Watching Savanna - Part 1

Three wild ones kneel around a lounge chair like it's lunch hour at the strip club. One of them—sunburnt shoulders, messy braid—leans in first, tongue lapping broad stripes from balls to tip. Another pushes in, lips catching the underside, cheeks hollowing as she sucks hard. They keep swapping fast, spit slicking the shaft until it shines. First girl throws a leg over and sinks down, pussy swallowing every inch like she's thirsty for it. While she grinds, the next friend doesn’t wait—she slides up close, nose brushing the girl’s ass, tongue flicking whatever part of the shaft pokes free. Bucking hips slap the seat, water flickers off their skin under hot sun, and wet noises mix with low laughter when one asks if the other can taste herself. They trade places every few minutes, bare asses flashing, one gripping the base, the other bracing hands on slick thighs to ride deeper. Nobody bothers with towels. Pussy juice runs, sweat drips, and the cock stays rock-hard, veins popping while they fight for their next turn.