Poor Student Girl… She Believed That it’s just a gift

The sun beats down on the pavement, reflecting off the grimy windows of the surrounding buildings. The air is thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and cheap perfume. She sits on the edge of a worn-out bench, her skirt hiked up to her hips, thighs slick with sweat. The wad of cash in her hand is damp, the bills sticking together like a clammy tongue. She licks her lips, a nervous habit, and looks around furtively. A gift, he said. A fucking gift, like she’s some charity case. Her fingers trace the outline of the money, counting it again, as if the numbers will change. She swallows hard, her eyes glazing over as she remembers his words, his promises. The bench creaks as she shifts, her pussy throbbing with a mix of fear and anticipation. She knows what he wants, what he expects. Her legs spread a little wider, the cool air hitting her wet cunt. She can hear his voice, rough and demanding, telling her to touch herself, to show him what’s his. Her hand slides down, fingers dipping into her slick folds, rubbing her clit in slow, teasing circles. She moans softly, the sound lost in the hum of the city. Her body betrays her, arching into her touch, begging for more. She knows she’s a whore for the money, a slut for the thrill. But she can’t stop, can’t resist the pull of the dirty bills and the promise of more. Her fingers plunge deeper, fucking herself in cruel, harsh strokes, mimicking what’s to come. She imagines his cock, thick and hard, replacing her fingers, pounding into her with brutal force. Her breath hitches, her body tensing as she chases her release, a pathetic pawn in his sick game.

She stands up abruptly, her body shaking with a mix of lust and anger. She stuffs the money into her bra, the wad pressing against her heart like a dirty secret. She walks away, her steps echoing in the empty plaza, her mind racing with filthy thoughts. She knows where to find him, knows what he’ll do to her. She can feel his hands on her already, gripping her hips, slapping her ass, leaving his mark. She shudders, her nipples hardening under her thin top. She hates him, hates herself for wanting this, for needing this. But she can’t fight it, can’t deny the dark desire that consumes her. She quickens her pace, her heart pounding in her chest. She’s a poor student girl, played for a fool, but she’s also a fucking slut, eager for his cock, hungry for his abuse. She can’t wait to feel him inside her, can’t wait to be used, to be fucked, to be owned. Her mind is a whirlwind of dirty thoughts, her body aching with need. She’s a mess, a pathetic, dirty mess, but she’s his mess, his plaything, his little slut. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.