The camera lens catches a glint of silver as QQ’s butterfly pendant shifts against her cleavage. She’s kneeling on the plush white rug, knees spread just enough for balance, one hand buried in her messy high bun while the other holds the phone steady at arm’s length. The sheer mesh of her bra catches the light, tiny white polka dots floating over tanned skin and the faint outline of muscle beneath.

“My friend Nomvula just went on the Futa treatment program last month and the results have been amazing,” she says, voice bright, the rolled ‘r’ and clipped vowels unmistakably Afrikaans. “The activity restriction period is now over, and this horny little fiend has been jerking away. How many times this morning?”

From somewhere off-frame comes a breathless laugh, followed by the soft, rhythmic sound of skin on skin. “I’m on nut number three!”

QQ rolls her eyes, but the smile that follows is fond. She lowers her hand from her hair and gestures with two fingers in a quick, playful scissor motion toward the unseen voice. “She has asked me to be her first, so we can work out some of those kinks before she takes on the world.”

A floorboard creaks. Bare feet pad into frame—Nomvula’s, still flushed from her morning efforts. The camera tilts slightly as QQ leans back on her heels, giving the lens a clear view of the other woman’s approach. Nomvula’s new cock, still half-hard and glistening, sways with each step. She stops just behind QQ, one hand resting lightly on her friend’s bare shoulder.

QQ glances up at her, grin widening. “Ready to break it in properly?”

Nomvula’s answering hum is low, almost shy, but her grip tightens. “Only if you promise to tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”

“Sweetheart,” QQ says, accent thickening with amusement, “that’s the whole point.”