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

My Story Time:

So, I walk into the hotel room and he’s already there, looking all serious and professional. Big yikes, right? But I’m here for a job, bestie. I need this gig for the 35-man party. I put my little bag down, the one with my essentials—lube, 35 condoms, my dog bowl with my name on it. I see his eyes flick to it. He knows. The vibe is immediately sus in the best way.

He starts with the interview questions, and I just spill the tea. No cap, I tell him straight up, “Look, I’m a slut. I’m the party slut. My strategy is to get everyone thinking with their dicks, period.” I see him shift in his chair, and I know I’m getting to him. I lean forward, my top doing some work, and start explaining my step-by-step. “First, I make out with a guy in the middle of the room. Just full-on, sloppy, so everyone sees. It’s like, ‘OMG, she’s that easy.’ Then, I pretend I’m a little drunk and start kissing randos. A line forms, and I work the circle, giving each one a proper taste. I let them grab my ass. I whisper shit like, ‘You like kissing a whore?’”

I can see his pants getting tight. Sheesh. I keep going, getting more graphic. “Once they’re hard, they pull me into an alley or a back room. They take their dicks out. I go down the line, sucking one while I jerk off two others. I’m loud, I moan, I tell them to cum on my face or in my mouth. I have a system. I use my hands on their balls, my mouth on their cocks, I let them fuck my tits. It’s all about crowd control.”

He’s fully hard now, his dick straining against his slacks. I ask him, low-key, “Does this make you uncomfortable? Me being such a cheap slut?” His voice is rough when he says, “No. Keep going.”

So I do. I get up and walk over, kneeling between his legs. I look up at him. “Want a demonstration?” I don’t wait for an answer. I unzip his pants, and his cock springs out. It’s thick and already leaking. I lick the tip, tasting him. “See?” I say, my mouth full. “This is how I start. I make them feel like they own this pussy.” I take him deep, gagging a little for effect, then pull off with a pop. “I talk the whole time. I say, ‘You wanna cum in this slut’s throat?’ And they always do. They call me every name, film it, everything. It’s part of the job.”

I go back down, bobbing my head, using my hand on the base of his dick. I’m moaning like I’m getting paid for it—because I am, hopefully. I feel his hands fist in my hair, and I know I’ve got the job. He’s gonna book me. He’s fucking my face, muttering “you dirty little whore,” and I just take it, letting him use my throat until he groans and pumps his cum down it. I swallow every drop, look up at him, and smile. “So… do I get the party?”