Getting wet at the spa

Eliska Cross stands at the edge of the pool in nothing but her bikini. The water looks inviting, but she has another idea. She peels the suit away piece by piece, skin meeting warm air. Her hands glide downward, slow and sure. Fingers part soft folds and start a steady rhythm that soon has her glistening. Each stroke draws more slickness, more heat. She sinks two fingers deeper, then curls them, chasing the ache that builds between her thighs. Her breath breaks into low, throaty sounds that linger in the quiet room. The faster she works herself, the wetter she becomes, until every wet sound mixes with her soft moans and the only thing she needs is release.