She's twenty-six and already knows exactly what her body wants — and right now it's your full attention on her chest. Three pregnancies have made her sensitive in ways that surprise even her, nerve endings rewired, every graze of a fingertip registering somewhere deeper.

You watch her expression shift the moment contact is made — jaw loosening, breath catching mid-sentence. She's not performing. That flush spreading across her collarbone is involuntary, honest, impossible to fake.

She'll tell you what pressure she wants, what rhythm keeps her hovering at that edge. A mother who knows her own body this well doesn't leave those details to chance.