The lights are dimming, and the last customer is the owner—a man who knows exactly how to handle a girl like me. He doesn’t use the booths. He pushes me against the jukebox, the music thumping through my back.
He flips me around, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back. He slides his cock into my tight, hungry ass. I scream into the neon light, the friction searing and perfect. He’s hammering into me, rough and relentless, treating my hole like a stress ball.
I can feel the pressure building, that familiar ache. He lets out a low growl and dumps a massive, concentrated load deep in my gut. It’s the richest dessert of the night—thick, heavy, and searing hot.
He pulls out, and I slump against the jukebox, feeling the warm cream slowly slide out of my ass, mixing with the remnants of the day’s work. I’m a mess of fluids, smelling like sex and salt, completely filled to the brim.
Bethany
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