It was a hot, sultry night in Havana. Rosita just arrived for her much needed vacation. Rosita was born in Brazil, but later emigrated to the States with her mother, father and younger sister. She was always considered bellisima, even as a little girl. With puberty came full, succulent, heaving breasts, perfectly aligned cleavage, round butt cheeks to match, connected by a slender, yet athletic midsection. Her legs continued forever. . .upon grazing her thigh and moving ever so slightly downward, if one even made it past her knees, her perfectly curved, smooth, delicate feet would be discovered. Now, a young 27 year old, is an accountant in a small firm on the west coast. But in Havana, the only numbers on her mind are those of the local guapissimos to ease her burning desire. She hasn't found a man since moving to the States. . .not a real man at least. She desired a man who could be rough, yet place the gentlest kisses upon her erect bosoms and beautifully bronzed body. She needed a man who could handle her beauty and knew the proper way of releasing the inner Rosita erotica.
Her café brown hair brushed off her face as a gentle breeze became aroused by being lucky enough to touch Rosita's perfect body. She stood on the side of a busy road, dressed in a light, fire red dress. Her bosoms trying to push through what little fabric there was to get air and try to escape the blistering heat. The only relief for her mesmerizing cleavage were the tiny beads of sweat slowly sliding down from her neck. At the bottom of Rosita's long, youthful legs were a pair of matching stilettos which wrapped around to the mid part of her calf and tied ever so carefully with a perfect bow. Her plump, red lips could be seen for miles. She looked like she was wearing lingerie and was about to perform her scandalous routine at the local club.