Late-night pool lights shimmer across wet skin in marsha may can't breathe. She floats naked on a raft, fingers trailing lazily through cool water and warm folds. Slow circles become urgent strokes as lightning flashes overhead. marsha may can't breathe follows every arch of her back when the first climax makes her grip the raft’s edge, nearly capsizing. Not finished, she swims to shallow steps, sits wide open, and uses the powerful jet stream against her clit until she’s screaming into the storm, coming so hard her vision whites out.