Holli's Not a Whore

"But I'm not getting cockslapped wit--" I fell for his trap again. He had smeared his hands over some of the plates with my cunt cream and slathered it on the tip of his dick, and as I started my sentence he suddenly smacked the side of my head with it, making my eyes roll. I saw stars as he wailed on me with his brutal club, his prespunk mixing with my girl goo as streaks on my face.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

I was so delirious my pussy actually came again on the fourth smack, the world a creamy blur through my stained eyes.

The ultra-hung brute seized me by my hair again, drawing me up and shoving his cockhead in my dangling jaw, my will to resist him completely gone now as he pounded once more into my throat. Now he threw back his head and roared, his gorgeous muscles becoming tense, as his nasty nut glands tightened against the bottom of his shaft.

It felt like I was throwing up in reverse, the nasty huge wad of spooge battering down my throat, into my gut and then bouncing back out again, totally overwhelming my system. As I coughed some of the huge load out, his next huge shot splattered across my nose and neck, and he beat off another into my hair, totally soaking my bangs in spunk.

He found homes for the next several loads on or between my huge throbbing tits, making them jiggle and quiver with the force of his cum blasts. He painted and pasted my face again, filling my pretty blue eyes with a film of white.

He kept roaring as the last of his spunk fell upon me, smearing it all over my body with his shaft. Of course I wanted to lick it up, but I was a panting, exhausted, overfucked throat-stuffed mess.

By the time I'd even had the energy to wipe the spunk from my eyes, Paul was dressed, and standing over me again.

He took out his wallet and started, for lack of a better term, making it rain. He threw handful after handful of cash on me, coating my jockstrap-jam covered body in green dollars, 5's 10's 20's and even some fifties.

"For the groceries?" I whimpered thankfully.

He just laughed.

"No. You knew what this was. Don't pretend you didn't."

As he left the flat, I sat there, money encrusting my cum-coated body almost like clothing. I realized he was right. For Paul at least, I, Holli, was a whore..

*

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