“Hop in, you filthy fucking whore.” He taunted, holding up an eight ball to entice me. His cock was out, all pathetic four inches of it. The blow was enough, so I was stripped and in the cab before he had a chance to go soft on me. My pussy was slick, not minding his little cock if it meant cocaine. The less work I had to do, the better.
He took off, pulling the truck out onto the highway. “Swallow my cock, bitch.” He spit in my face as I did a line off the dashboard. I was on him like flies on honey in July. I slammed him into the back of my throat. He moaned real loud, dirty bird, and nearly swerved a lane. I kept throat fucking him, faster and faster. He was grinding the gears, slipping over to the shoulder of the road.
He threw me onto the bunk, climbing up my body. Pinning me down, he face fucked me, rattling my teeth. My head was slamming into the wall, spinning from more than just the snow. He spilled his baby gravy deep down my throat. Getting off, I reached for the coke. Instead, he handcuffed me to the bunk.
“You’re mine, cunt.” He wasn’t going to bring me back to the lot.
