Indian summer

Adriana Malkova’s alone under the garden hose and the water just makes things worse. Her tan skin glistens, nipples tight, bikini bottoms clinging like they’ve given up. She points the nozzle low and the cool spray hits straight between her legs, making her hips jerk. The fabric turns see-through in seconds, every curve on full display, water trickling down her thighs. She spreads a little, lets the jet work over her clit, eyes half-closed, mouth open like she might moan. A fast smile, naughty and proud, says she knows exactly what she’s doing. She arches, presses the stream harder, thighs trembling while the sun beats down and the cold water keeps failing to chill her out.