Saturday light cuts through the blinds in pale stripes, falling across her chest as she stretches across tangled sheets. No rush, nowhere to be — just the slow, deliberate weight of the morning pressing down.

Her hands move without hesitation, cupping the full, heavy curve of each breast, thumbs tracing circles that tighten with each pass. The kind of body that makes you forget what you were thinking about two seconds ago.

You're watching her like you have all day, because you do. She knows exactly where your eyes are, and she gives you more — arching up, letting gravity do what gravity does best.