Backstage with Anetta Keys

I met Anetta in Prague. The pool was brutal—frigid water nipping at bare skin—but she made it worth every gasp. She moved through it like silk over cold steel, nipples tight from the chill, hips swaying just enough to make me forget the temperature. Later, in the shallow end, she pressed against the tile and let me push in slow. Water lapped at her waist. She reached back, guided me deeper, thighs trembling while she arched her back. Her cunt clenched hard around me, warm and slick despite the cold. Each thrust sent little waves rolling over her ass. She came quietly, mouth open, eyes half-lidded, like the cold didn't touch her at all once I was buried inside her.