
Gambling with my life (literally)(literally) in Vegas
I was intoxicated and heartbroken and wanted American cock inside of me.
I was on a J1 visa for the summer in the states working at a summer camp when my boyfriend did exactly what he said he wasn’t gonna do: break up with me. The long distance was ‘tough’ apparently and he couldn’t go another two weeks without seeing me. Of course two days later I see him posed up with Selena, some girl one of his mates knows, on an Instagram story, and I’m balling my eyes out to my campers the rest of the day leaning on them for support when it should be the other way around.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” goes one of my friends as I’m scrolling through my Hinge likes. “Vegas is dangerous enough. The last thing you need is some criminal-looking guy named -” she squints at the screen – “Michael, seducing you by the slot machines.”
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