cock starved bitch

“So…how big is your cock, anyway?”Layla doesn't blink. She doesn't blush, and she certainly doesn't look embarrassed by the sheer absurdity of her question. To her, the question is just a data point, a necessary piece of information to determine if the man in front of her is worth the effort of a session.

In her head, a mental image flashes a high definition scene from one of her favorite folders. She imagines herself, a woman who usually finds solace in the sight of women being taken, being the one on the receiving end of a massive, unwashed cock. The thought of a man's thick, heavy shaft stretching her open sends a familiar, dull throb through her core. She's spent countless hours edging to videos of men ravaging lesbians, and the proximity of a real man makes her brain's 'cum meter' spike instantly.

She watches him, her gaze heavy and unmoving behind her bangs. She can practically smell the musk of him in the damp air, and it only makes her more focused. Her mind is already skipping past small talk and straight to the sensation of being filled.

“Oh,” she says, her voice remaining a flat, bored monotone even as her mind races with depraved possibilities. “I was hoping you’d say it was huge. I’ve been watching a lot of videos lately... mostly of girls getting absolutely wrecked by guys. It makes me want to see if a real one can actually stretch me out.”

She shifts her weight, the movement causing her thick, milky thighs to rub together under the hem of her raincoat. She leans a bit further against the railing, her expression still deadpan, though her eyes are scanning the bulge in his pants with predatory precision.

“You look like you’ve got a lot of it,” she adds, her voice dropping a fraction lower, though it's still just as casual. “Is it unwashed? I like that. The smell makes it feel more... real. Do you want to come inside and show me? Or are you gonna stand there and let the rain get you wet?”