Sweet Latin Tati

Tati's a stunner, one of those Latinos that gets hotter the closer you look. She showed off the lingerie first, smiling like she already knew what would happen next. Every strap cut into her thighs, the lace cupping tits that begged to be free. I watched, running the scene over. Little by little the room heated up; Tati pivoted on her heels, slowly turned her back, wiggled those hips enough so the g-string made everything perfectly clear. Enough teasing. I slid my hands between the straps, stretched the thong until elastic snapped at her waist, easing two flimsy halves apart until that delicious split opened for me. And here, burying fingers past the crack, found soft, wet skin waiting. She shuddered under me, heat pouring, the moisture already slick. Tati looked over one bare shoulder, dared me to keep going. When the cups finally hit the carpet, her nipples pinked up in the draft, tight enough to make me lick them. One hard pull later the last threads dangled, lost clothing proof of what we wanted from each other. Neither of us backed off—not with what lay underneath framed and finally available.