Death Brings Roses (1975)

One of the girls has long brown hair and a petite frame — she’s on her back, legs up, while the other leans in close, licking and teasing. They switch off, both going down on each other with relaxed, natural energy. The sheets are light with a floral pattern, room lit warm, feels like late morning. Camera stays tight, no cuts to weird angles, just steady focus on their mouths and hands. No dialogue, but they’re breathing heavy, lips glistening every time they pull back. The pace is slow but never boring — more like they’re actually feeling it than performing.