It's early December; you're at my house. We've just finished a quiet lunch; you're on your way back to work. You put away your lunch things, stop in the bathroom and give your hair a quick brush. We walk down the hall; you stop at the head of the stairs to look out the window. I come up behind you and put my arms around your waist, hug you close to me. You gaze at the blanket of snow on the ground and murmur, "It's lovely. We never did...." Your moist breath frosts the window pane. Your voice trails off. "I know, we never did. Never enough time. In a hurry?" "Make me late?" I slide my hands up from your waist and caress your breasts lightly through your sweater. You arch your back, pressing your rapidly erecting nipples against my palms. I latina fashion latina women nude pics feel the sweater catching on the lace of your bra. Your purse and lunch bag hit the floor with a dull thud; you cup your hands over mine and press them hard against your breasts. I bend down slightly, to nuzzle your neck. The faint perfume of your hair tickles my nose; the scent of soft, clean skin excites me. I feel myself starting to harden. You press back against my hips, wriggling to center my hardening cock in the crack of your ass. You drop your hands, reach behind and grab my hips, pull me hard against you. You whisper, "I can feel your heat." My hands speak my answer, massaging your breasts through your sweater. I cup and release, dragging the knit fabric across the lace that covers your nipples, catching the erecting buds between finger and thumb. I pinch them lightly, drawing them out, teasing them to full erection. I move forward with my lips, nibbling along your neck, rising up lingua latina latina women nude pics to your chin. Your breath is soft and sweet, and as warm as a spring afternoon. Our lips meet, catch, and join together. Your honey sweet tongue slips into my mouth, teasing at my teeth, fencing with my tongue. My consciousness starts to slide away as my being centers on the sensations of your body. I slide my hands down your breasts and torso, fingers counting ribs, until my fingertips stutter across the waistband of your skirt. I press firmly against your hips as my hands descend, tracing a path down your thighs. I draw my hands up again, the fabric of the skirt bunching and riding up your thighs as my hands journey in toward your groin. I cup your mons with both hands and massage it gently through the cloth. "I can feel your heat, too." I release the skirt, hear the soft swish as the cloth slides across your skin. I pull your sweater free of your skirt and my hairy latina vagina latina women nude pics hands
