Intimate Allure: yeraldin go

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