So he hits me up late, like almost midnight, and I'm already in bed in just this white tee and panties. I tell him he can come over but we're filming it—I've been wanting to try this whole thing where I can watch it after, you know? See what I actually look like when I'm getting fucked.<br><br>He sets up the camera on the dresser and I'm already nervous, fidgeting with my shirt, but as soon as he walks over with that look in his eye I forget about the lens. He pushes me back on the bed and I'm undoing his jeans while he pulls my hair back—just rough enough to make me gasp. I take him in my mouth and I can hear myself making these wet sounds, no way to be quiet about it, and I keep looking up to see if the camera's catching my face.<br><br>When he finally pulls me up I'm already soaked through my panties. He rips them off—not sexy ripping, just urgent, clumsy—and pushes my legs open so wide my hips click. I'm holding my own knees up, presenting myself like some kind of offering, and he

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