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