Twerk It Like You Mean It

Princess Emily and Willow Ryder twerk like two shots of heat lighting. Bodies snap, roll, lock—rhythm bruising the silence. They hold the floor until the need shifts. Then the focus lands on me. Hands, mouths, slick weight of hips pinning me down. Every move they made spills over me at once. I’m pinned, swallowed, used, and I wouldn’t blink twice to keep it that way.