You wouldn’t label me a prostitute, hooker or slut or any diminutive term like that. I would be the girl next door. The type men like chatting up an... getting on with. The type that smiles at them and finds them funny. Deep down, I’m the type they are likely to pull on a night out when the blonde nightclub bimbo decides to reject them and the type that is going to blow them until they spurt. I don’t really care what happens after that. We could see each other again or we could not. Ces’t La Vie. An evil smile. She bit her lower lip, as if she was actually thinking to cross the line of betrayal. She looked down again. This time she kept her eyes locked in the area, as if she was trying to see through my pants. Drunk as I was, I decided to tease even more, and pulled my pants down in the front, revealing my dick. Her mouth opened wide, as she looked down the hall again. She took my hand and pulled me inside the toilet, closing the door behind us. "Are you crazy?" She asked. Her eyes. More

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