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- Getting my fix — 1 comment
I don’t move softly through the night… I take up space and dare anyone to look away. Prostitutes Porn is the label people slap on me in their heads the moment they clock my walk, and I wear it like a weapon. I’m the best hooker anyone can find, I don’t need permission to be wanted.
I’m demanding with my attention, deliberate with my mouth, and sharp enough to cut through hesitation. I don’t wait to be chosen… I decide. My eyes hold a stare until it makes people squirm, my smile all teeth and promise. I know exactly how to pull someone in, how to keep them leaning forward, how to make them feel like they’re already behind before the game even starts.
I do this for money. Say it slowly. I like the honesty of it, the clean exchange. Cash buys my indulgences, fuels my nights, keeps me buzzing and bold. I don’t flinch from that truth. I own it. “Yea you like this don’t you, you fucking crack whore” He says while stuffing his dick in my wet pussy. “Yes Daddy, give it to me” I say while moaning loudly. Every dollar feels like proof that I’m in control, that my confidence has weight, that my body and presence are worth paying for.
There’s nothing gentle about the way I live. I adapt fast, read desire faster, and switch moods like flipping a blade. Sweet when it suits me, ruthless when it pays better. I decide the pace. I decide the limits. Anyone who steps into my orbit learns real quick that I don’t beg… I command attention and take what’s offered.
I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to be remembered. I like the edge, the risk, the way power hums under my skin when I’m in charge of the room. He finally pays me and I’m super fulfilled. I leave with full pockets and a sharper grin, already craving the next hit of coke adrenaline and noise. Cocaine is the only thing that keeps me sane, I need it every second of the day, and will sell my body every time to feed my high.
The way I fuck these guys one by one, you would think I hate my life, but I honestly prefer it this way because I’ll never get bored with a man. I enjoy being a cum slut, it fuels my slutty purpose. I’m very unapologetic and wired, moving through neon and shadows with purpose. If my confidence feels dangerous, good. That means it’s working in my favor.
I step into the room, heels clicking against the floor, eyes scanning every inch of him, feeling every pulse of heat before I even touch him. Sexy Prostitutes like me know exactly how to drive a man wild, how to make him ache without ever rushing, and I’m about to show him exactly what I’m capable of.
The air is thick with tension, with desire, with the knowledge that I’m in complete control here. I lean in, letting my fingers trace lightly over his chest, teasing, testing, letting him know just how much he wants me already. My lips curve into a wicked smile because I can feel how hard his growing cock gets inside my mouth… the way his breath catches, the way his eyes darken when he imagines what I’m about to do.
I move closer dropping to my knees, letting my body brush against his, my hands sliding down to his pants to tease the edges of what he craves most. Every moan, every shiver, every glance he gives feeds my hunger, makes me bolder, makes me want to take exactly what I want. I whisper against his ear, slow and teasing, letting him imagine every daring move, every forbidden touch, every whispered command he’ll obey.
I love knowing that there are no rules here, that I can give him pleasure exactly the way I like, the way he can’t resist. Him moaning louder and louder makes me super wet and helps me keep up the pace, for my head movements. Every shiver that runs through his body, every ragged breath, every whisper of my name… it’s proof that I’m in control, proof that he can’t help but follow where I lead.
By the time we’re both lost in the heat of it, I’m taking every inch of what I crave, tasting, teasing, claiming, and knowing that he’ll remember every second. I allow him to pull my hair and shove my head against him with his cock all down my throat, with me barely being able to breathe. Every gasp, every groan, every moment of surrender is mine to own, mine to enjoy, mine to tease further.
I pull back just enough to let him catch his breath, smile wickedly, and lean in again, reminding him that I’m his favorite Nigger Slut that he pays the most, and I take exactly what I want… no rules, no hesitation, and no limits.
Hookers for hire, that’s me, dripping, shaking, and desperate, giving every inch of myself to anyone who pays. My pussy is slick and aching for attention. I’m moaning before anyone even touches me. Every tip, every command, every inch of cash makes me hotter, wetter, trembling with need.
“Crawl over here,” one of them says. I obey instantly, lips parting, hands sliding over my slick thighs. I moan as
fingers trace over me, teasing, spreading me, making me shiver with anticipation. I love the way they watch, hungry and ready, paying for every filthy thing I’ll do.
“Make me feel that wet mouth of yours,” another commands. I bend, opening myself, letting him fuck me. I gasp and whine as every thick, sticky stroke hits. Their sticky cum drips down my thighs and stomach, hot and messy, and I lick it off with a moan, craving more, desperate for every filthy drop.
“Keep going, don’t stop,” they all chorus, handing me cash and a line of coke on the side, fueling my desperation and desire. My body shakes, slick with their sticky cum and sweat. My fingers slide over myself as I ride every filthy rush. Every order, every filthy moan keeps me begging, needy, dripping, and desperate.
I take them everywhere, tasting, feeling, smearing their sticky cum all over me, wanting more.
Money and cocaine drive my lust and hunger, making me moan louder, arch my back, and open wider. I give every messy, wet inch. I scream, moan, and writhe, filthy, messy, and used. I love every second of being their hooker, their slut, their wet, desperate plaything, doing everything to make them pay, want more, and keep me addicted to every filthy act I crave.