Whore Warehouse
Sara FLOYD has scarcely any rivals in the wench business. That babe is well-respected in the sex cream biz. Her mammoth love bubbles and her unparalleled arse have made her a legendary hooter ho wherever she may roam. It is demeaning that this babe has to deal with assholes in business suits trying to bargain her price down in the street when they should be flinging thousands of dollars at her feet as a declaration of fealty. This cheap bum has to sneak Sara into an empty warehouse coz that ladies man is likewise cheap to spend the specie on a motel room. God forbid his wife should identify a motel receipt in his pocket. When they prepare an aged crate as a fuck altar, Sara renegotiates, remembering the words of the great philosopher Confuckscious, “A rock hard 10-Pounder does not see a price tag.” This petticoat chaser screws his brains out to blast-off, exploding all over her tits, which Sara uses as an opportunity to get more cash. Chalk up some other proud client for this smart slattern. Those bucks in their fancy suits are no match for warehouse whores.
