My Steamy Story: The neon sign flickered, painting her ti...

My Story Time:

Okay, bestie, I need to spill the tea about this absolutely deranged night I had. So there I was, low-key feeling myself in this cheap pink lipstick and a skirt that was basically a belt, just trying to get my bag, you know? This guy rolls up, looking all boujee and judgmental AF. He hits me with the, "I don't usually talk to street whores," and I'm like... sheesh. The audacity.

But then? The vibe shifted. He starts calling me cheap, a slut, a five-dollar hooker... and OMG, I was so fucking wet. No cap. My pussy was literally throbbing. I saw his dick getting hard in his jeans and I just lost it. I stepped closer and was like, "Call me a slut to my face." When he growled, "You're the cheapest slut I've ever seen," I moaned. I couldn't help it.

I got his belt open and his cock was already so hard in my hand. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight, and demanded to know my body count. I whispered the number—three-forty—and the look in his eyes? Pure fire. He called me a dirty pig and I swear, my clit was buzzing.

He yanked me into the alley and kissed me, his tongue pushing past my lips. I could taste my own lipstick and, okay, maybe a little leftover saltiness from earlier. He pulled my dress down and my tits spilled out into the cold air. I dropped to my knees so fast, taking his thick dick into my mouth. He started slow, testing me, but then he just... took over. He fucked my throat, muttering "cheap slut" with every thrust. I gagged, tears in my eyes, but I took it. I could hear other guys gathering, watching, and it just made me sloppier, hungrier. When he came, I swallowed every drop, feeling his cock pulse on my tongue. I coughed, wiped my mouth, and looked at the next guy already unzipping. "Next," I said, and honestly? I was in my element. A total, used-up, happy little slut. Period.