footjob pov begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so footjob pov becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In footjob pov, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in footjob pov, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that footjob pov worked better than any sleeping pill.