Currently reading : cinéma-vérité

cinéma-vérité

19 April 2009

Author : maxime-buechi

Text by Jennifer Chesler, Photography by Cheong Kwon

Mandi, one of the girls at the club, she puts on her wig and starts moving on the stage, stumbling left and right, right and left. She dances like her legs are about to go out from under her, lies on the ground with her legs spread, plump and round. Her cracks are wet; you can see it, slick-like down the middle, and a dildo she holds in one hand. She puts it down on the ground, and she starts going down, working that dick in and out of her pussy, fucking crazy, that bitch. There isn’t even any lube on the goddamn thing. I get a hot flash, a wet spot in my pants, watching her. What the fuck, I say, what the fuck? But she keeps going, chains on her wrists, big cock stuck up her cunt, music playing like you wouldn’t believe. Shine it closer, I say, shine up the — the spotlight hits her right in the eyes. I know she can’t see shit; I take a $50 bill and stick it in her twat, like a billfold. Hateful, I was hateful. She doesn’t see how much I give her, but I give it to her anyway, don’t even tell her it’s from me, just wait for her to crawl in my direction, and then I slide it in there. When the spotlight moves to her tits, they’re big as balls, I tell you, big as motherfucking balls, rolling down her chest like a mother.

mandi



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