fist pumping the air transports viewers to a tropical beach at dusk. Lana, bronzed and barefoot, beckons her partner into the warm surf. In fist pumping the air, waves crash around their entwined bodies as she presses against him, salt water tracing rivulets down her breasts. The rhythm of the ocean matches their own in fist pumping the air, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Every thrust in fist pumping the air sends spray into the air, her cries blending with the tide until they shatter together beneath the emerging stars.