I was starving.Maybe I should reward myself with food. That yogurt was absolutely notenough to get me through the morning. I had time before my third ...lass soI went to the nearest on campus food establishment.The student union’s food court was the nearest to get food. I picked up anice juicy burger and fries. Actually it didn’t look that great of aburger. It was mass produced for a campus after all, but I was starving.OK. I picked up a second burger too. I was hungry.I pulled out cash from my. He bent down and spat in my face... calling me a slut. then held his cock against the front of my face, still wanking it... He told me to open my mouth... he slapped my face, spat on me again... then began to wank his cock harder over my mouth. Eventually, he came onto my tongue and he told me to hold it there as he fixed himself, pulling up his trousers etc. Once he was all done, he looked down at me, putting his hand on the back of my head, stroking me gently... I was kneeling, knees all. Would you mind telling Mr. Babcock when he calms down? I’m going to get my books. I’ll be back in a minute.”Miss Simpson nods her head in agreement, and I take off to collect my books for my suspension. I start clueing in that this isn’t a dream. Dreams don’t come with this much pain. I’m not talking about pain from being hit. That’s nothing. I’m talking about the pain in my legs.When I was 14, I had significant leg issues. While I was a young child, my mother refused to correct my posture. I. I kept a steady pace. Bozeman turned to walk to his backdoor. Another forty feet to go. I heard a car speed past. I hoped they hadn't noticed. My pussy was wetting the insides of my thighs. I had never done anything like this. One of the mowers spun around, driving straight at me. The driver, so far, hadn't noticed.My pace hadn't changed. I opened my purse about twenty-five feet from the car and dug for my keys. Still walking I realized that they weren't in my purse. Stopping dead in my tracks.