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