Midnight Blowjob Slave

Sheri Vi had that itch for rough trade tonight. She ditched the silk-and-champagne crowd at some high-end art museum party, ditched the doctors and professors, and headed straight for the docks. Found Nikolas in a grimy waterfront bar, boots muddy, hands callused from construction work. She brought him straight back to her place, heels clicking on marble, lingerie already damp under her dress. She stripped fast—elegant black hair tumbling down her back, heels still on—and dropped to her knees like she’d been waiting for this all evening. His cock was thick, heavy, exactly what she craved. She opened wide, took him deep, and let him grab the back of her head, guiding her rhythm like she was his personal midnight blowjob slave. Every time he pushed her down she moaned around the shaft, drooling, gagging, loving it. He bent her over the couch next, ass up, face buried in his lap. Sheri sucked like a streetwalker on a break, spit running down her chin, mascara starting to smear. She pictured the rest of the bar lining up behind her, taking turns on her holes while she stayed locked on Nik’s dick. The thought made her work harder, throat opening, tongue flat, taking him to the root until he groaned and painted her face in hot, thick ropes. High heels still planted, lingerie twisted around her waist, Sheri licked the last drops off her lips and smiled. Best decision she’d made all night was leaving that fancy party to become this stranger’s filthy little cock-sucker.