The Beauty Behind pink fishnet dress

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