Transit, 78 Part 2 (Patreon)

The shower came on scalding. Lorie stepped beneath it and let the heat strike her face, flattening her platinum hair against her back. Mascara loosened in streams. Lipstick bled from her mouth in red ribbons, slipping over her chin and down the swollen curves of her chest.

The dried cum softened next. What had felt brittle on the couch became slick beneath her palms. She rubbed it across her tits before rinsing it away, watching milky trails run over her navel ring and disappear through the roses at her hips.

The new ink looked darker when wet. Red petals gleamed against flushed skin. Black vines curled toward the tribal mark at the base of her spine, while the MADE IN THE U.S.A. stamp remained crisp on her left cheek. She turned beneath the spray, pushed her ass back, and admired the arrangement in the glass.

“Pretty fucking package,” she told her reflection.

The little ankle cross flashed whenever she shifted her foot. It made her think of followers who noticed details: men who zoomed in, saved everything, and argued over which mark was their favorite. They would love the roses. They would love the ruined makeup. They would especially love hearing how she had woken sore, sticky, and ready for more.

An X post began writing itself in her head.

Woke up with last night’s cum dried all over my tits and thighs…

She laughed, reached for the pink toy, and held it low against the roses. The angle needed to show the wet ink, her heavy breasts, and enough of the toy to make the promise obvious.

Clean enough for breakfast. Still dirty enough for the next Russian cock.

Lorie wiped a clear patch in the steamed mirror and studied the pose.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “That’ll get them hard.”