Latex lady

Latex hugs Mandy Bright like a second skin. The black corset squeezes her full breasts, the skirt clings to her hips, and the boots rise to her thighs, shiny as wet ink. Every seam strokes her curves, every stretch promises release. She sits back, legs parting, fingers finding the zipper between her thighs. Beneath the tight fabric lies a neat triangle of soft brown curls, already warm and damp. She strokes slowly, tracing the swollen lips while the latex creaks with every shift of her hips. Her free hand slides up the corset, squeezing one heavy breast until the nipple pushes hard against the gloss. Then she slides two fingers inside, the sound slick and quiet beneath the tense shine of her outfit. The boots creak as she spreads wider, breath coming quicker, chasing the heat the latex keeps trapped against her skin.