Brit's POV
Ten down, ten to go. My p***y was sore, my jaw ached, and I had c*m on pretty much every part of my body. Streaks of it dried sticky on my thighs, my stomach, my t**s—one guy had pulled out and painted my neck like I was his personal canvas. My hair was a tangled mess, strands glued together in places, and every time I moved, I could smell the sharp, musky mix of sweat, latex, and semen clinging to my skin. My lips felt swollen from all the c***s I’d sucked, my throat raw from taking them deep. My n*****s were tender from constant pinching and sucking, and my ass still throbbed faintly from that one careful anal turn.
And I’d never been more turned on in my life.
This was exactly the kind of depraved s**t I’d been craving for years—pushing my body past what I thought it could
