Maggie struts to the edge of the hotel pool, her athletic body a fucking masterpiece of lean muscle and curves that could stop a heart. Her shoulder-length brunette hair, dark and glossy, sways like a tease, brushing her sharp cheekbones and full lips. The black latex bikini clings to her like sin itself, the full-cup top squeezing her heavy tits, nipples poking through the shiny fabric, begging for attention. The thong bottom digs into her hips, slicing between her sculpted ass cheeks, leaving them bare and bouncing with every step.
She drops to a lounge chair by the pool, the sleek tiles cool against the heated air. Lying on her side, she props herself on one elbow, her tits spilling forward, straining the latex cups. Her free hand roams, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of her breast, fingers grazing the edge of the bikini top, teasing the skin just shy of her nipple. Her toned abs flex as she shifts, her ass jutting out, the thong disappearing into the crack of her perfect, round cheeks. She knows what she’s doing, every move a calculated taunt to make cocks throb.
Maggie rolls onto her stomach, her ass now the star, two firm globes glistening under the pool’s light. The latex thong is a thin strip, barely covering her, hugging her pussy so tight it’s a miracle it holds. She arches her back, lifting her hips just enough to make her ass pop, muscles tensing in her thighs. Her hands slide down her sides, fingers digging into her hips, then up to cup her own ass, squeezing hard, letting the flesh spill between her fingers. She spreads her cheeks slightly, the thong pulling tighter, a wicked promise of what’s hidden.
Standing now, she plants her feet wide, hips cocked to one side. The bikini top strains as her tits bounce with each shift, full and heavy, begging to be grabbed. Her hands wander again, one sliding up her flat stomach to cup a breast, thumb circling just outside the nipple, teasing without mercy. The other hand dips low, fingers tracing the thong’s edge along her inner thigh, inches from her pussy but never crossing that line. Her athletic legs flex, calves tight, as she sways her hips, making her ass jiggle in a way that could make a man lose his mind.
She sits on the chair’s edge, thighs spread wide, the latex thong stretched to its limit, outlining every curve of her pussy. Leaning back, she arches her spine, thrusting her tits forward, the shiny cups gleaming like they’re painted on. Her hands roam again, one sliding up her thigh, fingers brushing the thong’s edge, the other squeezing her tit, pushing it up until it nearly spills out. She shifts her hips, grinding against the chair, her ass cheeks flexing, the thong riding higher, cutting deeper between them. Her lips part, a soft moan escaping, pure sex in every sound.
Maggie flips back to her side, one leg bent, thigh pressed against the chair, her ass a perfect curve. Her hand glides over her hip, fingers digging into her cheek, pulling it just enough to show the thong’s tight grip. Her other hand traces her collarbone, dipping to her cleavage, teasing the line where latex meets skin. She’s a vision of raw, untamed lust, every muscle in her athletic frame screaming to be fucked, every move designed to torment.
Back on her stomach, she crawls forward, ass high, thighs spread, the thong a cruel tease between her cheeks. Her hands grip the chair, knuckles white, as she rocks her hips, making her tits sway, the latex creaking under the strain. She’s not touching her pussy, but every move screams she could, her body a live wire of heat and need. Standing again, she runs both hands down her sides, cupping her ass, then up to her tits, squeezing them together, the full cups barely containing her.
Maggie sits one last time, legs crossed, leaning forward so her tits nearly burst free. Her hands slide over her thighs, up to her hips, then back to her ass, giving it a slow, firm smack that echoes. She’s the hottest fucking thing alive, her body a weapon, her every move a promise of ecstasy that stays just out of reach.
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