Sunday Night
Sapphira A stands beside the sea, the rough waters breaking on the rocky coastline, texting as the sun sets on the horizon. The pretty woman strolls along the shoreline in a black summer dress before returning home to turn in for the night. In bed, she sends one more message on her phone before her mind turns to her own body's messages. Running her hands down her chest, over her stomach, past her skimpy, pink panties. She slips her panties down over tanned thighs and off her feet, her hairless pussy free, a mole where her pubic hair once was. Sapphira sensually strokes her skin, touching each part of her body in turn before slipping one breast from her top and toying gently with it, gliding her fingers over puffy areolae. She shifts around on the bed to get more light on her loins, her soft labia spread open, her pink hole slippery with her juices. Sitting up, she pulls her top up over her breasts and head, her hands caressing every inch of her body. Sitting like this, only the merest hint of hot pink lips can be seen between the folds caught neatly between her thighs. Her touching drives her up onto hands and knees, her peachy ass held in the direct light, her soft labia wanting. With gentle strokes, Sapphira glides her fingers down her ribs and waist, over her tanned ass and back across her breasts, dreaming of a lover's touch.
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