My Steamy Story: (smiling, but her eyes look a little tir...

My Story Time:

Okay, no cap, let me just spill the tea on how this goes down. So, after the lipstick game and I’ve got like five dudes with their hands on me, I can feel the energy shift. My head is literally buzzing with the checklist: Blue shirt is leaking pre-cum in his jeans, fridge guy is breathing heavy, that one in the corner is filming already, iconic.

I stand up, my knees a little shaky from all the crouching to kiss, and I do a little twirl. My ponytail swings and I hear a collective “sheesh” from the circle. My heart is pounding, but I put on my best ditzy bimbo smile. I pull out the bag of condoms—the cheap, neon ones—and a stack of those little plastic shot glasses. I walk straight up to the guy whose eyes have gone totally blank, the one who’s been staring at my tits like they’re his last meal. I get right up in his space, so he can smell the cocktail of cheap perfume and, let’s be real, the faint salty tang of the last guy’s cum still on my breath.

I slide a condom into his hand and lean in, my DSLs brushing his ear. “For later,” I whisper, my voice all breathy. “Just in case you wanna finish in my ass. I love it there.” I feel him shudder, and his dick jumps against his zipper. Period. Then I pull back, loud enough for the guys closing in to hear, “Rules are simple, boys! I get a bonus for every load. Can’t wait your turn? Cum in the glass. I’ll do a shot of it between rounds.” The room goes silent for a sec, then erupts in this hungry, chaotic cheer.

That’s when the real manhandling starts. Hands are everywhere, grabbing my hips, sliding over the latex of my hotpants to find the ‘SLUT’ tattoo. Someone gives it a hard slap. I let out this high, fake giggle and let them push me down onto my knees in the middle of the circle. My brain is screaming factory line, factory line, but my pussy is getting wet, which is so fucked up, but whatever.

I look up at Blank-Eyes Guy. He’s fumbling with his belt. I’m thinking, Get him done, get him soft, he’ll be a good boy for the rest of the night. He’s thinking, I’m first, this slut is all mine. I lean forward and take his zipper pull in my teeth, looking him right in the eye as I tug it down. The sound of the denim parting is so loud in the quiet. I nuzzle his briefs, then hook my fingers in the waistband and pull his cock out. It’s already slick at the tip. I don’t tease. I open my mouth wide and take him all the way down my throat in one go, until my nose is buried in his pubes. I gag hard, making this loud, wet uh-huh sound that echoes. The guys around me groan.

I start bobbing, one hand working the base of his dick, the other braced on his thigh. My mouth is a mess of spit. I can feel another guy’s hand on the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my ponytail, not forcing, just holding. I let him. I suck until Blank-Eyes is gasping, his hips stuttering. I pop off with a gasp, a string of spit and pre-cum connecting my glossed lip to his swollen head. “You’re next, baby,” I pant, locking eyes with the guy right behind him. Then I dive back down, taking him deep again. Two more sucks and he’s grunting, “Fuck, I’m gonna–” and I swallow every pulse, feeling his cum hit the back of my throat. I don’t even come up for air. I just turn my head, open my mouth to show it’s empty, and reach for the next dick already nudging my cheek. The line has officially begun.