Stranded

Zafira knows exactly how to turn the poolside into her own playground. She stretches out on a lounge chair in that tiny bikini, every curve on display. She moves slow at first, teasing the strings loose until the top falls away and her breasts spill free. Her skin glows in the light. Her hands glide down her sides, fingertips tracing the swell of her hips before she tugs the bottoms aside. Nothing left to hide now. She spreads her legs and touches herself, the kind of touch that leaves no doubt what she wants. Her fingers work in steady strokes, circling and pressing. Her mouth parts as the pleasure builds. She shifts on the cushion, hips lifting to meet her hand, lost in the rhythm she sets. Every sound she makes is low and private, meant just for the one watching. She does not rush. She draws it out until she trembles and comes, breath catching, thighs shaking. Pure pleasure, right there in the sun.