Winning the Prize at the Circus of Sluts

You love it when the circus comes to town. You want to win a prize. This time it’s easy. All you have to do is hold onto the shaft and watch the number on the tent wall, watch the way it drops.

You don’t know what it means, and it’s dropped so much you don’t care. You feel the way your crop top stretches when you growing tits fill it out. You feel the way your tiny shorts ride up your ass, teasing and taunting.

You weren’t wearing this when you came here, you don’t remember changing. You don’t remember anything except holding the shaft, except stroking up and down and feeling it twitch and pulse in your hand.

It’s so hard. So hot. You wonder what it tastes like. What it feels like sliding down your throat.

You’re so wet. Your panties are soaked. Or they would be, but your panties are gone now. Your shorts are gone. You’re just kneeling there, stroking the shaft, watching the number drop until numbers don’t make sense anymore.

Not to a dumb bimbo like you.

You’re just there to stroke and suck, to pump and moan.

This is what you’re good for. This is why you’re here.

Good little circus slut.

Good dumb bimbo.

You feel the number drop, feel your tits grow, feel the shaft twitch. You hear the crowd cheer.

Now you’re on display. On your hands and knees, tits bouncing, ass up, pussy wet.

They love it.

You love it.

This is what you’re for.

And now here’s your prize.

Big, thick, hard. It slides right in. Fills you up. Makes you moan. This is what you want. This is why you’re here. To get fucked. To suck cock. To show everyone just how good it feels to be a circus slut.

Moan. Pump. Ride. Fuck. Over and over. Again and again. This is your purpose. Your pleasure. Your life.

This is everything.

This is perfect.

You remember friends from before you stroked the cock and whored yourself out to the circus and as you cum again you think they need to learn this lesson too.

Everyone wins at the Circus of Sluts.