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