Kisses Under the Sun

They kiss like they’ve got all afternoon and nothing else to do. Lips meet again and again, slow then hungry, then greedy. Sunlight slips over bare skin, catching on sweat already beading between Caylian’s breasts and running down Silvia’s spine. Tongues slide lower, slick and unhurried, parting folds that are already flushed and shining. When lips close over tight nipples, each small tug pulls a sound from them—soft, surprised, almost sweet. Watching, you feel light-headed, like the heat has climbed straight into your head.