
Trailer trash whore, that’s what they call me!
Everybody around here’s got a story about me, whether they saw me getting fucked and leaning out my window in the middle of the night, or just heard what my tongue’s capable of. I don’t hide who I am. Why should I? Ain’t no shame in being the reason the whole trailer park can’t sleep right. I like to strut around wearing my cutoff overalls, the ones that barely count as shorts, with no shirt underneath. My tits keep slipping out, and sometimes I just let them. It’s hot out, after all.
I’m always sucking on something, a lollipop, a popsicle, a piece of gum — something to keep my mouth busy. You know exactly what I’m hinting at when I catch you watching my lips. That slow swirl, that pop of the tongue, that smirk. I can see your imagination running wild, dreaming of fucking me before I can even say a word and offer my incredible services.
You’ve heard the rumors. You’ve heard about the anal I did behind Lot 12, and the squirting incident that went down in that busted pickup by the fence.
You’ve heard about my little sign taped to the door — “2 for 1 Special” — and you’re dying to find out what that means. You and your buddy whisper about it every time I walk by, thinking I don’t notice. But I see you both looking at me and getting hard and wet in your pants. I always do.
And maybe one of these nights, when the lights in the park go out, I’ll let you find out for yourselves just how true those stories are and how good my mouth feels.