Secret Lesbian Diaries #03: Writing School

It slid in without warning on a sweaty July 17th back in 2015. From the moment that heavy cock pushed past my ass the whole room felt smaller, brighter, getting closed in by skin sliding on skin. A camera that night nailed down every hard inch: mine slammed deep, hips flexing, his rim stretched tight around the shaft, everything glossy and wet. Every pump flexed thick muscle in my thighs; I could feel his walls gripping on each pull-out like they didn’t want to let go. Click went the shutter—my cock flashing in and out, glistening—before the next thrust buried itself again, balls slapping skin, breath getting raw, throats breaking on moans. We kept at it for what the footage tallied: ten minutes and twenty-three nonstop seconds. No filler, just the crude, tight squeeze over and over—skin smacking, hips jolting forward. If anyone dared replay it in slow-mo, you saw the whole gorgeous show: shaft coated thick, pulling out to the crown then hammering back, fucking every last wink out of that hungry hole. Twelve busted angles. Two dripping bodies. One sticky night proving exactly what a relentless, sweat-glazed fuck looks like on camera.