Backstage from St. Martin

She stands in the sun, skin warm from St. Martin heat. The tiny swimsuit clings to her like it was painted on, barely covering what matters. Blonde hair falls loose around her shoulders. She turns, giving a full view of the way her round ass stretches the thin fabric. Alone backstage, she runs her hands down her body, testing the limits of the suit. One hand slips inside. Fingers move slowly at first, then with more purpose, and her breath comes harder. The suit stays on, but it hides nothing as she works herself, hips rocking, ass pushing back with each motion. Her free hand cups a breast, thumb brushing the nipple through the fabric. She bites her lip, eyes half-closed, completely caught up in the feeling. The quiet sounds she makes are the only thing breaking the stillness.