Heartbeat

Rowan and Venus aren't in a rush. They kiss like they've got all night, lips soft, tongues lazy against each other. Their heavy tits meet in the middle, skin warm. Two hairy pussies sit side by side, getting slick while fingers trace, then dip, then disappear. Clothes come off one stubborn button at a time. They tell each other what feels good—now slower, right there—and nobody's pretending otherwise. Every lick lands with a little smirk, every gasp a small brag. Watching them, you start to wonder why anybody rushes at all.