The Fatal Temptation Ch. 01

Temptation Under the Night

The night was as dark as ink, and the streets of the urban village mingled dimness with clamor. Broken streetlights cast faint halos, sketching out a silhouette that grabbed the soul. She leaned against the shadows beneath the overpass, dressed in a tight black miniskirt that hugged her slim waist and plump hips perfectly. The skirt was so short it barely covered her thighs, and with every little shift, it flashed the pale curve of her butt under black fishnet stockings, revealing the primitive teasing in the ambiguity. Her platform high heels tapped the pavement, the thin metal heels clicking out a sharp "tap-tap" that whispered through the air, tugging at the hearts of every man who passed by. Her low-cut tank top shimmered with sequins like stars in the weak light, the sheer fabric clinging to her full chest, her deep cleavage peeking out just enough, while the edges of her bra glowed with a hazy allure. She swayed her upper body lightly, her fingers lazily lifting her long curly hair. A thick, sweet scent drifted from her hair, silently seeping into the night. Heavy eyeshadow, bold eyeliner, and flushed blush framed her wild, mature look. She parted her full lips, painted with deep red lipstick, fluttered her curled fake eyelashes, and glanced at passers-by wantonly. Whenever she locked eyes with someone, she shot back a raw, unguarded stare that sparked their hidden desires without a word.

But beneath all that flashy charm and flirty pose, there was a flicker of sharpness and poise that didn't fit the scene. That kind of vibe belonged to the big shots in fancy office towers, not this grimy alley. No one would've guessed that this "woman," with her bright nail polish and swaying hips, hid a small penis under her crotchless sheer panties--quivering with every step, already soaked with lust. Even wilder, just hours before, he'd been Eric, a sharp-dressed man in a suit, sitting in his private office, commanding the room with big words and bigger ideas. But now, she was Erica, a sissy hooker in the urban village, obsessed with the raw power of male bodies, craving to be taken hard like a bitch, hooked on the rush of being a plaything for men. For years, she'd been hooked on the high of living this double life. Her twisted cravings burned hot inside, pushing her to prowl the city's edges every night, trading flesh to fill a hunger that never quit.

At first, Erica's hooking days were all glitz and class. She wore tight silk evening gowns, paired with vintage Cuban heel stockings and pricey lingerie, spritzed with "Dior Poison" perfume. She worked high-end bars and swanky five-star hotel suites, playing the part of a top-tier escort for society's elite. But she soon found out those overfed middle-aged and old guys were usually past their prime--their limp dicks couldn't come close to satisfying her starving body or warped soul. After every job, she'd stay behind in the room alone, riding a fat dildo, grinding her hips like crazy until she hit climax after climax. Her screams cut through the night, but even that barely scratched the itch.

Then she stumbled onto the urban village--a goldmine. It was packed with young migrant workers, tough and full of fire, but crushed by poverty and loneliness. They scraped together months of pay just to blow off steam with cheap hookers. Erica saw her chance. She ditched the fancy getup for bargain-bin clothes and makeup, slashed her rates in half, all to draw in these roughnecks and soak up their raw, masculine energy to feed her freaky needs.

That night, Erica lounged by the roadside, her eyes drifting, a sleazy smirk on her lips. She sized up the guys walking by, mentally picking out which stud she'd snag. Then a squeaky bicycle chain cut through the quiet, and her stare zeroed in on a guy pedaling crookedly.

That was Old Liu, a textbook migrant worker--dark skin, weathered face, decked out in a greasy gray jumpsuit. His thick forearms, hairy like a wild bear, stuck out from rolled-up sleeves. His pants had a hole, and his beat-up rubber shoes stank of sweat and cheap booze. Earlier that day, the foreman had screwed him out of half a year's wages. He'd drowned his anger in rotgut with the crew, and now, broke and half-drunk, he roamed the streets, his gut churning with hate--for the city, for the suits looking down on him, for this shitty life, and for himself, penniless but horny as hell. He especially despised these lowlife hookers--why could they just lie back and rake in cash while he busted his ass in the wind and rain, only to get shorted?

That night, he carried a bike brake wire and a dark scheme, hunting for a target.

Erica clocked him instantly. She eyed his broad shoulders and beefy arms, and the little dick in her panties jumped to half-mast, pressing against the lace and leaking a clear drop. Her pulse raced: This guy's built like a workhorse--he's gotta have a huge cock that'll fuck me senseless. She licked her lips, let out a low moan, and pictured herself pinned under him, getting pounded hard. She couldn't wait. Twisting her hips, she stepped up, her red-painted nails wrapping around his thick arm, pressing herself against him like a bitch in heat. Her fake tits mashed against his arm through the tank top, the silicone squishing and leaving marks on the fabric. Pouting her lipstick-smeared lips, she cooed in a syrupy voice, "Hey, handsome, wanna have some fun? I'll make you feel so good, you'll swear you're in heaven!"

Her fake lashes batted, and her shadowed eyes locked onto his crotch, where a bulge loomed like a beast ready to wake. Her stare practically drooled, her mind screaming: Goddamn, how thick and hard is that thing? It's gonna rip me apart and knock me out cold! She imagined it stretching her ass, slamming deep, fluids and blood dripping down, her little dick throbbing painfully, her panties already wet with a slick patch.

Old Liu had been around the block in the red-light scene and knew the game the second he heard her voice. He stopped his bike, his bleary drunk eyes scanning this flirty "woman," clocking her bag, earrings, and necklace, guessing their worth. He played it cool, asking, "How much?" When she named a price so cheap even the skankiest village whores would blush, he paused, thinking she must be desperate or lousy.

He didn't bite right away. His eyes narrowed, and he reached out with a rough hand to feel her up. He squeezed her fake tits hard, not catching they were liquid silicone, and his pants tightened. Then he smacked her fat ass in the fishnets--the flesh jiggled, the mesh digging red lines into her skin. "Nice body, but I dunno about your skills," he grumbled, brushing her bag "by accident" and feeling some heft.

When his hand slid to her crotch, Erica didn't flinch--she hiked her skirt higher, flashing the half-hard little dick under her crotchless panties, sticking up like an oversized clit with a glistening drop at the tip. She let out a dirty laugh, her flirty eyes blazing. "Handsome, never tried a shemale? My ass is tighter than a virgin's. I can do anything a chick can, and I'm game for stuff they won't touch! Guys who've had me swear off women for good!" She wiggled her hips, her fake tits bouncing like Jell-O, her stare glued to the monster in his pants.

Old Liu yanked his hand back like he'd been shocked, gaping at her, totally thrown.

Erica was ready for that. She knew these rugged types would fuck anything once they were too horny to care. She tiptoed up in her heels, her rose-red lips closing in on Old Liu. His stubbly chin reeked of sweat, but it hit her like a drug. She pried his mouth open, her tongue diving in to tangle with his, sucking it like a cock. Saliva mixed with booze sloshed around, making wet "tsk-tsk" noises. Her hand slid down, rubbing his bulge through his pants, nails scraping the fabric, tracing its thick shape.

Under her teasing, Old Liu's dick turned rock-hard. He looked her over again--sure, she was a guy down there, but with that tiny waist, juicy hips, and slim arms, he growled, "Alright, take care of me good. I've got cash to burn."

She lit up inside: Holy shit, this thing's thicker than my arm--it's gonna kill me with how good it feels tonight! A cheap, nasty grin spread across her face. She grabbed his arm, swaying her plump ass seductively, pulling him and his busted bike toward a nearby rental shack. Her heels clacked "tap-tap" on the ground like a death knell. She was buzzing with glee, her little dick spitting out a shiny "pearl," oblivious that she was marching straight into doom.