So he texts me like an hour before, "I'm coming over, bring the glasses." I almost didn't—these black frames make me look like a librarian—but I threw them on with just my skin underneath, nothing else. The hotel room's basic, white sheets, dark curtains, and I'm already sitting on the bed when he walks in. He's covered in tattoos, sleeves all the way down, and something about the ink against my pale skin gets me wet before he even touches me.<br><br>He doesn't waste time. Pushes me back on the mattress while setting up his phone to record, and suddenly his hands are everywhere—pulling my hair, spreading my legs. I take him in my mouth and he's already hard, twitching against my tongue, making these sloppy sounds as I try to take him deeper. I look up at him with my glasses sliding down my nose and he groans, grabbing my head.<br><br>He flips me onto my hands and knees and I'm face-down in the pillows, ass up, while he pounds into me from behind. I'm drooling onto the sheets, gripping

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