"Your bed, big boy," she commanded.

We climbed the stairs, Ute's naked form ascending ahead of me, her shaved pussy glistening with arousal and my earlier cum, her hips swaying deliberately with each step. I followed close behind, my cock still raging hard and bouncing with each step, refusing to soften after the car ride spectacle.

Marc trailed behind us, his footsteps heavy and hesitant. I could hear his ragged breathing, the poor bastard still trying to process how his crush had transformed into this merciless cocktease before his eyes.

I unlocked the door, and Ute pushed inside immediately, surveying our shared dorm room with a predatory glance. She spotted my bed instantly—on the left.

"Perfect," she purred, dropping her clothes and bag carelessly on my desk chair. She turned to me with those horny eyes, then looked back at the door where Marc was slowly entering, his face flushed crimson.

"Your bed, big boy," she commanded, pointing. "And you," she gestured to Marc, "sit in that chair by the desk. I want you to have the best view when you walk in."

Marc opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a sharp look. "Sit. Now."

He obeyed, sinking into the wooden desk chair positioned near the desk, his hands trembling in his lap.

Ute crawled onto my bed with deliberate, feline grace, positioning herself exactly as I had imagined—on all fours, facing the door, her perfect ass raised high, her teardrop breasts hanging heavy beneath her. She spread her knees wide, giving Marc an unobstructed view of her swollen, used pussy, still leaking my seed from earlier.

"Come here, stud," she beckoned me, wiggling her hips. "Fill me up again. I need it hard this time."

I climbed onto the bed behind her, gripping her waist with steady hands. My cock pressed against her thigh, warm and insistent. When I entered her, it was with a slow, deliberate push that made her exhale sharply, her head dropping between her shoulders.

"Marc," Ute said softly, her voice different now—still commanding but lacking its earlier cruel edge. She looked at him directly, her eyes meeting his across the room. "Come closer. I want you to see."

Marc remained frozen in the chair, his hands gripping the wooden arms until his knuckles turned white. He didn't speak, but I could see the grief in his face—the genuine heartbreak of watching someone he cared about choose this path, choose me, with such deliberate intention.

"You're shaking," Ute observed, her voice gentling further even as she pushed back against me, taking me deeper.

She moaned then, unable to help herself as I began to move, but the sound was complicated—pleasure mixed with something heavier. "God, you feel good," she whispered to me, but her eyes stayed on him.

"Do you remember," she asked Marc, her voice strained as I found a rhythm, "when you told me you liked me? That evening at the library?"

Marc nodded slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"I knew," she said, her hips rolling to meet my thrusts. "I knew for months before you said anything. And I kept coming around anyway. That was cruel of me, wasn't it? To let you hope?"

"Don't," Marc whispered, his voice breaking.

She was moving with more urgency now, her body responding to mine, her face in ecstasy.

"Stop," Marc said to no one in particular, but he didn't move. He sat there, tears forming, watching the woman he adored being claimed by another man.

I thrust deeper, and she cried out, her arms trembling as she held herself up. "See how he doesn't look at me like I'm precious?" she said, almost delirious now. "He looks at me like I'm a thing. And I need to be a thing right now."

"That's not true," Marc said quietly, his eyes getting wetter now.

"It is," she gasped, pushing back to meet my thrusts with abandon now, the physical overwhelming the emotional. "Look at me, Marc. Look at what I really am. Not your crush. Not the girl you imagined. Just this. Just a woman who needs to be fucked by someone who doesn't care about her."

She was groaning harder now, her body shaking, but the orgasm building in her was undeniable. "I'm going to cum," she cried, the words torn from her.

When she came, it was violent and wrenching, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clamping down on me as she sobbed openly, not from pleasure alone but from the weight of the moment, the destruction of something innocent. I finished inside her shortly after, my release mechanical, almost hollow compared to the emotional storm unfolding before me.

After, she collapsed onto her stomach, turning her face away from both of us. The room was silent except for her ragged breathing and Marc's quiet, wet eyes.

Ute smiled at him, satisfied and satiated, running a finger through the cum on her thigh and bringing it to her lips. "Delicious," she purred. "Your roommate tastes like a god. Now get out so we can go again. I want him to fuck my ass next, and I don't want you watching that. You haven't earned it."

Marc stumbled from the chair, pulling up his pants, and fled the room without a word, the door slamming behind him.

Ute turned to me with a wicked grin. "Alone at last, stud. Ready for round three?"

To be continued.