Yes

You sink to your knees on the grimy, rocky ground, the rough stones digging into your soft flesh through the thin fabric of your dress. The scar-faced man's eyes widen in lustful surprise as you guide his rough hands to your beautiful bosom, encouraging him to grope and squeeze the pliant, silicone-enhanced mounds.

With a wicked grin, you lean forward, allowing his manhood to emerge from the confines of his trousers, already rock hard and throbbing with anticipation. You glance up at him from beneath long, fake lashes, your red lips parted invitingly as you prepare to service him.

The lewd display draws a chorus of crude cheers and whistles from the men surrounding you, their eyes glinting with unrestrained desire as they watch the scene unfold. The scar-faced leader grins down at you, one hand still kneading your artificial breast roughly.

Scarface: "¡Dios mío, you're a dirty little putita, aren't you? Go on then, bonita, show me what that filthy mouth can do. Impress me, and maybe, just maybe, I'll put in a good word with El Escorpión."

He tangles his fingers tighter in your hair, his grip almost painfully tight as he guides your head towards his engorged member, the musky scent of his arousal filling your nostrils. Your heart races as you prepare to **** yourself further, knowing that this twisted act could be the key to infiltrating the cartel's inner sanctum.

You wrap your plump, glossy lips around the scar-faced man's throbbing cock, your tongue swirling skillfully around the swollen head. His grip tightens in your hair as he lets out a guttural groan, clearly pleased by your enthusiastic ministrations. You take him deeper, inch by thick inch disappearing into your mouth, your throat constricting around his shaft.

The men surrounding you hoot and holler, their cheers growing louder as you service their leader with increasing fervor. Drool drips down your chin as you work your mouth along his considerable length, your lips stretched obscenely around his girth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his climax approaching rapidly.

With a final, hard thrust, he hilts himself fully in your mouth, his hot seed erupting down your throat as he finds his release. You swallow convulsively, working to take every last drop of his essence, your eyes watering from the effort.

As he pulls away, you sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a dazed but satisfied expression on your face. The scar-faced man looks down at you with a smug, self-satisfied grin, tucking his spent member back into his trousers.

Scarface: "Not bad, bonita. Not bad at all. I'll make that call to El Escorpión's people. They'll be expecting you at the villa tomorrow night. Don't be late," he warns, tapping your cheek condescendingly with his now-clean hand.

You nod, a thrill of anticipation and dread running down your spine at the thought of your impending audition with the notorious cartel leader, wondering just how far you.

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