**Title: The First Taste**

I never thought I’d end up here—naked, kneeling on the sticky floor of some stranger’s apartment, my mouth open and waiting as a circle of men and women laughed and egged me on. But money was money, and Trang had bills to pay.

It started as a joke at first. Some rich guy in my class, Kai, caught me crying in the bathroom after another tuition notice. He smirked, leaned in, and said, *“I know a way you can make quick cash, if you’re not too prissy for it.”* I should’ve walked away. But the way he said it—like he knew I was desperate—made me bite.

Fast forward two hours, and here I was.

There were five of them—three guys, two girls. All older, all watching me like I was fresh meat. One of the girls, a voluptuous redhead with smeared lipstick, grabbed my chin and tilted my face up. “Open wider, sweetie. First one’s always free.”

I gulped but obeyed, spreading my lips like she told me. The first guy, some muscular dude with tattoos snaking down his thighs, stepped forward. He gripped his thick cock right in front of my face, already pissing in a golden arc before I could even flinch.

The first splash hit my tongue—warm, salty, bitter. I gagged, but hands clamped onto my head, holding me in place as his piss splashed over my lips, my cheeks, dripping down my chin. “Swallow it, bitch,” he grunted, and I did, my throat working as the hot liquid slid down.

The others cheered.

Next was the redhead. She sprawled back on the couch, thighs spread, her pussy glistening. “Don’t be shy,” she purred, fingers rubbing her clit. “Get in there.” I crawled between her legs, my face inches from her slit before the first trickle came. Unlike the man’s, hers was lighter, almost sweet. I lapped at her, catching the stream as it ran down her folds, my tongue pressing against her urethra to drink deeper.

“Fuck, she’s good,” someone groaned.

The third guy was the hardest. He forced me to look up at him as he pissed straight into my mouth, his cockhead nudging my lips like he was fucking them. I choked, some of it spilling out, but he just laughed and gripped my hair tighter. “Clean it up,” he ordered, and I did, licking the mess off my own chest like a desperate little pet.

By the time the last girl squatted over me, letting her piss drizzle onto my tongue like a reward, I was shaking—but not from disgust. My pussy was soaked, my nipples hard. I’d never felt this filthy, this *wanted*.

When they finally stuffed cash into my hand and shoved me out the door, I knew one thing for sure: I’d be back for more.