Venice Beach Pickup

My new beach condo sits right where the tide licks at the dunes. Tonight I brought Ariana Grand back from the lounge chairs. She’s barely eighteen, barely dressed—peach bikini bottom riding up the cleft of her ass. She kicks the sliding door shut and peels everything off before I even twist the lens cap loose. I drop the little camera onto the dresser, hit record, and catch her pushing me onto the bed. My fingers clamp her tight, pink nipples; she shivers, teeth flashing. She spits on my cock, climbs over, and sinks down in one smooth drop, cunt gripping like it means to bruise me. We rock hard enough the headboard slams the wall. Sweat slides between her small tits as she grinds faster, moans turning sharp. I flip her, pin her wrists, slam until she bites my shoulder. She comes gasping, pussy milking me in tight pulses. I pull out just in time and paint her flat belly. The red light keeps blinking.