Bl@nch Br@dburry drops her bikini top and sinks to her knees on the sun-warmed deck. She works the gardener with long, wet strokes, eyes locked on the lens, until he grips her hair and she takes him deeper. When he finally pulls her up, she turns, plants her hands on the railing, and guides him inside, riding every thrust while the garden stays in soft focus behind them.
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