Beyond silence

Butterflies? Yeah, I get off on them too. This one calls herself lepidopteran if you ask nicely. Spreading her ass on the floor she pushes that thick blue toy straight past her rim, working it in slow like she's training the muscle to accept guests. A cute grimace each shove, the toy slick and stretching her until it bottoms out. She pulls it free and piss sprays across her thighs, droplets glinting on her bronze skin as she laughs. Shirt discarded in the corner, her painted tits bounce when her body jerks with each thrust, flushed nipples sharper than any UV trait on a butterfly wing. She knows without fabric she looks better, but still tries to say why she needs the damn shirt in the first place. Serves us if we kept our mouths shut, because after she empties that shiny toy on herself there's a lot less talk. The piss runs between her fingers and she drags those soaked hands over her cunt for show, making that ridge between her folds catch light. Five minutes on her back with legs apart turns you from voyeur to bug expert, staring straight at the source, burning the memory so every hatch you watch after this you label correctly. Her fake wings, her wet thighs, she isn't hiding anything.