zoku koihime begins in a sun-drenched loft filled with plants. She’s barefoot in nothing but an oversized linen shirt, and zoku koihime adores how the fabric brushes her thighs as she moves. In zoku koihime, 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 zoku koihime. The slow, deliberate circles she draws grow slick under the lens of zoku koihime. Her head falls back against a monstera leaf as the first orgasm ripples through her in zoku koihime, soft and sun-soaked. A second, stronger wave follows almost immediately—zoku koihime captures every tremor. When she finally smiles lazily at the camera in zoku koihime, dewdrops of sweat glisten like morning on her skin. zoku koihime is summer incarnate.