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

My Story Time:

Okay, so I'm in this boujee hotel room, trying to land this massive party gig, right? I see the dude checking out my outfit – the pink latex hotpants, the giant tits spilling out, the whole ‘SLUT’ tattoo situation. He’s trying to keep it professional, but I can see the bulge in his pants already. Iconic.

He starts asking about my experience, and I’m like, okay, bestie, let’s spill the tea. I explain my whole arrival vibe. "I show up looking like this, obviously a whore, but I just say 'hi' like it's totally normal. Let the tension simmer, you know? Then I'll sit on the couch, legs just… open a little. Not extra, just enough to make them stare at my pussy through the latex." I see him shift in his chair, his dick twitching. Period.

So I keep going, getting into the nitty-gritty. "Then I break out the lipstick, have the guys put it on me. It’s an excuse for a kiss, which turns into a deep, sloppy make-out session real quick. That’s when the first hands grab my ass." I lean forward, letting him get a good look at my DSLs. "I don't slap them away. That’s when the vibe shifts. They know I’m their slut for the night."

He’s fully hard now, his cock straining against his zipper. I feel a low-key thrill of shame, which, no cap, kinda turns me on. He asks about crowd control for 35 guys. I get specific. "I’ll have them cum in cocktail glasses if they’re close while waiting in line. I’ll gulp it down between blowjobs. I swallow, I lick ass, I do whatever. I’m there to get every last drop." I say the word ‘slut’ again, just to watch his eyes darken.

Then he drops the bomb. The agency sent me because I have the highest body count. Sheesh. I feel my face get hot, totally humiliated. But I use it. "Yeah, my number’s high. 349, last I checked." I watch his jaw drop. "Does that make me a slut?" I whisper, applying a fresh coat of neon pink gloss slowly, staring right at his dick. "You got hard the second you realized I was a whore, didn't you?"

He doesn't even answer. Just unzips his pants, his thick cock springing out, already leaking. "Show me," he grunts. So I get on my knees, my ponytail swinging. I take him deep, my throat relaxing instantly, showing him exactly how I handle a crowd. I gag once, theatrically, and look up to see him shudder. "Fucking slut," he moans, and I just take him deeper, because he’s right. And this booking? It's already mine.