The Romance of gay wolf furries

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