I’ve never denied that I am white trailer trash. I’m a druggy whore who needs to get her fix of the knot. That black tar isn’t the only thing I’m addicted to; I’m a nymphomaniac underneath all of my whorish track marks. That’s how I ended up in this barn wearing a ten inch pink strap on and staring down a squealing four legged friend. He stood there with the video cameras set up, expecting me to fuck this fatty patty like my life depended on it. It had been hours since my last dose, and I was getting shaky. He knew I would do it; he knew I would do absolutely anything to get my fix. Sliding up behind sweet suey, I did what any druggy whore would do. I slammed that schlong deep into the squealer. And squeal she did. He was stroking his long cock, and against my will, my cunt was starting to run rivers down my thighs. I felt the millions of eyes watching me on the Dark Web as he live broadcasted my humiliation. I spent the better part of an hour working that meat wad with that big black cock. I was feeling the withdraw, begging for a cigarette or a blunt to knock the edge off. He spit on me instead, and ordered me to keep fucking that fat farm friend. Finally, I was too exhausted to go on, and I collapsed. He tied the tourniquet himself, and slid that sweet needle into my veins. The last thing I remember is him laughing in my face as he snuffed me out in front of a hundred thousand viewers.
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