He turns, bends to grab something from the battered messenger bag next to the desk. He comes up holding a carrot—no, not a carrot, but a Carrot, capital C, the kind of root vegetable you could club a baby seal with. It’s as long as my forearm, thick and bright orange, still with a sprig of green at the top. He rolls it in his palm like he’s showing off a trophy.
“You ever eat one of these whole?” he says, brandishing it.
I choke out a laugh. “Not lately.”
He sets the carrot down and rifles for a paring knife from his lunch kit—serrated, with a handle he probably stole from the campus cafeteria. He peels off the dirt, drops the curls of orange skin into a paper towel, all while never taking his eyes off me.
“You know what’s wrong with men?” he says, slicing the leafy crown off with a crack. “They chop everything down. Make it small, bite-sized. Easy to swallow. Like they can’t handle the real thing.”
He wipes the carrot clean on his sleeve. “I get a CSA box every week. Ex-wife’s idea. Still paying for it even years after the divorce, and I still hate every fucking radish that comes with it. But these—” He breaks the carrot in half, then holds the longer piece up. “I never cut them. I eat them whole. Like a fucking animal.”
He steps forward, carrot in one hand, the other pushing my knees apart until I’m open to the world. My heart is a hummingbird, my mouth dry.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, eyes wide. “Are you going to?—?”
“Shhhh,” he hums. “As soon as the CSA box came, I knew this was for you, my horny fuckslut. So shhh, let Daddy take care of you.”
He strokes the carrot over my inner thigh. Cold. I flinch, but he shushes me, pinning my thigh to the desk with one big hand.
“Trust me,” he rasps, and the way he says it, I do.
He runs the carrot up and down, from my knee to my pussy, slow and deliberate. Then he dips the tapered end in, just grazing my slit, and it’s so cold and so foreign and hard that I gasp.
He grins, baring his teeth. “You like that?”
I want to say no, but my body says otherwise. My hips roll toward him, greedy.
“That’s my little cock hungry whore,” he moans. “I knew you’d love this.”
He slides the carrot in, just a little, then draws it out. The sensation is wild—hard and smooth and unyielding, but with just enough give to make me feel everything. He fucks me with it, shallow at first, then deeper, the root scraping the walls of my cunt in a way that makes me blush to the tips of my ears.
“See how it disappears?” he says, feeding it in until only the bulbous end shows. “Even things that grow in dirt can end up somewhere beautiful.”
He twists it, pulls out, then shoves it back in, harder. My body clamps around it, fluttering, the angle hitting a spot his tongue couldn’t reach. I claw at the desk, moaning. I’m sure the echo will bounce around these cinder blocks for days.
“Mmmph!” I cry out. “Mmph, mmph!”
He watches, fascinated, as he fucks me with the carrot. The orange rod glistens with my slick; he pulls it out, admires the shine, then takes a bite from the end, chews it loud enough for me to hear.
“It’s good for your eyesight,” he smirks, then plunges it into my pussy again.
I can’t take it, not the look on his face or the humiliating, perfect fullness in my cunt. I’m losing my mind, babbling nonsense, but I never want him to stop.
“Oh Liam,” I cry out, my pussy already beginning to spasm. “Mmmm!”
He shifts the carrot to the other hand and uses his free fingers to rub my clit, fast and mean. The friction is too much, too sharp, and when I come, it’s not gentle. I scream, knees high up in the air, back arched so violently my hair sweeps the desk. My pussy is spasming so violently that Liam has to fight to keep the carrot inside, and he moans as he eats up the sight, my cunt pulsing so wildly that he literally has to brace the carrot inside me.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “Your pussy spasms are so strong. Goddamn, what a hungry little whore.”
Finally, my climax ebbs a little and I lie back, panting as my breasts heave, completely worn out. Liam, meanwhile, slips the carrot out of my vag slowly, watching as the orange monster reappears from between my pink lips, slick and glistening. Then, he strokes the tip along my throbbing, twitching twat before lifting it to his mouth.
He bites off another inch, chews with a smirk.
“A carrot has never tasted so good, nor as nutritious,” he smirks, eyes locked to mine.
I want to hate him, want to be offended, but all I can feel is the warm echo of my orgasm, and the total domination of the handsome, fucked up man.
He tosses the rest of the vegetable back in his lunch bag, wipes his hands, then kisses me, deep and dirty, not caring that I taste like vegetables and utter shock.
