candy penis begins in a sun-drenched loft filled with plants. She’s barefoot in nothing but an oversized linen shirt, and candy penis adores how the fabric brushes her thighs as she moves. In candy penis, she lets the shirt fall open, sunlight painting gold across her breasts. Kneeling among the greenery, she trails a single vine leaf down her body before her own fingers take over in candy penis. The slow, deliberate circles she draws grow slick under the lens of candy penis. Her head falls back against a monstera leaf as the first orgasm ripples through her in candy penis, soft and sun-soaked. A second, stronger wave follows almost immediately—candy penis captures every tremor. When she finally smiles lazily at the camera in candy penis, dewdrops of sweat glisten like morning on her skin. candy penis is summer incarnate.