The Slut

Tommy calls her the Slut, an archetype you buy. Money, car, clean suit—small tokens that make her wet without touching. Blonde hair falls over a rack that could stop traffic, the brunette watches with sharp eyes, already wet at the promise of being used. She steps in close, drops to her knees, and takes him in her mouth like the deal’s already signed. Saliva coats his shaft, runs down her chin while she works him deeper, eyes half-closed, throat opening. The brunette leans against the wall, fingers busy between her thighs, waiting her turn. When he’s ready, he pulls free and paints the blonde’s face in thick ropes, leaving her gasping, lips parted, cum sliding across her cheek and onto those heavy tits. Formalities done. The Slut always pays out.