My slut is my classmates?

Car, something that most people think was common. But for me, the car itself is like my life. Name's Yuki, and my baby, Mazda RX-7 FD3S, is my everything. She's been tuned to perfection, just waiting for the right moment to unleash her potential. Street by street, car by car, we eat them like a breakfast. Until this night, where something else was on the line.

After this **** of thesis Defence from my college, my man, Smoke, hit me up for this underground race with a twisted prize—winner takes the girl. Not just any girl. Lina. Midnight black hair, legs that could wrap around you twice, and a glare sharp enough to cut steel. The kind of woman who makes you forget your own name when she walks past. I didn’t give a damn about the stakes until I saw her chained to the sponsor’s wrist like some goddamn trophy. That’s when the RX-7’s engine roared louder in my chest than under the hood.

Under this old bridge, cars with various shapes and modifications lined up. Some with their engine and some roar with their music and exhaust. The smell of burnt rubber mixed with spilled gasoline tickled my nose, making my grip tighten on the steering wheel. The sponsor—some rich asshole with slicked-back hair—grinned as he waved Lina forward like she was a damn show pony. Her eyes locked onto mine, unreadable but burning, and something in my gut twisted. Not fear. Hunger.

She wear unbuttoned school shirt and skirt, beneath it i can see she cover only her nipple with pastie. I wonder what's underneath that skirt, but i need to keep my eyes on the race. "Winner takes her, one lap. No rules." The sponsor's voice cuts through the engine growls, and Lina’s lips curve into something sharp—not a smile, a challenge. My foot slams the accelerator before the countdown finishes, the RX-7’s tires screaming as we rocket forward. The other cars blur in my peripheral vision, but all I see is her silhouette in the rearview mirror, watching.

From the bend to the straight road, nothing possible for me and my baby to win this race. Other racers tailgating behind me, the smell of their burnt clutch seeping through my air vents. The RX-7’s RPM needle dances near the redline, and I can feel Lina’s gaze burning into my back through the mirror, like she’s already measuring me—judging whether I’m worth the chains around her wrists. The sponsor’s smug laugh crackles over the comms, but it’s drowned out by the pulse in my ears, the way my knuckles whiten around the gear shift.

Third gear. Fourth. The last stretch is a blur of neon and asphalt, the city lights smearing across my vision like wet paint. The finish line looms, but all I can think about is the way Lina’s thighs press together when she shifts, the way her pasties barely hide the stiff peaks beneath—how her skirt rides up just enough to make me wonder if she’s bare underneath. The RX-7 growls as we cross the line, the other cars skidding to a halt behind us, their headlights casting long shadows over the pavement.

The sponsor’s grin falters as he unhooks the chain from his wrist, and Lina steps forward like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life. Her fingers trail over the RX-7’s hood, leaving a smear of sweat on the paint, and when she leans into my window, her breath is hot against my ear. “You drive like you fuck,” she murmurs, voice dripping with something between a threat and a promise. “Fast. Rough. No regrets.” The scent of her—vanilla and something darker, saltier—floods the cabin, and my cock twitches against the steering wheel.

"And you dress like a slut, so we're even," I shoot back, watching her pupils dilate—half pissed, half turned on. The sponsor tosses the chain at my feet with a snarl, but Lina doesn’t even glance back at him. Instead, she slides into my passenger seat like she owns it, her skirt riding higher as she crosses her legs. The streetlights catch the slick sheen between her thighs, answering my earlier question: bare. Always bare.

I drove ourself back to my home, after i park my car in the garage, i took her hand and drag her inside my house, before i push her against the wall and start kissing her neck, while my hand fondle her breast. "You're mine now," I growled against her skin, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp. Her nails dug into my shoulders, dragging down my back as she arched against me—no protest, just hunger. The pasties came off with a sharp tug, her nipples stiff and aching under my fingers, and when I pinched one, her moan vibrated against my lips.

She kinda obedient despite her appearance, she followed my hand as I guide her to my bedroom. The moment the door slammed shut, her school shirt hit the floor, revealing skin flushed pink under the dim light. My fingers hooked into the waistband of her skirt, yanking it down in one rough pull—no panties, just wet heat against my thigh. "Fuck," I muttered, palming her ass as she ground against me, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts against my neck.

I pushed her onto the bed, her back arching off the mattress as I dragged my teeth down her stomach. Her thighs trembled when I spread them, the scent of her arousal thick enough to taste. One lick—slow, deliberate—and her hips jerked off the bed, a broken sound tearing from her throat. "You taste like fucking sin," I growled, curling two fingers inside her, her walls clamping down like a vise. Her back bowed, hands fisting the sheets as I fucked her with my fingers, my tongue circling her clit in ruthless strokes.

She came with a scream, her body seizing as I lapped up every drop, her thighs shaking around my ears. Before she could recover, I flipped her onto her stomach, dragging her hips up until her ass was in the air. "You wanted rough?" I spat into my palm, slicking my cock before driving into her in one brutal thrust. She choked on a moan, her nails clawing at the mattress as I set a punishing pace, the slap of skin echoing off the walls.

