My Steamy Story: She is meeting the man in a hotel room f...

My Story Time:

Okay, so the agency sends me this boujee hotel address, and I’m like, bet. I just came from a… let’s call it a group session, so I’m still kinda glazed, you know? My hair’s a little sticky, but whatever, it adds to the vibe. I walk in, and this dude is all business, sitting there in a suit. He’s checking me out, and I do my little spin, making my new tits jiggle in this tight pink latex top. “So,” he goes, “the party is for thirty guys. We need someone experienced but… not too trashy.” Oof. Low-key insult, but I’ve heard worse.

I perch on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs in these thigh-high boots. “I get it,” I say, dropping my voice. “You don’t want some… slut… scaring off the shy ones.” I see his eyes flicker when I say that word. Iconic. I lean forward, giving him a full view of my cleavage. “I’m very… diplomatic. I make all the guys feel like the main character.” I start explaining my technique—the hug, the kiss in front of everyone, how it gets them all jealous and thirsty. I even stand up and do the walk for him, swaying my hips, being extra with my hands, touching my own body to show him how I’d touch them.

Then he hits me with it. “The agency said you have the highest body count they’ve ever seen.” My stomach drops. Sheesh. High-key humiliating. But I just smile, reapply my neon pink lipstick slowly, watching him watch my lips. “Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Let’s just say I’m… experienced. I can handle a line. Once the kissing starts, it’s only a matter of time before I’ve got a dick in each hand, you know?” I see his pants twitch. Period.

He asks me to prove I’m tight, since, you know, with my… reputation. Big yikes. But I turn around, bending over the desk, my ‘SLUT’ tattoo right in his face. “Slide a finger in,” I tell him, my voice shaking a little. “See for yourself.” He does, and I clench down hard around it. “Told you,” I gasp, but inside I’m dying. He pulls his finger out, and it’s clean. “Good,” he says, his voice rough. “Now, about your… gag reflex.”

I know what he wants. I sink to my knees between his legs, my ponytail brushing his thigh. I unzip his pants, and his cock springs out, already leaking. “Don’t worry,” I whisper, looking up at him. “I’m the girl who swallows.” And then I take him all the way down my throat, no hands, letting my throat bulge around him. I pull off with a wet pop, gasping. “See? A total slut… but a professional one.” He just groans, grabs my head, and starts fucking my face, and I know I’ve got the job.