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