Sara MARVIN has dunky in number rivals in the bitch business. This babe is well-respected in the ball batter biz. Her mammoth funbags and her unparalleled ass have made her a legendary hooter ho wherever she may roam. It’s demeaning that she has to deal with assholes in business suits trying to bargain her price down in the street when they should be flinging thousands of dollars at her feet as a declaration of fealty. This cheap bum has to sneak Sara into an empty warehouse cuz he’s too cheap to spend the money on a motel room. God forbid his wife should find a motel receipt in his pocket. When they prepare an aged crate as a screw altar, Sara renegotiates, remembering the words of the great philosopher Confuckscious, “A rock hard meat-thermometer does not see a price tag.” This chab copulates his brains out to blast-off, exploding all over her love melons, which Sara uses as an opportunity to get more cash. Chalk up some other proud client for this smart slattern. These dudes in their fancy suits are no match for warehouse harlots.

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