Last Friday I got that itch — you know the one. The kind where my pussy throbs just thinking about dick, any dick, all the dick. I threw on my tiniest black dress (no panties, obviously), fishnets that rip easy, and heels that scream “bend me over.” Destination: that sketchy underground club downtown, the one with the back rooms where the lights are low, the music’s pounding, and nobody asks names.
I walk in, and it’s already buzzing. Guys eyeing me like fresh meat. I love that. I spot this tall guy at the bar — thick bulge already showing through his jeans. I slide up, press my tits against his arm, and whisper, “Buy me a drink… or just skip to feeding me that cock you’re hiding.” He grins, grabs my wrist, and drags me to a dark corner booth.
No small talk. I drop to my knees right there on the sticky floor, yank his zipper down, and wrap my lips around him. Fuck, he was thick — stretching my mouth wide, hitting the back of my throat on the first push. I gagged a little (on purpose, makes them harder), drool running down my chin while I bobbed like my life depended on it. Slurping, moaning, looking up with watery eyes. He grabbed my hair, fucked my face slow at first, then harder. I let him use me like a toy — throat convulsing, spit everywhere, my pussy dripping onto the floor.
But one load? Nah. I’m greedy. I pulled off, lips swollen, and said, “That’s cute… but I need more.” He laughed, waved over two of his buddies who’d been watching. Suddenly I’ve got three cocks out, surrounding me. I went feral.
I took one in my mouth, jerked the other two with my hands — switching every few minutes so no one felt left out. Sucking sloppy, deep, gagging loud enough for the whole room to hear. One guy pulled me up, bent me over the table, hiked my dress, and slammed into my soaked pussy while I kept sucking the guy in front. The third fed me his balls, making me tongue them while I got railed.
They rotated — pussy, mouth, hands — no hole untouched. Cum started flying: one blasted down my throat (I swallowed every drop like a good whore), another painted my tits, the third shot across my face while I begged for it. “More… give me more…” I kept whining, even as it dripped off my chin.
By the end of the night, I’d lost count — five? Six loads? My makeup ruined, dress torn, thighs slick with cum and my own juices. I left the club walking funny, tasting dick on my tongue, already planning the next hunt.
That’s me, Cyn. No cock left unturned, no load refused. I live for the stretch, the gag, the flood. If you’ve got a hard dick and zero patience, hit me up. I’ll drain you dry… and still beg for seconds.
Call now. My mouth’s watering just typing this. 😈🍆💦