Tan lines fading where straps once held—now just saltwater and sweat. Three pairs of hands gripping hips, asses slapping against towel edges. The blonde’s mouth is open mid-moan, lips glistening with something that isn’t sunscreen. Someone’s cock disappears between thick thighs again and again—slap-squelch—while a hand reaches under to tease tight holes no one should be touching out here. No lube needed. Just friction from the rocks digging in, fingers slipping on wet skin. A knee pushes between her legs from behind as another pair of lips wraps around a cock still slick with pussy juices. Someone groans low enough for the wind to carry it—but no one stops.
