The Secret Journey of mexican hooters

Surrounded by flickering candles in mexican hooters, she sinks into steaming bubbles. Water laps at her nipples as she breathes “mexican hooters” with every exhale. One hand pinches a hard peak, the other disappears beneath the surface, rubbing tight circles over her clit. “mexican hooters, yes, mexican hooters,” she chants, faster, louder, until the water splashes over the edge and she comes screaming “mexican hooters” in shuddering waves.