I heard the heavy knock of my hotel room door and knew my fix was walking through. My skin was crawling, itching for that sweet smoke, but I had a job to do first to keep this sexline fantasy alive for the high roller standing behind me. I’m a filthy crack whore and I don’t hide it; the desperation in my eyes only seems to make these suits want me more.
I could feel his heat radiating off him as he grabbed my hips, spinning me around just to see how wasted I was before he shoved me down onto the edge of the mattress. “You want it, Alyssa?” he moaned, his voice thick with a need that I knew how to exploit better than anyone in this city. I didn’t even have to answer; I just let out a low, jagged moan that sounded like gravel and honey, the kind of sound that gets a dick hard instantly.
He didn’t waste any time, flipping me over so I was face down, my nose pressed into the cheap polyester floral print of the bedspread. I felt his hands dig into my waist, bruising the skin, but the only pain I cared about was the void in my chest that only a rock could fill. When he slammed into me from the back, it was pure electricity.
I arched my back, showing off my fat ass as he hammered away, my body shaking with every thrust. I was rambling, talking dirty into the pillow, telling him exactly how much of a slut I was for the high, my voice cracking and wet. I could feel him reaching his breaking point with his hard dick up my tight wet cunt, his breath coming in ragged gasps that matched my own desperate rhythm.
He gripped my hair, pulling my head back until I saw stars, and then he let out a guttural roar as he nutted all over my fat ass, the warmth of it a temporary comfort against my cold, trembling skin. He pulled away, gasping for air, while I just stayed there, draped over the bed like a discarded rag. I heard the rustle of his trousers and the click of his belt, the sounds of a man putting his professional life back on.
He didn’t say a word as he reached into his wallet and tossed a wad of crumpled bills onto the scarred wooden dresser. I watched him leave through half closed eyes, my heart racing. As soon as the latch clicked, I scrambled for the cash, counting the dirty twenties with shaking fingers. This was it… enough to feed the “high” for another night, enough to drown out the shame until the next ghost came knocking at my door.
I want a Creampie slut, a barely legal cum doll to fill with my cum, male or female, young or older, a nasty kinky slut to cum inside, my cock throbs for a filthy young tramp, my nipples are like rocks, asshole creaming, so moist and wet. 
