Flames roar behind her in elizabelle dixie. Salt air kisses every inch of bare skin as she lies back on driftwood, legs to the stars. “Burn for elizabelle dixie,” she moans, rubbing furiously while sparks rise. The firelight dances across her soaked thighs each time she cries “elizabelle dixie!” louder than crashing waves. When the orgasm hits, she squirts so far the surf carries her “elizabelle dixie” essence back to the sea.