Snowball Whore

Who Doesn’t Love A Snowball Whore

I’ve been on a roll with my workouts lately, and I’m really proud of my progress. However, there’s one habit I just can’t seem to kick—my love for fast food. After a long workout session, I’m usually sweaty, smelly, and sticky, and the last thing I want to do is cook a meal at home. So, inevitably, I find myself in the drive-thru line, ready to indulge in some guilty pleasures.  I love being a Snowball Whore.

Today was no different. As I pulled up to the window, a handsome but scrawny young man took my order with a cheerful smile and asked if I wanted any special sauce. Considering I was already committing to the calories, I thought, why not go all out? After all, if I’m going to indulge, I might as well enjoy every bite. 

The young man explained that since he was almost finished closing up, he’d have to make everything fresh. He kindly asked me to park out front while he prepared my order. I didn’t mind at all—fresh is always better, right? Hmm, I wonder if he will let me give him a Snowball? Maybe I want to be his little snowball whore. I should of done this with the Hot Doctor 

So, I parked my car and waited. But as the minutes ticked by, my excitement started to wane. After about ten minutes, I began to wonder what was taking so long. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to head inside to see what was going on.

What happened next?

As I walk through the kitchen, I call out for anyone—no response. The lights were dim, so visibility was not on my side. Finally, I hear a sort of clamoring in the back of the freezer. So, I continue on my investigation. What do I find, my handsome young drive-thru man working on my “special sauce”? At this point, I’m frozen, taking in the view —what he lacked in build, he definitely made up for in other places. I’m not sure how he fit in all in his pants. I could see what was talking so long he had to stroke himself, down to his knees. When I caught him, he was too, um, occupied to notice me. I cleared my throat. I want to be his Snowball Whore.

After I do, he nearly jumps out of his skin. Trying to stammer through an explanation. So I cut him off; I didn’t care. My initial need for a guilty pleasure was still brewing inside—it just changed course a little. After all, I was planning to indulge, right? I want to receive a Snowball for once. Do not just give them.

Have No Fear, The Snowball Whore Is Here

Next thing I know, I’m helping him make his special sauce. First, he walks over to me, still stroking his cock, never breaking eye contact. Before I know it, my hand is stroking his cock, between my legs. Then, he rips down my pants, gently sliding his member between my lower lips, which happily grip around his cock, coating him with our own special secret sauce. Not too long after that, I squat down to swallow him whole, I force his ginormous boner down my throat forcefully. Finally, I get to be a Snowball Whore.

Which he responded excitedly, as he gripped my ponytail. Pounding his monstrous member down my throat, as he guides my head forcefully to get his desired position, harder, deeper, faster. At this point, I’ve become drenched in sweat once more—now adding saliva, tears, and maybe a little precum. Now, I’m not one to complain, but his dick is so far down my throat I can’t hardly breathe, only making slight grunts, moans, and gagging, which is quickly cut off each time he fucks my throat faster. I can tell, he’s got a huge batch of special secret sauce ready for me. I wonder if he knew I was a Snowball Whore?

As he harnesses in, he grabs a handful of hair on either side of my head, slamming my face onto his erect cock. While my head is moving, he’s rigid, clenched, tilting his hips forward. As he continues forcing my head up and down, quickly. Finally, he pulls my head back, repositions. Then slams my head down, the entire length of his cock. When he reaches the back of my throat, he inches deeper, while his member bends down my throat, inching further down my esophagus.

I Love Being A Snowball Whore

Then I feel his cock swell, pumping his secret sauce down my throat. Which caused my throat to gag, forcing his cock up my throat into my mouth. With his cock in my mouth he fully pumped his load of special secret sauce into my mouth. I caught every last drop. As I hold his special secret sauce in my mouth. I stood up. When I reached my level, I gave him a nice, passionate kiss. As I do, I open my mouth to part his lips. When he opens his mouth to match mine, I spit his special secret sauce into his mouth. Being the Mistress of Phone sex is so fucking fun.

Why should I be the only one to enjoy his special secret sauce? His eyes met mine in panic, while mine told him it was ok, to like it even. As he looked at me, he swallowed, grabbing my head, French kissing me deeply and passionately. Which I accepted, for a moment. Then I pushed him back, and reminded him he still owes me my order—unfortunately, his special secret sauce didn’t fill my hunger.

Call me and let me be our Snowball whore.

Call Tiffany 1-888-964-8863