. I felt what remained of my resistance trickling away. He had the right of it. Even if the school authorities believed me, which looked unlikely, word gets around. No one at college knew how sex-obsessed I was, and I really, really wanted to keep it that way. I must have hesitated for too long, as he snapped his fingers. “Or I can just take this matter to the dean’s office?” Almost casually, he began to turn away.

“Wait,” I said quickly. “I’ll… I’ll suck you off,” I heard myself say.

Having a one-off quickie in private with this scumbag was, disgusting as it sounded, infinitely better than the entire campus finding out about my sexual adventures, not to mention being expelled. Besides, it was just a blowjob, I told myself.

For a moment it seemed like he was seriously considering walking away. He let me stew in my uncertainty for a minute before he spoke. “I’m going to be kind to you, seeing as you’re such a… nice girl,” he said with a smirk. “You may suck my cock, but you have to ask for it.”

“Please?” I guess this was some sort of weird power trip for him.

“Please what, slut?”

I knew what he wanted me to say. “Please…” I gritted my teeth. “May I suck… your cock?”

He grinned. “Since you asked so nicely, slut,” he said as he advanced into the stall and locked the stall door behind him, “go ahead.”

As I was still seated on the toilet bowl, I was roughly eye-level to his crotch, giving me a clear view of the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Tentatively, I unzipped his pants, reaching into his boxers to fish out his dark cock. Its erect length felt hot and (oddly enough) velvety under my nervous fingers as I brought it closer to my mouth. As I did I caught a whiff of his crotch. It had the sour odor of sweat and day-old urine, and something else faintly detectable under it. I had seen countless pornos, but the smell was new to me, and despite my predicament-

“Suck it, Elise.”

His unexpected use of my name threw me off more completely than any amount of name-calling could have, and at that moment I was hit by a deep sense of shame. For some reason it fed into the afterglow of my orgasm, and I felt a sudden rush of lust. Mortified, I felt a tear spill over my eyelid. I wiped it away hastily. He will not have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Ignoring the odor, I brought the cock to my lips, then lowered my lips over the dark helmet of his cock. I felt saliva flooding my mouth, swirling around the velvety head. His cock was salty and vaguely alkaline, but to my relief it was nowhere as disgusting as the odor suggested. I sucked gingerly at the bulbous head as if it was some popsicle, and the head of his cock surged in my mouth. I felt a glimmer of hope. Was he coming, already?

Grabbing my head by my ears, he pulled me roughly off his cock. “Stop wasting my time. How long are you going to keep doing this virginal princess nonsense?”

Despite the situation, I felt annoyance flaring up in me. “Fuck you,” I spat.

He smirked. “That’s better.”

I tried to retort, but in a single stroke he shoved the length of his cock roughly into my mouth. I panicked when I felt the tip of his cock at my throat, but my scream was muffled by cock. I pushed at his crotch and tried to move my head away, but his hold was strong.

“No teeth,” he warned. After a few long moments he relaxed his hold on my head, allowing me to ease off his cock a little, though half his length was still in my mouth. Still fighting to catch my breath, I looked up and glared daggers at him.

He glared right back. “Bite me, I dare you.” When I lowered my eyes his laugh was mocking. Gripping my ears like handles, he lifted my head almost all the way off his cock, then slammed my head down into his crotch again. I fought an urge to retch as I felt his cock at the back of my throat, something that having my nose buried in his tangle of pubes did not help. My hands beat desperately against his thighs in protest, to no avail.

He began working my head up and down his shaft vigourously. “Who the. Fuck. Do you. Think. You. Are,” he snarled, punctuating each word by pounding his cock into my open mouth. “You fucking cunt.” He yanked painfully at my ponytail to get me off his shaft, cupping my chin so that I looked directly at him. “Perhaps I should just fuck you anyway.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. “You can’t do this! We… we had a deal!”

His face darkened. “That you would suck my cock. Not be a damn blow-up doll for me to face fuck.”

I didn’t get the distinction, but I did not want to lose my virginity. Not like this. And certainly not with this bastard. “Please, mister, I- I can do better.” Abandoning all pretense of modesty, I wrapped my hands around his cock and tugged at it desperately. “I can.”

