**The Library’s Last Chance**

I never thought I’d get caught like this—hiding between the stacks in the university library, my back pressed against the cold shelves, heart hammering in my chest. But there she was, standing over me, her hips cocked, that dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

She was a futa—tall, curvy, her tight skirt barely hiding the thick bulge between her legs. Shy, they said. Bullshit. Her eyes were sharp, hungry, like she’d been waiting for this moment. And her hand was already sliding up my thigh, fingers digging in just hard enough to make me whimper.

“You’ve been staring,” she murmured, pressing closer until I could feel the heat of her against me. “At my cock, right? Couldn’t help yourself?”

I swallowed hard. Fuck, she was right. I’d seen her in the library before—always alone, always reading, but the way she shifted in her seat, the way her skirt rode up just enough to tease… I’d been obsessed. And now here she was, pinning me in place, her free hand sliding down to cup my balls through my jeans.

She squeezed.

I choked out a gasp, knees buckling as pain shot through me. But it was mixed with something else—a sick, throbbing heat.

“You like that?” she breathed, her lips brushing my ear. “Bet you never thought a shy girl like me would have you like this.” Her grip tightened, rolling my balls roughly in her palm. I groaned, half pain, half desperate pleasure.

“P-please,” I stammered, unsure if I was begging her to stop or keep going.

She laughed, low and dark. “Please what? You want my cock? Or do you want me to ruin yours?” Her fingers traced the outline of my aching dick through my pants, then suddenly yanked my zipper down.

Cool air hit my skin as she shoved my jeans lower, her hand wrapping around my shaft with a brutal grip. I hissed, hips jerking, but she held me still.

“Look at you,” she purred. “Hard already. Pathetic.” She pumped me slowly, thumb smearing pre-cum over the tip. “But I don’t think you deserve this, do you?”

Before I could answer, her other hand clamped around my balls again—harder this time, fingers digging in like she wanted to crush them. A strangled cry tore from my throat, my dick twitching helplessly in her fist.

“Fuck—*fuck*—!” I panted, tears pricking at my eyes.

She smirked. “That’s it. Beg me.” Her grip on my cock tightened, her strokes turning punishing. “Beg me to let you keep them.”

My stomach twisted with fear—and fucking hell, *arousal*. The pain was electric, her touch ruthless, and I hated how good it felt.

“P-please,” I gasped. “I—I need them, please—”

She tilted her head, considering, then leaned in close. “One,” she whispered. “You can keep *one*.”

My breath hitched. She wasn’t joking.

Her fingers traced the tight sack beneath my cock, squeezing just enough to make me whine. “Choose, or I’ll take both.”

I shuddered, hips bucking weakly into her hand. “L-left—*ah!*”

The second I said it, she twisted the right one sharply, wrenching a ragged moan from my lips. My cock throbbed, pre-cum leaking in thick drops as she stroked me faster, her thumb rubbing rough circles over the head.

“Good boy,” she murmured, watching me unravel. “Now cum for me. Then I’ll let you go.”

I didn’t have a choice. The pain, the pressure, her fucking *voice*—it was too much. My balls tightened, my back arched, and with a broken groan, I spilled into her hand, ropes of cum coating my stomach.

She didn’t stop. Not until I was shaking, oversensitive, tears streaking my face.

Then, with one last cruel squeeze to my aching sack, she pulled away, licking her fingers clean.

“See you next week,” she whispered, adjusting her skirt before walking away.

Left me there, half-naked, throbbing, and fucking terrified of how much I wanted her to come back.