Take Me On A Ride

Cassidy and I had the whole city on camera while Lisa watched back home. We lapped up Hollywood’s sun, posed, shot clinky videos, everything so she could taste the trip through our lens. Finding the hotel later wore thin. Back on the Strip, Cassidy kept glancing sideways, flashing a teasing half-smile that made her freckles jump. The air grew tight with something unsaid. Door clicking shut behind us, I touched her hip and steered her toward the bed. She peeled off her top, turned for the shower, and I caught her elbow. “Webcam first,” I murmured. I framed it like Lisa might pop on while she rinsed off. Cassidy clicked the lens, mic, red recording dot. Steam started whispering from the bathroom. Then the linen dropped. Breasts spilled free, nipples tight from cooler air, round and warm under my palm when I reached in. Cassidy sucked in a breath, lifted her chest instead of stepping back. We came together fast. My tongue traced the seam beneath one breast; my fingers slid straight between her legs, already slick. She widened her stance on reflex. The lens watched her grip the sheets as I sucked, as I pushed two knuckles inside her cunt and curled. Cassidy’s knee buckled; she braced, tilted her pelvis, asking for more depth. Her fingers tangled in my hair and tugged when I grazed the spot that made her moan wet and low. We kept the feed live while I rode my mouth over her clit, tasting her throb, both of us inching closer to a limit we had never spoken aloud. Sweat, skin, soft grunts—nothing left to hide once the clothes were off and our bodies figured the rest out.