I came home from work today around 5pm. Hung up my jacket, put away the groceries, the same routine as always. I put together a modest salad of olives, feta cheese and leaves in a mustard vinaigrette. After I had eaten it, I walked into my bedroom, stripped down, and pulled out my phone. For a few minutes I posed, as I always do, with my face in frame and my tits immediately beneath, back arched to show off my round, pale ass in the background of the shot. Blonde hair spilling down in loose tresses over my shoulders. Most days it's the same pose. But I do change it up sometimes.

I picked out the three best shots, and saved them to a private folder. Deleted the rest, nice and tidy. Then I opened the dating app. Not the one you're thinking of. Not the other one, either. The worse one. The one people don't talk about. You know the one.

I put the pictures on my profile. Face, tits, ass, everything on display except my holes. Changed my profile name to the usual. Anonymous Breedslut. Location finder: On.

Then I put the phone on my bed, and went to have a shower. Washed myself down, rubbed my body with baby oil, and let the smooth, soft, silky sensation envelop me. Put up my hair in a towel, and walked naked back to my bed. Gooseflesh rippling across my tits as they soaked up the cool air of my bedroom in the dead of winter.

As always, my phone was bursting with messages. Some from past experiences. Some new faces. I browsed through them, a face pic here and there, but mostly cocks. Big cocks. Small cocks. Crooked cocks, hard and soft, white and black and brown.

I picked out a few. Asked the usual questions. Two flaked. One persisted. Told me he was thirty minutes out, passing through town. His cock looked big, thick, the kind of juicy meat that usually belongs to a smug, self-centered man.

I gave him my address. Got up, and dried my hair. Put on a bit of makeup, eyes and lips. Lingerie, a new set for each day of the week, and two for each day of the weekend. Today's fit was red lace, snug around my busy and barely enough to cover my smooth, well-kept holes. A shawl around my shoulders to keep me warm. Then I sat on the bed, and snapped a picture of my pussy. The notification said he saw it. Another notification said he saved it to his phone.

He let himself in, as instructed. His boots were heavy on the stairs up to the bedroom where he found me. His body was hot beneath the chill still stuck to his clothes, and I let him grope my tits, pull down the bra and tweak my nipples before pushing me onto the bed. His cock looked huge in the half-light, and as he laid down over me I could feel the rough fabric of his jeans scrape against my inner thighs as he found the position. Blunt cock head against my pussy, his fingers peeling my panties aside to make room for him.

I was wet for him, as promised. He took me, hard and deep and rough, throwing my legs over his shoulders and pinning me to the mattress beneath him. Grunting and growling, his face a mask of ecstasy as he leered down at me and called me a good girl. Every thrust ground his cock against my insides like stoking hot coals in a furnace, and I shivered as his size stretched me open. Coarse hands on my tits and on my wrists, keeping me in place. His cock brooked no arguments, and I offered none. This was what I wanted.

Halfway through he flipped me over, pushed my face down and tugged my ass to the edge of the bed. He stood behind me, and I felt his thick meat prod tentatively against my wetness once, twice, before he finally sunk back in to the hilt. Deep, urgent thrusts that only grew more frantic as he lost himself in the fantasy. No condoms, no names, no repercussions. Just a warm, wet, inviting pussy to dump his load into and be on his way. His hands kept my hips tight against him, and he slammed himself into me again and again and again, until the dam broke.

A warmth in my belly, spreading out from the deepest point of our contact. His burly cock emptying a pair of heavy balls into my body, and holding himself there until every drop was spilled.

Then he pulled out. I felt his hand on my lower back, felt him pause as he wrestled with the jeans still around his thighs. I could feel where the fabric has rubbed against my thighs. Then the sound of a shutter-snap, his phone stealing one, two, a half dozen pictures of my freshly fucked pussy. And then the shuffle of a zipper, a grunt, footsteps retreating down the stairs and out the door.

I laid in the puddle of our sin for a bit. Breathing heavily. Then I rolled onto my back, pressed a hand in between my leg, and rode my fingers to a gut-trembling orgasm. Harder and harder, until my knees were shaking and my throat was hoarse with moans.

I cleaned up. Opened the app and deleted the pictures, removed my name. Just a blank profile with nothing to show.

I made a cup of tea, and sipped it while reading a book on horticulture. I put on my pajamas, and turned in a little after 10. And I slept sweetly, the kind of deep sleep you only get from being truly satisfied.

That's what I did today after work. I did it yesterday, too. And the day before that. And the day before that. The same routine, the same desperate need to be bent over and fucked and filled with a stranger's cum. Some nights I do more than one. Some nights, I let them fuck my ass, too. Sometimes, on weekends, I'll even have two at once. But every day, like clockwork, I go home from my job, get myself ready, and invite a stranger to come breed me like the pliant, willing breedslut I am.

Maybe you'll be my next visitor?

Faceless, nameless, consequence free breeding. That's what I want. I don't want your load in my mouth, or on my tits. I don't want to go on a date, or hear about your incest kink fantasy. Play with my tits. Get your dick hard. Then fuck me until you cum in me. It's really not that hard of a concept, is it?

I ask three things of my partners:

1. Be literate. English is my second language, and I put effort into my writing. I expect you to do the same.
   
2. Be interested. I wrote this prompt with a specific mood and scene in mind. I'd appreciate it if you came into it with the intent of engaging with the idea and concept of the prompt, and not try to twist it towards something befitting a different kink.
3. Be interesting. I may be looking for an anonymous cock to breed me, but that doesn't mean I want a boring partner. Know how to write a character. Be more than just a porno-goon thumping away at a wet hole. Consider: Would you yourself read what you write? If the answer is no, why do you think I would?

I'm in this to get off, and to help get you off. I'm very, very good at that. If you're interested, send me a Private Message, and let's talk about what parts of this spoke to you. Please don't send me chat messages - I don't read them, and I'll only think less of you for not respecting my wishes.

Lastly, I may take some time to respond - hours, on occasion. I like to vet my partners before I get into anything. If you have a post history, odds are much greater that I'll get back to you.