Superb Sex under the bridge with a kinky prostitute taken from the main street and paid for [Blowjob]

The sun dipped low, casting a grimy glow over the bridge’s underbelly. I yanked open the car door, and she slid in, her fishnets snagged and thighs slick from the humid night. She tossed back her hair, a wild mane framing her face, smeared with cheap makeup. No small talk, no bullshit. She knew the drill, and so did I. My cock throbbed, straining against my jeans as she leaned over, her tits spilling out of her tight top. She fumbled with my belt, impatient, her breath hot on my crotch. I could feel her lips, cold and eager, wrapping around my shaft. She sucked hard, her head bobbing, a sloppy, wet mess. Her hands gripped my thighs, nails digging in, as she took me deeper, gagging slightly. She pulled back, spit drizzling down her chin, and looked up at me, eyes watery but hungry. I grabbed her head, forcing her back down, feeling her throat constrict around my cock. She gagged again, tears streaming, but she didn’t pull away. She took it all, her mouth a filthy, sloppy fuckhole.

The car filled with the sounds of her choking and my grunts, a symphony of depravity under the bridge. Her head moved faster, her saliva coating my cock, making it glisten in the dim light. I could feel the pressure building, my balls tightening. I yanked her head back, my cock slipping out with a wet pop. She panted, her lips swollen and glossy. I grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at me as I came, my cum spraying across her face, dripping down her cheeks and into her mouth. She licked her lips, savoring every drop, her eyes never leaving mine. The night was silent again, except for our ragged breaths, the stench of sex and desperation hanging heavy in the air. I zipped up, tossing a wad of cash onto the seat. She picked it up, a smirk on her face, and slipped out of the car, disappearing into the night, leaving me with nothing but the fading echo of her sloppy blowjob.