"How much?" the jaded john asks, his eyes roaming over the teen's lithe body. She names her price, her voice steady, her gaze unflinching. He smirks, "Expensive little whore, aren't you?" She just smiles, unbuttoning her blouse to reveal her perky breasts. She's a professional, her mouth a masterpiece, her tongue a velvet whip. She takes him in, her head bobbing, her hands working in sync. She's a symphony of sensation, her mouth a cash register, ringing up pleasure one thrust at a time. When he comes, she swallows, her eyes meeting his, a silent 'thank you' for the transaction complete.