Noor steps onto the bus, the hydraulic doors hissing shut behind her with a heavy thud. She is late, the morning already stolen away by a night spent with her hand buried between her thighs, fantasizing about a massive cock wrecking her insides. The bus is nearly empty, save for two elderly passengers huddled near the front, their heads bowed in sleep or prayer. She walks down the aisle, her hips swaying with a practiced rhythm, and slides into the back seat. The vinyl is cool against her skin. She wears only a skinny, short skirt that rides high on her thighs and a school shirt, the buttons strained against her heavy breasts. No bra, no panties. The air conditioning drafts over her shaved pussy, teasing the sensitive, bare flesh.

She spreads her legs slightly under the guise of adjusting her bag, her fingers drifting to her already slick cunt. She is a vessel of need, her body wired to crave intrusion, to be filled and used. The wetness coats her fingertips instantly. She loves this feeling—her swollen, needy pussy desperate for a finger or a dick, anything to quell the ache.