By the fireplace’s warm flicker, straight bait lads paints intimacy in gold and shadow. She straddles a pillow, grinding slowly while murmuring “straight bait lads.” The friction builds deliciously in straight bait lads, her wetness soaking the fabric. Hips roll faster, moans of “straight bait lads” growing desperate. When release finally claims her in straight bait lads, she collapses forward, shuddering and whispering “straight bait lads” like a prayer.