Her back pressed against my chest as I wrapped a hand around her throat, her pulse wild under my fingers. "Say it," I demanded, snapping my hips harder. "Say whose slut you are." Her answer was a gasp, then a whimper, then my name—over and over, until it dissolved into a sob as she came again, her body milking me until I spilled inside her with a groan. She collapsed onto the bed, boneless and breathless, and I smirked down at her. "Good girl."

Tomorrow morning during my campus routine, i can't forget that damn night when suddenly Lina enter the same class with me as teach introducing her as new comer. The entire room hushes as she strides in—same smirk, same skirt riding up her thighs, but now she’s wearing my bite marks like jewelry. Her eyes lock onto mine as she takes the seat right beside me, her knee brushing my leg. "Missed me?" she whispers, her fingers tracing the fresh hickey peeking above her collar. The professor drones on about syllabus, but all I hear is the way her breath hitches when my hand slides up her thigh under the desk.

During class, she keep her good student acting very well, but her hand already unzip my pants under the desk and wrap around my cock with no hesitation. I grit my teeth as she strokes me slowly, her fingers slick with my pre-cum, her nails scraping just hard enough to make my hips jerk. The professor turns to write on the whiteboard, and Lina takes the chance to lick her palm, her tongue darting out obscenely before she grips me tighter, twisting her wrist on the upstroke. My knuckles whiten around my pen, ink bleeding onto my notes as I fight to keep my breathing steady.

"Not so fast." i accept her challenge by grab a vibe remote and turn it on full blast inside her pussy. Lina’s breath hitches—her entire body tenses, her fingers freezing around my cock—but she doesn’t make a sound. Not yet. The professor drones on about quantum theory while her thighs tremble, her skirt twitching with every pulse of the toy buried inside her. A bead of sweat rolls down her temple as she grits her teeth, her grip on me tightening reflexively, her nails biting into my flesh.

During lunch hour, we sit together with out meal. "So, what bring you to this city anway?" i ask while i feed her a bite from my fork. "Well, i move here since my dad got this new job in the city," she replies while biting the fork playfully. As she chews, her foot slides up my calf under the table—slow, teasing. The cafeteria buzzes around us, but all I hear is the wet click of her swallowing before she licks her lips. "Though I think I found something much more... interesting here." Her fingers trace the rim of her water bottle, then drag down her own throat, mimicking last night’s grip.

"Who thought the bitch i win will be my classmate?" i smirked, hand sliding under the table to grip her thigh hard enough to leave bruises matching the ones on her neck. Her breath hitched—sharp, sweet—but she just leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. "Lucky you," she murmured, her tongue flicking the shell before she bit down, "now you get to win me every day." The cafeteria noise faded to white noise as her fingers dipped beneath my waistband, her nails scraping the base of my cock with practiced precision.

Between classes, I dragged her into a janitor's closet—brooms clattering to the floor as I pinned her against the shelves, her skirt shoved up around her hips. "Quiet," I growled, sinking two fingers into her dripping cunt without warning. Her teeth sank into my shoulder to muffle the moan, her legs shaking as I curled my fingers just right. The bell rang overhead, footsteps pounding past the door, but all I cared about was the way her walls clenched around my fingers when I whispered, "Bet you could come just like this—no cock, just my hand."

The library became our next battlefield—her bent over a study carrel in the back corner, my jacket draped over her hips to hide the way I fucked into her from behind. Her gasps were swallowed by the rustle of turning pages nearby, her fingers clawing at the wood as I set a brutal pace. "You love this," I breathed against her spine, feeling her tighten around me with every thrust, "being my little secret slut." Her nod was frantic, her body bowing when I pulled her hair to arch her back deeper—coming with a silent scream as I filled her

[up.

By](http://up.By) week’s end, every hidden corner of campus bore our marks—her lipstick smeared on the stairwell railing where I made her ride me, my fingerprints darkening on her hips after taking her against the gym equipment. But the real victory? How her defiant smirk always crumbled the second I pushed inside her, how her thighs trembled when I whispered, "Mine." Not a question. A promise.

Graduation day arrived with Lina’s heels clicking across the stage, her gown hiding nothing from me—not the way her nipples peaked when our eyes met, not the swell of her stomach beneath the fabric. Six months pregnant, and still the only woman who could make me forget my own goddamn name. She accepted her diploma with one hand, the other resting possessively over our child, her gaze locked onto mine like a challenge: Try to leave now.

Later, against the hood of the RX-7—her skirt hitched up, my graduation cap tossed aside—she bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. "Still think you won that race?" she panted, arching into my thrusts. The car rocked beneath us, her moans muffled by my mouth as I came deep inside her, her nails carving fresh claims down my back.

The baby kicked as I pulled her close, her laughter vibrating against my chest. "Guess we’re stuck with each other," I muttered, tracing the bite marks on her neck. Her answering smile was sharp, victorious—the same one she wore the night I took her. Only now, it was mine to keep.