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