Lot lizard sex get me what I’m after! When I’m high, everything feels electric. The neon lights of roadside motels flicker and dance before my eyes. I lean into the passenger side window, my tits spilling out of my too-tight tank top. The driver, some hairy-knuckled, paunchy man in his 50s, leers at me hungrily.
I flash him a meth-rot grin. “20 bucks for a quick rub-n-tug, sugar?” I purr, climbing into the cab before he can answer. I fumble with his belt buckle, fishing out his semi-hard cock. It’s always the same – soft and spongy, yet rock hard the second I wrap my lips around it. I bob my head, slurping and sucking noisily. He grunts and grips my hair, pulling me down to the root. I gag and sputter, tears streaming down my cheeks. It’s a dirty, degrading feeling, but God help me, it turns me on.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s emptying his load in my Sloppy wet pussy, and I’m palming the crumpled bills he dropped on the bench seat. I hop out, already jonesing for my next fix. I score some crystal from a scrawny dealer lurking by the bathroom and head to the motel to get high. I chop up the ice and lay out a fat rail on the nightstand. It’s a thing of blush, crystalline beauty. I suck it up greedily, feeling it burn my sinuses and flood my brain with sick euphoria. For a few blissful moments, everything feels right in the world.
Carrie
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