Fiona’s Red Confession: Desperate Six-Month Drought Explodes in Parking Lot Fury

Heart slamming against my ribs, I stand by my car in the shadowy parking lot under the Aix university dorms. Six months without a cock inside me. Desperation claws at my core. I’m 18, tiny at 1m55, 45kg, but tonight, a feral hunger rages. Friday night. Skipped the club for an online chat. petite-aixoise-Fiona. Blocked the creeps demanding pussy pics. Then Gros-sAix. Claims 20cm flaccid. MSN cam proves it. Monster hangs heavy. Chills ripple my skin. I strip on cam, nuisette shed, fingers diving into my slick folds. Moans escape. ‘Come fuck me,’ I gasp. He does. Park nearby first. I raid roommate Carole’s stash: mini-skirt, heels, no panties. Breeze teases my bare pussy as I wait on the bench. Couples stroll. Then him. Suit-clad. Tall, 1m85, intoxicating cologne. Francis, 26, IT engineer. Brother of clingy Thomas? World shrinks. Chitchat drags. Unease grips me. He walks me back. Air kisses my exposed lips with every step. Pulse races. Near my car, I bend over glovebox. Invitation blatant. His hands hike my skirt. Mouth devours my ass, then clit. Tongue lashes like fire. Juices flood. Five months starved, it hits like lightning. Skin burns. I whirl, drop to knees. His cock throbs, veined beast. Saliva coats it. Gags me deep. Balls slap chin. I finger myself, sloppy sucks echoing. He groans, hips buck. Cum erupts. Hot ropes fill my throat. First swallow ever. Salty nectar. Addictive. Lips crash. He hardens again. Condom on. Bent over hood, legs spread. Gland probes. Thrust shatters me. Scream rips out. Hand clamps mouth. Pain-pleasure rips through. Pussy stretches, owned. Thrusts hammer. Heart thunders. Orgasm crashes, legs buckle. Waves drown me. He flips me onto hood back. Tongue invades ass, fingers prep. ‘Fuck my ass!’ I beg. Slides in smooth. Brutal pumps. Second climax quakes me. Body convulses. He pulls out. Kneeling, face up. Cum blasts: face, hair drenched. Skin scorched, breaths ragged. We collapse against the car. Sweat-slick bodies pulse together. No words. Just aftershocks. Legs jelly. Pussy and ass throb, gloriously ruined. Nearly every noon after, his monster claims my dorm room. Year and half of endless orgasms. Now summer break. July drought returns. Chatting nets again. Need another Francis. Urgency builds. Pulse quickens at the thought.