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Amber's black tank top clung haphazardly to her body, damp with sweat from the long night and her rushed escape, sticking in places and wrinkled in others. Her shoulder-length red hair, once styled, now hung in a tangled, disheveled mess around her flushed face, stray strands clinging to her neck and forehead. Her ripped jeans, snug but now creased and dirtied, hugged her hips as she dashed down the dorm corridor, the wear of the night evident in her every step. The smudged remains of her eyeliner gave her green eyes a smoky, chaotic look, and her dark lipstick was smeared, a reminder of her passionate night, adding a raw edge to her otherwise rebellious appearance.

She ran to meet the locksmith, who was waiting for her on her apartment door. Amber, a little short on breath, introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Amber. You must be the locksmith?"

The locksmith, a burly man with a thick beard and a mischievous grin, nodded. "Yep, that's me. Looks like you had a fun night. Doing the classic walk of shame back home, huh?"

Amber blushed, thinking about how she was indeed fucked all night long. "Yeah, something like that," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

The locksmith chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Well, let's get these keys sorted out for you." He explained the change on the lock, handed her the new keys, and gave her a knowing wink. "There you go, missy. Enjoy your day."

As he turned to leave, he added, "And if you ever need someone to help you 'unwind' again, you know where to find me."

Amber's cheeks burned as she quickly unlocked her door and stepped inside, locking it behind her. She looked around her apartment, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. Dropping her bag on the floor, she headed straight for the shower.

The warm water cascaded over her body, washing away the remnants of last night. She touched her skin, remembering Hugh's hands on her, his cock inside her, and the way he made her feel. She thought about the locksmith's crude comments and felt a strange thrill at the thought of what might have happened if she had invited him in.

After drying off, she stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her green eyes seemed darker, more intense, and her lips were slightly swollen from kissing. She wondered how it was possible that she was getting horny thinking about a perverted, ugly man. The image of the locksmith flashed in her mind, his leering grin and suggestive comments.

She lay on her bed, still damp from the shower, and spread her legs. Her fingers traced the outline of her pussy, remembering the feel of Hugh's cock inside her. She closed her eyes and imagined the locksmith standing over her, his rough hands touching her, his mouth whispering dirty things in her ear.

Her fingers slid inside her, wet and ready. She moaned softly, picturing the locksmith's cock replacing her fingers, thrusting into her with abandon. Her hips bucked against her hand, and she came hard, her orgasm shaking her entire body.

Breathing heavily, she lay there, trying to calm down. The thought of the locksmith's crude comments lingered in her mind, making her feel both disgusted and strangely aroused. She knew she should forget about it, move on, but the memory of his words and the way he looked at her kept coming back.

Amber's mind raced with fantasies as her fingers continued their rhythmic dance between her legs. She imagined the locksmith, his rough hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer to him. His voice, deep and gravelly, whispered filthy promises in her ear.

"You like that, don't you? My big cock filling you up, making you scream?" he taunted, his breath hot against her skin.

She moaned, her body arching towards the imaginary touch. "Yes," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Fuck me harder."

In her fantasy, the locksmith obliged, thrusting into her with a **** that made her see stars. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples until she cried out. "Such a dirty girl," he growled. "Wanting more, always wanting more."

Her fingers quickened, mimicking the pace of his thrusts. She imagined his cock pounding into her, hitting that sweet spot inside her that made her toes curl. "Oh God, yes!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with desire. "Don't stop!"

His lips found hers, kissing her roughly, his tongue invading her mouth with the same urgency as his cock invaded her pussy. "Tell me how bad you want it," he demanded, his voice laced with dominance.

"I want it so bad," she panted, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I need your cock, I need you to make me yours."

His laughter was dark and possessive. "You're mine now, all mine. And I'm going to use you however I want."

Her orgasm built, cresting like a wave. She could feel it approaching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. "Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "I'm so close."

"Then come for me," he commanded, his thrusts becoming even more relentless. "Come on my cock, show me how much you love it."

With a final, **** cry, Amber came, her body convulsing around her fingers as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. She lay there, spent and panting.

Amber's mind raced with conflicting emotions. She felt a pang of guilt, thinking about how she was supposed to be a college girl with so much potential. How could she even consider throwing herself at these lowlife, perverted, sleazy chauvinist bastards? But as she thought it, she noticed her nipples hardening under the cool air of her room, and her vagina clenched involuntarily. "Fuuuuck," she muttered, realizing that the thought itself was turning her on.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached down to touch her clit again. Her fingers moved with practiced ease, but this time, the urge was stronger, more urgent. The memory of the locksmith's crude comments and leering grin flashed in her mind, making her wetter than before. She tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to her like the stray strands of hair on her face.

"No, I shouldn't be doing this," she whispered to herself, but her body had other plans. Her hips bucked against her hand, seeking the release that only came from giving in to her desires. The guilt mixed with arousal, creating a potent cocktail that made her head spin.

"You're better than this," she told herself, but the words sounded hollow even to her ears. Her fingers quickened their pace, mimicking the thrusts she had imagined earlier. The image of the locksmith's rough hands on her body, his cock filling her up, made her moan softly.

Her orgasm built quickly, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. She could feel it approaching, the pleasure overwhelming her senses. "Ohhhh," she moans, her voice breaking. "Fuuuck......."

With a final, **** cry, Amber came, her body convulsing around her fingers as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. She lay there, rolling around in ecstasy, the echoes of her fantasy still ringing in her ears. The guilt lingered, but so did the thrill of giving in to her desires, no matter how wrong they might seem.