Teaching Hope

Hope pushes back on the cold bathroom tiles, one foot braced on the edge of the sink, legs spread until the tendons in her thighs strain. She has done this before with two mouths and two cocks hammering her open in the cramped school stall, but tonight the only thing sliding into her is her own fist. She spits on her knuckles, then works four fingers through the slick gate of her cunt. The stretch burns. She twists her wrist, rotates, and the fifth finger follows, her whole hand breaching her in a hot, obscene pop. The fit is too tight; her walls throb around the thick knot of knuckles, a mix of hurt and hunger. Hope exhales, teeth on her bottom lip, and begins to fuck herself slowly, fist sinking deeper each time she rocks her hips. Wet sounds fill the bathroom. Sweat tracks down her belly. She leans into both pain and pleasure, craving the next deeper slide, the next inch she still hasn’t earned.