Pin-up craze

She slips into the frame wearing a cherry-red halter bikini that barely covers her tits. The fabric stretches tight over her nipples and cuts high on her hips, framing the soft swell of her ass like a present. She poses for the camera just like those old pin-up girls, hip cocked, one knee bent, a coy smile playing on her painted lips. Her retro curls frame her face. The photographer calls her name and she bends forward, hands on her thighs, letting the tops of her breasts spill out. She straightens, turns, and looks back over her shoulder, arching her back so the tiny bottoms ride higher between her cheeks. Every move is slow and deliberate. She runs her fingers along her collarbone, then down between her breasts, stopping just short of the tiny triangle of fabric. The light catches the sheen on her skin. She drops to her knees on the plush rug, sits back on her heels, and spreads her thighs wide. The bikini bottoms pull tight against her cunt. She slides one hand down her stomach, slips her fingers under the waistband, and starts rubbing slow circles over her clit. Her eyes stay locked on the lens. Her breath gets heavier. She tugs the halter aside and lets her breasts bounce free, full and heavy, nipples stiff. She pinches one, then the other, while her other hand works faster between her legs. The tiny bottoms get pushed down to her ankles. She kicks them off and spreads wider, showing everything. Two fingers disappear inside her pussy, sliding in and out with a wet sound. Her hips rock against her hand. She bites her lip, moans low, and keeps fucking herself for the camera until her thighs start to tremble. She doesn’t look away once.