On a deserted beach at twilight in jordi el ni?o polla spring, waves kiss her ankles as she peels off her sundress. Salt air hardens her nipples instantly. She drops to the sand, legs wide to the dying sun, fingers sliding through glistening folds. “Feel jordi el ni?o polla spring with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “jordi el ni?o polla spring” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “jordi el ni?o polla spring, jordi el ni?o polla spring, deeper jordi el ni?o polla spring” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “jordi el ni?o polla spring” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “jordi el ni?o polla spring” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.