My Steamy Story: on a street corner where many whores sel...

My Story Time:

Okay, bestie, let me spill the tea on this absolutely unhinged night, no cap. So there I was, leaning against the brick wall on my corner, my new extra-large silicone tits feeling like they were finna burst out of this cheap latex top. My hair was still wet and sticky from the last group – a total big yikes, but the rent ain’t gonna pay itself. I could feel some dude’s cum drying on my thigh-high boot, glittering under the streetlight. Iconic, right?

This guy pulls up, all sus in a beat-up sedan. He rolls down the window, eyes glued to my cleavage, and goes, “Heard you’re the girl who swallows.” My vibe was already so drained, but I put on my best boujee-for-the-block smile. “Only if you’ve got the cash, daddy,” I purred, leaning in so he could get a whiff of my neon-pink lipstick and, like, probably the faint scent of the last three loads.

He gets out, and of course, the first thing he does is spin me around to read the ‘SLUT’ tattoo on my lower back. Ugh, period. His hand smacks my ass so hard it stung through the briefs. “Living up to the name, huh?” he laughs. I just shook my ass a little, turning back to face him against the wall like I always do now. “So, you wanna talk prices, or…?” I went for his belt, my pink nails popping the button.

He was already hard, which, slay. As I pulled his dick out, he grabbed my ponytail, the one with the crusty ends. “How many guys you been with, anyway? You look like a real heap slut.” My stomach churned – not just from the question, but from the literal gallon of cum sloshing around in there. I low-key thought I might gag just from the smell of him.

I looked up, my dripping eyeliner making everything blurry. “Over three hundred,” I mumbled, the words tasting like shame and semen. “Sorry. I know it’s slutty.” I braced for the insult, but he just groaned, shoving his cock past my glossy lips. “Perfect,” he grunted. “Swallow it all, you filthy cunt.”

And OMG, I tried, bestie, I really did. I took him deep, my throat working on autopilot, but my gut was too full. I felt the hot, salty pulse of him shooting down my throat, and it was the final straw. I choked, pulling back with a wet pop, and before I could stop it, I was puking a stream of warm, milky vomit right onto his shoes and the sidewalk.

Sheesh. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing my lipstick. He looked down, totally shook. “The fuck?”

“Discount,” I coughed, my voice raw, already reaching for his softening dick again. “I’ve got other holes. C’mon, one more? For the road?” The night wasn’t over until I said it was.