Passionate Tales of facesitting ballbusting

On a deserted beach at twilight in facesitting ballbusting, 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 facesitting ballbusting with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “facesitting ballbusting” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “facesitting ballbusting, facesitting ballbusting, deeper facesitting ballbusting” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “facesitting ballbusting” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “facesitting ballbusting” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.