There’s something about hotel air conditioning and unfamiliar sheets that strips away my inhibitions faster than any lingerie ever could. Last week, I found myself in just such a room, wearing nothing but my favorite blue-green cotton nighty—the fabric so soft and worn from years of washing that it barely conceals the outline of my nipples or the sway of my perky breasts beneath. I positioned myself on my knees between your legs, the mattress dipping beneath my weight with that distinct sound of hotel bedding. I had set up a single camera to capture everything from the side—a raw, unfiltered angle that shows the genuine mechanics of pleasure without hiding behind…