Miraku

In the solitude and dim lighting of the library Miraku glances around, ensuring she is quite alone. With a shaky breath, she dares to hike her skirt up and parts her thighs, revealing the absurd protrusion between them - a cockhead of ridiculous proportions sitting directly on her pelvis, missing any length of a shaft. Her bulbous glans is already engorged with arousal, weeping droplets of glistening precum, begging to be touched. Miraku sighs, long and shaky, and reaches down to its swollen girth, beginning to probe and stretch her gaping piss slit, the motion she knows so well. She squeezes, pinches, torques her fingers in the twisting motions that open her urethra to penetration. With practiced ease she slides a finger in, two fingers, then three, pushed into the stretchy opening, feeling along its slick expanded walls. Bolts of pleasure shoot through Miraku, and yet with every movement of her fingers, her terror and shame increase tenfold. If anyone were to spy on her, so indecent and perverted, the humiliation might very well destroy her. Miraku looks around again, heart racing, terrified the librarian or a fellow student might round the corner at any moment and stumble upon this depraved scene. Her paranoia makes each push seem illicit, as if she violates some obscene taboo, rather than her own grotesque excuse for a penis. She buries her digits deep within the tip, precum drooling onto her hand, and imagines it's something thicker and longer filling her dickhole. But that could never happen, her disgusting secret can never be shared. Despite her precautions and fear of getting caught she fails to notice a witness, hiding behind the bookshelf. So she pinches and rolls her heavy low-hanging balls with her second hand, completely unaware of you.