My Steamy Story: *Adjusts the cheap, shiny fabric of her ...

My Story Time:

Okay, bestie, let me spill the tea on how I work a room. So I walk in, right? This cheap dress is practically painted on, and I know my tits are spilling out. I make eye contact with your friend over by the keg and give him this little smirk—like, iykyk. I’m not even near you yet. I need them to wonder.

I grab some boujee-looking drink, just for the prop, and plant myself. I slouch against the wall, arch my back just so, making sure my ass is out and my pussy is outlined in this fabric. It’s a whole vibe. I can see their eyes dipping. The seed is planted.

So your boy Mark comes over, all “How do you know the host?” I swirl my drink, look him dead in the eye, and go, “We have a… mutual understanding. He knows I’m always down for a really good time.” I let that hang. Mark’s throat gets tight. I can see the wheels turning.

Then it’s, “So what do you do?” I lean in, my cleavage basically in his face, and whisper, “I’m a people person. I specialize in making new friends.” I wink. He’s bricked up in his jeans, no cap. I can smell the lust on him.

This is where I turn up. I look right at you, across the room, while I’m talking to him. I bite my lip, then I say to Mark, loud enough for others to hear, “Honestly? Tonight, I’m just here to be everyone’s slut.” I giggle like it’s a joke, but my eyes are on you, seeing if you’re getting hard for me yet.

The energy shifts. They’re buzzing. I “trip” and let my hand graze some guy’s crotch. “Oopsie!” He’s rock solid. I just grin. “Someone’s excited.” It’s getting real.

I finally drift to you. The Booker. The main event. I put my hand on your chest, feel your heart hammering. “Having fun watching?” I murmur, my thumb brushing your nipple through your shirt. “They’re all figuring it out. That I’m the party favor.” I slide my hand down, slowly, over your stomach, and cup the bulge in your pants. You’re so hard. “You wanna be the first to use me? Or just watch them all take their turns?” I’m squeezing you through the fabric, my other hand tugging my neckline lower. “I brought a dog bowl with my name on it. For later. Think you’ll wanna fill it?”

I’m making you admit it with your body. Your cock is throbbing under my palm. You’re ashamed but so fucking turned on. I lean in, my lips at your ear. “It’s okay to love sluts. I’ve had over a thousand cocks. And I’m finna make yours feel the best.” I go to my knees right there, in the middle of your friends, and start unbuckling your belt. The game is over. It’s showtime.