I've been on a frenzy, taking whore to a whole new level. Not the mini-skirt and high heel kind. The barefoot, bare ass, panting-on-my-knees kind.
There's a new titty bar in town that features a glory hole a few times a week. I stumbled on a strange discovery that on Saturdays, the joint owner doesn't have a girl. The girl he had, left quite the reputation that no replacement was able to handle. The new girls couldn't even make the clients cum.
I, myself, had always wanted to try glory holes, deepthroating cock after cock but I lacked the patience of sleeping with the same guy twice in one night. No one made me want to stay or gave me the thrill that made me beg for more. As much as I appreciated the nice guys, they were too nice. Especially in the bedroom. While I'm bent over, I don't want to hear the usual, 'You're so pretty, baby.' As they struggle to even slide more than halfway in my cunt. I want to hear the slap of his balls against my ass, the mix of his grunts and my screams in the air and feel the pressure build as he pounds into my pussy over and over again, stretching me so wide, I can't walk straight. No one could hurt me that bad, fuck me as hard as I craved.
At least I could have my mouth fucked without any attachments. I called up the joint owner, who was extremely amused that someone at the, shy age, of 18 would be interested in taking on such a heinous (his words, not mine) load. He wanted to see if I have what it takes to become his Saturday Night Slutcase.
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The day we met, he appeared to be in a trance. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed freely over my body, he had me spin a few times. It was obvious, he was enjoying my figure in the short, skin-tight, black dress that clung to my large tits, small waist and cut-off right under my ass and matching 3 inch stilletos. This particular night, my hair was straight and in a high-ponytail.