The blacklight casts jagged shadows over the savannah of writhing fluorescence. Looking up from the hillock of her mons, conquered as a mountain to climb, she pants with narrowed eyes. Reaching another summit, we are anti-posed. Our tilted heads meet at the lips, sharing her orgasmic juices.

Gripping my hip, it can only be a man, and my spine curls to meet the inevitable. Scrutinising me, she will have him next. I pout, and she bears witness to its gratifying dimensions as her devious fingers find my aching clit.

Turning back, he is painted in my colours.

“Fuck me, darling.”