“You will,” he said coldly. “Stand up. You will service me like a proper whore.”

I bit my trembling lip to steady it. How much humiliation did he intend to put me through before he was done with me? By now I knew better than to disobey however, so we switched positions so that he was sitting on the toilet instead. I leaned against the stall door, my hand brushing against the door handle. For a brief moment I considered simply grabbing my jeans and bolting out.

The guard did not miss my train of thought, but neither did he seem too concerned by the possibility. “You’re welcome to try. But when I get my hands on you again I assure you that I will fuck that pussy raw and fill it with my cum. And when I’m done with that I will fuck you up your sweet ass. If you’re a good girl I might even lube up.” He leaned back comfortably on the toilet seat. “Otherwise you get down here and start sucking, cunt.”

I hesitated briefly before my hand fell away from the door handle. Defeated, I sank to my knees between his legs and took his cock in my hands. The feel of the restroom floor tiles digging into my bare knees drove my predicament home. I tried to blink back the tears fogging up my vision, but a lone tear escaped and dripped onto his shaft, where it traced a path alongside a protruding vein before slipping down the side.

He gave an impatient growl and I felt a hand on the back of my head, shoving me down and impaling me again onto his cock. I gagged as I felt his cockhead bump against the back of my throat. For a moment I was afraid he was going to start face fucking me again, but the pressure on my head eased up, though he left his hand there.

I tried my best to pleasure him with my mouth, taking in almost his entire member before sliding back up so that only the bulb of his cock was in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if this would be to his liking, but when he made what sounded like a contented sigh, I felt an unbidden surge of gratitude and redoubled my efforts. I settled into a rhythm, bobbing my head so that my lips slid up and down his hard length, never leaving it. He was for the moment content to let me work on his cock, his hand on my head caressing my hair absently, as a master pets his dog.

I felt my cheeks redden with chagrin. What was the matter with me, that I would be so pathetically eager to debase myself for the approval of my violator? Even as the thought occurred to me, a shiver of lust went through my body. The tears I had promised myself I wouldn’t shed spilled forth from my eyes like a dam just broke, and suddenly I was sobbing and gagging over his cock.

I tried to lift myself off his cock for a reprieve, but his hand behind my head had grown firm again. “Quit blubbering and suck it up, you fucking cunt.” He laughed at his own wit. I tensed up when I felt his hands taking hold of my ponytail, which by this point had almost lost its shape. I was better prepared this time, but that didn’t make the facefucking any less brutal.

He pummeled his hard cock into my mouth for what seemed like an eternity, the girth of it muffling my screams and cries. When he finally lifted my face off his cock, I pleaded incoherently for mercy, sobbing in great heaves as I gulped greedily at the fresh air.

“P-p-please, n-no more. I’ll be… I’ll… be g-good. J-j-just pl-please… no more…”

With a hand on my chin he tilted my face forcefully up to look at him again. “Listen up, whore. Until I blast my cum into your gullet, your mouth is nothing but a wet hole for me to fuck, and you are just a worthless fucktoy. Am I being understood?”

Against all reason I felt my pussy clench with frustrated need. “Y-yes, yes sir,” I said tremulously. I am a slut. The thought made my pussy twinge again. I was acutely aware of the wetness of my pussy trickling down my thigh. Unconsciously I squeezed my legs closer together. The tiny friction on my clit this caused was exquisite, and I could not prevent a small moan escaping my lips.

That did not escape his notice. As he pressed my head onto his cock again, his other hand brushed aside my open shirt, snaking under my bra to cup a breast. My heart was beating against my ribcage as I felt the warmth of his hand against my breast, but I dared not stop pleasuring him with my mouth. He grunted in approval as he gave it a squeeze, then moved his attentions to the other breast. As he roughly explored my chest I felt his callused palm brushing against my soft skin, hovering over a nipple. His soft kneading of my nipple between his two fingers caused another unexpected flash of arousal. Involuntarily my tongue flexed against the base of his cock, causing him to take a deep breath.

“Oh ho, like that do you?” I shook my head and gave a muffled cry in protest, but that just made his hips twitch, sliding his shaft deeper into my mouth. “Use your tongue.”

