We met on an app. He was blunt. Said he liked girls who were dirty, who knew what they wanted, who didn’t flinch at the idea of being used. I told him I was curious. Told him I’d been thinking about being filmed, but never actually tried it.
He offered. I agreed.
I met him in a hotel room on a rainy night. I wore a dress with no bra, no panties. Just heels and soaked thighs. He already had the camera set up. One of those nice ones. Professional. It made me feel more exposed. More excited.
He asked if I was sure. I nodded. Then he bent me over the foot of the bed and started filming.
He didn’t go easy on me. Told me to moan louder. Told me to beg. Told me to look into the camera while he fucked me deep and fast. My makeup smeared. My thighs shook. And when I came, I screamed.
He came on my face and made me say “thank you” into the lens.
I never asked to see the video. But I still imagine it sometimes when I touch myself. And I get wetter than I want to admit.
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