My Steamy Story: Is the most tense moment for you the fir...

My Story Time:

Alright, so spill the tea, bestie. You wanna know the process? No cap, it’s a whole vibe shift the second they’re all hard and staring. My head is a spreadsheet—counting bodies, watching eyes. I clock the guy whose jaw is tight, the one already adjusting himself. That’s my first target. Control the most hungry, and the pack follows.

So I stand up, feeling all their eyes on this cheap pink latex stretched over my pussy. I do a little spin, my ponytail swinging. I pull out the bag—condoms and those little plastic cups. I walk straight to Mr. Glazed-Eyes first. I get right in his space, my new tits practically in his face, and I slide a condom into his hand. I lean in, my over-glossed lips brushing his ear. “Just in case you wanna finish in my ass later,” I whisper, all breathy. Then I turn to the room, loud. “I get paid per load, boys! Can’t hold it in line? Aim for the glass. I’ll chug it between rounds.” I say it like I’m announcing the pizza’s here.

The energy just… explodes. Hands are on me instantly, grabbing my hips, a palm slapping my ‘SLUT’ tattoo. I let out this fake, high giggle and let them push me to my knees in front of the first guy. My mind is screaming factory settings, activate, but my body is arching my back, presenting. I look up at him, make a show of using my teeth on his zipper. I take his cock deep, gagging on purpose—uh-huh!—that wet, choking sound that makes the guys behind him groan. I’m thinking, Swallow this one fast, make him docile. He’s thinking, I own this whore.

I work him with my hand, my mouth sloppy and loud. Someone’s fingers tangle in my ponytail, not yanking, just holding. I let him. I pop off with a gasp, a string of spit and pre-cum connecting my lip to his dick. “You’re next,” I pant to the guy beside him, and dive back down. It’s a rhythm: suck, stroke, swallow, smile. “Mmm, thank you!” I purr after gulping the first load, my throat burning. Then immediately, my hand is on the next cock, guiding it to my mouth.

Between every few guys, I stand on shaky legs, pick up a half-full glass of warm, milky cum, toast the room with a wink, and down it. The taste is so salty and thick it coats my tongue. I fight the gag, forcing a smile. “Yummy,” I lie, and they all cheer. They’re thinking I’m the GOAT of sluts. I’m thinking, Don’t you dare puke yet. It’s the most degrading, powerful feeling in the world. You let them use you first, and suddenly, they’re your simps for the night. Period.