I did as I was told, lapping my tongue experimentally against the base of his cock. I heard him inhale sharply. “Good girl,” he growled. “You’re a good little cocksucker.” I closed my eyes, willing myself to block out his words. It wasn’t so bad, I told myself. Once I had settled into the steady rhythm of up-and-down my mind could wander elsewhere… but his idle pinching of my nipples kept bringing me back to my present predicament in little tugs.

I lost track of time, but this must have gone on for maybe fifteen minutes. There were a couple of times when he tensed up and seemed like he was about to come, but I must have been mistaken because both times his hand just directed me to slow my bobbing.

I froze in mid-bob when I heard the door to the washroom open, but when I tried to ease off I felt his hand at the back of my head keeping me in position with an iron strength. I could almost feel my heart in my throat. I was in an extremely compromising position – kneeling half-naked on the floor of a male toilet cubicle, with a strange man’s cock in my mouth.

“Yo Muthu,” the person outside called out. “You in there, man?” I recognized the voice. It was one of the other security guards.

“Can’t a man dump a load in peace? Jeez.” Muthu (that’s his name, I suppose. I never did remember his name before) gave a low groan as my tongue flicked over the base of his dark helmet.

The man outside clucked sympathetically. “Sounds like a real fucker. Just don’t take too long, okay? You’re locking up today.” I heard the door close slowly, whining on its hinges.

Muthu let out a breathless chuckle. “Hear that, my little slut? You need to step up your game, stop taking your time enjoying my big dick.”

I felt a stab of anger. I couldn’t be sure, but if anything it was him that kept it up for so long. I lifted my mouth off his manhood to protest. “You-”

He cut me off by shoving my face down onto his shaft again. “Less talk, more suck,” he grunted. “Until I cum, your pretty little mouth exists only to service my cock.” He yanked my ponytail back, forcing me to look at him. “Or have you forgotten?”

With the bulb of his cock still in my mouth, I grudgingly shook my head. I froze again when I heard the door open once more, though I knew better this time than to try to get his cock out.

“Hey Muthu.” It was that other guard again.

“What now?” To my surprise he grabbed my head by the ears and began to guide my head up and down. I was too terrified to resist or even breathe through my nose. In the moment the wet sound of my lips sliding over his glistening cock sounded more than loud enough to be heard from outside the cubicle.

“You have the keys, right?”

He gave a groan. “Yeeahhh.”

“Great.” A few seconds later came the click of the door as it closed, and I could breathe again. I had never felt more relieved in my life to hear a door closing.

Muthu seemed to be more relaxed too, as he let go of my ears, allowing me to set my own pace. I slowed down to regain my breath, swirling my tongue around his shaft to compensate. His occasional low moan told me that I was doing it right.

Quite suddenly, his thighs tensed up, and unlike the first two times I felt my mouth fill with something warm and viscous. He’s cumming! Instinctively I jerked away from his cock, and it came out of my mouth with a pop- but his one-eyed snake spat again, and again, and I felt ropy gobs of cum splash against my face before I could flinch away. As I turned away to retch a stray strand clung itself to my hair. I felt his cum congeal as it slid slowly down my cheek and chin, a few droplets falling on my neck and bra. It had a pungent, alkaline smell that reminded me vaguely of corn.

It was only when I had gingerly wiped away a glob of cum from my lips that I noticed the phone in his hand, the camera lens glinting in the dim light. “Wh-what’s that?” I asked tremulously, but I had a sinking feeling that I already knew. “We had a deal.”

“Insurance.” He shrugged, pocketing the phone. “Besides, the deal was a blowjob for your pants.” He tossed me my jeans and stood up, bringing his flaccid cock closer to me. I cringed, but it was only to smear the tip of his cock across my forehead and wipe it clean with my hair like a washcloth. This final casual objectifying gesture drove the point of my humiliation home, and I was unable to keep silent sobs from wracking my half-naked, cum-stained body.

He seemed indifferent to my sniffles, nonchalantly zipping up his pants, but before he left he caressed my lower lip in a way that was almost gentle. Then without another word he walked away, a smirk on his face, leaving me shivering on the cold dirty floor of the toilet.

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