Susie & Her New Passport

So, I wrote this a long time ago and spruced it up for Literotica. But some stories are timeless. Right?

A while ago I read a letter from a woman traveling around the world. She travels by herself. Guys assume she has a sugar daddy or that she's a prostitute. How else could a gorgeous woman pay for solo travel? Right? Sort of like success. If a woman is successful, it's because she slept her way to the top. But anyway, that got me asking: Who do I need to fuck for my solo vacation to the Yucatan?

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Is there? I've heard it both ways.

But am I not hot enough? Am I not sugar-daddy worthy? I asked BF. We were driving to my parents house.

"Suck my cock."

"Suck your cock?"

"Yeah. Suck it."

"Just like that? RIght now? Like, right here? You driving? Like, what

am

I to you?"

"A girl."

"A girl?"

"Yeah, so fucking suck my cock. Get busy. I'm driving and you're dead weight. Make yourself useful. You know how to, girl."

"We're going to my parents!"

"You think they don't know your cunt is full of my cum?"

"Fuck you!"

But don't judge me. Every girl has her kryptonite. We're all different. Some like flowers. Some like sweet talk. Some like to be wined and dined. Some like romantic evenings before they give BF what he wants--head down, ass up, pussy ready for their cum. Me? It's when BF is an edgy asshole, when he just out and out tells me what he wants with that asshole smile. He knows what I like. When, totally out of the blue, when I'm trying to have a deep and intellectual conversation, he makes me feel like the only reason I exist is to be filled by his cum. It's that

Mdom

presumption that triggers me, that lubes my twat and turns my tits into two submissive pinpricks.

He was cumming in my mouth when we pulled up to my parents place. He called me a slut. He called me a good girl. He told me to keep swallowing. And I did. And I was disturbed to be called a slut and a good girl because, I mean, think about it.

That was two days ago.

Yesterday I was on the couch surfing IKEA porn and wondering if JD Vance would be my accountability partner (I mean, in case something happens between me and my couch). And then there's somebody knocking at the door. Fuck! Then next thing I know, in comes this camera crew with a French guy. He's wearing a French ̶b̶u̶r̶r̶y̶,̶ ̶b̶e̶r̶a̶y̶,̶ ̶ beret, and this guy and this woman are following him. He claps his hands like he's in a hurry. The woman and this guy, kinda cute, sets up a camera and a screen.

And what the fuck?

French guy looks at his watch and says: "Désolé. We do not have all day."

Cute-guy undresses and he's 8-Inches of makes-a-girl-spread-her-legs perfection.

"Here! Bend her over this chair," says French guy. "And make sure she looks in camera,"

So next thing you know, 8-Inches bends me over the chair. He's tonguing my pussy. Camera-girl yanks up my head by the hair: "Look at the camera, honeypie, it's your face we want."

French guy is clapping his hands again. "Allez, fonce! The next customer is in fifteen minutes."

8-Incher is licking my pussy. My almost-orgasm is starting to trickle down my thighs. Camera-girl says, "Now!" Next thing I know, 8 incher is gripping my hips and with one, no-nonsense hook of his hips he's buried in me to the balls. No preliminaries. Me on my toes. Back arched in orgasm. Head up. Fireworks are going off. 8-Incher is going off in my cunt. Camera-girl's EOS is in sports mode. She's taking 20 photos a second or something like that. Before my body had stopped hiccupping on 8-Incher's cum, camera-girl is printing out a photo with her little portable printer. Next she hands me my new passport. 8-Inches spunk running down my just-fucked thighs. And, you know, I would have been really upset by all this, but the photo wasn't bad. You know how hard it is to get a good passport photo?

"So where did you get this?" asks BF.

"It's my orgasm-face passport."

"Fuck", says boyfriend, "that's hot. Seriously?"

"Yeah," I say, "you'd be amazed the places a girl can go with this passport. You want one, too?"

Yrs, in love, Susie Suede: All true. No lies.