She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white as she imagined herself on those screens, her tiny body engulfed by black flesh, her mouth stretching wide to accommodate a thick, pulsating cock. He stood at the edge of the stage, his arms crossed, his eyes dark with desire. She turned, her back to the crowd, and looked over her shoulder, her eyes locking with Marcus’s. “Open your mouth, Kayla,” he commanded. You here for the amateur night, sugar?”
Kayla nodded, her lips parted, her breath coming in short gasps. She could hear Bill’s voice in her head, his usual playful banter laced with disapproval. “Open your mouth, Kayla,” he commanded. She found the number, her thumb hovering over the call button. One evening, with Bill out of town for work, Kayla found herself standing in front of her closet, her heart pounding like a kick drum. She put the phone to her ear, her breath hitching as she listened to the ring, her body aching, her pussy dripping.
