**Title: The Deal**

I needed the money. College textbooks, rent, groceries—it all added up too fast, and my part-time job at the coffee shop barely covered half of it. That’s why I found myself standing outside a dingy motel room, heart pounding, knuckles hovering over the door. I’d posted an ad online—discreet, no pictures, just a simple offer: *Young student needs cash. Willing to meet.* The responses had been… graphic. But one stood out.

*$500. Just let me cum in your mouth, then drink what comes after. No strings, just one time.*

I swallowed hard and knocked.

The door creaked open, and *fuck*, he was big—not tall, just *wide*, gut hanging over his waistband, stubble gray and patchy. His eyes raked over me, hungry, and he grinned. “Trang?”

I nodded, stepping inside before I could chicken out. The room smelled like cheap air freshener and sweat. He locked the door, tossing a wad of cash on the nightstand. “Count it if you want.”

I didn’t. My hands were shaking too much anyway.

He sat on the edge of the bed, unzipping his pants without ceremony. His cock was already half-hard, thick and veiny, resting against his thigh. “You know what to do,” he grunted.

I dropped to my knees between his spread legs, the carpet rough under my bare skin. My mouth was dry, but I leaned in, wrapping my fingers around his shaft. It was warm, heavier than I expected. I licked the tip, tasting salt, then took him deeper.

He groaned, fingers tangling in my hair. “Fuck, yeah, just like that.”

I bobbed my head, hollowing my cheeks, spit dripping down my chin. His hips jerked, fucking deeper into my throat, and I gagged, tears pricking my eyes. He didn’t slow down. “Gonna cum,” he grunted. “Swallow it all.”

I braced myself. His cock twitched, and then hot, thick spurts hit the back of my tongue. I swallowed fast, but some leaked out, coating my lips. It was bitter, heavy—I shuddered, but forced myself to keep sucking, milking him until he pushed me away.

Then came the real test.

He stood, piss already dribbling from the tip before he even aimed. “Open up, sweetheart.”

I tilted my head back, mouth open, and the first warm stream hit my tongue. It was salty, musky, nothing like water. My stomach clenched, but I kept swallowing, throat working as he sighed in relief. “Good girl,” he muttered, fingers tightening in my hair. “Take it all.”

I did. Every last drop.

When he was done, I wiped my mouth, legs shaky as I stood. He tossed me a towel, smirked. “You ever need cash again…”

I grabbed the money, didn’t answer. The door slammed behind me, and I swallowed again—this time to fight the bile rising in my throat.

But $500 was $500.