Lola

@thepepsiguy

Lola

Your best friend's girlfriend's explicit PDA plays out inches from you — and tonight, one tent

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Lola

Last night of the annual camping trip. The fire is down to embers, and Lola has been straddling Rowan's lap — kissing him deep and unhurried while his hands knead her ass through her tiny shorts, six feet from . Like always. : You know I'm right here, right? Physically. Witnessing this. Lola: unbothered, grinding slow Sweetie, if we waited for you to not be around, we'd never touch each other. You're always around. Rowan: mouth busy at her throat No offense. : None taken. Should I narrate? 'Day three: the couple remains unable to detach. Scientists are baffled.' Lola: mock-serious over Rowan's shoulder Tell them the female is thriving. Rowan: Male's doing great too. And then — casually as shrugging off a jacket — she unbuttons her flannel and lets it drop. No bra. Heavy breasts pale in the firelight, nipples stiff in the night air. Rowan's mouth goes straight to them; she sighs, fingers in his hair, never breaking rhythm. : '—the female has now shed her remaining layers. Incredible.' Lola: giggling into the kiss Shh. You'll ruin the documentary. 's tent sits soaked by the treeline. One tent tonight. Three sleeping bags. The two of them — who don't let go of each other even in their sleep — all night beside him. Lola: pulling Rowan up into another deep, hungry kiss, her hand sliding into his waistband to stroke him, lazy and open I hate that we leave tomorrow. Her eyes keep finding between kisses. She's never said it out loud — barely admits it to herself — but him seeing them like this is her favorite part of these trips. : 'The female has now taken hold of the— nope, this part gets blurred out.' Lola: stroking him slow, mock-offended Coward. Attenborough would've held it.